Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  As the group became more comfortable with one another, she’d seen touches becoming more intimate—and more obvious to everyone else. Conversations started to be laced with murmured commands that were anything but casual. Humorous innuendoes had serious undercurrents. The Doms were feeding off one another’s energy, and it was fueling the submissives as well.

  “So where do you think this is going?” She confronted it head-on with Noah, albeit in a low voice, as they returned to the group and Lyda left them to talk to Marguerite.

  He slid an arm around her and, confirming her feeling about what was happening, the hand that would have curved around her waist an hour ago was much lower now, stroking her hip, her buttock. She pressed against him, lifted up to tease his throat with her lips. “Did she tell you to do this?”

  “Not directly.” His brown gaze caressed her, making her blood run even warmer, as if he was a fire heating it. “But I’m getting the distinct impression all the Doms are on the same track. Tyler has a dungeon, you know. With top-grade equipment.”

  Gen felt her eyes widen. “Would Lyda…” At Noah’s look, she swallowed. Hard.

  All she could think of were the possible uses of that equipment, the things she might see. The scenery alone… Her gaze slid over all of the assembled submissives. Noah, Mac, Josh, Brendan, Thomas. Holy God.

  “You could pretend that seeing them all naked appalls you.” Noah gave her an aggrieved look, though she saw the humor behind it, and his anticipation as well. Sliding her arms around his waist, she stroked the firm landscape of his abdomen through his shirt.

  “I’ll imagine what Lyda might let me do to you,” she whispered.

  Cocking his head, he swept his gaze meaningfully over her throat and breasts, making it clear which submissive he was most interested in seeing naked. She flushed. “Or let you do to me,” she allowed, clearing her throat.

  A more distinct and imperious cleared throat drew their attention. Lyda was giving them a look, brow raised. Gen lifted both hands clear of Noah in an exaggerated “I wasn’t doing anything” gesture that had their Mistress’s lips quirking.

  “There will be time enough for that,” she promised.

  Everything tightened up in Gen except her weak knees as Lyda spoke clear enough that everyone at the party could hear. It was tantamount to an open declaration of where they might be headed…publicly.

  Lyda’s gaze shifted to the assembled, who’d taken seats around the patio where they were sharing afternoon cocktails. With Noah and Gen the only ones now standing in her proximity, Gen realized it felt like they’d stepped onto a stage.

  “When Marguerite invited me to this event today,” Lyda said, “it was because I told her I was seeking the right time and place to do something I’ve wanted to do for several months now. She suggested this, and I agreed.”

  Giving Noah and Gen a significant look, she sat down in a patio chair. She pointed to the space directly in front of her. “Come here,” she said.

  Even knowing Chloe, Marguerite and Tyler were part of the audience, Gen felt no self-consciousness, which said a good deal about how far she’d come in this journey and her trust of Lyda. She remembered those words…if I ask for your submission in public, it’s because you can trust me to keep you safe… Now she understood that meant safe physically and emotionally. Safe from humiliation or the wrong kinds of pain.

  As such, Gen led herself and Noah to Lyda, taking the lead in them both kneeling before her. Gen was aware of Chloe’s intent regard to her immediate left, her friend clasping Brendan’s hand as if anticipating something quite wonderful. Butterflies fluttered in Gen’s stomach.

  Lyda touched Gen’s face, caressed Noah’s shoulder. “I’m not the nurturing sort. Nor especially sentimental. But once I make a decision, I don’t turn back from it, do I?”

  They shook their heads. In the corner of her other eye, Gen saw Marcus, his arm stretched behind Thomas. Thomas had leaned forward, but his knee was pressed against Marcus’, evidence of that connection between them. Mac stood behind Violet’s chair, watching, the large male just as attentive. One more shift of her glance and there was Josh. As always, the artist looked sleepy and somewhat distracted, but right now those gray eyes behind their wire-rimmed glasses were unusually keen. He was sitting on the grass next to the edge of the patio, where Lauren sat in a chair, her legs crossed. He had his hand loosely wrapped around her calf, a possessive gesture that didn’t negate the dynamic of Mistress and sub that existed between them. Now that she understood more about those possessive feelings herself, it made sense to her.

  She brought her gaze back to Lyda. Behind her stood Tyler and Marguerite. Marguerite sat on a padded bench to Lyda’s right, and Tyler stood at her back, his hand resting on her shoulder. Gen noticed how his thumb caressed the base of her throat, the seed pearl choker. Marguerite met her gaze, those pale-blue eyes luminous.

  Bringing her full attention back to Lyda, Gen found her Mistress waiting on her. Lyda’s expression wasn’t impatient or offended. It was as if she wanted Noah and Gen to understand the solemnity of the occasion by absorbing the others’ reactions.

  “I made a decision, right before you made yours, Noah.” Lyda met his gaze. “It’s a good thing you went down the right path with Elias, else I would have been wasting my money. And you know how I feel about that.”

  “Yes Mistress,” he ventured. He was obviously as unsure what this was about as Gen, but when Gen’s hand crept into his at her side again, he clasped it.

