Wargasm (Payne Brothers Romance Book 3)

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Wargasm (Payne Brothers Romance Book 3) Page 86

by Sosie Frost


  If stripping meant wiggling out of pants and immediately jumping under the covers before undoing my bra inside my shirt, then sure.

  “No, sir.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. “Have...you made women take their clothes off for you?”

  “The girls at Duchess will do whatever I say.”

  “Oh.”

  “But you aren’t like the girls from Duchess.” Anthony seized a brief kiss, drawing a tiny mew from me. “You didn’t strip because you’re a submissive and one of the masters ordered it.”

  “…I didn’t?”

  “You did it for me.” His eyes darkened. “And I like that.”

  A hardness tapped against my leg.

  That couldn’t be his…

  I looked down, panicked, and resolved to jump into the cool water before we had to charge admission for the party to see the monstrosity.

  He ignored my modest attempt to place some space between my body and him. He meant for me to feel it. My stomach twisted, and my core realized it before my mind.

  I had done that to him.

  It wasn’t the one-piece suit I wore, or the strip tease that trembled my dress off.

  I had gotten him hard.

  Submission left no room for innocence, but Anthony’s reaction was worth my tarnished halo.

  Screw the onlookers. I debated on throwing my arms around him and diving for a kiss.

  Anthony chuckled, edging me backwards. Two steps, and my foot swung over nothing. I peeked behind me. The pool?

  Oh, he wouldn’t dare throw me into the water.

  He read my surprise. “I’m considering it.”

  “So, you have a playful side?”

  “I’m very playful, pet. And I can prove it.”

  “You up for a game of Marco Polo?”

  “I’m thinking of something much, much better.”

  My confidence soared. Anthony didn’t cannonball me into the pool. He took the stairs, and the water lapped only to his waist. A curled finger motioned me to follow.

  Yikes. Usually I eased myself in. Splashed my legs like an old lady with a pink bathing cap. He didn’t have the patience for that. Anthony tugged at me from the pool.

  Nothing, nothing, compared to me slipping into his arms while the silky, warm water lapped at my skin.

  He kept me wrapped in his tight embrace. I wasn’t going anywhere, and I had no desire to leave. Though the pool lit the party, the water seemed safe from onlookers. I tucked against his solid body, arms around his neck. The bathing suit provided only a thin barrier between us, but his hands caressed my sides and back as if the material weren’t there at all.

  My sigh shuddered into a million pieces, and Anthony caught them all.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it, pet?”

  The heat of the water leeched into my blood. I bit my lip, casting a cautious glance to the group of laughing people floating on the other side of the pool. Anthony ignored them.

  “I felt dirty, sir,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Anyone could watch me.”

  “Most of the women here are in their bathing suits. Far more revealing suits than yours.”

  Damn his logic. “I’m not used to being the center of attention anymore.”

  “Anymore?”

  I hoped he didn’t see me grimace. “I try to keep a low profile.”

  “Why? Aren’t you a musician?”

  “I’m not sure you can call me that.”

  “You have a violin melody tattooed on your ankle.”

  “A lot of people have tattoos.”

  He swept me closer. My lips parted for his kiss.

  “Not like yours. A barista with a Bach tattoo. There’s more to you than coffee.” He lowered his head, gently nipping my neck. “I think you liked the attention at one time. I think you still do.”

  I closed my eyes, but the kiss never came. After a moment, I peeked them open. Anthony watched me, amused. Great. I teetered between embarrassment and lust so often it was starting to give me whiplash.

  “Answer me,” he said. “You like when people watch you.”

  Were we still talking about music? The pool heated too hot, and I longed for a kiss he refused to give. Anthony stared at me as the string quartet finished warming up. I shrugged.

  “Okay. You’re right.”

  His voice hardened. “Okay?”

  “I mean—yes, sir.”

  “Thin ice, Morgan.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Don’t be ashamed. You’re a beautiful mystery.” His hands swept over my body. I arched against him. “And you’re a natural submissive. It’s rare for someone so inexperienced.”

