by Fiona Archer
Wetness coated her pussy. The feverish way her body embraced submission enchanted him. If only her mind would release itself with such ease. She must have questions on living a ménage lifestyle. So far, she’d held back. Scared, nervous? The time for guessing was over.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, brushing against her thigh. “Relaxed, little one?”
“Not really.” Her mouth twisted in a rueful smile.
“A shame.” The back of his knuckles skirted up her inner thigh. “We’re going to play a game. I’ll ask you a series of questions. Answer to my satisfaction and you’ll be rewarded.”
“Okay.” Her voice dripped with relief.
“Hold anything back, you’ll be punished.”
Her chest rose sharply. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair doesn’t rate a mention. My rules, sub.” He leaned over and plucked hard on a rosy nipple, pinching the bud.
She bit down on her lip, breathing through her nose. A throaty whimper escaped.
He didn’t miss the rush of fluid now coating her upper thighs. With one last roll of his thumb, he released her nipple and slid his hand over her ribcage, resting at the curve of her waist.
Questions about Hank Young’s death weren’t on the table, not without Flynn beside him. Tonight, he’d explore her curiosity about ménage relationships with the added bite of BDSM.
“Let’s start with something easy. Were you shocked when I told you I loved you?”
“I, well, yes.” Her words spluttered out. Surprise at his question seemed to rob her of the art of evasion.
“Good girl.” He bent, licked the now hard nipple into his mouth and suckled. Her sigh puffed out above his head, ruffling his hair. Releasing the nipple with a pop, he grazed his teeth over its glistening tip. A tremor shook her chest. He trailed the fingers of his free hand down her exposed side, stroking a line over to her mound.
“From your perspective, I’ll allow my declaration seemed sudden. You’ve had a lot on your plate the last forty-eight hours, little teacher.
She snorted. “It’s been pretty hard to keep up some times.”
“That’s why you need to trust those around you, share the load.” He snared the dual remote for the egg and the plug from his pile of goodies on the bed. His gaze traveled over Chloe as his thumb hovered above the control.
He pushed down, once. The egg hummed.
“Oh!”
A sharp indrawn breath. Lovely. He pushed down again. The chain to the headboard rattled, her arms stretched taunt before she sank back against the mattress.
“Sir, a vibrator? It’s…ooohh.”
“Yes, sweetie, it is.” Noah allowed a trace of laughter to escape. He’d have her in a slow burn soon enough. “Concentrate. Did you discuss some of your concerns with Purdy?”
“I–I did, yes. Are you angry?” Her voice quivered.
“No, sweetheart. A woman needs friends she can confide in. Did your talk help?” His hand moved to the slick folds of her pussy. The pad of his finger, shiny with her juices, grazed over her clit, lifting the hood.
She moaned, deep and long.
He lowered his voice. “Answer me, sub.”
“Yes.” She rushed out the word. “I mean, in a way. We talked some things through. I, ah, I have some questions of my own, Sir, for you and Flynn.”
About time.
“Glad to hear it, sweetie. We want you to ask questions.” He fingered the remote, pushing the second button. A low buzz drifted up as the plug vibrated.
“Oh, heck.” Chloe panted out a few quick breaths.
“Sub, your first question?”
She filled her lungs with air and seemed to steady. “How does it work, this ménage thing? Have you done this before, I mean, long term? Do we all sleep together all the time? Would we use a roster? What about my own interests, am I supposed to give them up? And…umm…then there’s the…umm…BDSM s–stuff. Oh, jeez, I can’t think because…because I’ve got a vibrator up my butt!”
Little brat.
“Let’s prove that point further, shall we?” One press of the remote—no, make that two—and both vibrators turned up a gear. She whimpered.
His cock throbbed at the raw sound. He still had one question left unanswered, and neither of them would gain release until he silenced some of her fears.
Cupping her breasts, his thumbs swiped over the hard peaks of her nipples. “Now, sub, to your questions. No, we haven’t done this long-term. We’ve never found the lady we’d want to live with us until now. The workings of a successful ménage are like any other relationship. Everyday stuff like housework, cooking, time for our own interests, we’ll talk, hash things out. See what works best. We’re all still individuals working toward a balance.
