Tremors started in her fingers and worked their way up her arms to her shoulders. Her gaze dropped to his chest, and she realized, at some point, he’d unfastened the top buttons of his white dress shirt. The dark chest hair covering his caramel skin had her fingers twitching erratically. Just one touch. Was that too much for a girl to ask?
She imagined the hair continuing down to his abdomen… and beyond. She swallowed the excess saliva pooling in her mouth and bit the corner of her lip. Would she be able to touch them tonight to bring them pleasure, or would they keep the focus on her since they were using the evening as a reintroduction?
She gulped and switched her gaze to Lucas’s chest, broad and heavily muscled under his black silk shirt. She’d always harbored a secret fantasy of being with two men, even before she realized she was a submissive. Before she even knew what a submissive was.
Ian had known all of her deepest, darkest fantasies… except that one.
She’d been embarrassed by the desire and knew he wouldn’t share her in that way anyway, so she’d never told him. But would these two men fulfill her fantasy?
“Stand up, Muriel. Let the dress fall to the ground around you.” Lucas’s voice was firm and controlled but also soft and kind. She loved the way he commanded respect and attention without ever raising his voice or getting ugly. The trait was one reason he was such a highly respected Dom.
Incorporating as much grace into the movement as possible, she used the strength of her abs and legs and pushed to a standing position. The dress fell from her arms and floated to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pale cream-colored thong. A flick of his wrist indicated he wanted that gone too, so she slid it down her thighs and off her feet.
Still seated on the bench, watching every move she made, Mathew spread his knees wide and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her to him. Her belly fluttered in response as he pressed his lips to her skin in a gentle, tender kiss. And when he raked his heated gaze from the center of her stomach to her breasts, she tingled as if physically caressed.
He drew her left nipple into his mouth, ran his tongue around and around and around, then clamped down with his teeth and tugged, sending cascading electric sparks through her. Her head spun, her toes curled, and a heavy, hot weight settled to the bottom of her stomach. After giving the other nipple equal attention, he moved her back a few steps and stood.
She must have appeared as dizzy as she felt, because the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile and he retrained his tight grip on her waist. Thank goodness. Otherwise, she would have collapsed into a heap on the cold, hard floor.
What happened to the harsh, calloused man who cursed her apology? Who was this person with the gentle yet possessive touch who seemed enthralled by her?
More importantly, how long until this man disappeared and the cold, dispassionate Mathew returned?
Chapter 7
The sound of rushing water echoed around the space and washed over her as Mathew took Muriel’s hand and led her to one of the columns in the back of the room. When he stepped behind it, facing the wall, she realized he’d hidden them from view of anyone who might enter the room.
His gaze was hot, fierce, as he released her hand and said, “Take off my shirt.” His voice was soft but quiet command underscored the gentleness of his tone, causing her to shiver with anticipation.
She glanced at Lucas, who’d picked up his toy bag and was taking his sweet time following them across the room. Returning her attention to Mathew, her movements were awkward and uncoordinated, as if she’d never undressed a man before. And in a lot of ways, she hadn’t.
She’d only had a few lovers before Ian, and all of those experiences had been mundane I’ll undress me, you undress you, missionary, over and done encounters.
Then Ian opened her eyes to a whole new world, awakened her sexually, and taught her how to be a submissive. His submissive. She didn’t know how to satisfy every man. She only knew what Ian liked.
She supposed the best way to learn what Mathew, Lucas, or anyone else she became involved with preferred was to try something and watch their reaction. If they responded positively, she’d keep going. If not, she’d try something different.
Starting with his wrist seemed less intimate than going straight for the throat, so she stepped forward and reached for his hand. It was warm and heavy resting upside down in her palm, and if she wasn’t mistaken, tiny tremors rippled through his fingers. As she switched to the other sleeve, his breathing grew rough and fragmented, and she could’ve sworn a soft moan rose from his chest as she linked their fingers and turned over his palm. Taking care not to drop his arm like a hot potato, she carefully lowered it to his side and reluctantly released his fingers. She’d rarely seen him without a shirt and never this close, so it was impossible not to stare at his solid chest with a perfect sprinkling of hair or his well-defined abs as she slowly, one by one, unfastened the buttons running down the center of his chest.
After pulling the hem of his shirt from his pants and finishing the last button, she gave up the fight. She hoped he would forgive her for touching without asking permission—better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? But she couldn’t chance being denied. She had to touch him. Now.
Her mouth watered and her fingers twitched as they slipped beneath the crisp, starched fabric and began a leisurely stroll. She nearly moaned with the pleasure coursing through her fingertips as they traversed soft skin, curly chest hair, and hard muscles.
As she swept up and over the sharp ridge of his shoulders, she pushed the collar of the shirt over his back, then ran her hands down his arms, dragging the fabric with her as she stroked his thick biceps and strong forearms. His raw masculinity had her swaying on her feet, and she drew in a deep breath to center herself. The problem was she also drew in more of his intoxicating richness, leaving her lightheaded and desperate.
She didn’t know him well enough to be sure, but when he shook his arm to completely dislodge the sleeves, she thought the move might’ve been designed to conceal the shiver of awareness rippling through him as well. She bent to pick the shirt up off the floor, but he grabbed her wrist and shook his head.
