by Eve Langlais
Her response was nearly a snarl, but he didn’t mind the show of spirit. “You said you’d had a master before. Did he take you to any clubs?”
She nodded more slowly.
With the back of his hand, he stroked the velvety skin of her abdomen. “Did he have you do anything with him in public that made you uncomfortable?”
A furrow dug into her forehead. “I blew him a couple of times. And he tied me to a bench and fucked me with people watching us.”
“Did you really mind?” Bryce asked casually, noting the way her body had tensed.
“I wanted to please him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But everything he made me do made my stomach cramp. I think, maybe, part of me felt what he asked was too much.”
“Were you afraid to tell me that?” Her blue eyes were moist enough to reflect his image in their depths.
“I don’t want you writing me off if you want those things. I’m willing to try, again.”
Bryce cupped her cheeks and thumbed away a tear clinging her to lashes. “I told you before. I don’t want you doing anything you don’t like. And I’m not much into performing for strangers.”
“But you’re not shy about showing your dick or your girl to your friends,” she grumbled. Her gaze skittered to the side.
Bryce snorted. “I have two close friends. Morgan and Billy, and a larger circle I play with sometimes, which includes James. You already like Morgan. You’ll like Billy too, even if he is a dark bastard. I’ve known them both since high school. James, well, he was on good behavior when you met him. I may leave it a while before I let you see his kinky side.” He tilted his head, frowning. “You’re biting your lip again. You don’t trust me.”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head. “But what if I…” she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “What if I like the sex…a lot? Will you think differently of me?”
When her eyelids fluttered open, he replied, “Different from what?”
Dismay sucked the color from her face.
He’d made her feel unsure, and he didn’t like that. He sighed. “If I ask you to share yourself, I’ll expect you to enjoy it. I wouldn’t have you do it otherwise.”
“But what pleasure does that give you?”
Bryce stroked her belly again. “Will I seem like an ass if I say that having a beautiful woman do anything I command makes me feel proud?”
A pale pink wash of color swept across her cheeks. “Not when submitting to your every wish makes me feel the same way.”
“So we’re okay? Do you need to ask me any more questions?”
She shook her head again. “I’d really like for you to get on with whatever you were going to do.”
“Trying to rush me?”
Long eyelashes dipped low and then she wrinkled her nose. “It’s not my place to tell you to hurry the fuck up, sir.”
A bark of laughter caught him by surprise. And the half-embarrassed smile on Raelie’s face reinforced his original impression that Raelie hadn’t learned all that much from her previous relationships. She’d been led around on a leash, but never really shown the beauty of submitting to a loving partner who only had her best interests in mind, and who allowed her personality to shine. She’d been left to weave her own fantasies and enact them. She teased him without expecting real retribution or reward. She really was an innocent.
Damn. Responsibility weighed on him. While he thought there was a real chance Raelie could be the one for him, if he was wrong and she grew to love him, he’d hurt her.
Pushing troubling thoughts aside, he molded Raelie’s breast, plumping it and squeezing. He bent nearer and latched onto the nipple, pulling it into his mouth. The soft skin had the feel of suede. The ring toggled under his tongue and he bit into it and pulled. He groaned and suckled harder.
Her breath hitched, but the soft grunting moan she gave was a sound laced with pleasure. He came over her and settled between her widespread legs. Supported on his arms, he leaned and kissed her mouth, rubbing it in circles, then dragged his lips down her neck to the breast he’d ignored.
With just his mouth, he worked it, licking the sensitive underside, so pale and delicate the shadowed blue of the veins beneath her skin were visible. He licked at the nipple, lapping over and over it, enjoying the way the tip and the small ring scraped on his tongue. Then he sucked as much of her breast as he could into his mouth, offering her broad strokes while he pulled her rhythmically.
Her body writhed beneath him, mewling whimpers escaping as she twisted and pulled at her bonds.
Her excitement fed his hunger. He moved down her belly, nipping her skin and causing her stomach to jump. Her bellybutton was a lovely swirling tunnel that he sank inside before moving lower, at last arriving at her feminine mound.
He combed his fingers through the pale blonde hair cloaking her outer lips. “I’ll shave you another time. But for now, I want to show off your pretty muff to my friends. Will you like spreading your legs for them so they can admire you and see your pussy rings?”
“Yes, sir, if it’s something you want,” she said through lips blurred and swollen from her habit of biting them.
He thrust two fingers inside her, enjoying the strength of the muscles clasping around the digits. His thumb toggled her clit while his fingers played inside her channel.
Raelie lifted her head, her mouth opening.
He cut short whatever comment she was going to make with a single glance, warning her not to speak. Then he pushed himself lower, resting on his elbows between her legs and thrust his fingers deeper. He rubbed his lips over her labia and wet them with his tongue. With a twist of his hand, his thumb rested on her tiny furled hole, leaving her slick reddened clit exposed. His tongue swirled on it. Her hips undulated and a deep groan tore from her as he pushed his thumb inside her ass.
He finger-fucked both holes now, showing her there wasn’t a part of her body he wouldn’t touch, wouldn’t taste in his pursuit of her total capitulation. His own body vibrated to the sounds of the moans he wrested from her and the slick heat he sank inside.
