Then, kneeling around her, Caleb and Ash at her sides and Simon at her head, they each grabbed their cocks and began jacking off. But Kylie couldn’t bear not participating in their pleasure, so she grabbed Ash’s and Caleb’s cocks, replacing the rapid up-and-down movements of their hands with her own until their backs arched and their groans rent the air as they shot hot cum all over her belly, breasts, and face. By the time they cleaned her up and pulled up the covers, arranging themselves around her in a protective circle, she was sound asleep.
She woke up three times during the night, each time thinking she was having an erotic dream only to see a dark, masculine head between her legs and to feel a wicked tongue worshipping her sex, sending her soaring off the cliff into ecstasy once again. It was too dark to make out who it was each time, but she was beginning to recognize each of her men by the way he wielded his tongue. Simon was first. He liked to lick over and over with just the tip of his tongue, gentle swipes across the surface of her clit as if he were slowly melting a cube of sugar.
Ash liked to close his mouth around her entire clit hood and apply suction, lifting his head to pull that little flap of flesh upward again and again, alternating with slow, deliberate circles of his tongue, building that exquisite tension inside her until he launched her off into the stratosphere as her body blew apart in pleasure.
Caleb, on the other hand, just got straight down to business. Resting his left forearm on her belly, he held her labia apart with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, flicking his right finger back and forth before leaning in and attacking her clit. Rapid repetitive flicks of his tongue soon had her writhing and squirming, crying out in pleasure as her back arched and she exploded with an orgasm that thundered through her like an erupting volcano, burying her completely beneath a mountain of smoldering cinders and ash.
* * * *
Kylie, Caleb, Simon, and Ash entered the foyer of Marshall’s Hill, the gracious antebellum mansion that was Sarah Colter-Sinclair’s ancestral home. It was now a Bed and Breakfast, although the only guests staying there this particular week were members of Clay and Leah Nighthorse’s wedding party.
The three Rafferty men were wearing suits and dress shirts open at the neck, but no ties. Ash carried a Canon EOS camera in his hand, while a Nikon with a long telephoto lens hung around his neck. Kylie figured there was close to ten thousand dollars’ worth of photographic equipment in just those two items. Probably another five thousand inside the nylon accessory bag hanging over his shoulder.
“Kylie! You’re walking!” Leah came rushing forward to greet them. “OMG, those shoes are so cute!”
Kylie bent forward to look down at the turquoise leather ballet flats her three men had bought for her that morning over in Charlottesville, along with a dozen more pairs of shoes and a pair of cowboy boots to wear to the Icebox on Saturday night. They’d also bought her a couple of denim skirts, some plaid shirts, a fringed leather vest, and a straw Stetson. All proper two-stepping attire, they had assured her. She’d gone along with it, figuring if she was going to make a fool of herself out on the dance floor, at least she was going to do it in style.
She’d spent the afternoon in the recliner with her feet up. Doms’ orders. Dr. McKay had told her not to overdo and they were determined to make sure that she didn’t. They didn’t want her to risk opening up any of the deeper cuts that were still in the process of healing.
Tonight, as per Leah’s suggestion, Kylie was wearing the gauzy turquoise cotton dress she’d worn at Granny Grace’s. Only she and the three Raffertys knew that that was the only thing she was wearing. Except for the stainless steel butt plug in her ass. The thrill of excitement that had raced through her when Caleb had bent her over the bathroom counter so Simon could insert the plug still shimmered inside her. Her body buzzed with anticipation of all the wickedly sinful things they were going to do to her later tonight. The gorgeous Shibori silk scarf with its incandescent interplay of colors was looped loosely around her neck, its long ends trailing down over her breasts.
“Omigod, Kylie! That scarf is perfect!” Leah touched it reverently. “It was made for this dress.”
Kylie’s hand lifted to finger the delicate silk. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned,” she said. “Please tell your artist how much I love it.”
“I’ll do even better than that,” Leah exclaimed, pulling her cell phone out of the pocket of her softly gathered skirt. “I’ll send her a picture so she can see for herself. Say cheese.”
“Limburger.”
Leah laughed and took several photos before re-pocketing her phone.
