Wicked Times Two

by Tina Donahue

  Or not.

  Acting like a lovesick schoolgirl wasn’t going to get her anywhere. If men could blithely go about their lives without romantic entanglements, she could too.

  Starting tomorrow.

  She scrolled through the pictures she’d taken of them in Orlando and at the farm, not having looked at the shots as yet. Why bother when she’d been able to see them in the flesh—figuratively and literally—until now. After a few photos, she couldn’t look any longer without missing them terribly. She put her phone aside and sank to the bed. The guys’ fragrances were stronger here, clinging to the sheets. She should change the linens.

  Too weary to move, she powered up her laptop and settled in to watch The Human Centipede. If that film couldn’t take her mind off romance, nothing could.

  Shortly after the first commercial break, she fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  The next day was easier to get through, the following one even better. She didn’t kid herself about not missing Noah and Kyle any longer, since she did…far more than what was safe for her heart. However, with Thursday approaching, she did see an end to her wait.

  After that?

  She wasn’t ready to face the consequences of falling for them, which she had. Completely. Foolishly. Would she ever learn? Apparently not.

  Moving on after this relationship ended was going to be murder. Might as well enjoy the time she had left with them.

  On Thursday, she was ready at 1:30 a.m., her apartment key in one hand, cuffs, blindfold and silk scarf in the other. The items seemed curiously heavy. She couldn’t stop pacing.

  At exactly 2:00 a.m., a knock rang out on her door. Only one. Why would they need another? They’d told her from this moment on, they’d command, she’d obey.

  Dizzy, she let them in.

  Noah wore deck shoes, jeans and a dark-brown T-shirt. Kyle also wore jeans and deck shoes, his tee navy. Their hair appeared finger-combed. They hadn’t shaved. Her legs went rubbery at their effortless masculinity but even more at her memories of their laughter, teasing, the carnal heat she remembered in their eyes.

  Sin filled their expressions now.

  Kyle took the scarf, cuffs and blindfold from her before she could offer, stuffing them into his pockets. She held up her house key. He slipped it into his wallet.

  Noah looked over. “Hold her hands.”

  Kyle did—behind her back—his grip firm on her wrists.

  Noah yanked the edges of the cape apart. She blushed hotly. He ran his hand over her naked breasts, down her torso to her navel, leaving a flurry of sensations gliding through her. The pleasure intensified as he stroked the gems dangling from her bellybutton and dipped his fingers to her bush.

  She trembled.

  He closed the cape. Kyle released her hands.

  “Hold the front together when we go outside,” Noah said. “Keep your eyes down.”

  She tried to obey but still snuck peeks. No one was on the street at this hour, the temperature cooler yet still oppressive. Security lights burned in the shops, showing the deserted interiors.

  In the cab of the pickup, Noah turned to her. “Head down, eyes closed until we get out.”

  Where in the hell were they taking her?

  He arched one eyebrow.

  She obeyed but listened hard. No good. Either he or Kyle turned on the radio. Kanye’s voice burst from the speakers. The rough music was loud enough to drown out other sounds.

  At irregular intervals, the pickup made numerous right turns and finally a left. The tang of the ocean grew stronger.

  Within a short period, the pickup slowed and stopped, sooner than she’d expected. A window whooshed down, the scent of the Atlantic unmistakable. Surely they weren’t going to the beach. Even though Noah and Kyle were cops, them screwing around and playing BDSM games on the sand would get their asses and hers hauled to jail.

  The window whirred back up, and the pickup moved forward. Within minutes, they’d stopped again. Their doors popped open. Kyle grabbed her hand.

  Noah joined them outside. “Head down.” He smacked her butt.

  She tucked in her chin but still snuck peeks as she had in Northwood Village, stunned they were at a marina, marching past freaking yachts, one bigger than the other, no one else around. None of this made sense.

  If Kyle and Noah had been any other men, she would have kicked off her high heels and sprinted in the other direction.

