When he spun around to face her, she was surprised at the look of self-loathing on his face. “It’s taken me all these years and that scene at the house with you to realize it isn’t the pain of lost love that keeps bothering me, but disgust that I actually thought I was in love with that twit and let her play with my emotions that way.”
“Justin,” Tucker began.
But Justin just shook his head. “I need to say it all. I was really just an immature kid, and I’ve been hanging on to this all these years because I couldn’t admit I’d let myself be taken in.” He looked at Angel. “I know you’re nothing like Holly, but when everything blew up that afternoon, I couldn’t help my knee-jerk reaction.” He came to stand in front of her, his hand cupping her chin. “Can you forgive us, Angel? Forgive me?
“Well.” She couldn’t help the nervous little laugh that bubbled out of her. “I think this is a first, a Dom apologizing to a sub.”
He stared directly into her eyes, and she could see all the emotion sizzling in his.
“You’re more than a sub to us,” he told her. “I hope you know that. You told us you love us. Now it’s our turn to tell you. If you accept the apology, we promise to cherish you for the rest of your life. Count on it.”
“We want to take you home with us,” Tucker added. “Permanently. Does that fit in with your plans now?”
Yes, yes, yes!
“I’ll have to make a living, you know. I’m still a lawyer. That hasn’t changed. I’m thinking about opening my own practice. I figure the Hill Country can always use one more legal eagle. Does that work for you?”
“It was never your career as such that made us angry,” Justin told her. “Just the thought that you might be working against us after what we’d come to mean to each other. All of us.” He cupped her breasts in his palms. “What happens now is just details. We got the most important one out of the way.”
“No,” Tucker disagreed. “This is the most important one. You didn’t really answer us one way or the other. Angel, will you build a life with us? Make a home together?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I will.”
Tucker toed off his boots and stood them to the side, the polished leather gleaming in the ambient light. His eyes never left hers while he unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it aside and began to work on his jeans. “You don’t know how much it hurt to think we were never going to get to fuck you again, sugar. Or feel that sweet mouth around my cock. Or taste your sweet pussy juice.”
Behind her, Angel could sense Justin removing his clothes.
“But I think she needs a little punishment just so she remembers who her Masters are,” he said. “Don’t you agree, Tuck?”
“I surely do. Angel, baby, I think this time we both need to paddle that sweet ass. So you’ll never put us through something like this again.”
Heat blasted through her and cream gushed in her cunt, wetting her thighs. Already she could feel the tingling sensation on the cheeks of her ass.
“Why don’t you go first, big brother?” Tucker asked. “Get her warmed up.”
“Sure thing.”
From the corner of her eye, Angel saw Justin, now completely naked, reach for the short leather paddle on the table.
“This works real well on her,” he remarked. “I like the marks it leaves.”
“Then get to it,” Tucker urged.
He cupped her cheeks with his hands, pressed his open mouth to hers and thrust his tongue inside at the exact moment the first smack fell on her skin. Angel jerked, but Tucker held her in place, his tongue exploring her mouth, a flame igniting everything it touched.
The next blow fell quickly, and then another. Warmth spread to her thighs and her pussy, increasing in intensity with each strike. And the more the paddle fell, the deeper Tucker took the kiss. Angel’s head was spinning as sensation piled on sensation.
She barely heard Justin when he said, “Your turn.” But she cried out in disappointment when Tucker dropped his hands and his mouth left hers.
But in the next moment, Justin was in front of her, kissing her jaw line, her collarbone, sucking the swollen buds of her tormented nipples. She shivered with anticipation when he dropped to his knees in front of her, parted her labia and stroked his tongue the full length of her slit.
“I’m using this little switch,” Tucker drawled. “It’ll leave nice stripes to go with the marks from the paddle. You’ll love it, Angel girl.”
At the moment, she would love anything if only someone would give her some release from the incredible hunger rampaging through her body. She almost sobbed with relief when the thin switch struck her ass at the exact moment Justin took her clit in his mouth. He nibbled and sucked and pulled as Justin applied his instrument over and over, her ass and thighs so hot she thought they were on fire.
As the last blow was delivered, Justin slid two fingers inside her and she climaxed violently, shuddering and shaking and crying out.
“Open your eyes, Angel,” Justin ordered as he slid his fingers from her body.
She watched him as he carefully and slowly licked her cream from his fingers, the lust in his eyes as hot as a forest fire.
“Man, I just love looking at those red butt cheeks,” Tucker said, tossing the switch aside. “But more than that, I want to slide my dick in your ass, in that hot dark tunnel.”
“Then let’s do it,” Justin said. “I’m so hard I’m afraid if I bump into a wall my cock will break off.”
Justin stood up and reached around to her buttocks, pulling the cheeks wide so Tucker could lube her up. The moment those well-oiled fingers slid into her rectum, Angel was ready again, hungry to feel both of men inside her. The two men quickly sheathed themselves then Justin held her against him while Tucker slid carefully into her ass.
Ohgodohgodohgod.
