by Joey W. Hill
She loved it, loved bringing him to the edge of control with nothing but words and the sight of her spread, aching center. She could have offered Jonathan this, if only he had wanted it. Her vision faltered and for a moment she was uncertain again, almost self-conscious, then she heard him moan.
“Please, Mistress…I need to…”
She used his need as her rope, and pulled herself out of that quagmire.
“Ask me, Josh,” and she trembled with the anticipation of it, every vibrating nerve ending screaming at her to unsnap the leash.
“I…want…to…come,” he gasped, every muscle of his body flexing with his effort to maintain control. “Please…may I come, Mistress…Please, I can’t—”
“Come, Josh.” It was merely a whisper from her dry throat.
His name was lost in his cry, a mixture of growl, groan and shout. His cock spurted, the white fluid jettisoning onto the sand pattern on her thighs and mons, overlaying it, intertwining with it, spattering her pussy with his juices, giving her glistening lips a momentary pearlescence as the two secretions of desire met and merged.
His legs buckled and he caught himself with a hand just outside her quivering thighs, the heel of his hand digging hard into the ground as he milked himself onto her body with furious, jerking strokes, the muscles rippling along his working arm mirroring the flexing of his facial features.
Marcus’s fingers had tightened on her nipples, shooting sparks of fire through her, proving beyond reasonable doubt he knew his way around the female form. She arched, the climax trying to roll up and over her, drawing tight the lines of nerve endings in her thighs and lower belly, her clit shuddering and her body flushing with the wave. She caught Marcus’s hands, stilling them, and made them both watch Josh finish, until his forehead was touching her calf, his rasping breath tickling her convulsing pussy.
Lauren reached out and lay her hand on his hair, a trembling stroke, her excitement communicating itself not just in their combined scents, but also in the erratic motion of her fingertips along his hair line.
“You are magnificent,” she murmured. “You please me so well, my love, and Marcus, too.”
“Absolutely,” Marcus reached forward, along her arm, and rubbed his knuckles along the back of Josh’s neck. “Beautiful boy.”
“You’ve earned some cozening,” she decided. And Marcus had earned some relief.
Josh lifted his chin a bit, sliding it through his artistry over her hip bone, and looked at her with a heavy lidded tomcat expression that had her suppressing a smile, even as her heart skipped a beat. His hand crept up, over where Marcus still held the weight of her breasts in his palms. Josh’s fingers spread over the top of her left breast, the heel of his hand pressing against her heart, his intent expression focused on the response of the organ beneath it. It still tripped at a higher rate, due to the spin of watching his climax, and his lips pressed together, moistening, like a boy did when concentrating on an important task. She fought the urge to arch into his touch. Her tits ached for a mouth, for Josh’s mouth. She wanted to be bitten, suckled. She wanted to know what Josh’s hands would feel like on them, as Marcus’s had been.
A flicker in his gray eyes marked the increase in her heart rate. One finger ventured lower, stroked the tiny bumps in the soft darker flesh of her aureole. “Behave,” she said, and the finger slid away. He gave her an unrepentant smile that did not quite dispel the turmoil in that storm cloud gaze.
“I want you to lay on the towel here, next to me,” she gestured. “On your stomach, without your clothes. Marcus is going to rub oil into your body. That is,” she arched her brow at their engrossed archangel, “if it would please him to do so. I know it would please me, very much, to watch him do it.”
“Anything that would please you, dear lady, surely would please me,” Marcus snapped out of his reverie with a smoothness she could only admire. “But in this case, I believe my pleasure to serve will exceed yours to command.”
At her suggestion, a wary look had stolen onto Josh’s face. He eased up into a sitting position, as Marcus shifted. Lauren propped herself on her elbows as he left her to rummage through the duffel for the suntan oil she had seen in there when he removed the food.
The easy familiarity of the moment was leaving Josh in the face of her new command, and she could see his apprehension building. She wanted to keep his cock jumping, that was how a sub was broken down, but the anxiety in his eyes reminded her that there was much she did not know about him. Strong attraction did not bring in-depth knowledge of a person’s soul with it. Did he know he could say no? She searched his expression for a clue.