  For them—and herself—she kept pace, her senses in overdrive. She caught an unexpected whiff of cinnamon on the moist air. Water slapped against the boats. Something groaned, making a sound like metal straining. Flags flapped. She drew the cloak around herself to hide her nudity.

  Noah and Kyle stopped. Without thinking, she turned, her mouth falling open.

  The yacht was startlingly white with a wide black stripe on the side and the words Zimmerman’s Toy emblazoned on the back.

  They’d been talking about a boat all along? No wonder she hadn’t been able to find anything in a Google search.

  The corners of their mouths lifted slightly, but the guys didn’t smile even though her shock clearly pleased them.

  “Do you have something to say?” Noah asked.

  Did she ever. She nodded.

  So did he. “Go on.”

  “Zimmerman obviously owns this baby.” She jabbed her thumb at the yacht. “Who is he?”

  “Rich dude.”

  “Obviously. But how?” She leaned in. “Is this legal?”

  “Extremely,” Noah said. “He’s an attorney with a practice of over a hundred lawyers in Florida, New York and L.A. Kyle and I have done security for his private parties when he’s in town. Nice guy. Said if we ever needed anything…”

  Like his yacht? Had Noah talked to him about law? He should. Zimmerman could help him finance school. Possibly help Kyle too. Why hadn’t they approached the man with that? Were they too proud? No doubt.

  And she was doing the same as always, sticking her nose in a guy’s business, trying to run things.

  A whirring sound drew her attention. As if by magic, a ramp lowered from the yacht, inviting them aboard.

  “The marina doesn’t mind if people stay on the boat while it’s parked here?” she asked.

  “You mean docked?” Noah shrugged. “Don’t know. Once we board, we’re not staying here.”

  Another surprise. “Do you know how to drive this?”

  “Yeah,” Kyle said. “Zimmerman taught us how to pilot the boat. He has a bunch of daughters. Kind of treats us like his sons.”

  No fooling. Before she could ask another question, Noah grabbed her hand and led her to the ramp. As they climbed the thing, wind whisked past, tugging at the cape. She gripped its edges as well as she could to remain decent. When they reached the boat, Noah swept her into his arms, carrying her to the front of the vessel, an enclosed area with windows in front and on both sides.

  He put her down near a long bench, copped a feel of her boob and inclined his head. “Sit.”

  She did, stroking the buttery leather. This baby was too opulent for vinyl.

  Kyle joined them, kissing her briefly. He and Noah took their seats behind what looked like a dashboard. They flipped switches, turning on equipment, taking charge. Like modern-day pirates.

  Her thoughts swirled with images of them cuffing her to the steering wheel, ordering her to lift her ass, disciplining her until her pussy was dripping, their cocks slipping inside, pounding away. Gawd. Or maybe not. Could be they were driving this thing to a resort or something. “Where are we headed?”

  Noah looked over. “Did we say you could speak?”

  They were back to that? She lowered her face.

  Given the sounds they made, they were trying not to laugh. She fought a smile.

  “You’ll see,” Kyle said.

  Once they cleared the dock and left civilization, the ocean and sky seemed to melt together, both a black mass on all sides. She had no idea how either of them could see any
thing out there, including land they might run over.

  They conversed quietly, the words too low for her to hear, the tenor of their voices relaxed, assured.

  Their presence comforted and aroused, thrilled and scared her because of her feelings for them. She would have been delighted if they’d simply shared a burger with her at Wendy’s followed by some bondage and discipline at her place. This…

  The end of these adventures was going to kill her yet she couldn’t refuse what her heart wanted while things lasted. A chance to see their smiles, bask in their rich, deep voices, fill herself with their scents, indulge in their strength as they held and entered her. Those moments played repeatedly in her mind.

  After they’d traveled what seemed like a short distance, the boat turned to the left. Heading where? She squinted, at last seeing a faint outline of land though no lights.

  The craft slowed and stopped. A noise came from the side or back of the yacht, the sound reminding her of metal clacking. Noah and Kyle didn’t seem concerned. She relaxed.

