by Lynn Burke
Jon dipped his head, his gaze unwavering from my eyes until I turned my back on them both and hastened up the stairs, the coffee I’d desired left forgotten on the counter—same as theirs had been earlier.
I threw a bag together, only half paying attention to what went in it. My meeting in New York wasn’t scheduled until Thursday, but I could always get some other work done while waiting—and watching.
While my guests breakfasted, I made my way to the lowest level, where my tech room sat, checking all of the feeds from the various cameras I’d installed the year before. Assured every live feed could be accessed by my cell phone, I exited and locked the room once more. The door directly across from me drew my gaze. I hadn’t entered the room for years. Would the scent of my lover still linger? Would the toys I’d used to bring pleasure be dust-covered? Unusable?
I had imagined Jon cuffed and spread for my cane, his wife strung from the ceiling and unable to escape the vibrator I had strapped to her clit.
Cock swelling, I punched in the key code.
Chapter Eleven
Jonathan
It had been Dakota’s idea to go camping in the mountains, but the hope glinting in her eyes when I’d glanced at her made the decision to accept Elijah’s offer an easy one. She wanted to stay, but would make me choose what we ought to do, same as always.
Elijah’s words held manipulation I recognized all too well, but he’d been ten times softer—kinder—than that of the narcissistic asshole from my childhood who’d taught me how to erect walls to protect myself.
I, too, yearned to stay, but fear over trusting the wrong person ever again heightened my inner bullshit scanner. Elijah wanted something from us, something beyond sexual gratification, I felt sure, and although living with Dakota for so many years had somewhat eased my defensive, suspicious nature, Elijah brought it to the forefront with his lies.
But my pampered love wanted to stay, and it wasn’t like Elijah would be around to tempt either of us.
I’d agreed and shaken his hand, my dick swelling at the mere touch of our clasped palms.
Dakota and I ate while he moved about—upstairs then down, both of our gazes glued to him when sharing the room. He returned back upstairs for a time, but emerged once more, bag slung over his shoulder.
We had finished breakfast and nursed new cups—mine with coffee, Dakota’s, her tea.
“I can show you where the batteries are,” he said, drawing me to my feet. “I can give you the complete tour of the lower levels on my way out if you’d like.” The second part, he’d said to Dakota.
“Sure. We’d love that,” she said, standing and taking my hand.
Elijah’s brow furrowed for a split second as he glanced down at our clasped hands.
That’s right, buddy. United we stand. The thought didn’t hold the anger or resentment it should have toward the man who threatened my resolve to stay faithful. Instead, I found myself wondering at his loneliness. The lack of love in his life.
Hell, even if both Dakota and I invited him into our bed, we would leave him shortly afterward anyway, and he would be alone once more. But what a few days those could be…
Shaking my head at the turn of my thoughts, I followed Elijah down into the bowels of his caverns, through winding passes and the occasional smaller open areas. He showed me the solar panel system—the part below ground, the shut off for the water pumps, the natural hot spring he had enclosed.
Dakota’s eyes lit up upon seeing that room, and I knew we’d be visiting there again before long.
He ignored flanking doors as we passed through another hallway, and I wondered at what lay beyond.
“The garage,” he said, pushing open the one directly ahead.
He flipped switches on the wall, flooding the room with light. A Humvee and sleek Audi—both shiny and black, sat in the room that appeared hewn out of rock. A steel garage door hung at the far end.
“This faces west,” Elijah said, motioning us across the garage and up a few steps through another door. “This is my pride and joy.”
Lights shone down on the helicopter he’d told us about. It sat upon a raised, steel floor, and as he flicked another switch, sending a similar door to the one in the garage upward, I realized exactly how he accessed the air from beneath a mountain.
“Come along,” Elijah said, motioning us forward onto the dais-like platform.
Gears shifted, natural light flooded the room along with the cool, morning air, and the floor beneath us started to roll out into the shade of the mountain.