“You know, Leah, I just realized that I don’t have anything suitable to wear to your wedding. Lots of simple cotton sundresses, but nothing dressy enough for a wedding.”
“No problem,” Leah said with a breezy wave of her hand. “Why don’t I meet you tomorrow morning at the Toy Emporium? We can try on some of the gorgeous cocktail dresses Granny Grace carries. One of those would be perfect.”
Kylie frowned. “Are you sure you have the time? I mean, your wedding’s just three days away. Surely you’re busy with—”
“Believe me, I need a break from all the wedding stuff. Especially if it’s to do something girlie and fun like dress shopping. Please say yes.”
“Well, since you put it that way,” Kylie laughed. “It will be fun, won’t it?”
“I already can’t wait.”
“And who is this lovely young lady?” asked a male voice with a slight but distinct British accent from behind Kylie. An older gentleman wearing dress slacks, deep blue shirt and a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows came around Kylie to stand next to Leah. His hair was white, but he looked tanned and fit for his age, which Kylie judged to be in his mid-sixties.
“Oh, this is Kylie, the woman I told you about,” Leah said, putting her arm through the man’s and hugging it to her side. “Kylie, this is my uncle Everett Burke. He just retired here from San Francisco and has been helping me get my gallery up and running.”
Kylie put out her hand. “How do you do, Mr. Burke? It’s lovely to meet you.”
With a gracious little bow he took her hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing a light kiss across her knuckles. “Believe me, my dear, the pleasure is all mine.” He gestured to another man, shorter, younger, with glasses and a crew cut. “Daniel, come and meet Leah’s lovely new friend. Kylie, this is Daniel Rayburn, my partner. Daniel, this is Kylie Ferrell.”
Daniel approached and took Kylie’s out-thrust hand. “Pleased to meet you, Kylie.”
“Same here, Mr. Rayburn.”
“Oh, no, call me Daniel. I am the new director of Leah’s gallery. Since you’re her new bookkeeper, I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“Daniel it is, then,” Kylie grinned.
“The ceremony is going to be outside in the South Garden,” Leah went on. “You’re not gonna believe how gorgeous it is out there! Sarah and Jesse and Adam had their own wedding here last summer. One of her bridesmaids kept telling her she needed to offer her garden as a venue for weddings. So she decided to look into it. She now has a full-time wedding planner with a staff of four. Our wedding will be the twelfth.” Leah gave a tinkly little laugh. “We figured we’d let somebody else have the honor of being unlucky thirteen.” She touched Kylie’s hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie, will you excuse me for a minute? I just thought of something I need to tell Raven.”
“Sure.” Kylie looked around at the elegant foyer with its sweeping grand staircase and polished wooden floors, down the long central hallway with its high ceilings, ornate crown molding and ceiling medallions, gleaming chandeliers, Persian carpets, and antique tables decorated with vases filled with fresh flowers. Then she turned to Everett Burke, spreading her hands. “This is so gorgeous. I thought this was a BDSM club. I imagined black curtains and chains and torches. Certainly nothing as elegant and homey as this!”
Sarah approached, laughing. She was f
ollowed by Jesse and Adam and once again Kylie was struck at how utterly sexy all these men were. “This is the B & B part of our business,” she explained while the men were all shaking hands. “The Club is around a quarter of a mile farther up the driveway, where the old stables used to be. Jesse’s cousin built it to look like a sprawling medieval castle. And it’s full of chains and torches and all the atmospheric stuff you would expect to find in a BDSM club. Including suites where our kinkier guests can stay.”
“But this is such a huge enterprise. Surely you already have someone doing your books.”
“Oh, yes, we have a CPA doing the B & B’s books, as well as SinTech, Adam’s security company. But he’s too busy to take on the club. And the wedding business is my baby. It’s separate and new and I need a bookkeeper. Unfortunately, my efforts so far are probably a lot like Leah’s, a box full of receipts. Which I will be more than happy to turn over to you. You can take it home with you tonight.”
“I’ll be happy to get you set up,” Kylie said.