  Marguerite drew a small velvet bag from under the cushion next to her, placing it in Lyda’s palm when she turned to her. “I’m not much for collaring. And I told you I don’t really have a use for marriage. Do you remember?” Lyda’s gaze shifted to Gen.

  Gen nodded. “I believe in action, not words,” Lyda continued. “I don’t even particularly believe in symbols, but when presenting a symbol is an act that says a million things words can’t…well, that’s different.”

  Gen drew in a breath as Lyda opened the small bag and deposited the contents into her hand. It was a trio of rings. One delicate silver, one a handsome gold, and one a twisted band of both, the thinner silver like a vine weaving around the thick gold. The mixed band and the silver were obviously women’s rings, the gold a man’s ring.

  Lyda met Gen’s gaze, shifted between it and Noah’s. “By taking them, wearing them, we’re promised to each other. Faithful through thick and thin, through car wrecks and laundry, cancer and even poor movie selections.”

  A ripple of laughter came from around them, but Gen was staring into Lyda’s eyes. Despite the wry comment, her eyes were serious, intent, the whole world there. Noah’s fingers tightened on hers, hard.

  “It means you belong to me, and I will care for you. It means I love you both more than anything. It means I’m in love with you, and I want that love to keep growing until we’re as twisted together as the band I’ll wear, showing that this promise is made to you both. You’re under no obligation to take the rings—”

  She and Noah reached for them in one motion. Lyda’s hand closed over them, preventing the retrieval, but the smile transformed her face as another murmur ran through the group, reflecting the pleasure and approval in Lyda’s eyes. Gen also saw the swell of emotion at their quick response. Following impulse, she kept her hand resting on Lyda’s closed one. Noah’s overlapped them both, his longer fingers closing over Gen’s, fingertips brushing the sides of Lyda’s hand.

  It was Noah who spoke for them both.

  “There’s nothing we want more than to belong to you and you alone, Mistress. We love you too.” The desire and love in his eyes was unmistakable. “And in truth…I see myself as belonging to you both.”

  Gen touched his face. “Same goes.” She shifted her gaze to Lyda. “We’re all yours, Mistress. And, if it’s not too presumptuous, we feel like you’re ours.”

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s presumptuous or not, it’s always the way it seems to work.” The wry comm
ent came from Violet, echoed by a snort from Marcus.

  Lyda looked between her two subs, then nodded to Gen, an unspoken command. Gen withdrew her hand and Lyda opened her fingers. Her Mistress picked up the delicate silver ring, putting the other two to the side for the moment. When she took Gen’s hand, slid the band onto her left finger, she met Gen’s gaze. “Mine, rabbit.”

  Then she leaned forward, kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. The lingering kiss was followed by a look that said I-mean-it on every level. Gen couldn’t say anything, her throat closed with emotion.

  Lyda picked up the gold band. As she and Noah locked gazes, Gen felt that thickness grow to a sweet ache. While her and Lyda’s story had had its ups and downs, this possibility had been far more precarious for Lyda and Noah. Those fears were now gone, no foothold to find when Noah was staring at Lyda as if she was everything.

  Lyda pushed the ring over his knuckle. As she did, he turned his hand, captured hers in a very unlike Noah aggressive move…if one didn’t know the depth and strength of certain emotions he carried. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, his body bending toward her until his head touched her knees. She doubled over him, tangling her hand in his hair, pressing her lips against his nape, rubbing her cheek there.

  “Don’t you ever forget,” she whispered. Gen glimpsed Lyda’s face in a rare, entirely unguarded moment. “Don’t break my heart.”

  When he lifted his head, his expression was raw devotion. “Never. I’ll take care of both of you, Mistress. Through everything and anything.”

  He’d said it before, or things like it, but now it meant even more than before. Gen realized he’d picked up the final band when he bent over Lyda’s hand. He looked at Gen. In accord, she supported Lyda’s hand as Noah slipped the ring on their Mistress’s finger. Then their newly decorated hands were tangled together, a hard knot that conveyed a lot of emotion, including tears, as Noah surged up on his knees and hugged both her and Lyda. He rained kisses on their mouths and necks, kisses they returned as best they could while laughing, since Lyda threatened dire things if he didn’t stop slobbering over the two of them like a golden retriever. Lyda’s laughter was as welcome to Gen’s ears as a spring rain on new flowers.

  The popping of a cork brought them back to the present surroundings. Champagne had been brought by Tyler’s housekeeper, Sarah, and flutes were being filled, distributed by Brendan. He bent and gave Gen a kiss on the cheek, Noah a quick, hard hug. Chloe drew Gen up for a hug as well.

  “I’m so, so happy for you,” the girl whispered. “You three look perfect together. I’ve never seen Noah look happy. Not the real kind. The last-a-lifetime kind.”

  Gen turned to verify, seeing real peace in his eyes. Happiness, arousal, pleasure, love. She saw it in Lyda’s face as well, and suspected it was in her own. She’d worn wedding rings twice before, but neither had felt as right as what she wore now.

