by Nia Farrell
“Wait,” she said when she saw where they were going. “I’m not vetted.”
Alex cocked a brow. “You’re cleared to enter, as long as you stay with me and remain an observer. No engaging in play, however innocent. Otherwise, Piers will have both of our hides. My plans do not include being caned.”
Lara trusted that he knew what he was doing. She followed him into the casino unchallenged, past a Replay staff member manning the door. Alex headed for the bar, where he ordered them drinks and spoke privately to the bartender. From beneath the counter, the barkeep pulled a display box of collars, from simple to fancy.
“By wearing a collar, others will know that you are off limits,” Alex explained. “It is your choice, but I would feel better, were you to agree to wear one.”
She could see the sense of it. And he hadn’t actually called it his collar. “Whatever pleases you, Sir. Perhaps there is one that would work better for tonight…?”
He picked a wide band of black leather. The O-ring set in front was large enough to easily hook a finger through.
Alex added it to his tab. Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her so that her back was to him and murmured in her ear. “Lift your hair.”
Lara set everything down on the closest barstool, gathered the length of her hair, and used one hand to hold it out of his way. He slipped the collar around her throat, slid the end through the buckle, and pulled it to a comfortable fit.
“Turn around.”
She pivoted to face him.
Alex angled his head. His blue eyes gleamed with approval. “Perfect. Now, Ray, here, will hold your coat and sweater for you until you need to leave, so that you don’t have to carry them around. You can trust him with your purse, or keep it with you, pet.”
Her purse, with one badly soiled hankie inside. “I’d prefer to keep it with us, Sir.”
Alex handed her coat and sweater to Ray. “Take your drink,” he said. She draped her purse straps over her right arm and picked up the virgin strawberry Daiquiri in her left hand. Alex caught the O-ring of her collar on his finger, picked up his glass of Macallan, and pulled her after him to a table in the quietest corner.
He put down his drink, took hers, and set it down, too. Looking at the point where they were joined, he sighed and broke the connection, freeing his hands to pull out her chair. Once they were both seated, he pushed her drink in front of her and sat back to enjoy his own.
Replay’s casino tent held surprises for Lara, but nothing that she shouldn’t have expected at a BDSM resort. This clearly wasn’t Vegas. More than one Dominant had a submissive kneeling by his feet, in various stages of undress. A couple of subs were doing more than that, providing oral pleasure while their masters played cards or other games of chance.
Sipping her Daiquiri, she welcomed the biting chill and savored the sweet, ripe strawberries that clung to the rim. Alex nursed his Macallan single malt, making it last. He had to fly again at five o’clock.
When Lara was done with her drink, Alex offered to get her another. “Virgin,” she reminded him. “I have to sing tonight.”
“Amongst other things,” he said blithely, pushing back his chair to rise. “I shall return.”
She watched him go, then let her gaze drift to the roulette wheel, spun by a very busty, completely nude assistant. She was counting bounces when Dmitry found her.
Looking at Lara, he immediately noticed the collar. Never taking his eyes from it, he pulled out the chair from the empty spot next to her and sat down.
Dmitry reached for the white silk scarf around his neck and slipped it free. Leaning close, he threaded one end through the ring on her collar and pulled a third of it through. He wrapped the longer end around the short one, took it behind and through the O-ring, tucked the end through the loop he’d made, and snugged it up like a man’s tie.
“There,” he rumbled. “Looks good. Better on you than me.”
The scarf smelled of him. The collar’s leather masked it, but layered underneath was Dmitry’s primal scent—slightly musky, with a hint of soap, a remnant of aftershave, and clean, male sweat.
Any errant thoughts were stopped when Alex slid her drink in front of her. Feeling a twinge of guilt for letting another man adorn his collar, Lara thanked him and took a sip.
“The bar’s open, Chezhekov,” Alex said smoothly. “Better go get yourself something now, while there’s time to get it out of your system.”
Dmitry narrowed his eyes, weighing ulterior motives with immediate need. Need won. Pushing himself up from his seat, he went to the bar and returned carrying what looked like a tall glass of lemonade, with added ice and slices of lemons.