He was damaged, and she had no desire to be responsible for deepening the wound out of ignorance. Some subs were incapable of saying no. Inevitably, the worst of the dungeon sadists would find them. Staff people like Maria kept an eye out for those with a victim mentality, and they were no more allowed to return than the type of Master that would take advantage of their psychosis. They were trouble to a D/s establishment. Jonathan had been one of those hard to recognize, and once he was recognized, it was too late for Lauren’s heart.
She pushed that away and concentrated on the man before her, who was not Jonathan. Josh’s glance darted toward Marcus, but she saw he was not looking at Marcus’s face, but his hands, clasping and removing the suntan oil from the bag. Josh was thinking about those hands being on him. She could not tell if his anxiety was revulsion at the thought of Marcus’s touch or fascinated concern with his own response.
When she had first gotten into the D/s clubs, she had learned all the clinical terms. D/s was a game comprised of so much pure intuition, it was like a primal tribal dance. As a result, it had to have safe words. Jonathan had not been into safe words. He wanted her to turn him into a wanting, mindless, unfulfilled creature, something almost non-human. As a result, he had almost transformed her into the type of monster that would let a sub offer everything just short of death for a smile from her. That had been his game, and it had needed no safe words, because there was no rescue plan for a terminal illness.
Lauren sat up, heedless of the sand that tumbled to her lap and thighs. She caught Josh’s face in her hands as he started to lever himself over her legs.
“Josh,” she said softly, brushing a light, tender kiss over his lips. They tasted so sweet it was all she could do not to dwell there. “You know what I think about when I’m scared?”
He shook his head, then remembered. “No, Mistress.”
She smiled. “You are so good. I think about butterflies. Butterflies are safe, don’t you think?”
He heard the undercurrent, she could see it, but his gaze was puzzled. He knew the game so well, but why did he seem to know so few of the rules?
“When you want to feel safe,” she said gently, “If you just say the word, ‘butterflies’, things will become safer. Do you understand, Josh?”
He did, but she saw uncertainty in his gaze. She tightened her fingers on his face.
“Your pleasure brings me pleasure,” she said, in a sharper tone. “I will be very angry with you if you do something you genuinely do not feel comfortable doing. If you are afraid of something, you need only tell me. A Mistress takes care of her beloved.”
It had come out before she thought to check back the endearment, but at the heat that flared in his eyes, she moistened her lips, swallowed the emotions that rose up in her, and kept going. “Do you understand?” she asked, more softly. “I won’t permit you to hurt yourself for me. I do not want that. Are we clear?”
It broke the moment a little bit, put them out of the game and back on equal footing, but that was what was needed. Acceptance came with it, proven in his sudden, easy smile, and the strength of his hands closing on her wrists.
“I’m where I want to be,” he responded, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin covering her pulse. “And with the people I want to be with.”
Chapter Thirteen
He included Marcus in his glance, e
liciting a flicker of surprise in that one’s expression. Josh’s gaze came back to her face, and rested there for an intent moment.
Her senses dimmed, shutting out the sounds of surf, Marcus’s presence, even the sunlight and white sand. There were just Josh’s eyes, his sensuous, firm mouth, and the planes of his face.
“Your heart is in your eyes, did you know that?” he murmured, and somehow he had drawn close, so he spoke a breath away from her lips. “I’m not afraid of anything I see there, Lauren.”
Something loosened in her stomach and she relaxed. A sub had to be strong to be a healthy sub. There were aspects of Josh that were not healthy. She’d already seen some of the dark places, but he was in possession of the essence of himself, enough to make the conscious choice to trust her. That simple evidence swamped her, made her tremble deep in a place that a hundred vehement declarations of devotion wouldn’t have been able to touch.
He brushed his nose along her cheek and then his face and his hands slid away. He rolled gracefully over her leg, giving her a brief touch of the cold wetness of his softened penis on her leg. She gave a short, surprised squeal, which he answered with a chuckle.
