by Rachel Clark
I nod my head against his thigh, not really wanting to talk out loud. It’s hard not to be jealous, but he’s right. What happened in any of our pasts is in the past.
“But just for the record,” he finally says, still caressing me lovingly, “neither of us played with Mitchell’s sub. He claimed the woman the night they met, and they’ve been exclusive ever since. Neither of them likes to share.”
“So she and Bradley?”
“Are just friends.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I say, feeling very relieved. I’d like to make one friend in this club without having to worry she might have intimate knowledge of my men. Hmmm…it seems I still need to do some work on my jealousy issues.
“Stand up,” Ryan says in his bossiest tone. I move quickly to do what he says, gasping when he lifts me to stand on the table. “Lift your skirt to your waist.” I glance at the open door, shaking nervously as I slowly do what he says. The slap on my thigh has me moaning softly. “Next time move more quickly.”
“Yes, Sir,” I say nervously as I see several people walk past the windows that look into the scene area of the club. My instinct is to drop the skirt and cover up—or maybe pull it over my head and hide my face—but Ryan is watching me closely and I really don’t want to be punished just yet. I want that spanking experience he and Bradley have planned for later tonight.
Ryan glances over his shoulder and then looks up and grins. “Good girl.”
His praise sends a naughty thrill through me, but it doesn’t stop my knees from wobbling when he leans forward and presses a kiss to my swollen clit. He wraps his hands around my ass, pulling me closer, holding me up as he starts to lick the oversensitive nub. I’m shivering convulsively, the arousal that I managed to keep banked during the meeting starting to overwhelm me once more.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mitchell says as he comes back into the room. I instinctively drop the front of my sundress over Ryan’s head. He laughs, sucks hard against my clit for a moment, and then steps away.
“This one’s going to be trouble,” Mitchell says with a laugh in his voice.
“I think you may be right,” Ryan says as he lifts me off the table. At first I think he’s going to put me on my feet, but instead he places my bottom onto the table and tilts the top half of me backward. A part of me resists his nonverbal order, but with my hands bound in front of me and his superior strength, he easily overpowers me. With my legs hanging over the edge of the table, Ryan lifts my skirt up to my waist, exposing me to Mitchell’s gaze.
“I thought you didn’t share,” I say in a timid voice. Damn it. I was supposed to sound sarcastic. I open my mouth to try again but end up gasping when Ryan slaps his hand against my exposed clit.
Holy fucking hell.
He holds my legs still as I writhe in both pain and pleasure. How can something like that turn me on?
Mitchell grins and responds to my words even though, as a Dom, he probably should have ignored them all together.
“There is a difference between watching and touching,” he says as he moves a seat so that he very literally has a perfect view of my open, wet pussy. “Is that one of the new toys Stephanie found at the trade expo?”
“Sure is,” Ryan says as he dances his fingers over my pussy and clit gently. “I’m finding this one quite fascinating.” He pushes my legs open even wider. “It comes with both vibrator and butt plug attachments. I think it will be quite popular.”
“I think you’re right,” Mitchell says with a laugh. “I also think you should give your receptionist a pay raise. She seems exceptionally good at finding fun toys.”
“She’s also exceptionally good at negotiating her remuneration package. She hit me up for a percentage of sales,” Ryan says with a laugh. “She’ll actually make a good deal more than she would have gotten via a pay raise.”
He’s still playing with my clit, his fingers grazing over my pussy lips as if I’m not actually laid out in front of two men while they talk casually. I agreed to exhibitionism in our contract, but it was more something for my men than for me. I hadn’t really expected it to turn me on. Even last night in the club it had been dark and nobody watched us directly. I’d climaxed in the middle of a crowded room full of people doing pretty much the same. Last night had been very different. Today, in the brightly lit conference room with Mitchell sitting only a few feet away, I’m really surprised by my reaction.
I moan softly, trying to remind Ryan that I’m still here without actually sounding like I’m demanding. Ryan reads my intent easily, but the sharp slap on my inner thigh doesn’t really feel like punishment. The second one is unexpected, and when he crams several fingers into my swollen pussy I lift off the table instinctively.
I hear Mitchell’s chuckle as he stands up. “I just came back to let you know Haley’s set dinner for next Wednesday. Don’t even think about canceling.”
“We won’t,” Ryan says, his fingers still working inside my pussy.
Mitchell might have said something else on his way out, but the words are lost as my arousal once again reaches a fever pitch. I’m panting, squirming, whimpering pathetically as Ryan brings me to the peak with only his fingers.
But then everything stops. I want to growl—bad, bad sub that I am—but thankfully have no breath available to do it. Ryan stands up, slides me further across the table, presses his palms against my inner thighs, effectively pinning me to the table, and issues a one-word order. “Come.”
I nearly scream as he sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue laving over the swollen flesh. I buck against his hold as he forces my body into orgasm. I can feel heat swelling through my veins, arcs of electricity zipping up and down my spine, shuddering completion working through every muscle.
Eventually I collapse against the table, my bound hands reaching for his head as he laves his tongue over my pussy lips, lapping up my cream as I slowly come back down to earth.
* * * *
Ryan quickly undid the straps holding the toy in place and rubbed over the skin where the indents marred Melody’s pale flesh.
“Sorry, little sub,” he said, leaning over to press kisses to her skin. “Next time I’ll make certain the meeting doesn’t go quite as long.”
“I’m okay, Sir.” Her voice was breathless, but it seemed obvious that she was a well-satisfied little sub.
“Nevertheless, I think an early lunch and then an afternoon nap for you.”