  Minutes later, Noah left his seat and put out his hand. Kyle gave him the blindfold.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She lifted her face as they approached.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Noah said, “in case you are. We’re anchored, the boat won’t drift away. The land to the right belongs to Zimmerman.”

  “His private island,” Kyle said.

  Wow.

  “No one’s there,” Noah added.

  Good thing.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He slipped the blindfold over her eyes, the padding in that area keeping her from seeing around the edges of the cloth, the lack of vision heightening her other senses. The cape was coolish against her skin, his fragrance stronger in here than outside. Wind ruffled something near the window. Water swished.

  One of them removed her right high heel then the left. A hand on her arm directed her to stand. More noises sounded—the kind you make when rummaging for something.

  “Have it?” Noah asked.

  “Yep. These too,” Kyle said.

  Noah made a pleased sound.

  She lifted her chin, trying to see what they were talking about.

  A hand on her arm directed her outside. Balmy wind tugged at her hair and cape, blowing both back. Instinctively, she gripped the satin, tugging the cloth over herself.

  The hand pulled her forward. The wood beneath her feet was slightly damp. Whoever was leading her stopped.

  “Kyle.”

  “Here.”

  She turned in the direction of their voices. Noah in front, Kyle to her side. One of them took her left arm. The snap of metal around her wrist—its hard, smooth surface unmistakable. The cuffs. Whoever pulled on the other end of them brought her to the rail. The heel of her hand slipped over the barrier. Within seconds, the cuff was around her right wrist too. She tugged. The shackles clinked against the rail, keeping her from escape.

  Both men’s hands were on her, removing the cape, exposing her nudity. If the entire world had watched now, she couldn’t have experienced a more vulnerable moment, almost too aware of every part of her body. Her folds were damp, nipples tight, heart walloping away.

  Fabric rustled nearby. The guys undressing?

  She jerked at a hand on her neck, something trailing over her chest. The silk scarf? Yes. Within seconds, one of them had gagged her. Both of them pressed close, their cocks against her thighs. She gripped the rail.

  “Bend over and spread your legs,” Noah said.

  “Lift your ass.” Kyle smacked her butt cheeks lightly. “Don’t fight your punishment.”

  Never.

  The position she assumed was obscene, her excitement and desire unmatched.

  Silence followed, neither of the guys speaking, the night enveloping all of them. Water stirred, fabric flapped, her pulse pounded. A faint whistle and then a crack broke the quiet.

  She flinched. The sting registered a moment later, a flare of heat on her ass.

  Another whistle, a new sting as one of them disciplined her.

  She bit the gag as hard as she could, moaning and whimpering around the fabric.

  The strap or whip struck her butt repeatedly, then finally paused.

  She cried out at last, trying to speak and beg for more.

  A clattering noise told her Noah or Kyle had dropped the instrument of punishment. No. She didn’t want them to stop. They’d just started. Already the sting had evolved into a rush of heat, pure pleasure she craved.

  Their feet slapped the wood. One of them came behind her, thrust his cock in her pussy, fast and hard until their bodies met. She arched her back. Her unknown lover gave her an open-mouthed kiss on the shoulder. The wind changed direction. She caught Noah’s scent, knowing he was the one inside her. He fondled her boobs roughly and rubbed her clit hard as he pounded his cock into her cunt, his growls filled with passion.

  His desire heightened hers. She tightened her inner muscles around his shaft, adding to their pleasure, struggling to hold off but unable to manage any resistance. The climax pulled a gasp from her. Noah’s bellow proved his delight.

  He leaned down, his chest bumping into her back with his ragged breaths. After one more thrust, he pulled out, his steps uneven as he staggered away.

  Kyle mounted her without pause, pumping slowly, his light strokes on her clit nearly unbearable so soon after her orgasm. She endured the pleasurable torment, as willingly defenseless against him as she’d been with Noah. Arousal coiled within her, demanding its due, forcing her and Kyle to succumb. She came first on a moan of delight with him following on a proud roar.