“That’s fucking cool,” I said, grinning at the technology that hung the platform over the road disappearing down into the valley on our left and led to the garage door on our right.
A cold wind whipped at my hair, and I tugged Dakota close as I realized she’d wrapped her arms around herself against the chill.
Elijah turned toward us, fished something from his pocket, and tossed it to me. Keys jangled as they landed in my hand. “For the Humvee, just in case.”
My grin widened.
“The same switch will pull the platform back in and shut the door, but I can close it remotely from the helicopter,” he said, opening the helicopter’s door and tossing his bag inside.
“I’ll get it,” I said.
“Think you remember how to get back upstairs?”
“I’m sure we can figure it out.”
“Might need to stop by that hot spring on the way, though,” Dakota said, a smile in her voice.
I held out my hand, and Elijah hesitated a few seconds before clasping mine again. Same energy, goddamn. “Safe trip,” I said.
He dipped his head, pale eyes intently studying mine. “I left my number on the table. Call if you have any questions or problems.”
“Will do.”
Stepping back, he released my hand. “Dakota.” He nodded toward her, and Dakota whispered a “safe travels” as he turned.
I laced my fingers through my wife’s, and we stepped back into the garage, far from the aircraft and the whirl of wind as the blades started cranking.
Headset in place, Elijah busied himself with whatever it took to get that beast in the air, and when he finally glanced our way again, a small smile tilted his lips up. We both waved, and he lifted away, leaving us in a thunder of noise and wind from the rotor blades, and me feeling strangely saddened by the loss of his nearness.
Chapter Twelve
Dakota
Elijah hadn’t just left his phone number on the counter—he’d left a couple hundred-dollar bills, too.
“Maybe we ought to head to civilization and party today,” I said with a giggle. We had stopped at the hot springs, and our clothing stuck to our still-wet bodies beneath. Unlike I’d expected, we didn’t have sex in the steaming water, but sat and talked about mindless things as we’d done so easily before meeting Elijah.
The lack of his presence eased some of the tension in my shoulders, but his scent still set my libido on edge, making me long for things I shouldn’t.
“You really want to head south?” Jon asked, pulling open the fridge.
“No. Not really.”
He handed me a beer, we twisted the caps off and clinked the bottles together. His blue eyes twinkled down at me as he flashed his dimples. “Let’s get drunk and break in every piece of his furniture.”
“Probably doesn’t get much action.”
“Probably not.”
I held his gaze while taking a big swig. “Kitchen table first?” I asked, one brow raised, my body primed and ready for him.
“Then I’m bending you over the couch.”
I swallowed another mouthful, humming my agreement over the hoppy brew.
“Then we can christen the weight room—”
“And every other room we find behind closed doors.”
“What if they’re locked?” Jon asked, his grin infectious.
“Maybe those keys will let us in,” I said, raising my beer and nodding toward the keys Jon had
tossed on the counter.
“Maybe.”
We downed our beers, and Jon grabbed us a second. Another cheers, and we mentioned the wine cellar, the front seat of the Humvee for future sex-capades.
“What about his bed?” I blurted and slapped a hand over my mouth.
One of Jon’s eyebrows cocked upward, a hint of mischievous devil in his eyes. “Think he would know?”
I shrugged, thinking if he did find out, he’d probably jerk off to thoughts of us fucking where he lay every night. “Who cares?” I said, a breathless bundle of hormones while hopping up onto the island. “Come here.” Setting my nearly empty second bottle of beer aside, I reached for Jon, snagging his t-shirt.
“I need to do some laundry,” I said, nuzzling my nose against his chest.
“Later,” he said, grabbing my shirt and ripping it off overhead. “And no damn bras or panties while he’s gone, either.” He cupped my throbbing core through my leggings. “I want this pussy available to me all day, every day. Dripping and pulsing.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed the ending of my word with his mouth crushed to mine, and we began our plan to fuck our way through Elijah’s house.