  That couldn’t be true. All the women—the submissives—he must have dated. I wasn’t like that.

  His whisper bit at my desire. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  My belly clenched. The words refused to tumble from my lips. I didn’t admit it, but I couldn’t deny him either.

  He laughed, low. A bite rang in his chuckle.

  “I’d put you over the stairs. Right there.” His eyes lingered on the set of concrete steps leading from the pool. “On your hands and knees. I’d push you down so everyone could see your beautiful ass…that little slit I know must be so wet. I’d fuck you…I’d mount you…right there, and the only way I’d let you raise your head up would be to scream to the party how hard you were coming on my cock.”

  I swallowed. This was a man who would follow through on such a threat. A man who liked his women on their knees, exposed and wanting.

  Where he could examine her.

  Watch her shudder.

  Restrain her.

  “Or maybe I’d take you inside that tent.”

  Every word rumbled in my belly. Both sincere and a very real warning. This wasn’t a game. His hand tightened over my waist with a possessive strength. I couldn’t resist as he dragged me deeper into the pool.

  Deeper into this absolute madness.

  “I’d lay you down on the bar.” He teased with the image. “First, I’d just keep you naked and spread, your legs wide. It’s such a hot night, pet…I bet the people here would love to see how quickly I could melt an ice cube within that lovely pussy.” He chuckled as I flinched. “No…it wouldn’t be comfortable. It’d be cold and terrible for those first few seconds while your little clit shivered over the ice. But then…once my lips seal around it? You’d heat right back up. Just in time for me to throw your ankles over your shoulders and pound you into an orgasm as all the guests reach over your head to order their drinks…”

  Yes.

  Yes, that sounded so wrong and good and terrible and frightening. The images consumed me. The implications dizzied me. And his words teetered me on an edge I so desperately needed to crest.

  He just needed to decide. I’d do anything. Kneel where he commanded. Touch him where he wanted. To let myself get fucked as he ordered.

  I’d be helpless when I came…so wrapped up in him nothing else in the world would matter.

  “Or maybe...”

  Anthony led me even deeper in the pool, but my toes only reached so far. He spun me around, grinding his hardness against my ass. Now I was over my head. Literally. Without him holding me, I couldn’t touch the bottom of the pool. He guided me to the wall and let me hang on. His arm circled around my midsection and he pulled me close.

  “Or maybe I’ll do this...”

  He shifted my hips.

  Oh!

  He pushed me over one of the pool’s jets!

  The water burst over my slit, and every muscle in my body tightened and twisted and threatened to snap.

  I lurched away, but Anthony held me firm.

  “Shh, shh, shh.” The patronizing edge in his voice was as harsh as a hand around my throat. “If you shout too loudly, everyone will know my little pet is getting off in the pool, surrounded by all these strangers.”

  Stars blinded my vision.

  Nothing had ever felt as pleasurable or as
necessary as the water’s harsh massage over my body.

  Somewhere beyond the pool, the string quartet strummed their first song. The cello’s notes centered in my stomach, the deep chords reverberating like the strike of a whip against my skin. The water surged. I bit my lip.

  And he said Simone was the sadist?

  Party guests laughed. A rushing waiter hurried between the cabanas, passing within two feet of me. The music settled over the rooftop like a cozy blanket.

  And I fought against a need so crushing I feared I’d slip beneath the water and never resurface.

  I tried to fight it, but the pressure beat a constant rhythm against me.

  I tried to ignore it, but my heart thrashed in my chest, pulsing in time to the waves of shudders wracking through me.

  This wasn’t happening.

  This wouldn’t stop.

  And I think I liked it.

  The sensation was too much. Way too hard and verging on a painful amount of pressure. I shifted my hips, attempting to escape the relentless, intoxicating assault. But Anthony held me steady, pushing me closer to the jet.

  “Please…” I whispered. “I…I can’t…”

  He was too strong. He forced my legs open to accept even more of the thrilling pulse against my sensitive slit.