“Hard,” he said. Leaning closer, he murmured in her ear, “Like me. Tonight, I show how should be done, Лисичка (lisička).”
A promise and a pet name. She liked the sound of both. “Lisichka? What does that mean?”
He caught a section of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. “Little fox,” he said. “Where I lived, it is special name for special woman with fire in her hair…and passion in her soul.”
Thus far, Alex had been a gentleman. And quiet, despite the tick in his jaw when he saw Dmitry’s scarf. He’d sipped his drink rather than disparage their play partner, but the bit with the fox proved too much.
“You can try to show her, once we’re done.” He leaned close to her other ear. “I’m going to tease you. Please you. However long it takes to make you squirt. I’m going to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. Then, while he watches, I’m going to finish in that gorgeous arse of yours.”
The thought made her shiver, but his competitive spirit had her concerned. “Jesus! You two sound ready to rip me apart!”
“Nyet!”
“No, we won’t,” Alex assured her. “As our submissive, your needs come before ours. We shall find your limits and help you to push past some of them. If there is anything you cannot handle, you will use your safeword.”
Lara looked at Dmitry, then at Alex. “What I want to handle,” she said, “is the both of you. We’ll do it separately if we have to, but I’d prefer to take you at the same time. Three orifices, in every combination that doesn’t involve sharing space. From the size of things, I’ll need lube and luck to handle just one of you. I’m really, really tight to start.”
“I know,” Alex crooned. “Even after you’d been at it for a while, I had to push my way in. Fingers,” he added, slashing a glance at Dmitry. “I haven’t had her. Yet.”
The naughty minx in her nature made her turn back to Dmitry, who’d been the odd man out so far. “Would you like to see for yourself?” she asked him, thinking it was only fair.
She didn’t have to ask twice.
Dmitry’s nostrils flared. The lids over his dark eyes dropped to bedroom mode. Moving his seat so that his body blocked her view of the room, and vice versa, he reached under her skirt. Smiling when he found no underwear to impede his touch, he cupped her sex and winnowed his fingers through her curls. He used his middle one to trace her seam, back and forth, teasing her with the promise of more. Parting her folds, he found her slit and worked his way inside it.
“Тесный (Tesnyy),” he rasped. “Tight. Very tight.” He kept his eyes on her but spoke over her shoulder. “Alexei, we must bring lube tonight. After you sing, we go where we can have you, the ways we want. Be good little fox, and maybe Alexei will say yes to this.”
“I’ll be good,” she swore. “Please, Dmitry….”
He started fingerfucking her, just barely, making teasing forays that ended almost as quickly as they’d begun, and using strokes with one finger that were far too short and not nearly hard enough.
He looked at Alex. “Hold her, please. No falls.”
Alex turned his chair so that its front edge abutted the side of hers. Straddling his seat, he grasped Lara’s waist, pulled her hips towards him, and bracketed her bottom with his thighs. He slid his hands up to cup her breasts. Leaning back in his chair, he took her with him, u
ntil she was halfway reclining against the wall of his chest.
Dmitry worked in a second finger and started pumping in earnest then, his arm moving like the piston of a well-oiled machine, coaxing her juices and bringing her to the precipice in record time. Alex had been playing with her breasts. Now he tormented them, plucking at the tips and pinching them into points that he tugged and twisted hard enough to make her body arch away from his. The exquisite blend of pleasure and pain was enough to send her soaring.
Her body bucked. She shoved against Dmitry’s hand and came, bathing him with her juices as one orgasm ended and another began. Shuddering to a stop, she relaxed against Alex’s chest and watched Dmitry suck his fingers clean.
The realization of what they’d just done hit her full-force. She was supposed to stay an observer, and here she was, luxuriating in post-orgasmic bliss. “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “I didn’t just get us in trouble, did I?”
“If we are in trouble, Dmitry and I are the ones to blame,” Alex assured her. “But I suggest that anything else wait until tonight. We have to fly. You have to sing. Each of us needs to focus on work before play, hmm?”