Same ethos applies in the bedroom. You’re not going to want sex with both of us every night. Flynn and I will each need time alone with you. None of this is a drama so long as we’re all honest and listen.”
“That s–s–sounds fair.” She struggled past a shudder, her breathing louder.
He released one nipple, his fingers moving lower, dipping into her pussy, skimming over her outer folds. “Most things can be solved through open, honest conversation. Correct?”
“Uh-huh.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips.
He bent at the waist, his mouth inches from her ear. “Excellent. So tell me what it is you fear from a ménage with Flynn and me.”
“Fear? It’s not a fear.” She lifted her hips, grinding her pussy against his hand.
“No?” He sat up, withdrew his fingers, and pressed his hand against her mound. Her clit peeked out from its hood, begging for attention as her sweet musky essence filled the air.
“I just…It’s too soon. Things happened so fast.” She ground her bottom against the mattress, nudging the plug. “Please touch me. I’m so close.”
“So that’s it, a time factor?” On the face of things, it made sense.
“What?” She nodded. “Yes, I n–need time.”
A deep seeded niggle refused to leave him. Gut instinct had saved his life on too many occasions to dismiss the notion. She could be lying. With her skin already flushed and pulse high, who could judge? And if she was? Pushing her now was pointless. And a shade hypocritical, considering all that shit with his family he’d yet to share.
Damn, hoisted by his own fucking petard.
“Sir?” Her feet twisted against the cuffs, the D-rings clinking against the spreader bar.
Frustration slapped him in the face. Pull your head out of your arse, King.
“More time. Fair enough. Flynn and I can manage that. Other questions, sub?”
“No. Let me come.” Her chin jutted out at a demanding angle.
Displeasure cramped his jaw. “You think you give the orders?” He fingered the remote. Both vibes turned silent.
“Oh, Sir, no!” The chain of the headboard rattled as she tugged on her cuffs.
He stood, stripped off his shirt and shoved the remote into his jeans pocket. The last of the implements, a flogger, lay on the bed. Deerskin falls, dyed black and red, secured with a turban knot to a diamond-braided handle and wrist strap.
He’d debated on using it tonight. Her feisty bite sealed her fate.
He leaned down, his hands on either side of her head, braced against the mattress. The scent of woman and soap teased him as he kissed a line across her shoulder, all the way up her throat to the hollow behind her ear.
She turned her head to the side, granting him full access.
Grasping her earlobe between his teeth, he tugged, nipping the tender skin.
“Ahhh.”
After one last lick, he sat up. He grasped the handle of the flogger and checked his grip. His other hand rubbed over her stomach, maintaining contact.
“The blindfold helped, sub?”
Her head bobbed. “It does, Sir. It’s like you said, kind of frees me up.”
Approval filled his chest. “Wonderful.” He stepped back,
checking his stance. Legs shoulder width apart, back relaxed but straight. Centering his energy down his arm, through his hand, he lifted the black-and-red falls above her right leg. “How does this feel?”
A soft patter filled the air. The barest hint of the falls flicked over the top of her thigh. She gasped. Her thigh jerked. “It tickles.” She squirmed against the bedding.
Fire, hungry and carnal, lit up his veins. He flicked his wrist, the falls landing a nudge harder. “And now?”
“It’s…heavy, thuddy.” She licked her lips. “Good, in a spanky kind of way.”
His groin hardened to the point of pain. He shook his head, fighting to block out the sensation.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
More thuds landed—higher now, across her breasts, her mound, then back down, her inner thighs. More gentle there. Light pink streaks laced her skin.
Her breathing changed.
Harsher. Quicker.
“Oh. Oh, my. S–s–sir, what is t–that?”
“It’s a flogger, Chloe. All those little thuds are strands of deer hide. Imagine what it’ll feel like when it hits that sweet pussy.”