Moisture spilled from inside her, and he tucked three fingers into her pussy, stretching her, pumping them in and out.
“Not enough,” she said, her body arching off the mattress. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”
The sensation wasn’t enough for him either. He pulled his fingers free, released her restraints and turned her roughly onto her belly.
She came immediately to her knees, pushing her ass backwards and widening her stance. With a flip of her hair, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Bryce smiled, cupped a hand and swatted her bottom, watching her skin pinken over the pale ridges he’d left the day before. Her eyelids dipped then rose again. Deeper color blossomed on the cheek turned his way.
He swatted her again then fisted himself and glanced down to watch as he placed his cock at her entrance and slowly pushed inside. The heat of her, so moist, so welcoming, beckoned him and he stroked forward, not stopping until he was balls-deep. He halted there, holding her hips to prevent her from pulsing on him, keeping himself lodged inside her while he breathed deeply, fighting for control because, with her, he seemed to have so little. “Don’t move,” he growled when she tried to wriggle.
Her inner muscles clamped hard around him, then released, clasped, released.
He gave a snort of laughter and spanked her. “Not a muscle.”
“Fucker.”
The single word was soft, but he’d held his breath a second and heard her. He pressed on her outer thighs, urging her to close them, locking him inside her, robbing her of the ability to move, to feel the brush of his balls or hair against her clit. Then he dropped spit into the crease between her buttocks and rubbed a finger in it, working it around and around her asshole.
Her inner muscles quivered around his shaft, an involuntary jerk he was sure. He didn’t relent, rubbing and rubbing, then pressing against it until his
finger poked inside. He thrust it deep and rolled his hand around and around, stretching her, forcing her to relax against the easy movement. Then he tucked another finger inside her.
Raelie’s arms gave out and her chest dropped to the bed, just her ass held high, her pussy still stuffed with his cock, her soft cries muffled by the bedding as he began to thrust those fingers in and out.
He inserted a third, and she whimpered. “Good to know,” he whispered. “We have a little work to do.”
“Bastard,” she bit out.
He wondered if she thought she was saying it softly enough he couldn’t hear. Since she had the spirit left to defy him, to curse him, he decided she had the strength to take a little more.
With three fingers still stuffed inside her ass, he widened his legs, coming up until he was bent over her, his legs widespread. With his free hand on her hip to keep himself steady, he began to fuck in and out of her pussy, slamming himself against her ass, his cock sliding sharply in long, deep thrusts, jamming deep before swiftly withdrawing and slamming inside again.
Her whimpers became full-bodied groans. Her shoulders bunched; her hands fisted in the bedding as he powered into her, the force of his body slams shaking her hard.
He let go of her hip, and reached down to wind his hand in her hair until he had his rope and he pulled her up, forcing her to brace herself on quivering arms as he held her immobile and took her.
The moment she crested, he knew it. Her back arched up then sank, and a loud keening wail ripped from her throat. He couldn’t praise her, couldn’t breathe. He let go of her hair, pulled his fingers from her ass and clutched her hips so hard he had no doubts he’d leave bruises as he crashed into her.
His orgasm slammed through him, the pressure in his balls exploding like a relief valve on a water heater, pumping scalding semen through his cock. He groaned as he slowed and gentled his thrusts, laying over her back and kissing her neck, her shoulder, nuzzling her ear as he continued to pulse because he hated like hell stopping. “Fucking fantastic,” he breathed.
A weary laugh jerked her back against his belly. “Thank God, for every drop of your cum. It kept me from burning up.”
He jerked out his cock. “I’m sorry. Was the friction too much?”
She eased down to the bed and rolled to her back, easing her legs around him and inviting him to lie on top of her. When he covered her from shoulder to toe, his cock squashed against her belly but with the weight of his upper torso on his elbows, he smoothed back the hair sticking to her cheeks.
She grinned sleepily. “How come you’re not tired? Thought all guys were wham-bam then just wanted to roll over and die.”
“Looks like you’re the one without an ounce of stamina.”
She nuzzled his palm. “And I wasn’t doing the work. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“That’s okay. I want you rested for tomorrow.”
Her eyelids had been drifting down, but now they opened wide. “You’re not gonna give me even a little hint, are you?”
The disgruntled pout she gave him had him grinning. He bent and kissed her hard, then rolled to his feet. He slapped her thigh. “Out of bed. I have to get you home before you decide to nest.”
Raelie pulled a pillow over her head and moaned.
He slapped her again, and she opened her thighs, a lewd retort.
His next slap landed on her pussy, a sharp snap that warmed his palm.
A soft cry sounded. Her legs rose and melted open, thighs falling to either side.
He shook his head. There wasn’t anything hotter than a woman who surrendered her modesty because a man tempted her to give it up.
Bryce grabbed her hand and pulled her to a sitting position. The pillow slid away, and her wild hair stuck up in a tangled mess. She’d never looked cuter. “Five minutes,” he said, forcing every bit of humor and warmth from his expression because he wanted to be sure she understood he was serious.