“Hey.” Clay Nighthorse emerged from the sitting room and looked at the group milling around in the foyer and hall. He was wearing dress jeans, a western style shirt, and black cowboy boots. His long, straight, coal-black hair was pulled back and tied with a leather thong at his nape. “The judge is waitin’. We gettin’ this done or what?”
Kylie felt Caleb, Simon, and Ash come up behind her as the group made its way down the hall and out the French doors at the back of the house, across a spacious patio where white wooden chairs were stacked in readiness for being set out for the wedding guests on Sunday.
The Wedding Garden was on the south side of the house and Kylie gasped at how gorgeous it was. Clay and Leah would exchange their vows beneath an arbor which would be draped with white flowers. Behind the arbor, extending for at least a hundred feet on either side was an entire bank of crepe myrtle trees in full bloom, their colors ranging from white through varying shades of pink to lavender. Beneath the myrtle trees were mulched, manicured beds featuring a variety of greenery, ornamental grasses, and flowers, lending a touch of magic to the surroundings. Stately oak and poplar trees, hundreds of years old seemed to anchor the space, as if keeping it from escaping back to whatever fairytale realm from whence it had sprung.
“Wait ‘til you see this place on Sunday night,” Leah said. “There’ll be thousands of lights twinkling everywhere. It’ll be so gorgeous.”
“It already is gorgeous,” Kylie murmured.
Clay was standing at the foot of the terrace steps, talking with an elderly man with an unruly shock of white hair and white eyebrows so thick they looked like an exotic species of caterpillar. “That’s Judge Walters up there with Clay,” Leah said. “He performed our quickie ceremony in his chambers at the courthouse.”
“May I have the wedding party, please,” asked a middle-aged woman carrying a clipboard in one hand and waving her other one. She was standing in the space between the arbor and the first two rows of guest seating. Tall and elegant, she wore a severe black suit, with her dark hair pulled back into a chignon so tight and controlled, not a single hair dared stray out of position.
“That’s Polly McManus,” Leah explained, “the wedding planner.”
“Is she as formidable as she looks?” Kylie asked out of the corner of her mouth behind a covering hand.
Leah laughed. “Not a bit. She’s a marshmallow, but she is frighteningly efficient. Gets the job done. C’mon, you can have a seat while we run through this.”
Kylie sat in one of the aisle seats, a move which shifted the plug in her ass, making her squirm slightly. She watched as Polly McManus reached into a box at her feet and pulled out a “bouquet” made from the bows that all of Leah’s bridal shower gifts had been wrapped in and an elaborate balloon sculpture, which she placed on Leah’s head to represent her tiara and veil. Then Leah and Sarah went into the house.
By this time Caleb and Simon had been joined by Daniel Rayburn and Lucas McKay. While Ash was busy taking pictures, Polly McManus led the four groomsmen through their pre-ceremony duties, ending with the unrolling of the white carpet, which they dutifully pantomimed. Then, at Polly’s signal, Judge Walters, accompanied by Clay Nighthorse, Jesse Colter, and Adam Sinclair walked across the lawn to line up in front of the arbor
Polly McManus selected an app on her iPhone and the strains of Jeremy Clarke’s Prince of Denmark March floated out into the still summer evening. The French doors leading out onto the terrace from the sitting room opened and Sarah stepped out, wearing a stick-on bow in her hair. She was followed by three other women Kylie had not yet met. Then Leah emerged wearing her balloon tiara, on the left arm of her uncle, Everett Burke. As the familiar music of the Wedding March filled the air, she placed her left hand on her waist and, with exaggerated rolls of her hips, she sashayed down the aisle like a model sashaying down a runway. Ash was crouched down in front of her, videotaping her walk down the aisle.
Clay put his hands to his mouth and yelled, “I dare you to walk like that on Sunday night!”
She thrust her bouquet toward him, hips twisted in an exaggerated pose. “You’re on, buster,” she yelled back.
His beautifully-sculpted lips quirked. “That’s ten!” was his only reply, which made everyone laugh.
“You should deliver them at the reception on Sunday night when you remove her garter,” Lucas McKay called out, eliciting more laughter as Clay gave him a wink and a thumbs up.