She pushed back against him, her inner walls stretching to take his thickness. Then Justin bent to untie her ankles and lifted one leg, placing it on his hip to open her to his invasion. The feeling of both cocks buried deep inside her set Angel off again and another orgasm surged through her. Every muscle in the bodies of the twins tightened as she shuddered through her climax, groans of pleasure rolling from their mouths.
“Damn,” Justin said, struggling to breathe. “We need to punish her more if she gets this hot every time.”
“I’ll just have to be naughty more, I guess,” she gasped.
“Naughty is good,” Tucker said, nibbling her ear. “Ready, bro?”
“More than.”
Then Justin’s mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding over hers, as the two men began their coordinated dance. In. Out. Back. Forth. Angel rocked with them, forward and back, her body filled with them, her muscles clamping down on their cocks.
They tumbled off the ledge together, three bodies shaking with violent spasms. Spasm after spasm rocked them until there was nothing left. Until all three were spent. They stood locked together until the men had regained enough breath to ease from her body and release her from her restraints. They ease her nipples with their mouths as they removed the clamps.
Then they sandwiched her between them, arms wrapped around her.
“Build a future with us, Angel,” Justin said. “Be with us forever.”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Tucker asked. “Let’s wrap up our present and go home.”
About the Author
Desiree Holt’s writing is flavored with the rich experiences of her life, including a long stretch in the music business representing every kind of artist from country singer to heavy metal rock bands. For several years she also ran her own public relations agency handling any client that interested her, many of whom might recognize themselves in the pages of her stories. She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year
, winner of two Holt Medallion Awards of Merit, and is published by five different houses. Romance Junkies said of her work: “Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”
You can find her at
www.desireeholt.com
www.desireeholttellsall.com
www.facebook.com/desireeholt
Twitter @desireeholt.com
To chat with Desiree Holt and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.
Also Available
Rawhide:
Bite The Bullet
by
Desiree Holt
Book 3 of the Rawhide Series
Montana Steele hoped her new job was a new start. At Rawhide, the private bondage club, she would find willing subs who fit neatly into one compartment of her life. Clint Chavez, part owner of Rawhide, was determined to never again involve himself emotionally in a relationship. But neither expected the fireworks that erupted between them, nor the erotic attraction that would bind them together despite their best efforts.
Chapter One
“Looks like a full house again tonight.”
Clint Chavez closed the email he was reading and swiveled around in his chair to greet Reece Halliday, his friend and partner in the very private fetish club, Rawhide.
“Yup. You called it when you said Performance Night would be a big hit. And it certainly drummed up business on a Tuesday.”
They had discussed all the pros and cons for a long time, visiting other clubs where members were willing to stage specific types of performances for the other members and their guests. Clint hadn’t been so sure their clientele was the type to go for it, either as performer or audience. But Rawhide actually had a waiting list of those who wanted to stage an act, and members knew to arrive early or they’d end up standing through the entire show.
The show also created sexual stimulation in the viewers, meaning the private rooms were booked up from the end of the show until closing.
“Katie with you tonight?” Clint asked.
Reece laughed. “Are you kidding? She wouldn’t miss it.”
Katie Warren Halliday and Reece had been lovers years before, split, and reconnected when Clint, unbeknownst to Reece, hired her to manage Rawhide. The reunion had been a happy one, for Katie, the perfect submissive and Reece, the ultimate Dom. Even though they no longer needed the club to play, they still came to special events. Otherwise, the operation was left to Clint and his new manager.
Reece nodded at the computer. “I see you’re reading my email again.”
“Uh-huh. It seems we have a new provisional member coming tonight.”
“She’s new to the area. The owner of the club I used to belong to in Tampa gave her a thumbs up recommendation. I’d trust his word on anyone.”
“What do you know about her?” Clint asked.
“Beside the fact that my friend says she’s tall, striking, super smart, and a Domme that subs crawl to for attention?”
Clint looked at the email again. “She must be damn good to get this kind of recommendation.”
Reece dropped into one of the chairs facing the desk. “I’d say so. He wouldn’t endorse just anyone. Especially since he knows we run as tight a ship as he does.”
“And she wants to show up tonight?” Clint frowned. “Didn’t give us much warning.”
“My fault,” Reece told him. “He’s been trying to get in touch with me about her for a week, and we’ve been missing each other.”
“What else can you tell me about a woman who,” he peered at the screen, “raises bulls for the rodeo circuit? Odd profession for a woman.”
Reece shrugged. “According to her file, she was married to a rodeo rider who apparently has two things to recommend him—he’s making a mint in endorsements and fucks every buckle bunny over the age of eighteen. She divorced his ass, got a fat settlement, and used it to buy Chuck McConnell’s place. Chuck and his wife wanted to retire, and neither of his kids was interested in taking over the ranch.”
“Well, I guess it’s as good a way to make a living as any. But I’ll bet a woman who does that for a living is definitely an incredible Domme.”
Reece chuckled. “Interested?”