  “Don’t fight it, pet.” Anthony whispered an absolute seduction. “The harder you fight, the longer I have to keep you here. In the open. Where everyone can see you shaking. Groaning.” He chuckled, low. “Humping.”

  And I was.

  My hips swayed against the bursting water, demanding more than I could handle. I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. Only blinded me to the party, the one rational defense I had against surrendering to this insanity. A barrage of emotions, sensations, fears, and pleasures rushed through me.

  Anthony’s hands gripped me tighter. Too hard.

  Where did he think I was going to go?

  “Enjoying my party, pet?”

  The panic nearly crippled me.

  I opened my eyes. Simone leaned over the edge of the pool, studying me like an evil queen deciding my life, death, or ultimate torture. I feared which way she’d strike.

  Her smile would freeze the water and boil my blood. “Oh, Morgan, I’m so glad you decided to come.”

  She knew.

  Oh my God…she knew.

  I nearly jerked away, but Anthony captured me. He shoved my body in place before the jet, coiling his arm around my waist as I fought to twist from the intensity.

  Why didn’t he just hold my head under and force the water up my nose? If he held me here, if the water touched me more…

  I’d faint, drown, or explode molten right under Simone.

  While she watched.

  Waited.

  Enjoyed.

  Anthony greeted her casually, as if he weren’t destroying my every thread of self-respect and control. “You’ve pulled a big crowd this year, love.”

  “Maybe…”

  Simone surveyed the rooftop. Her hair cascaded along her back in rich curls of fire. A goddess, though not gentle and certainly not benevolent. The gold loops and bangles decorating her wrists and neck only exaggerated her regal confidence. Her dress—hip length and black—framed her perfect body in sensuality. It wasn’t the type to hide a bathing suit underneath.

  She didn’t seem to wear anything underneath.

  “Everyone seems entertained…” Anthony hummed in my ear. “I am.”

  Simone agreed, staring only at me. “Well…my parties are always exciting. What do you think, Morgan? Are you having fun?”

  She had to be kidding. I sucked in a superheated breath.

  If I ignored the pulsing, unquenchable, delicious pressure on my pussy, maybe I could answer without choking on my tongue.

  “It’s—” I trembled as Anthony adjusted his hold on me, deliberately pulling me and out of the jet. “Lovely.”

  “Excellent!” Simone’s voice laced with an unspoken taunt. “It always thrills me to see my guests having such a good time.”

  Anthony shared her amusement. “Some more than others.”

  Bastard.

  Beautiful, sexy, one-step-too-far bastard.

  The pleasure destroyed me. Every brush of the jet, every squeeze of his hands forced me harder, higher, hotter. I’d combust right there—completely humiliated by my body’s natural reactions. A consequence I couldn’t control.

  It was horrible. It was slutty.

  And it was making me pant.

  I bit hard on my lip. One thing at a time. I could fight the pleasure if I wasn’t distracted. I could handle it if Simone went away.

  I’d do anything if she just went away.

  Simone sat down.

  My life flashed before my eyes.

  She leaned back, kicking off her heels to dip her feet in the water. Her eyes never left me as she deliberately, slowly crossed her legs.

  I was right. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath the skintight dress.

  And she didn’t care! She stalked her own formal party without wearing panties and still had confidence to spare.

  What was sexier—her composure…or that brief, coy flash of her body?

  “I liked the lobster bisque better last year.” Simone ignored me for the moment. A dozen curse words flooded my mind. Harpy. Demon. Goddess. “But the music! I never thought I’d love an orchestra so much.”

  It was a quartet, but I didn’t dare correct her.

  “Nate and Mariah are here,” Simone said. “Reed and Genn too.”

  I sensed Anthony’s amusement. “We haven’t made our rounds yet.”

  “Two functions in a week. They might start to recognize you again, darling.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  “Duchess isn’t the same without you.”

  “Have you missed me?”

  “Always.”

  I wanted to die.

