by Angel Payne
“Outstanding.” Every syllable shot off David’s lips with equal fervor. He flashed a breathtaking smile down at her. “Seems like we have some company, sweetheart. Back in a second.”
“A second” was a tad inaccurate. Lying there on the carpet, waiting for her Sir to return, she almost gave in to the urge to curl into a don’t-look-at-me ball. Short of being completely naked, she was as exposed as it got. Her nipples jutted toward the ceiling, still puckered and red. Her mound was open and wet, her arms spread to her sides. If anyone walked past the study right now, it’d be as if the harness didn’t exist. They’d know exactly what she was waiting for. What if that anyone was one of the mansion staff? What if that anyone was Kress? What if he had the little brunette from Dad’s staff with him? Oh shit, what if the girl told Dad what she saw?
She got so agitated imagining that scene, David startled her a little when he reappeared. He offered both hands to help her stand, yet that shit-eating smile still adorned his wicked lips. “Come on,” he bade. “We don’t want to miss the show.”
The show?
She ached to fire it at him aloud but held her tongue as he took her hand and guided her down the stairs. As the music got louder, now backed by a Gregorian chorus who sounded like they’d hit purgatory, so did the real-life outcries. When Dasha entered the dungeon, she saw their source. It was Mary. Her little friend’s naked body was crisscrossed by an elaborate web of red and black ropes, which were all tied into one of the suspension rings in the middle of the room. Mary lay sideways in the bonds, her wrists and forearms encased in a black rope gauntlet over her head, a good four feet off the floor. Whoever had tied her left her backside free of ropes, and it was easy to understand why. Raife stood near her head, using one hand to swing her back toward Philip, who waited with a single-tail whip. With every pass, he used the thing to lash her ass with a precisioned flick. When Mary came back toward Raife, he stroked her breasts with a long red feather on a glittering stick.
Dasha only had to give her friend one look to know the conflicting sensations drove her crazy—in all the right ways. Mary’s face contorted with forced pain one moment, with divine pleasure the next. Her body strained against the ropes with her fast breathing, but her eyes were hooded and glossy with the double sensory assault.
She was incredible. She’d seen her friend in a lot of stage finery and makeup, but right now, with her face adorned only in surrender, Mary was at her most beautiful. Dasha couldn’t look away. She simultaneously wanted to be Mary but was terrified of ever being that exposed and helpless, swinging in midair over a concrete floor…not to mention at the mercy of that whip. Every crack filled the dungeon like a lightning strike.
Raife pushed Mary back toward Philip, and Dasha watched her body tense for the lash. But Philip caught her, instead, having shoved the whip into his back pocket. Mary whimpered as he traced a finger along several of the bright red welts he’d put into her flesh. “Lovely, precious toy,” he murmured. “I love what my leather does to your skin.” He sidled next to her, wrapping one arm around her waist as he bent and slowly licked one of the lines. Mary let out a deep moan.
Dasha gulped hard to avoid doing the same.
“Hurt a little, sweet Mary?” he said with lips still pressed to her skin.
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Are you ready to be fucked, then?”
“Yes, Sir!” She gasped it. A cry followed it as Philip pressed a finger into her core. He lifted his head, frowning at Raife.
“Wet,” he pronounced. “But not wet enough. I think five more lashes should have her ready.”
Dasha’s gut knotted, but her own sex got wetter as Mary gazed at Raife with eyes full of dread and joy combined.
“Ohhh God!” Raife only scowled, but as Philip swung her back over, he grabbed the ropes and greeted Mary with a passionate, deep, openmouthed kiss.
Dasha watched the embrace with awe, almost wanting to trade places with her friend in that moment, lashes and tears and all. And David standing in Raife’s place, of course. And the stand-in for Philip?
She knew the answer to that too. She would want it to be Kress there, waiting for her at the other end. She could almost see him there now, powerful and rugged, a half grin curving his lips that conveyed only one thing. I can’t wait to get my hands on you.
