Sixx found that very affecting.
Even moving.
She never chatted with her subs during a scene outside the necessary preliminaries, which would, of course, share such hard limits, which in this instance (of course), Stellan had ascertained for her.
When she was with subs, she just worked them.
And they always performed for her, even if she took things to extremes.
She really had no idea why they did, and she didn’t care. A good motto: If it’s not broke, don’t fix it, and she lived a lot of things in life that way.
But if pressed, she would have thought it was the superior training Aryas had ingrained in her and the Dommes he’d included in giving her that.
And it actually was.
It was just that she did what she did as she was taught how to do it, adding her own style along the way.
The challenge she got off on was not diving into their minds and meeting needs outside reading what they wanted sexually, giving them that the way she wanted, which was what they needed, and making them like it.
That was not how some Doms played it, like Leigh. Or even Stellan.
But it was her style of play, which meant she got the transients. Get a Domme, get off and get gone, no complications, just orgasms. That was Mistress Sixx.
Which worked perfectly.
But there was something more there for the subs she wasn’t even realizing she was offering.
And she liked understanding that she did.
Though she didn’t like understanding that Aryas was right during that conversation in the booth.
She had it down in practice.
She’d just that moment come to understand the theory.
“I must say, I’m pleased I’ve earned this amount of dedication so quickly,” she told him.
“And if you don’t mind, Mistress, I’ll say I am too, even though it sucks ’cause I got that, and you’re his. But I’ll take what you can give not getting yourself off on some power trip you got with some built dude you think you can fuck over ’cause you think he gets off on letting you. You get it. And no offense to your particular sisterhood, but not many of your kind do.”
“It seems we need to find someone more worthy of you, gladiator,” she murmured.
“I’m finding I’m good where I am right now, Mistress, but you got a friend, I’m open to new experiences.”
She smiled at him.
He grinned back at her.
Right.
That grin.
Those eyes.
That body.
That cock.
Sixx made a decision.
Time to play matchmaker.
“Your balls are still bound, Ami,” she noted quietly. “Free them and then pull them down as you stroke up.”
His voice was thicker and his grin had vanished, his face going dark in a good way, when he replied, “As you wish, Mistress.”
She watched him do that, and for the first time in a long time—in fact maybe ever—she wanted to touch a sub. She wanted that cock in her mouth. She wanted to order him to roll to his knees, get behind him, press close, wrap her fingers around his dick, cup his balls, and do that to him until he was begging her to let him come.
A vision of Stellan on his knees stroking his cock flashed into her mind.
She banished it and focused on Ami.
“Faster and harder,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he whispered back, giving her that.
She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses, and it filled her brain again. It wasn’t Ami there, laid out on the lounge in the sun, touching himself at her command.
Stellan’s eyes were hot on her, his cock hard for her, his balls heavy for her.
God, she was going to come.
In an effort not to let that happen, she opened her eyes and saw she wasn’t the only one in that state. A bead of pearly wet glistened at the tip of his dick.
“Would you like to come for me?” she asked.
“Very much,” he grunted.
“How I like it?” she pushed.
“Any way you like it, my Mistress.”
“Then get on your hands and knees,” she commanded.
He didn’t hesitate a second.
He was magnificent displayed on his back, stroking his cock.
But that powerful body was spectacular on its hands and knees.
“Tip, over here,” she called, dredging up iron control not to allow her legs to shift restlessly as wet excitement snaked up her pussy. “Now.”
Tip moved from where he was, face still stuffed in Jennifer’s crotch, to standing by the side of Sixx’s lounge.
“Jennifer, get a towel and some oil. Fast.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she said and took off.
“Ami, spread your knees farther apart,” she ordered.
He did, his thick, turgid cock suspended before him, ready to be used.
Damn, she wanted to grab hold.
“Kneel between his legs, Tip, reach between and massage his balls,” she demanded.
Tip did as told.
Ami’s head dropped.
His Mistress had commanded a man’s hand to work him.
And he totally got off on it like it was her hand that was on him.
Because, in essence, it was her hand on him.
Jennifer came with the towel and oil.
“Give the oil to Tip,” Sixx told her. “Spread the towel under Ami.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she murmured, carried out her instructions, and Sixx looked to Tip.
“Oil your hands and then reach around the side and jack him.”
Tip nodded and obeyed.
That was all for her.
Now something for Ami.
“Jennifer, to the front, Ami, as you please,” she said.
Jennifer got on her knees in front of Ami and then her head fell back almost instantly when he shoved his face between her legs.
Strong body and apparently that included his tongue.
Sixx drank sangria and did what any good Domme would do.
What Ami wanted her to do.
In this instance, she got off on watching.
When things progressed, and Ami’s powerful thigh muscles were straining, his sculpted ass clenching, he was no longer eating out pussy because he couldn’t, his breaths audibly heavy, she whispered, “Drive two fingers inside him, Tip. Hard and fast.”
Tip did as told, and Ami’s head shot back, his back arching.