  Chapter Ten

  After a brief rest, Noah wanted to take the action inside, preferring complete seclusion, not to mention having Jasmina fully accessible as a sub should be. Though not for anything over the top. He’d never been into the heavy-duty crap. Ball gags, harnesses and restraints reminded him of something you’d find in a torture chamber. His was a milder fantasy of temporary dominance. Jasmina’s spirit was too irrepressible to master, exactly as he liked.

  He carried her over his shoulder, squeezing her ass as a reminder of the discipline he’d inflicted with the spanking strap. Punishment he would surely do again. Kyle too.

  Muffled sounds flowed from her, the gag still in place, her hands cuffed in front, fingers stroking what she could of his back.

  Yeah, she was enjoying herself.

  Smiling, he brought her to the salon, the blinds drawn, drapes closed. The stately area owned double the square footage of her apartment, the lights shining like stars from a circular fixture that took up most of the ceiling. More lights glowed from behind rectangles of frosted glass on the paneled walls, turning the honey-colored wood golden. Several chairs and three sofas in tan fabric faced the wet bar.

  Noah put her down near the serving island and looked at Kyle. His gaze hungered over her nudity. He held the box of condoms, spanking strap and handcuff key in one hand. He’d draped their clothes over his other arm, holstered revolvers and shoes held to his chest.

  “Mind getting her high heels?” Noah asked. Those babies and her belly jewelry made his blood race.

  “On it.” Kyle tossed the rubbers, key and spanking strap on one chair and carefully placed their weapons on another. After dropping their clothes on the hardwood floor, he padded away.

  She cocked her head, listening. Noah removed her gag—the silk floating to the thick area rug—and took off her blindfold. After squinting for a few seconds, she gaped at their surroundings. The same reaction he’d had upon seeing the opulence here. She mouthed what looked like “wow”.

  He suppressed a smile at how quiet she was being, a real effort given her natural exuberance. Her rosy skin and tousled hair spoke of a woman well used by a man. He glanced at her ass, relieved he hadn’t left marks.

  She stared at the strap, her cheeks darkening.

  Kyle returned. Once she had on her heels, Noah unlocked
the right cuff, pulled her arms behind her and secured her wrist again.

  “Arch your back, show us your pretty tits,” Noah said.

  Her throat turned as red as the stones dangling from her belly, her expression flooding with pleasure. She drew back her shoulders.

  He positioned her in front of the island. “Lean back. Spread your legs so we can see how wet you are.”

  She obeyed, a wanton sound rushing from her.

  He fingered her gems and gestured to Kyle. They sprawled on the sofa across from her, hands behind their heads, feet propped on the coffee tables, legs spread widely, showing her their junk.

  She took in their nuts, rods and chests, her nipples peaking, features transfixed, the curls between her legs dampened with lust. Sweet. Though not enough for Noah. He pushed off the sofa. She watched as he dug his smartphone from his jeans and got Kyle’s too, tossing the device to him.

  Back on the sofa, Noah took pictures of her. Kyle leaned up for his shots. They compared photos.

  “Nice,” Noah said about the one of her cunt.

  Kyle grinned lewdly.

  Jasmina breathed harder, looking as if she wanted to jump them or have them crawl all over her.

  Noah left the sofa again, grabbed the handcuff key and went to her. “Turn around.”

  When she had he undid one of the cuffs, securing her hands in front. He brought her to the barstool facing the sofa Kyle was on. “Put your hands on this.” He patted the thick cushion. “Bend over, lift your ass and spread your legs. Show Kyle and me what belongs to us. Where we’ll sink our cocks into you.”

  She flushed redder than previous times, eyes glittering with delight.

  “Now,” he said.

  She bent over the stool, presenting herself to them.

  Kyle gave him two thumbs-up. Holding back laughter, Noah returned to the sofa. The boat bobbed gently on the docile water. Wind brushed past. Her tight ring, furry cleft and damp folds held his attention more than anything else could, his cock growing hard in response.