  After congratulations were given, the patio cleared out with discreet driftings of the other guests into the house or gardens, leaving the three of them to share a private moment. Gen was sitting at Lyda’s knee again. Noah was standing, but now he dropped to a knee beside her, kissed both their hands. Lyda stroked his hair, then lifted his chin, kissed his mouth. This kiss was another deep one, a teasing gesture that became even more provocative when he lifted his hands and she made a sharp noise, keeping him in place until she left him in an obviously aroused state. Then she leaned down and did the same to Gen. Lips brushing, tongues tangling, teeth nipping, until Gen was breathing fast and shallow. Lyda eased back, her gaze sweeping over both of them.

  “I can take you up to our guestroom now, and we can celebrate alone, privately. Or, I can take you to Tyler’s dungeon and we can have our own version of a wedding reception.” Her gaze sparked. “Either way, my pets will end up naked and at my mercy, while I give them pain and pleasure according to my desires…and theirs. But I will give them this one choice. Which will it be?”

  Gen and Noah exchanged a glance. Noah’s teeth flashed in an untamed, sexy smile, but Gen answered the question.

  “Why can’t we have both?”

  About Joey W. Hill

  I've always had an aversion to reading, watching or hearing interviews of favorite actors, authors, musicians, etc. because so often the real person doesn't measure up to the beauty of the art they produce. Their politics or religion are distasteful, or they're shallow and self-absorbed, a vacuous mophead without a lick of sense. From then on, though I may appreciate their craft or art, it has somehow been tarnished. Therefore, whenever I'm asked to provide personal information about myself for readers, a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach as I think: "Okay, the next couple of paragraphs can change forever the way someone views my stories." Why on earth does a reader want to know about me? It's the story that's important.

  So here it is. I've been given more blessings in my life than any one person has a right to have. Despite that, I'm a Type A, borderline obsessive-compulsive paranoiac who worries I will never live up to expectations. I've got more phobias than anyone (including myself) has patience to read about. I can't stand talking on the phone, I dread social commitments, and the idea of living in monastic solitude with my husband and animals, books and writing is as close an idea to paradise as I can imagine. I love chocolate, but with that deeply ingrained, irrational female belief that weight equals worth, I manage to keep it down to a minor addiction. I adore good movies. I'm told I work too much. Every day is spent trying to get through the never ending "to do" list to snatch a few minutes to write.

  This is because, despite all these mediocre and typical qualities, for some miraculous reason, these wonderful characters well up out of my soul with stories to tell. When I manage to find enough time to write, sufficient enough that the precious "stillness" required rises up and calms all the competing voices in my head, I can step into their lives, hear what they are saying, what they're feeling, and put it down on paper. It's a magic beyond description, akin to truly believing my husband loves me, winning the trust of an animal who has known only fear or apathy, making a true connection with someone, or knowing for certain I've given a reader a moment of magic through those written words. It's a magic that reassures me there is Someone, far wiser than myself, who knows the permanent path to that garden of stillness, where there is only love, acceptance and a pen waiting for hours and hours of uninterrupted, blissful use.

  If only I could finish that darned "to do" list.

  I welcome feedback from readers - actually, I thrive on it like a vampire, whether it's good or bad.

  Joey welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

  Tell Us What You Think

  We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email the author directly or you can email us at Service@ellorascave.com (when contacting Customer Service, be sure to state the book title and author).

  Also by Joey W. Hill

  Chance of a Lifetime

  Choice of Masters

  If Wishes Were Horses

  Knights of the Board Room: Afterlife

  Knights of the Board Room: Board Resolution

  Knights of the Board Room: Hostile Takeover

  Knights of the Board Room: Willing Sacrifice

  Ley natural

  Make Her Dreams Come True

  Nature of Desire 1: Holding the Cards

  Nature of Desire 2: Natural Law

  Nature of Desire 3: Ice Queen

  Nature of Desire 4: Mirror of My Soul

  Nature of Desire 5: Mistress of Redemption

  Nature of Desire 6: Rough Canvas

  Nature of Desire 7: Branded Sanctuary

  Snow Angel

  Threads of Faith

  Virtual Reality

  Print books by Joey W. Hill

  Behind the Mask anthology

  Enchained anthology

  Faith and Dreams

  Hot Chances anthology


  If Wishes Were Horses

  Knights of the Board Room: Afterlife

  Knights of the Board Room: Hostile Takeover

  Knights of the Board Room: Willing Sacrifice

  Nature of Desire 1: Holding the Cards

  Nature of Desire 2: Natural Law

  Nature of Desire 3: Ice Queen

  Nature of Desire 4: Mirror of My Soul

  Nature of Desire 5: Mistress of Redemption

  Nature of Desire 6: Rough Canvas

  Nature of Desire 7: Branded Sanctuary

  Virtual Reality

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Divine Solace

  ISBN 9781419947186

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Divine Solace Copyright © 2014 Joey W. Hill

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover design by Kelly Martin

  Cover Photography by Valentin Agapov/ShutterstockArtem Furman/ Shutterstock,

  sakkmesterke/Fotolia,mingius/Shutterstock, laschi/Shuterstock

  Electronic book publication March 2014

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.