She swore that she heard Sir Piers’s words coming from Alex’s mouth. But he was right. She didn’t need the distraction, and they certainly couldn’t afford it. If she flubbed a line, it was shame on her. If they made a mistake, it could be deadly.
“Yes, Sir. Except…what about Dmitry?” He was still hard as a fence post. His erection strained the buttons on his fly.
Alex reached into his pocket, pulled out her panties, hooked them on a finger, and dangled them in front of her. “Chezhekov, here is a receptacle for your lust. If you need to take the edge off, it’s her hand or yours. I know which I would choose.”
Chapter Seven
Dmitry was hung like a horse.
She could only stare, in rapt fascination, when he reached into his underwear and pulled out his length. He was uncircumcised, ramrod straight, and at least ten inches, with a girth to match.
Not for the first time, she wondered how she was going to handle them both.
He took her panties from Alex and draped them on his thigh. Reaching, he caught the end of the tie that he’d made. Hand over fist, Dmitry pulled her to him. Taking her wrist, he turned her hand, palm up, and brought it up to her face.
“Spit,” he ordered.
Hard to do, when he’d made her mouth go dry. She thought about sucking him off while Alex pounded her pussy and had no problem gathering a mouthful of saliva. Releasing it into her palm, she let Dmitry guide her hand to his cock, wrap her fingers around his shaft, and lubricate it with her spittle.
She stroked his length, using one hand, then two, milking precum from the slit, and pleasuring him with her touch. She found a rhythm that he seemed to enjoy and maintained it. His breaths grew harsher, his pelvic thrusts sharper. His balls drew up, and she swore that she could feel the molten tide in him, ready to erupt.
Dmitry grabbed her panties. “Now,” he grated. Lara slid her hands to the base of his cock, while he covered the rest. His body seized. A litany of Russian escaped his lips when he ejaculated, emptying himself into her panties.
He used the clean hem of one leg to wipe himself, folded her underwear to contain the mess, and jokingly offered them back to Alex.
“Purse,” Alex told Lara.
She tucked them beside her soiled handkerchief. Looping it on the back of her chair, she waited until Alex and Dmitry had arranged their seats, then placed one hand on each man’s muscled thigh. “Thank you. That was amazing. I’ve never done anything like that in public. Then again, I’ve never seen anything like this.
She swept the room with her gaze, before returning her attention to her partners. “I need you to behave tonight while I’m singing. One bad performance can kill a career, and you guys are so distracting, I’ll be lucky to remember my lyrics. If you could save the good stuff for when I’m done, I would appreciate it.”
Alex arched a brow. “Topping from the bottom?”
She bit her lip and gave him a sheepish look. “Just being honest. I know me. I’ll start watching how your eyes are smiling despite your scowl, and how Dmitry’s hands hold and stroke his glass. I’ll start imagining them on my body while you watch, and then I’ll be good and lost. I’d never be Nora Bayes again, and that would be too sad. She’s got such a great body of work.”
“You have great body,” Dmitry rumbled. “Nice ass.” He lowered his head and gave her that look. “No shake while you sing, or we make little fox’s tail red, too.”
“If I don’t shake it, will you spank me anyway?” She’d only been spanked once, the night she’d been ridden by the two cowboys.
“Alexei? She does not know?”
“Know what?” Lara turned towards Alex. He was frowning, but the devil was in his eyes.
“That you can expect to be spanked by me,” he said smoothly. “If you’ve researched your roles to the depth that I suspect you have, you have likely heard of the English vice. Something in the British blood that calls for corporal punishment and domestic discipline.”
“And anal sex?” she asked. She’d always associated British men with it, regardless of their partner’s gender.
The corner of Alex’s mouth tipped upward. “I believe that Dmitry may enjoy taking you there almost as much as I will. Something in the psyche about dark, forbidden fruit and a primal need for complete possession. It gives him another option if he’s too much for that tight cunny of yours. Although, I confess, the voyeur in me wants to see just how much of his erection you can fit down your throat first.”
“You might be surprised,” she said, glancing at Dmitry. He was looking at her mouth, possibly imagining her lips around that massive cock of his. “If it wasn’t ahead of a performance, I’d be tempted to offer. But I can’t risk traumatizing the throat muscles,” she sighed. “Your blow job will have to wait.”