****
I had wrapped my legs around Jon as he’d carried me to the living room. He’d lifted me off his hard shaft, spun me around, pushed me down over the edge of the couch where Elijah’s head had rested and fucked into me so damn hard, we’d jostled the couch out of its place.
Elijah’s scent had swarmed my nose as it pressed against the leather, the thought of him being there with us, shoving his cock down my throat making me come harder than ever before.
Mind on replay of that euphoric climax it took me a good half hour to recover from, I tossed our laundry into Elijah’s washer. I’d stolen the clothes Jon had worn while he lay sprawled on the couch butt naked, flicking through the few TV channels Elijah had.
Since I wasn’t allowed a bra or panties, I’d told him he couldn’t wear clothing—at all. If my pussy had to be accessible at all times, his cock had to be a hand or mouthful away, no hindrances.
He’d agreed without question, making me giggle.
Eyeing one of Elijah’s button-down shirts hanging nearby, I pulled off the shirt I’d had on earlier and donned to gather our laundry, and tossed it into the wash as well. Soap and start, I took care of the responsibility, my mind set on wearing Elijah’s shirt.
I pulled it off the hanger and buried my nose against the expensive fabric.
God. Pure Elijah, fire and brimstone, sex and … something flooded my lungs and mind. Where did the moisture coating my pussy come from? On constant since having first met Elijah, my body seemed to have an endless supply. All the sex Jon and I’d had, and I could walk with no problem, there was no twinge of discomfort between my thighs—unless one counted the sudden need making me throb.
A few minutes later, panty-less and still warmed through, I rounded the still-askew couch. Jon’s gaze landed on the shirt, but he didn’t say a word as I curled up on the couch alongside him. “I didn’t have any clean clothes,” I explained while pressing against his naked front.
He scooted down a bit, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my chest. “Christ, do you smell good,” he said, his voice muffled against Elijah’s shirt and my left breast.
His cock swelled against my leg as he continued to breathe deeply, nuzzling my hardened nipple.
I certainly wasn’t the only insatiable being in the cavern, but was it possible Elijah affected Jon in the same way he did me? Questioning Jon would raise too many questions, too many problems, so I kept my mouth shut. The fanciful thought magic coated Elijah’s home only made me wetter, and I rubbed myself against Jon.
He growled, his teeth nipping at me, his hands yanking up the edge of Elijah’s shirt to access my pussy. “Christ, you’re soaked again.”
I whimpered as he shoved two fingers inside me.
“I fucking want you again,” he growled around a mouthful of my nipple and Elijah’s shirt.
“I can tell…” I’d meant to let out my giggle at his drive when we’d finished fucking not an hour earlier, but he clamped his teeth over my nipple, ending all thoughts on a deep moan. “More,” I whimpered, yanking on his unbound hair. “Harder.”
He obliged, stroking my clit with his thumb while finger fucking me. “You like that baby?” he asked between nips, and lower lip between my teeth, I jerked my head up and down. “Hmm.” He backed off, his gaze searing my face. “Maybe we ought to get you some nipple clamps.”
Another rush of arousal coated the fingers he still worked inside me.
“My baby likes that idea.”
“I’m game—” I gasped as he pulled his fingers from my pussy and pinched my clit, “—if you are.”
“You know I’d do anything for you,” he whispered, settling between my thighs.
“Fuck me.”
He claimed my mouth and body with one thrust, doing exactly as I’d asked.
Chapter Thirteen
Jonathan
The combined scents of Elijah’s shirt atop my wife’s body loosened something inside of me, and I slammed into Dakota over and over, grunting and growling like a fucking animal. I wanted to bite her. Literally sink my teeth into her skin like a damn dog—like a fucking dragon, sinking my fangs deep into her.
But I was no dog or dragon and didn’t want to hurt the love of my life.
I settled for fucking her like the end of the world lay a climax away, making her shriek and come around my cock countless times, holding back my own release until she lay completely spent, sweaty and boneless beneath me.