Holy crap! Kylie thought. All of these people are as kinky as my guys are. Maybe that’s why they created the little town of Passion Lake. So they can live the way they want without fear of being hassled by the authorities. The fact that they were all smart, savvy businessmen as well as hot, hunky alpha males was just icing on the cake.
After the brief run-through of the ceremony, they all trooped back into the house for dinner in the mansion’s original grand ballroom, which was now the dining room. Glittering chandeliers hung from ornate medallions in the ceiling. The walls were covered with pale yellow watered silk. The outside wall was all floor-to-ceiling windows hung with heavily-fringed velvet drapes. Potted palms and antique accent tables with flower-filled vases and silver candelabra filled in the spaces between windows. Cloth-covered tables for four were set with antique china and sparkling crystal. Dinner was steak Oscar, fillet mignon topped with asparagus and buttery crab meat in a rich béarnaise sauce, served with long grain and wild rice and a delightfully refreshing pear salad with walnuts and a pomegranate dressing. Dessert was a melt-in-your-mouth chocolate mousse, which Caleb, Simon, and Ash fed to Kylie one delicious bite at a time.
After dinner, they all sat around in sort of a free-form circle, talking and laughing and drinking brandy, as the men smoked the cigars Clay handed out. Kylie had thought all of these men were dangerous before, the epitome of power, arrogance and masculine perfection. But now, with the addition of the obvious phallic imagery of the cigars, they were positively lethal! The way they smoked them, caressing them with their lips as they pulled the smoke into their mouths. The way they clenched them between their teeth, talking and smiling around them. The way they arched their heads back, eyes closed, exhaling slowly as though reluctant to part with the flavor and essence of the smoke. Clay and Jesse even cupped their hands in front of their mouths, pulling their exhaled smoke up and over the tops of their heads, a gesture Kylie had never seen before. Normally she hated cigars, finding them noxious. But these actually smelled good. Sort of nutty. They must be very expensive. With the international connections these guys have, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were Cuban. Like, made in Cuba. By Cubans.
Leah was sitting on Clay’s lap, cradled against his chest, while he rested his chin on top of her head. Kylie sat on Caleb’s lap. Every now and then Caleb would jiggle his knee, a move that slid the plug deeper into her ass, making her muscles clench around it. His sly expression told her that he was totally aware of the effect his movements were having on her, and that he was doing it
deliberately.
Sarah knelt on a cushion on the floor between Jesse and Adam, while they both stroked her hair. She reached her hand up and Adam interlaced his fingers with hers, holding their entwined hands against his leg. The two men kept bending over her to murmur things in her ear. Things that made her smile. Things that made her tilt her head back to look up at them, adoration on her face. Things that darkened her eyes and accelerated her breathing. The love shared by the three of them shone from them like a beacon. It was one of the sexiest sights Kylie had ever seen. And she realized with a clarity that struck her like a lightning bolt that the way Jesse and Adam looked at Sarah was the exact same the way Caleb, Simon, and Ash looked at her.
The thought stole her breath.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Wait a sec.” Caleb took the phone from his ear and set it on the coffee table. “Okay, Dwyer, you’re on speaker. Repeat what you just told me.”
The agent’s disembodied voice, with its flat, monotone delivery, rolled out into the room. “Good evening, all. This afternoon, the FBI, in coordination with DEA, the Pennsylvania State Police, and the Department of Homeland Security rounded up most of the major players in the Righetti crime syndicate’s operations.”
“Hey, man, that’s great news,” Simon exclaimed. “Congrats.”
“Yeah, man, congrats,” Caleb and Ash echoed.
“Now I can finally file a claim with my insurance company and close out my bank account,” Kylie exulted. “And get my mail forwarded.”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Ferrell,” Agent Dwyer said, his words dumping a bucket of ice water on Kylie’s head. “I said ‘most’ of them were arrested. Unfortunately, one of them managed to disappear before the round-up.”
A spear of ice pierced Kylie’s heart, freezing the blood in her veins. Uh oh. Her hand went to her throat as she struggled to find her voice. When she did find it, it was little more than a croak. “Detective John Bullard.” It wasn’t a question.
Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) Page 25