God, better.
“Finger fuck him, keep jacking him, and make him come,” she ordered, her voice husky.
“Yes, Mistress,” Tip murmured.
“Take as much as you can, Ami, then blow for me.”
“As you wish…” he puffed, “Mistress.”
He took a lot.
And he had absolutely not lied.
He totally got off on giving her whatever she wanted.
“Mistress,” he groaned.
“Blow, Ami,” she allowed on a gentle whisper.
He strained back, and with a loud grunt, he shot his cum on the towel under him.
Sixx didn’t bother stopping her legs from rubbing against each other or beating back the delicate, unhurried, rippling climax that whispered up her cunt and through her lips as she watched him go.
Ami had earned that from her.
So she gave it to him.
“Milk him, Tip, and keep fucking him, get in there, Jennifer, and squeeze his balls,” Sixx ordered.
Jennifer moved in. Tip kept at him. And Ami thrust his cock into Tip’s hand, his ass moving through the air, making it hard for both of them to hold on, as his big body shuddered, he groaned and kept erupting.
Oh yes.
She needed to find someone worthy of this warrior.
When the convulsing turned to trembles, immediately she said, “Release him and step away. Back to your lounge. This time, Jennifer, you holding Tip’s cockhead in your mouth. Take the towel away before you go.
”
They murmured their acquiescence, Tip bunching up the towel covered in the flatteringly large offering of Ami’s cum and whisking it away before they went.
Ami held position, breathing hard, head lowered, body still slightly quivering.
It was a beautiful sight.
And just like that, Stellan juxtaposed over the glorious spectacle of Ami, and that particular vision was so strong, Sixx had to shake her head to get rid of it.
“You’ve served me well,” she said gently, her hand itching to touch him, soothe him, her body poised to move to him, press into him, coddle him.
She’d never wanted to do that with any sub, and she knew it was him she wanted to do that to because he was hers through Stellan.
So he was part of Stellan.
Like Tip’s hand had been a part of her.
“I’m glad, Mistress.”
“Look at me, Ami,” she urged.
His head turned to her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
A flare burned through his eyes as he understood what she was saying to him, pleased at what he’d given to her.
No.
What they’d shared.
She was highly sought after at the Honey.
But she’d never had a moment like this with a sub in her life.
“My pleasure,” he whispered back.
“Sixx,” she said. “For now and anytime we’re not in a scene, for you, I’m Sixx.”
She’d never given that to a sub either.
“Sixx,” he murmured, lips twitching.
Totally had to find this guy a good one.
“You can get up and take off your belt and cage, warrior,” she said. “Get in the pool, relax, recuperate. When you’re ready, you get to do whatever you want to Jennifer, and you can make Tip do whatever you want too. Though be sure I’m around, I want to watch.”
“Gratitude, Mistress.”
She gave him a small smile that his eyes honed in on, keen and hungry.
“No, gladiator, gratitude to you,” she said in a soft voice that didn’t even sound like it came from her because she’d never heard it like that. “Now go.”
He nodded, got up, unbuckled his belt, and let it fall to the deck. Then he went to the pool. Listing to the side, he fell into a hand at its edge before he swung his legs out from under him to slide into the pool in a way that only someone with immense upper body strength could do.
It was an awesome show.
But after his bald head disappeared under the water, her attention went directly to Stellan.
He was still with Victor.
But his eyes behind those aviators, she knew, were locked on her.
And his lips were turned up in a self-satisfied smile that told her he was pleased he’d given her a toy she enjoyed playing with.
Suddenly, she wanted to rush across the deck and throw herself into his arms to express her gratitude.
She wanted to do the same to beg him to take her back upstairs and finish what he started.
And she wanted to do the same to burrow into him and whisper in his ear that Ami was fantastic, Tip and Jennifer lovely, but all she wanted was him.
These thoughts tripped to a halt when her view of Stellan was blocked.
She looked up to see the sun playing on the profuse, glistening, brunette curls of the petite Evangeline Brooks and the deep, shining, auburn waves of the long and lithe Amélie Strand as the mismatched duo gracefully sank in unison, side by side, hip-to-hip, a two-woman, Dominatrix Busby Berkeley show coming to rest on the lounge right in front of her.
“Chérie,” Amélie started, “would you kindly share what on earth is going on?”
“What Leigh is saying,” Evangeline put in the second Amélie stopped speaking, “is first, thank you for that awesome show. And second, what the hell is happening with you and Stellan?”
“I—” Sixx began.
“I’d heard you were with him at the pit,” Leigh stated. “And by with him it was reported you were with him, but I didn’t believe it.”
“You know there’s a gladiator pit in Phoenix?” Sixx asked, mildly peeved she hadn’t shared that intel.
Then again, Sixx hadn’t exactly been available for very many girlie chats since she came back, what with brooding about Stellan and putting on shows to get his attention taking all of her time.
“Of course,” Leigh answered. “Aryas and I invested with Stellan.” She turned her head to Evangeline. “And as I’ve been telling you, Leenie, you really need to come. It’s magnificent.”