“My pussy?!” She kicked her legs, the spreader bar keeping her feet low.
“No. My pussy, luv, mine and Flynn’s.” His hand seized the center of the spreader bar, lifted it high and back, forcing her to bend her knees. A quick glance checked his aim. Those cute little feet with their pink painted toenails weren’t in line for a flogging.
He paused, digging into his pocket for the remote. Her ragged breathing filled the room. Two clicks and both vibes kicked back to life.
“Ooooh, sooo mean.” Chloe whined, her head rolling from side to side.
“Sub, you have no idea.”
Harder now, the falls struck her bottom. Pink lines slashed across her butt cheeks, the crease of her sit spot, her thighs. The swollen lips of her pussy glistened under the light.
“The plug has pushed down hard, filling you up and touching every nerve ending. The vibe’s made you so wet. I can see your clit. It’s red and shiny.” His mouth watered. “Imagine my tongue licking your clit, my mouth sucking hard until you come, screaming my name.”
“Please, please, please, please.” She bucked. Tears leaked from under the blindfold.
“Come.”
Flick.
A direct hit right on her shiny red clit.
“Sweet holy Jesus!”
Her legs kicked up, jerking the spreader bar in his grasp.
Flick.
“Arrggghhh.” Her throaty cry sliced the air.
Thighs shaking, gasping for air, she was a beautiful sight. His beautiful sub.
Lust, primal and ferocious, gripped him. The flogger fell to the floor. He lowered the spreader bar and unclipped the ankle cuffs. Carefully, he unzipped his jeans. Free from its denim cage, his cock bobbed hard and red. He reached into the bedside drawer and sheathed himself.
The remote? There, where he’d thrown it on the bed. Snatching up the device, he silenced the egg.
On the bed and kneeling between her legs, he slid his hand up her thigh. Dampness covered his fingers. He wasted no time removing the vibe.
Her sharp hiss drew his gaze to her flushed face. Time for her to see the light—literally. He wanted her staring right smack into his eyes as he thrust deep inside her.
“Close your eyes, little one.” he pushed the blindfold over her forehead, past sweat-dampened hair, throwing it off to the side. “Now, open slowly.”
Moss green eyes blinked against the light. Tear-smudged eyelashes clumped together. Poor little sub. And it wasn’t over yet.
“Look at me.”
With a snap of her lids, she met his gaze.
Leaning on one forearm, he curled his hand under her knee, lifting high. Perfect for deep penetration. He smiled at her wide-eyed stare. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.”
He thrust his hips, sinking into her warmth. So fucking tight and shit, the vibrations! Tiny missiles striking against his cock, firing sparks straight to his balls. His cock pulsed, captured in her wet grip.
“Fuck.” He threw back his head, gritted his teeth, and started his rhythm. Each outward stroke squeezed blood to the head, sharpening the sensation of pressure. Fucking amazing.
“Sir, please, I can’t…I can’t—” She sobbed. Small white teeth bit into the softness of her lip.
Oh, no, he had a far better use for those lips.
He claimed her mouth, pressing hard, forcing her lips apart. Their tongues dueled, tasting, thrusting. Surprise made him miss a beat. She wanted to play harder? No problem. He tilted his head, gaining more traction, forcing her head deep into the pillows.
With a hoarse cry, she dragged her mouth free as the muscles of her vagina clenched his cock in a soul-wrenching grip.
He curled a fist in her hair, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her mouth opened. Tiny inaudible sounds escaped from the back of her throat.
“Who do you belong to, sub?”
She blinked, focused. “Y–y–you and Flynn, S–sir.”
“That’s right, little teacher.” He eased out of her. Cool air circled his cock. He adjusted his angle and with one last thrust, scraped his cock over her G-spot.
“Eeeeeeeee.” Eyes squished closed, mouth pulled wide, Chloe squealed as violent tremors shook her body.
His balls tightened. A few more seconds…He buried his head in her neck. Unseeing, he reached beside the pillow, snagged the remote. Off.