Her expression turned solemn, her eyes a bit dreamy, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Eight
Raelie returned from James’s office, again—more clean bills of health clutched inside her hand. She crossed to her desk. That morning, she’d had to call for two additional appointments.
Bryce’s implication was impossible to miss. He planned to share her with Morgan and Billy, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Excited, certainly—all right, horribly, achingly aroused.
But also a little uncertain about where this would leave her with Bryce. Was she to be their plaything for an indeterminate period of time before being discarded? Her last boyfriend had lost interest after he’d had her perform in public. However, he hadn’t loved her; he’d only been using her.
Was she convinced Bryce’s intentions were any different? Sure, he’d driven her home last night, and then stayed, telling her he didn’t think he wanted to face a lonely bed when he could hold her close all night.
The night had been perfect. Romantic. And scary as hell. She wanted so badly for Bryce to be the one, but she didn’t want to make another mistake. It all came down to trust. Did she trust him enough to give him full control? To offer her heart?
She could share herself with his friends, if that was something he wanted. No doubt, she would enjoy the hell out of it too, but she wanted him to be there for her afterward. She needed to belong to him.
She’d just placed her purse in the drawer of her desk when the light on her telephone blinked then buzzed. She raised the handset, “Yes sir?”
“You have their results?”
“I do. Do you want me to bring them to you?”
“Leave them in your center drawer. I want you to take the invoice I left on your desk to my house. Deliver it personally to Mr. Markham and Mr. Thibodaux, they’re working there today. They’re waiting for you now. You’re to do whatever they ask.”
Her hand fisted around the handset, and she bit into her lower lip.
“Go, now, Raelie.”
She melted at the warmth in his voice. Her eyelids drifted shut and she laid the telephone back in its cradle. Then she placed the printout from the doctor’s office in the drawer, picked up the invoice, and gathered her purse again to leave.
The drive to his house took only five minutes. She was tempted to make another turn around the block to steel her nerves, but Morgan stood at the entrance of the courtyard, waiting.
Heart pumping, she pulled into the driveway, set her emergency brake, and stared.
He lifted one eyebrow, arching it high in an unspoken challenge.
Raelie took a deep breath and let herself out of the car then strode slowly toward him. She held out the invoice. “It’s for the last of the appliances he wants installed in the kitchen. I was to deliver this directly to you.”
He shook his head. “To me and Mr. Thibodaux.”
Raelie cleared her throat. “Is he around?”
“He’s inside.”
She glanced around the exterior of the house. Men worked on scaffolding on the nearly finished façade. She knew more were inside, working on installing a home entertainment system and light fixtures. The house was almost complete.
Morgan turned on his heel and opened the door, standing to the side as she entered. “Go all the way back to the master bedroom.”
She jerked at the word and a flourish of heat seeped into her sex. A shiver worked its way from the base of her skull straight down her spine, but she kept her feet moving, taking the lead down the spacious corridor to the room in the back. Inside, she noted the curtains were closed. The sounds of machinery would be enough to muffle any nasty noises, if what she thought was going to happen really did go down.
However, the bedroom appeared empty until the bathroom door opened, and Billy Thibodaux stepped out, bared to the waist, his black hair wet and droplets of water clinging to his broad shoulders and hair-darkened chest, indicating he’d washed up just before she arrived.
His gaze started at her hair
and moved slowly down her body. Her skin burned everywhere it landed. He didn’t say a word, but stepped forward, reached for her purse and set it on the dresser. Then he knelt and held out a hand, palm up.
Without being told, she placed her foot in his hand, and he slipped off her pump then did the same with the other. His black-eyed glance swept up, pinning her in place and then his hands glided up her legs and right under her skirt—all the way up until he reached the waistband of the pantyhose she’d worn today.
Raelie swallowed, nervous and excited all at once, liking the roughness of his callused hands even though they spelled a quick death for her nylons. He stripped them down, taking her undies with them, and pushed them off her feet.
Again, his hands disappeared beneath her skirt, smoothing up her thighs and over her naked ass. While his fingers kneaded her bottom, causing her to sway on her feet, another set of fingers pulled the waist band of her skirt.
Morgan had moved behind her and was making quick work of the rest of her clothes. Inside a minute, they had her stripped naked, standing between them and shivering from head to toe.
Billy stood, gliding up her belly, his furred chest rubbing against her nervous tummy and breasts. When he stepped back to strip, she let out the breath she’d held in a loud whoosh, which made the corners of his mouth crimp.
Naked, he planted hands on his hips and let her look, his dark gaze never leaving her face. She drank in the sight of his muscular body, thicker than either Morgan’s or Bryce’s and with arms like a prize-fighter’s. Black fur cloaked his chest, not too thick and silky looking. Fur arrowed down toward his cock, which was fully erect and pointing right at her. Everything was in proportion with his thick build, including another lovely, masculine cock.
Moisture filled her mouth, and she was tempted to drop to her knees and take him, but she remembered there was a game to play. They would make all the decisions. Her duty was to obey.
Billy fisted his cock and gave her narrowed glance. “You sure you want this?”
“Your cock?” she blurted stupidly.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Will you let us fuck you? Both of us?”