He sprawled lazily onto the towel. He was half covered with sand, like a young boy. He adjusted himself on his stomach and crossed his arms just beyond his head. The motion pulled the muscles up along his back, and he pillowed his cheek on his overlapping hands, his face towards her.
She had of course noticed, several times, that he had another tattoo on his back, but this was the first time she had taken the time to do a close study of it. Again, the artist had chosen a sword as the central part of the design, though this one was of a more dramatic size. This sword had been tattooed from the base of his neck to just above the cleft of his buttocks. The hilt was simple, the blade polished silver gray, but from hilt to tip the weapon was wrapped in a barbed vine. Here and there a rose bloomed, perfect in detail, but mostly there were thorns and barbs, stenciled as if pricking his skin in many places, with a tiny black drop of blood here and there. In one place, the drop had fallen upon one of the roses, spreading and staining the pure crimson petals. It was some of the best work she had ever seen, and yet it offended her. Someone had marked what she now thought of as hers, and there was inherent cruelty behind the choice of the artist, as if the intention was to make him feel the sharp dig of the thorns.
The choice of the artist. The impact of that hit Lauren, and she leaned over, trailed her fingers over it. “Your wife was a marvelous tattoo artist,” she observed.
Josh flinched as if, in truth, the tattoo caused him pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said. He shook his head, but turned his face away. She could have pushed it, but he had given her enough for the moment, on several different levels. She lifted herself into the beach chair. The open sides of the chair were just above Josh’s gaze, so that he could turn his eyes upward and see the curve of bare buttock and point of her left hip when he had a desire to do so.
Marcus knelt on his opposite side, and brushed the sand off of Josh with a towel. Then he poured the oil into his hands, rubbing his hands together to warm it. He glanced up at Lauren, gave her a half smile, reassuring but somber, and put himself to his pleasurable task.
Lauren sighed herself as Marcus’s long-fingered, elegant hands began to spread the oil over Josh’s back, polishing the lean, muscular physique of the naked man beneath his touch.
At the sound of her breath, Josh turned his face back to her, the pain again shuttered in his eyes. Liquid need uncoiled within her, and with studied casualness, her hand dipped. She traced the remains of the sand sculpture Josh had made on her, drawing his eyes there as she dipped her fingers into the small valleys where his fluids had collected, not quite dry, viscous satin to her touch.
He moistened his lips at her motions, and the need tightened, reminding her of how close she had come to orgasm just from watching him above her. However, as much fun as it was to hold his attention with her movements, it reminded her that she had some nurturing to do.
She stretched and pulled the duffel over to her. While Marcus continued his languorous massage, and Josh’s eyelids drooped, she made up another small plate of smoked gouda cheese on cornbread crackers, and brought out a bottle of cold spring water, the outside of the bottle wet with ice and its own condensation.
“Something to drink or eat?” she asked her reposing charge. At his nod, she fed him from her hand, watching with a thickness in her throat as he took each small cube from her fingertips, his lips and tongue caressing her with each bite, his eyes never leaving her. She put the bottle of water to his lips often, to replenish his fluids and to be enthralled by the rise of his Adam’s apple with each swallow. He lifted his hand to her wrist to steady her hold on the bottle, his eyes promising her…anything.
When he’d had enough, Lauren wiped the corners of his damp mouth with her knuckle. He caught it between his teeth and stroked it with his tongue a moment before releasing her. His gaze dropped as he did so, a flirtatious motion of deference that had the added perk of allowing him to slide his attention over her aching nipples, as hard as any coral forged by the ministrations of water and sun.
“Close your eyes,” she commanded, and Josh obeyed, with a slight frown. She was pleased with his reluctance, but she wanted his body to relax, the muscles to go smooth and flowing under Marcus’s touch. He needed rest, because she was far from done with him.