For three days, all we did was eat, sleep, drink wine and beer, and I left Dakota alone enough she could click off a hundred pictures or so of Elijah’s home and the mountain views from the veranda. We ran low on fresh produce—not that I gave a shit—and even Dakota didn’t want to leave our hideaway. We fucked like a couple of horny teenagers, my taking every hole she offered, but Christ, I felt like something was missing. There was a shit ton of unspoken things between my wife and me, thoughts and feelings I couldn’t quite get a grasp on in order to name. I didn’t have the balls to speak up, because doing so, would make Dakota think she wasn’t enough for me, and she always had been—always would be.
Even though something inside me felt unfulfilled, living in Elijah’s house was like finding Elysium. A wine cellar that disappeared into darkness, countless cases of beer, free food, the most gorgeous woman on earth, and Elijah’s scent everywhere.
I caught Dakota sniffing his shirts, which was on a daily basis because that’s all she’d been wearing since the man had left us to our own devices. Something about the thread count, she’d said. Whatever. She looked sexy as hell and smelled even better with his scent on her.
The fuck is wrong with me?
Scrubbing a hand down my face over the question ringing between my ears since first meeting Elijah, I stared unseeing at the TV. Dakota started cleaning up the dinner dishes behind me. She’d insisted on doing the job herself, and I’d given her what she wanted—as always—even agreeing to go naked, but that wasn’t a hard choice. Nothing better than living life the same way you came into the world.
But what I wanted… I bit back my groan at the warring thoughts in my brain, tearing apart my body. I wanted Elijah. Couldn’t stop thinking about him, even while making love to my wife. Guilt ate at me like a medieval fucking plague.
My feet itched with the need to move, and like that magnetic pull from Elijah drawing me to him, the urge to go downstairs propelled me off the couch. I didn’t evaluate the why—just went with my instincts.
Using the excuse of retrieving a couple bottles of wine for the evening, I made my way through the dim corridors and into the wine cellar, doing exactly as I’d said. But I set the bottles on the floor outside the door and made my way deeper into the caverns rather than return upstairs. Lights brightened and dimmed behind me, and with every step,
I knew I needed to find whatever it was that slowly heightened my heartbeat, my awareness of … something.
I approached the end of the final hallway that ended at the garage door. Two wooden doors flanked me, both with keypads, the ones Elijah had ignored when giving us the tour of the main caverns and rooms beneath the living area. The one on the left didn’t open when I turned the doorknob. The one on the right didn’t either, but I couldn’t release my grip from the handle.
Yes.
Something inside me whispered the single word, a voice that tickled at my memory, but I couldn’t place. Shaking my head, I pulled my hand away, my gaze landing on the keypad. I brushed my fingers over it, pressing when the warming keys felt right.
The door clicked open.
I glanced up the hallway, adrenaline pumping through my system, but the magical pull of Elijah didn’t caress my skin. His scent, while lingering in the bowels of his home, didn’t make me salivate like when he was nearby.
With one palm against the door, I pushed it inward, not leaving my spot at the threshold. Soft light illuminated the cavern-like room as the door swung open, one without man-made stones fitted together, one that looked hewn by centuries of water or fire…
And fire raced through my blood like a kick to my groin as the room’s purpose lit in my brain.
I’d found Elijah’s dungeon.
The one I’d been fantasizing about, the chains and harnesses hanging from the ceiling, the Saint Andrew’s cross against the far wall, a spanking bench, and peg boards where all sorts of toys hung. Canes, whips, floggers … and dozens of others I didn’t have a clue about.
My focus returned to the black wood of the cross and the shackles at the four corners. I found myself walking across the dungeon, my cock leading the way, until I stood before the large X. Hand shaking, I reached out to touch it, the smooth finish warm beneath my fingertips.
An image flashed through my mind of me strapped tight in its bindings, my head tipped back and mouth opened on a groan as slashes of pain radiated through the fronts of my thighs and straight to my dick.