She closed her eyes and forced his image from her mind.
Until she turned and realized the four of them weren’t alone.
There was somebody else in the room, and now that person shifted in the shadows. Dasha glanced in time to see David give the person a familiar, guy-to-guy kind of nod. She peered the same direction, and—
Oh God. It was Kress. Very alone. And looking very uncomfortable—and just as turned on—as David.
Her body responded immediately, churning fast toward the realm of pure need.
Which gave brand-new meaning to the term “dazed and confused.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kress looked at the turmoil washing over Dasha’s face and called himself five kinds of a shithead.
He could’ve downplayed how he’d gotten down here. How he’d done the class act by the cute Natalie, despite the brunette’s either-you’re-dead-or-you’re-gay-not-to-notice moves on him all the way to the hotel. How he’d pleaded a stressful day and a migraine to her rather than the real ache assaulting him: the need for sweet gold hair, an equally delicious mouth, and a certain soprano voice crying from his touch.
How he’d returned to the mansion beating himself up for that line of thought, intending to go straight to bed—alone—but drifted toward the back stairs and the study instead.
How he’d hoped to find the door to the dungeon open. And had.
How he’d found Raife and Philip setting up for a scene, with Dasha’s dancer friend waiting with bright, eager eyes.
How he’d accepted their invitation to stay and watch. And how he’d hoped the night would turn into this moment. How he’d hoped David and Dasha would join the party too.
Shithead.
Why had he wanted this? Now he longed to take back any karma he’d put into the universe with his selfishness and erase the desperate look that consumed Dasha’s sweet face. Especially because, as his stare drifted lower, he knew it wouldn’t soon be returning to her face.
“Fuck.” He grated it beneath his breath. That black-and-silver half-corset thing was good for one sole purpose. It all but ordered a man to rip it off her. The way it cupped her breasts, which looked like Pennington had taken some fun plucks at already, but then fast drew the eyes down to where it framed the V of her pussy and edged around into a sculpted Valentine arc across the top of her ass…
“Fuuuuck.” The second time around was a doomsday prophecy for his self-control. Not to mention the erection now ramming at his pants.
He had to get out of here. Right now. He had to escape before David started pulling her to the equipment, getting her naked, restraining her, and then—
He ground his jaw. Commanded his legs to move and his arm to shove the velvet curtain back. You’ve train-wrecked this one real good, Moridian. Greedy bastard, you should’ve been grateful David shared her for even one night. She isn’t yours. Forget her. Go upstairs, grab Natalie’s number, and go get yourself somebody who’s not practically wearing her Master’s collar already.
“Moridian.”
He ordered himself to complete the exit. He could just pretend he hadn’t heard the call. But something in Pennington’s voice hooked him like a carp. He felt like one of the ugly fish too, as he gave the guy a who-me look. The entire time, he fought not to stare at Dasha again. He failed, of course.
“Are you being a fucking party pooper?” Pennington’s tone made it seem they were all at a frat party instead of a bondage dungeon with the world’s most perfect submissive standing nearly nude between them.
What the hell. He could play the act too. He gave his friend a shrug. “I crashed the soiree to begin with. Raife told me they’d be roping
up their girl, and I was interested watching his knots, so—”
“Bullshit.”
Dasha’s shoulders went a little stiff. Her lips parted, and she flicked her gorgeous pink tongue over them. Like she had no damn idea what that did to his very bone marrow.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t throw that FBI tone at me, pineapple boy. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Pineapple—I should turn heel on you for that alone, asshole.”
Though David laughed back at that, the guy snaked a hand to Dasha’s ass and gave her a solid whack. Her eyes went wide, but she said nothing. Against his will, Kress watched her. She fascinated him as a woman and a person but even more so as a newly initiated submissive. In some moments, she completely forgot her place and turned into a feisty, spank-worthy brat. But in the very next, she’d submerge into the dynamic so deeply he assumed she’d gone into subspace before the requisite flogging. In others, like now, she was at her most adorable: oscillating between the extremes, skittish as a colt because of her uncertainty, only three times cuter. And thirty times sexier.