“When you perform fellatio, do you swallow?” Alex asked, his voice like a lion’s purr.
Lara didn’t blink. “I will, with you and Dmitry. You’re both vetted. You’ve been tested and cleared for play. You’re the ones who’ll be trusting that I’m clean, too. Which I am, by the way. I’ll understand if you choose to wear condoms, but I’m an old-fashioned girl. I prefer skin to skin.”
“Skin is good,” Dmitry said. “The better to feel for you.”
Lara had to wonder. Did he mean, the better to feel her, or the better for her to feel? In the end, it didn’t matter how he worded it. The sensations would be the same, better for her, better for them.
They passed the afternoon in the casino. Neither men had an interest in gambling. They focused all of their attention on her, learning everything about her, from childhood on. Family. School. Interests. Education. Her sexual experiences—what she liked, what she didn’t, what she hadn’t done but wanted to try.
Alex was particularly keen to know what had gotten her interested in music history in general and in the specific singers that she portrayed. For this era, it was exploring the sensual side of Nora Bayes. She found it fascinating that the same singer/songwriter who gave us “Shine On, Harvest Moon” had also written “I Work Eight Hours, I Sleep Eight Hours, That Leaves Eight Hours for Love.”
All too soon, it was time for the men to do their preflight checks. They made Lara keep on her collar with Dmitry’s scarf still knotted to it when they left her in the viewing area and went to their planes.
Looking around, she saw that Sir Piers was back, with his wife, this time. She waited until his duties called him away, then went to talk to Eleanor.
“How’s the baby?” she asked. Sir Piers might seem implacable, but Lara had sensed his concern for little Adrienne.
Eleanor smiled. “Better. Her fever’s down. Her appetite’s still off, though. I’ve had to pump extra today.”
It amazed Lara how any woman could work and breastfeed.
“It’s not easy,” Eleanor admitted. “If we coul
d hire another psychologist to cover my clients, I’d take a leave indefinitely. Having to stay in bed that last month of my pregnancy, I’ve gotten spoiled. I miss my husband. I miss our daughter. I miss Nanny, too, truth be told.” Eleanor smiled and lowered her voice to a whisper. “She has stories and doesn’t hesitate to tell them. Every day that she’s with us, I seem to learn a little more about the man I married.”
Eleanor’s confession made Lara acutely aware of how little she knew about Alex and Dmitry. Eleanor would be no help with the one, but Alex….
“I really enjoyed your dinner party last night.” Although Lara was still wrapping her head around Jannet and Aubrey as submissives, Mr. Vashon as bisexual, and Aubrey in a threesome with him and Sir Josef. “And I enjoyed meeting Alex. Very much.”
Eleanor smiled broadly, as if she knew more but wasn’t about to offer it. “That makes two of us. I’d only met him a little before you did, but Alex impressed the heck out of me when he brought the baby this stuffed aviator bear and toy wooden planes like he flies. He had everything in this little suitcase, with a child-size vintage flyer’s hat, goggles, and a white silk scarf for when she’s older. From the sounds of it, he and Sir Piers are hoping to make this an annual event.”
“That would be wonderful! Even better if I can come back and entertain the troops again.” If tonight went well, she’d try to learn Alex’s reenactment schedule in case they could hook up before that.
“I’m very much looking forward to the music tonight,” Eleanor told her. “It will be another first for the resort—a concert without any BDSM scene taking place until it’s done. Once the pilots and reenactors who aren’t vetted have left, the Doms and subs can play.”
Where would that leave her?
Alex and Dmitry had had their heads together as they walked away. From their intensity, they were either talking about their upcoming combat, or they were discussing options for tonight. Whatever they decided, they weren’t going to tell her anything until after her performance.
Five hours. She had to wait five more hours. Thankfully, there were things to occupy her. This last flight at five pm, dinner at six thirty, and the concert at eight. The band’s set would last until nine-thirty. And after that, a night spent somewhere, submitting to Alex and Dmitry.