“Does Olly go with you?” Evangeline asked, openly intrigued by this idea just as it was clear Branch would not be.
Leigh shook her head. “Felicia, Mira or Romy. It’s not Olly’s thing.”
Sixx looked across the pool to where Olly was sitting (now, he was in board shorts, all big-boy-next-door with a damn fine kink). He was at the edge of the pool—calves in the water, a bottle of beer in his hand, talking to Penn and Shane, who were in the pool.
“Your stallion not playing today?” Sixx queried.
“He’s never been to a private party,” Leigh explained, shocking Sixx because the guy wasn’t twenty-one, and the way he was with Amélie, she thought he’d had to have been in the life for a while. “He wanted to get the lay of the land. I have a feeling after watching your recent demonstration he’ll get into the swing of things the next fête Stellan throws.”
Sixx wouldn’t doubt that. She didn’t watch them anymore, but when she had, she’d noted that Olly was a huge showoff.
Then again, if Sixx had what Leigh and Olly had, she’d consider taking that particular show on the road.
“Uh … hello? Sixx?” Leenie called. “Earlier Stellan paraded you around his pool like he was introducing everyone to his new fiancée. Are you and Stellan together? And if so, when did this happen?”
There was something in her expression, something intent, beyond curiosity about a friend’s love life (way beyond) that she couldn’t put her finger on but made her uneasy.
“I think it’s fabulous,” Leigh stated. “And it’s so Stellan to find you such an amazing specimen to occupy your time and meet your needs at the same time he doesn’t partake or even look at anything, except you.”
Sixx’s body went completely solid.
“I knew that gladiator was his, I’ve seen the man in battle, and I was surprised,” Leigh continued. “Not anymore, knowing now Stellan acquired him for you.”
“It’s incredibly generous,” Evangeline muttered, watching Sixx closely.
Like she was moving it through treacle, Sixx shifted her head so she could look between her friends and find Stellan.
Felicia had joined Stellan and Victor, and Stellan was looking down at her, laughing at something she said.
Sixx watched, thinking—as per his wont, which was his wont because he knew it would be hers—she was Mistress Sixx out here, with her toys, not his newly unveiled Simone.
But he had not acquired something for himself to pass the time.
She couldn’t touch, but she could play. And he’d given her that.
However, it was his party. The kind of party he didn’t give frequently, but he threw regularly, and he’d always enjoyed the opportunity to provide his friends—people who shared his way of life—a different scene, a fantastic one, that they could use to partake in that way of life.
And he partook too.
Always.
But she’d just orchestrated a load being shot from a heavy, hard cock on the big beautiful body of an exceptional alpha-submissive, Stellan allowed it, was the man behind it, and he got nothing but knowing he gave her that.
It was then she moved her head around in a hazy way, taking in a pool she’d been to before, but didn’t take in the way she was taking it in right then.
The smart, expensive deck furniture. The well-maintained, attractive landscaping. The theme of bright Mexican pots overflowing with succulents, carried through from the front
, dotted everywhere. Pots that someone had to cultivate, and that someone wasn’t Stellan.
The pool deck was travertine edged in brick. Expensive, and not dusty or dirty. And the pads on the furniture were pristine white.
In the kitchen, the island had been covered in fabulous displays of food, flanked with lavish beverage dispensers filled with fruit and ice, offering two types of sangria as well as margaritas. There were also buckets filled with bottles of beer, chilled white wine and champagne.
There were a goodly number of people there, but there was so much of all of that, half of it would be thrown out.
Maybe more.
They couldn’t consume all that.
And then there was going to be a sit-down dinner.
“This turn of events makes me happy for you.” It was Leigh speaking, and the change in her timbre of voice, like she was a soft-spoken general imparting an important message to her troops, had Sixx’s vague gaze moving to her. “Stellan and you. You’ve always been somewhat reserved. This was your way. But since your return, this intensified to the point I must admit to having some concern for you. It seemed something had happened to you while you were gone. Something you weren’t sharing. Now I see what you were searching for. Stellan too. He would never, not ever be content with someone who did not share that common bond. You were meant for each other. No less equal than a partner who fits the unique puzzle that is the two of you, forming the perfect picture. But a different kind of equal, not two halves that make a whole. Two like-minded souls who share a vital understanding.”
“I’ve got to go,” Sixx stated urgently, jumping off the lounge like it had just caught on fire.
“Sorry?”
“What?”
She put her sangria down on an attractive table that was handy (of course), shoved her feet in her slides and took off moving toward the house. “Catch you guys later.”
“Sixx!” Leigh called.
Sixx kept moving, eyes to her feet that were directing her to the house.
She opened the French door, shoving her sunglasses up into her hair immediately. She moved into the kitchen/dining room space and avoided looking at the sprawling banquet Stellan had his housekeeper lay out for his guests.
Her clutch and bag were in his room.
The Greatest Risk Page 11