“Sweetheart.” David began the directive to her but looked at Kress as he did. “Be a good girl. Take Kress’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Dasha kept her eyes toward the floor as she obeyed her Sir. In that instant, Kress wished she’d opted for willful-disobedience mode. He needed to know if she had a clue about David’s grand plan here, because he sure as hell didn’t.
By the time they got to the big bedroom with the matching four-poster, he was certain Dasha had no more of an idea about this than he. She kept her gaze riveted to the floor, where she gave the ivory carpet a nervous massage with her toes. Her fingers shook as she twisted them in his, trying to disengage their grasp.
He didn’t let her go so easily. “Dasha.” He locked her hand in his. “Look at me.” She didn’t comply. He wasn’t surprised. So he let his voice go to iron. “Okay, I direct you to look at me.”
She actually stamped her foot. It almost made him laugh. “And who says your directions bear any weight here?”
“Only you.”
Just two words. But Dasha’s sigh told him she recognized their power. And was supremely uncomfortable with it.
The next moment, when she raised her head, Kress understood why.
Her conflicted gaze in the dungeon was the paltry start of what she seared into him now. The copper depths of her eyes looked like three-alarm fires. She wanted him but hated herself for it. Ached for him but damned herself for that too. And yes…felt for him. He wasn’t sure what, but…
Christ. Whatever it was, it scared the shit out of her.
“Happy now?” she whispered, blinking back the sheen of tears.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t say anything more, because David strode back into the room. A key on a velvet rope hung from his fingers. He slid the thing into a double-doored wall panel Kress hadn’t noticed before, even during their little sleepover in here.
Ohhh man, did he notice it now.
The twin doors swung out to become the outer walls of a domination toy store. He gaped at the shelves full of devices they hadn’t even found in the outer dungeon’s armoire. There were several strict discipline collars in red and black leather…an assortment of gags, bits, wire spreaders and speculums, along with a rack of gels and lubricants…some handheld fucking devices, and even a set of twenty or so glass fire cups.
He only had to imagine using half those things on Dasha, and his erection officially soared back to the category of torture.
David slanted a grin at him. “Now you know why they call this the bonus room.”
Dasha didn’t say a word, but she visibly trembled. Kress tried not to notice how her nipples went three times more erect too. “Look, man—” He spread his arms. “I appreciate the gesture, but after playing voyeur to Raife and Phil for an hour, I don’t think I can repeat the favor for you two. Besides—”
“Who says you’re watching?”
Hell. That made everything trickier. Somewhere in the realm of forgetting-to-breathe tricky.
Sure enough, his lungs held his next breath hostage. Dasha went still—well, more still—too. But she said in a soft, husky murmur, “Sir? Excuse me?”
“Ditto,” Kress added. “What the hell are you saying, Pennington?”
David eyed them both again. Then straightened and folded his arms. “What the three of us haven’t been saying.” He let a long silence stretch before stepping to Dasha and lifting her chin with one finger. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Kress heard her shaky intake of breath. “Y-yes.” She swallowed. “I do. But—”
“Hush.” David pulled her to him for a fierce kiss. “The only ‘butt’ we’re addressing tonight is that lovely one at the top of your thighs.”
“David.” Her whisper was thick with wonderment. “Sir. How did you—”
“You’ve given me so much, D.” If his tone didn’t compel the words into her, he tightened his grip, boring his stare into her now. “And I want to give you everything in return. Everything you could ever want or desire.” His attention swung to Kress. “And right now that includes you, Sonny Crockett.”
Breath came back to him in a rush. The generous reality behind David’s sarcasm…it was too good to grasp. But more than that, he needed to know Dasha was all right with this. Wanting his brand of domination was one thing; getting it was another. His little golden beauty was a passionate, giving woman, but she was also a new sub, and he’d seen, on more than one occasion, submissives who’d let their kink-hungry eyes agree to stuff they couldn’t eat. On top of that, she’d already had a day of explosive emotions. Could she handle a whole fireworks display of more?