It was a very well-kept secret that Clint was a natural sexual submissive. Most people looking at the man who stood six foot four with a muscular build, a classic masculine face, and thick black hair to his shoulders would never guest his sexual preferences.
Clint shook his head. “You know I never mix business and pleasure. Makes it hard to set and maintain rules.”
He maintained a membership in a club in Dallas and one in Austin. But he longed to find a relationship like the Hallidays had.
“Did you look at the personal file her club sent?”
“Yeah. Here it is.” He tapped a key and brought up a new screen.
An expert at orgasm denial.
Skilled at the use of a dildo to penetrate her submissive.
Favors the use of male nipple clamps.
Special toys include a fiberglass cane and a tire tread spanker.
Often prefers to gag her submissives.
Clint’s cock hardened just reading the notations, and a dull ache lodged itself in his balls. His attention returned to her picture at the top of the file. Striking didn’t begin to describe her. She posed in a bustier and leather boots, thick auburn hair cascading down her back, plump breasts swelling over the top of the bustier, neatly trimmed curls decorating a cunt revealed by the garment. She held a thin whip in her hand and on her face was a look of challenge.
Come and take it was all he could think of. The war cry of besieged Gonzales during the Mexican War, but this had nothing to do with a cannon and everything to do with a woman who promised the ultimate level of pleasure/pain. As he studied the file and the recommendations, his cock hardened and his balls tightened painfully.
Swallowing a sigh, he turned back to Reece. “What do you think? She’s going to be your neighbor. Find out your secrets?”
Reece laughed. “It seems more and more of my neighbors are learning about me. Especially since Liz Gillibrand married Alex Wright.”
Liz owned the Lucky L Horse Ranch, and Alex was related to one of the girls who trained there. Although they’d met on neutral ground, both were shocked to run into each other at Rawhide. It had, however, been a fortunate meeting for both of them. Their relationship had blossomed, and only last month they’d had a small wedding that Reece and his wife Katie attended.
“I don’t want that to become a problem for you,” Clint told him. “We opened this club to give both of us anonymity, if you recall.”
“No problem. She won’t want notoriety any more than I will. And as you can see, she comes with impeccable references.”
Clint shrugged. “Fine by me, then. When she gets here, bring her in and I’ll have her fill out a form for provisional membership. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Who’s on the schedule tonight?” Reece asked.
“Linc Stoddard and Melora Regan.” Clint grinned. “Good night for you and Katie to show up. There’ll be no sleeping at the Halliday residence tonight.”
That couple always drew a crowd, mainly because Melora was the Dominant in the relationship. And Clint had trained her in the use of the single tail whip. She was an expert with it now and favored it over other forms of punishment. It was well known that she teased her subs first with sharp nipple clamps and butt plugs before treating them to the lash of the whip. Linc and Melora had met at Rawhide and recently moved into a more formal relationship. Tonight’s performance would be outstanding.
“Well.” Reece stood up. “I’d better get out to the lounge. I’ve got Katie on the lookout for our guest. I can hardly wait to meet Miss Montana Steele who breeds bulls for the rodeo.” He winked at Clint. “I still think you should take a good look at her.”
Clint laughed. “I intend to. Profes
sionally, of course.”
****
Montana Steele smiled at the man who asked for her identification. Once they accepted her as a member here—if they did—her name would be on the list. And if she came here often enough, he’d recognize her. She liked that about clubs like Rawhide. After a while, it got to be like an extended family.
The man smiled at her, lifted a small radio to his mouth, and turned away for a moment. When he turned back, he was smiling again.
“It’ll just be a moment, I promise.” He nodded at the padded bench against one wall. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
She was about to tell him she’d just as soon stand but realized there were people behind her waiting to get in and she was holding up the line. “Thank you.”
She walked to the bench and sat down as gracefully as she could. She had no idea why she was so nervous. This wasn’t her first club visit by any means. But she was starting a new life here, everything was changing, and it was important that she get her life—personal as well as professional—in order. Sorel was a bitter memory, and she had no intention of repeating that mistake. She often reminded herself that his initials, D.S., actually stood for Dip Shit.
Not for the first time tonight she wondered if she should even be here. Maybe she wasn’t ready to be in a social situation yet. Lord knew the bulls took up enough of her time and the hands grabbed for the rest. But her body was sending signals that it needed something more than friendly toys to bring it to orgasm and she hadn’t worn a skirt or primped for a very long time.
What if I make another mistake? What if I find another Dusty?
No. That wasn’t going to happen. She would compartmentalize, like so many others did. She’d allow herself so much playtime, find an appropriate sub or two here at Rawhide and take the edge of the erotic need that gripped her like a claw.
She smoothed her hand over the leather skirt she wore, then crossed her legs, an expanse of thigh flashing between the hem of her skirt and the top of the high patent boots. Trying not to look nervous, she adjusted the short leather jacket, fiddled with the heavy chain around her neck. She was about to start counting the squares of slate in the floor when a deep voice sounded in front of her.
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