  The panic subsided, and the desire flared.

  I fidgeted, shifted, and jiggled as best I could to escape Anthony, but the movements only made the jet that much more powerful. Was it possible to both love and loathe this torture?

  But I had it under control. I layered my breathing. Concentrated on anything that wasn’t Anthony’s unrelenting grip or Simone’s perfect legs. He’d had played a dirty trick, but I wouldn’t surrender.

  I couldn’t.

  Anthony didn’t like the challenge. Without a word, he wove his hand under the water and pulled the bottom of my swimsuit aside. I bit back the moan.

  Nothing protected my little pussy from the water now.

  I lurched, the sudden pleasure so intense I lost myself in a quick shudder and nearly forgot Simone and the party and the people.

  Then he touched me.

  Anthony’s finger stroked a single line along my slit.

  My surprise uttered as a mere mew, but I swore it boomed like thunder.

  Simone pouted. “Honestly…just what is so distracting to my new pet?”

  “I’m not sure, love.” Anthony swiped across my clit once more. “Morgan is usually so well-behaved.”

  “She isn’t being polite. The hostess of the party deserves her utmost respect.” She licked her temptress-red lip. “I should always command your respect, pet.”

  This wasn’t happening.

  I arched, desperate to find some position where I could hide from the constant pressure. My head swirled with lust. I needed to come as badly as I needed to get away from him, from her, from how right this all felt.

  But Anthony didn’t budge. He’d warned me to come quickly, but I hadn’t realized he was serious. Anthony wouldn’t release me until I had an orgasm, surrounded by a party full of people, while Simone watched.

  “She’s a naughty little thing.” Simone purred over the word. “Have you punished her yet?”

  This wasn’t a punishment?

  Anthony sounded proud. “I haven’t needed to.”

  “How tragic.” She cupped my chin and forced me to hold he
r gaze. “Does it feel good, pet?”

  Concerto fluttered to my lips.

  These two were cruel. A match made in dom-Heaven, and they chose to smite me.

  For the past year, I’d hid from attention, avoided the spotlight, and lingered in the shadows. Now I was front and center for the perversions of two dangerous people.

  It should have terrified me.

  It didn’t.

  Maybe the terrible humiliation swirled inside me with as much forced as the jet of water turning me molten.

  They played with me. Teased me in ways I didn’t know I could be teased.

  And I’d come for them if they demanded it.

  Not like I had a choice.

  Simone loved every second of my agony. “Just look at you, Morgan. So innocent. That little pink bathing suit—you’re my own chocolate covered strawberry, entertaining my party by fucking the pool jet.” She laughed. “I never expected you’d be such a delicious little slut.”

  The insult struck me like a hand to my cheek.

  Or to my bottom.

  I liked the thought of both.

  “I’m…not…”

  It might have sounded more convincing if I didn’t pant in the middle of my sentence. Tears threatened to prickle. I couldn’t take much more. And both of them knew it.

  I closed my eyes. Simone’s sharp reprimand shamed me.

  “Don’t you dare look away, little girl. Your eyes stay on me.” Simone conquered me too easily. “You love this. You’re so close it hurts.”

  “I’m…not true…”

  She sighed, irritated. “Why don’t you let her come, Anthony? She obviously needs it.”

  “That’s up to her,” he said. “Once she stops resisting, she’ll feel much better.”

  “You are too kind. If she’s fighting it, take the prize away.”

  Simone kicked her feet in the water. The cool water splashed me. Even the droplets tickling over my neck would push me over the edge.

  Simone laughed, and Anthony charmed. To anyone else, we must have looked like a group of friends talking.

  The weather. The party. Politics.

  Anything but how amused they were by my disgrace, coming like a little slut in the pool.

  “I’ll never be as cruel as Simone, pet.” Anthony kissed my neck. I edged ever closer to the moment of no return.

  “You’ve always been soft,” she said.

  Not now he wasn’t. In fact, I’d never felt anything—or anyone—as hard in my life.

 

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