Sweat dripped down his forehead, stung his eyes. His climax rolled in like a thunderstorm, swirling and building in strength until a bolt of release shot his seed free.
Shudders gripped him. His balls pulsed, pumping out waves of hot, dark pleasure. Every drop of moisture from his body seemed to flow to the tip of his cock, draining him of all energy.
With one last herculean effort, he reached up, unclipped Chloe’s cuffs, scooped his arm under her, and turned onto his back.
She lay sprawled above him, a soft bundle of sub delight, their bodies still joined. His arm locked around her.
Neither moved or spoke, breathing more of a priority.
A minute later, slowly, as if trying not to wake a sleeping giant, she attempted to ease off his chest.
He tightened his grip and raised a brow. “Going somewhere?”
Far from being cowed, she grinned. “I’m kinda sticky and well…the plug?”
“Ah yes, the plug.” He laughed and lifted his arm, allowing her retreat. He grabbed tissues from the bedside table and secured the used condom. “Go into the bathroom, luv, and I’ll unstickify you in the shower.”
She laughed and walked to the bathroom, treating him to the gorgeous view of her naked bottom filled with his plug.
It was a gorgeous view, one he’d cherish. His forever?
Muted sounds from the bathroom played in the distance. He registered them. Same as he registered that niggle, the one that had gnawed at him all day.
She stated she needed time. Fair enough. Not the issue.
He rubbed a hand against his neck. Something was missing. Some element important to her. Making her hold back that last part of herself. Was she scared of him and Flynn? After her playfulness a minute ago? No. This came down to her past. He’d bet money on it. Some fucked-up family life experience that had twisted her view of the world.
Family.
Yeah, he and Flynn could start their own support group.
“Hey, what’re you doing in there?” Chloe’s voice drifted into the bedroom.
“Never you mind, sub. Make sure your sweet little bum’s ready for my inspection.”
He dragged out a sigh. Time to man up and share his own family saga to the woman he loved. Maybe his transparency would prod her to reveal her own.
* * * *
Chloe wiggled against the bedding, drawing the sheets and blanket up over her chest and tucking them under her arms. A clean, soapy-fresh smell covered her skin. She sighed. Noah gave the best showers.
The man had a gift for the diabolical use of water pressure that rendered her speechless. And when he lathered up his hand and rubbed there…
Her smoky-eyed charmer had his moments, too. Flynn’s massages were nothing shy of amazing, and he did make the better cup of coffee. These things were important to a girl. A lifetime of showers, massages and rich, roasted coffee—
Whoa.
She caught her breath, bolted upright. Wow, that had come into her head way too easily. A lifetime with these guys?
Face it Chloe, your biggest enemy isn’t Trent. It was herself, that new, braver part of her growing in strength each day, nurtured by Noah and Flynn, demanding a slice of happiness.
God help her, she didn’t know how long she could hold out. Did she want to?
* * * *
Noah strode out from the bathroom and was halfway to the bed when he noticed her start. He narrowed his gaze.
She made herself busy fluffing up the already fluffed-up pillows.
He stalked over to the bed, raised one leg, and pushed his knee into the mattress. “All right, luv?”
“Sure.” She swallowed and smoothed her fingers over the deep royal blue of his boxer shorts. Skating over the hem of his right boxer leg, she traced the long line of the pinkish scar tissue covering his right thigh. Her touch was whisper soft.
He could almost hear the jumble of questions running in her head.
“Go ahead, sweetie, ask.” Noah kept his voice gentle.
She glanced up. “I’ve seen this before, but we were, you know, busy, and I, ah—”
“You were soon otherwise distracted?” His lips quirked.
“Yes,” Chloe said, giving in to a smile.
“I should bloody hope so. If an old war wound captures your attention more than my lovemaking, I’d be worried. Scoot over.” He waved her back and lifted the corner of the sheets.
Once under the covers, he gathered her to his side. The scent of soap and powder made him smile. Squeals. Giggles. Playful struggles. Their shower had been so…refreshing.
She cuddled close, resting her head against his chest.