His initial tension about Marcus’s touch seemed to have melted away. Lauren did not know if it was because her presence gave him the illusion of protection from unwanted advances, or because of the longstanding friendship between the men, and Marcus was behaving himself. Or maybe the environment they had been weaving since the onset of Marcus’s card game had made nothing taboo or to be feared, simply experienced. Like being at an amusement park, they knew it was all there for pleasure and enjoyment, and therefore non-threatening, an escape from reality. The intrusion of reality too often could turn pleasure into something as warped as the reflection in a fun house mirror.
After a few more moments, she rose, leaving him under Marcus’s capable hands as she strolled naked down to the water’s edge. She lifted her arms to enjoy the feel of the warm sun and breeze move along her body.
The island did have magic. She felt decadent, sensual, a creature of sex rather than a woman with tedious emotional baggage. She again felt that sense of being a goddess, standing naked on a sun-drenched beach with a breeze caressing every crevice.
The first wave curled around her ankles, barely kissing her toes with foam before it rolled back, but by the time it returned she had moved up to her thighs into the cool water. She loosed her hair, shook it out so it tumbled down her back. Another step and she was able to lift her feet and roll to her back like a sinuous mermaid, passing her hands over herself to clean off the sand and the arousing evidence of Josh’s desire. Her body quivered under her own touch, but she did nothing more than tease it.
She had held Marcus’s hands, deferring her own climax. She was on that sharp, sparking edge of sexual arousal, where the body was so suffused with the weight of it that it could balance on the brink, hold to it without going over, as long as the host did not give in to gravity.
The rewards of not giving in grew proportionately with every moment of resistance. Nature taught a person every lesson they needed to know, and Lauren knew lava sealed in the earth grew hotter over time, until the eruption was capable of moving tectonic plates. As she rolled and stroked herself, dipped her head beneath the waves, she felt like molten fire being contained but not cooled by the grasp of the surf, a part of the changing earth herself. The temperature of her inner fires was rising with her play with Josh and Marcus, and she wondered if the eruption for which she was headed could consume the pain and mistakes, burn them away and leave dark, rich soil for new things to take root.
She came out of the waves; her hands raised to twist her hair back up onto her head. Marcus watched her appr
oach, the languorous movement of her bare hips, the water rolling off her breasts, small drops poised on her nipples and thighs, sliding down her neck to pool in her collar bone. She was fully into it now, he could tell by the sinuous way she moved, sure of her power. Though his affections were reserved for men, he had a special appreciation for women Doms. The good ones were in touch with themselves, with the Divine Female within, so to speak, and it showed in their movements and words, the calm coolness of their eyes. She reflected those traits in every aspect of her being at this moment. It was a breathtaking sight, and gay or straight, one had to revere it. Whatever she had lost, she was getting it back.
Josh watched her as well, lips compressing over an audible swallow. Marcus suppressed a smile. “You might close your eyes, mate,” he murmured. “She did tell you to shut them.”
“It’s worth the risk,” the man under his hands said, and Marcus could only agree.
Lauren retrieved her swimsuit bottom and stepped into it, shrugging it back up over her close shaved pussy and sliding her fingers along the elastic leg seams to position the garment over the curves of her buttocks, thrusting her breasts out with the movement. She saw Josh looking at her beneath his lashes and let him get away with it. She enjoyed the idea that he would be getting hard for her again, his cock painfully stiff between his stomach and the sand beneath him.
She also liked the way a man’s hands looked against another man’s skin. Marcus’s strong fingers stroked and kneaded their way over broad, glistening shoulders, caressing Josh’s hairline. With a sidelong glance at her, Marcus worked his massage down Josh’s back, the knuckles turning to knead the dip in the spine, the point of the sword, then his palms smoothed down the tight buttocks.
Marcus traced the inside curve of one muscular cheek with a fingertip, grazing the fine hair there with a nail. Josh’s thighs tensed, creating an attractive rigidity to the territory above them.
She studied his face. His expression was intent, aroused, and disturbed. There was a plea in his eyes as he looked at her, but now she knew that he knew he could stop it at any time.