Kress pressed against her on the other side. “Are you sure?” When her answering gaze went molten, it turned his cock into hot lava too. Still, he said, “This time isn’t a punishment, D—but my dynamic won’t be any easier to take. You know what I demand of my submissives. Tonight, you’re openly agreeing to obey me. Do you understand?”
Like a defiant princess, she lifted her chin higher. “Yes, Sergeant. I understand.”
Her use of the term, purposefully handing over that respect to him, unraveled any last protest he could conjure. It also uncoiled the last tethers on his lust. God, she was incredible, a gift of generous passion and insatiable fire, mixed with an actual heart and a beautiful brain. He couldn’t wait to claim her again, to work with David on giving her even better ecstasy than they had before.
He acted fast on that resolution. Moving even tighter on her, he deepened his hold, splaying one hand along her neck and lowering the other into a commanding cup on her ass. “Why don’t we let her prove it?”
Dasha tensed as if expecting a swat. Kress grinned a little, enjoying the psych-out, merely squeezing her cheek harder as David circled behind her. The guy joined D in looking directly at Kress, moving his lips close to her ear. “Now it’s your turn to answer to me, D. Do you understand that we’re inviting Kress to join me in using you tonight, to dominate your body in whatever manner pleases him?”
Her little gulp was one of the sexiest things Kress had ever seen. “Yes, Sir.” The little catch in her throat, a betrayal of her mounting anticipation, was even sexier. Holy Christ, if she changed her mind now…visions of diving off a cliff into a river of glass came to his mind.
“And will you submit to him with all the respect and willingness you’d give to me, with the exception of any hard limits we may encounter?”
“Yes.” It was a bare rasp. “Yes, Sir.”
“Do you remember your safe word?”
“Yes, Sir. Soundcheck.”
“Perfect. Now answer me this: do you remember how to suck cock?”
She licked her lips again. It mesmerized Kress. Though he longed to look at what the challenge did to the rest of her body, he couldn’t rip his stare from her face. He openly drank in her beauty now: the b
urnished desire in her gaze, the racing pulse in her throat, and the moist sheen on her lips, as she murmured, “Yes, Sir.”
“Then I want you to get on your knees and show Kress how grateful you are for the gift of his domination tonight.” David backed it up by anchoring both hands to her shoulders, pushing her down himself. “Suck him well, sweetheart, because I’m gonna watch every minute.”
Kress sure as hell wasn’t looking away now. He swallowed hard as the golden goddess dropped before him, barely believing his fantasy was reality once again. It was all he could do to get his hands to his belt, dictating his fingers to the practicality of getting the damn thing undone.
“No.” David’s command sliced into his mental haze. “Let her do it, Moridian. Don’t lift a finger. She’s servicing you.”
“I enjoy full service.” Never had he said words more true. As she set him free, tenderly working his erection with those same sweet fingers, he let out a groan. He dug appreciative hands into her hair, combing through its long, soft waves, thinking again that surely he lived a dream. One fucking doozie of a dream. And, he reasoned, weren’t dreams meant to be savored, enjoyed?
He’d think about the crapville of waking up from this later. Much later.
Chapter Twenty
David’s words echoed in Dasha’s head like a dream. Show Kress your gratitude. But gratitude flowed in her heart for both these men. For David, who’d been her strength. For Kress, who’d been her safety. And the two of them together, for becoming her freedom…for tearing down the walls of her heart and setting its love free again.
Yes, she loved them. God help her, both of them. And yes, she wanted to prove it to them both too…right now, with every fiber of her body.
The body that quivered in awakening now, as she stroked Kress’s cock in appreciation.
A hiss escaped him as she ran her fingers up his velvet length, tracing the pulsing veins beneath the skin. “God, yes, Dasha.” She loved the moan that followed, coinciding with the milky drops that leaked from the slit at his tip.