“Leave it.” His dark eyes were heavy lidded and filled with heat, his voice a gravelly scratch.
Continuing to hold her wrist in a firm grasp, he leaned back so his shoulders rested against the column, then stretched out his legs so he reclined at an angle. “Put your feet to the outside of mine and lean against me.”
He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be happy to play the part of a St. Andrew’s cross, and she trembled with excitement as she stepped forward and rested her bare foot against the cool leather of his left shoe, then repeated the move with the right.
Oh God. The slick fabric of his dress slacks was cool against her inner thighs, but his stomach and chest were sizzling. She didn’t want to put all her weight against him, because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to see his face. But the steep slope of his body, as well as his raised eyebrow, showing he expected her to follow his command, didn’t leave her any choice.
She drew in a deep breath and consciously relaxed her shoulders, trying to squelch the nervous energy zipping through her body. She’d almost succeeded when he laced his fingers with hers and stretched their arms out to the sides.
He pressed his lips to her temple, then trailed soft, barely there kisses down the side of her neck. With his mouth still pressed to the tender skin at the curve of her neck, he murmured, “Relax.”
Relax? Was he kidding?
Her naked body was pressed against his. His thick erection, though tucked away behind his slacks, still made a strong presence against her stomach with an occasional twitch. Her sex throbbed with need. Her fingers were trapped in his strong grip. Her legs were spread so wide the stance bordered on uncomfortable. And last but not least, Lucas was gearing up to either spank or flog her, or both. How was she supposed to relax?
Even though relaxing was as lik
ely as her winning the lottery—without buying a ticket—she rested her head against his chest, then sucked in another breath… another lungful of Mathew.
She concentrated on the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart and slowed her ragged, choppy gasps to match his deep, controlled breaths. Remarkably, within minutes, she managed to achieve a dreamy, hypnotic state that resembled the tranquility of subspace.
Lost to everything but Mathew, she jumped when Lucas stroked her shoulders and said, “You’re always beautiful. But when you’re in submissive mode, you take my breath away.”
She’d always noted his touch was firmer than Ian’s—firmer than most Dom’s, now that she thought about it—but as he swept her hair over her shoulder and stroked her back, there was a subtlety to his gentle, reassuring caresses.
Her skin tingled and nerve endings sparked to life as he ran his hand along her spine. When she closed her eyes and settled into the touch, she felt herself turning to jelly. “Thank you, Sir.”
Although she always tried to look her best, she’d never been overly obsessed with her appearance. She knew most people considered her attractive, but she didn’t see herself as anything exceptional or extraordinary. But in submissive mode, she felt beautiful.
As Lucas continued to stroke her shoulders, spine, and butt, she moaned and melted farther into Mathew. Her swollen breasts and nipples were crushed against the solid wall of his chest, her soft stomach molded to his hard abs, her pubic bone pressed against the steely ridge of his erection… She moaned again and wiggled side to side, enjoying the physical connection and stimulation. But she also needed more.
For her, Dominance and submission was as much about the emotional tie between partners as the physical enjoyment. She hadn’t been sure she would find that connection with someone again or would trust anyone enough to completely turn herself over. But as her body stirred under Lucas’s touch, her heart and mind warmed toward Mathew.
When Lucas stopped the gentle strokes and knelt to rifle through his bag, no doubt searching for the perfect implement, she lifted her head from Mathew’s shoulder to look at him. Just as her gaze locked with his, Lucas swung his flogger in a figure-eight pattern that left a sweet sting of pleasure across her back. But it was the intensity of Mathew’s stare that sucked the breath from her lungs in a harsh gasp.
Hungry fire raged in his eyes and his jaw clenched then relaxed as his gaze dipped to her mouth. She held her breath, waiting—hoping and praying—for a kiss. But he didn’t make a move toward her. The intense longing in his gaze screamed his desire to devour her, but he possessed an iron will, because he didn’t so much as twitch a muscle.
Desperate and hungry, she flattened her tongue and rolled it across her bottom lip, slowly, suggestively, showing him exactly what she wanted him to do. His eyes darkened and narrowed to slits, but he still wasn’t swayed, and frustration had her biting the corner of her lip hard enough to draw blood. He watched with laser-like focus yet maintained his distance.
The frantic need to have Mathew’s mouth on her and the raging fire dancing across her skin from the flogger’s crisscross pattern left her panting. She begged Mathew with her eyes while squirming back and forth, seeking relief from her near-desperate state.
“Stop moving, angel.” Mathew’s voice was guttural but authoritative. “It’s his choice of when, where, and how much. Not yours.”
His full lips, even more pronounced by the five o’clock shadow surrounding them, tempted her like nothing before, and it took all her willpower not to rise on tiptoes and steal a kiss. As if reading her mind, the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. Teasingly.
He was doing his best to appear in control and unaffected, and while she would agree he had full control, he definitely wasn’t unaffected. Afternoon thunderstorms had built in his eyes, and when his lids relaxed and his lashes dipped, his eyes were the color of midnight. His ragged pulse, the raging desire in his gaze, the way his lips parted as he drew in air… No, he wasn’t unaffected, and the cool distance he always maintained was nowhere to be found.
She struggled to make her mind work as Lucas’s rhythmic strokes threatened to take her out of it. Normally, she loved slipping into the ethers and riding the cloud of subspace. But something important was happening with Mathew, and if she could hold on to her sanity long enough, maybe she could crack the code.
But in addition to the back-and-forth between her and Mathew, there was also an internal tug-of-war playing out between her mind, body, and heart.
How many times over the past year had she wondered if the nirvana of subspace would allow her to fly close enough to heaven to catch a glimpse of Ian? All she had to do was let go of the tiny thread keeping her tethered to Mathew and she would be there.
But as his eyes continued to eat her up, she found herself wanting to stay here, staring into his eyes, searching for elusive answers. Guilt slashed through her chest, making it difficult to breathe as she realized she was choosing to stay with Mathew rather than flying into subspace where she might possibly find Ian.
It’s okay, Muriel. Ian’s voice rang out in her mind as clearly as if he’d spoken directly into her ear. Let Mathew take care of you.
She gasped and snapped her head around, looking over her shoulder with what had to be frantic, wild eyes. She fought off Mathew’s hold so she could turn a full circle, desperately searching for Ian. But the only other person in the room besides her and Mathew was Lucas.
He dropped the flogger, stepped into her line of sight, and cupped his palms around her face. “Let it all out, sweetheart.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Whatever we’ve tapped into, whatever you’re feeling, let it all go.”
“Ian…” His name came out on a choked sob as she searched the room again. “He was here. I heard him.” She snapped her gaze to Lucas, pleading for understanding while also hoping she wasn’t going crazy. “He was here. He spoke to me.” Her voice was a high-pitched shrill. “He… he…” She turned and searched Mathew’s eyes, which were filled with concern. “He told me to let you take care of me.”
Anguish washed over Mathew’s face and then, with the next blink of his eyes, the anguish dissipated into a blank mask. Whatever he’d felt before was gone. Whatever he thought of her claim was camouflaged. And whatever he thought of Ian’s desire to have him take care of her—which even if Ian hadn’t just relayed that information, it was the reason he’d chosen Mathew as his best man—remained a mystery. His eyes, the set of his jaw, his breathing gave nothing away.
She turned to Lucas once again and frantically tried to persuade him she wasn’t crazy. “I heard him, Lucas. As loudly and clearly as if he were standing right here.”
Lucas’s eyes smiled, and he pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead. “I believe you, love. I didn’t hear it, but I don’t doubt you did. Ian loved you more than anything in the world.” He shifted his attention to Mathew and settled a strong, solid gaze on the other man. “Both of you. Nothing would’ve satisfied him more than for you to find happiness together.”
Mathew’s head snapped back as if Lucas’s words had punched him in the jaw. His eyes narrowed in challenge, but he seemed shocked into silence.
Lucas, not waiting for further conversation, picked up the flogger, turned her so she faced Mathew, and said, “Ready to go again?”
Other than the rapid rise and fall of his chest, Mathew stood as still as the statues scattered around the room. He seemed completely flummoxed and maybe even a little panicked by Lucas’s announcement.
She, on the other hand, was encouraged by Lucas’s conviction that Ian would’ve wanted her to not only be happy, but to be happy with Mathew. At least in this moment. As she considered Lucas’s words, a few more pieces surrounding the mystery of Mathew fell into place, and she wondered if she’d been reading his signals wrong all these years.
Silly girl, don’t you know everyone loves you?
Ian’s words crashed down on her, causing her breath to catch in h
er throat. Could it be that Mathew didn’t dislike her as much as she thought, but actually cared for her? And that’s why he kept his distance all these years, as a means of self-preservation. She searched his eyes again, looking for something that would give her insight, but he remained guarded and closed off.
Since Lucas was waiting to pick up where they’d left off, she slid her feet to the outside of Mathew’s, but rather than linking their fingers like before, she reached around and slipped her hands into his back pockets. Not only did the position press their bodies tightly together, but it gave her the added bonus of having his outstanding ass in the palms of her hands.
Twisting so she could see Lucas from the corner of her eyes, she smiled and said, “Yes, Sir. I’m ready when you are.”
As Lucas resumed the flogging, she slowly rotated her hips so she rubbed against Mathew’s erection.
Oh yeah… definitely interested.
His nostrils flared as he drew in a harsh breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and winced as if in physical pain. His head fell back and landed with a thud against the column. Then he lifted it and banged it again.
What in the world?
The strokes from the flogger weren’t hard enough to send her flying from endorphin overload yet, so she kept her eyes trained on Mathew’s face, watched as his jaw clenched tighter and tighter, as his eyes squeezed shut and his nostrils flared. When his eyes cracked open and he peered at her through thick, dark lashes, a series of emotions snapped like images flashing on a screen, each one as difficult to identify as the one before.
Deciding to test her new theory, she took a deep breath and a huge risk. She might find herself humiliated again, like when she tried to apologize, but her heart urged her to reach out again anyway.
Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1) Page 7