He was expecting her to complain, but she was obviously exhausted enough not to argue. Perfect.
* * * *
Bradley had trouble concentrating all day. It wasn’t helping his temper that his appointment set for four o’clock was already twenty minutes late.
“Rose,” he called to his secretary, “have you been able to get onto Johansen?”
“Not yet,” she said in her usual calm, unflappable tone despite the fact that he’d been a grouch all day and the damn phone hadn’t stopped ringing. “I’ll try again in a few moments.”
All three lines were lit up, flashing at her as she dealt with him first. “Is it always like this?”
“Like what?” she asked, looking surprised. He’d never noticed just how much pressure had landed on his secretary as his business had grown. Apparently, neither had she. The phone lines started beeping at her, reminding her that she had people on hold as she waited for him to explain himself.
“Do you have Johansen’s number handy? I’ll call him from my office.”
She looked surprised but quickly scribbled the number down for him and then went back to dealing with the phone calls. As soon as his secretary hung up one line it started ringing again. This time he answered it before she had to.
“Griffin Advertising,” he said, refusing to use the whole greeting he himself had insisted his secretary use.
“Answering your own phones now?” his brother asked, obviously in a good mood.
“Rose is busy,” he answered gruffly. “So am I. What do you want?” He should probably attempt to be a lit
tle nicer to his brother—especially now that they’d decided to try and share Melody on a permanent basis—but he was struggling. Despite the incredible sensations of having Melody give him a blow job this morning before work and the incredible session they’d had at the club together last night, he felt more uptight today than he had in months, and that included the time when he’d had to pretend he pulled Melody’s hair accidentally when they’d been having “vanilla-style” sex.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked in a concerned voice.
Bradley shook his head but finally said into the phone, “Just busy. It’s been a long day.”
“If you say so,” Ryan said, clearly not believing him, but thankfully he let the matter drop. “I just called to see if we should wait for you before going to dinner. I thought I’d book a table at Sandra’s for seven.”
“Sounds good,” he said, feeling a little better already. His own plans had run more along the lines of going home and ravishing his sub until the woman could barely move, but this worked, too. Sandra was not only Callum’s new wife and very happy sub. She was also an amazing chef and businesswoman. Outside of her restaurant she lived a full-time Dom-sub relationship, but she was most definitely the one in charge of her kitchen. Not even the bravest Doms Bradley knew would dare get in the woman’s way when she was cooking.
The best part about Sandra’s restaurant was that it was closed to all but close friends on Mondays. It would be a lot of fun to tease Melody under the table without telling her they were surrounded by like-minded people. In fact, he could already feel his cock thickening at the idea of finger fucking her to orgasm while they waited for their dinner.
“I’ll be there,” he said, trying to keep his arousal out of his voice.
“Excellent. We’ll meet you there at seven.”
This time when he hung up the phone the line mercifully remained silent. He quickly dialed his client’s cell phone and—thanks to his imaginings of what the night had to offer—was almost lost for words when it finally answered.
“Sorry, Rose,” his client said without actually saying hello. “I’m about to step into the elevator. Traffic was murder.”
“No worries,” Bradley said, not bothering to correct the client’s assumption that it was his secretary calling, “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Brad,” the client said with a soft laugh.
Bradley hung up the phone, sat back in his chair, and forced himself to concentrate on his upcoming meeting rather than the soft sighs and frantic whimpers he expected to come out of his fiancée tonight when he made her orgasm in a crowded restaurant.
Damn. He could barely wait.
Chapter Nineteen
I’m both surprised and confused by the way Ryan has dressed me for dinner. It’s almost my normal clothes. Long skirt, long, sleeveless blouse, with a bra and a G-string I recognize as mine. I don’t know who laundered them or when, but I’m quite grateful to get them back. Sitting in a restaurant without underwear just doesn’t seem right. Ryan hasn’t told me to wear a butt plug, or nipple clamps, or a collar, and I still don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
We’ve got about fifteen minutes before we have to leave when Bradley comes up in the elevator. We were expecting to meet him at the restaurant, so I smile my delight at his early arrival. My instinct is to greet him the way I usually do, but his frown at the way I’m dressed stops me. Without a word he indicates for me to stand and then turn away from him.
Cool air caresses my skin as he lifts my skirt up and runs his hands over the soft globes of my ass. “Was our sub well behaved today, Ryan?”
“Mostly,” Ryan says. I can’t see him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
I gasp at the hard slap that lands on my butt cheek. “Mostly? Mostly isn’t good enough, little sub. You do as your Doms tell you.”
“Y–Yes, Sir,” I say shakily. I was expecting a nice dinner, not a harsh spanking. Shit.
“We don’t have time to secure you to a spanking bench,” Bradley says in a serious tone as he grabs my hand and leads me over to one of the large sofas in the living area. Before I even understand what he intends to do I’m facedown over his lap. The first few slaps are hard, but soon the rhythm changes and I realize this is nothing like the spanking Ryan gave me two weeks ago. Bradley may have used punishment as an excuse, but after only a couple of hard smacks the rest have been different. Finally, I’m getting the spanking I dreamed of. The one that soaks the G-string I’m wearing, coats my thighs in my juices, and leaves me shivering with need. I’m on the verge of an amazing new understanding of the world when the bastard stops.
His fingers travel down the crease of my ass, following the string of my underwear to the soaked piece of material. He caresses over the wet silk until I’m wriggling frantically, trying to force his fingers into my pussy, desperate to find relief.
I actually growl when he pulls my skirt back into place and lifts me off his lap.
“No growling,” he says, gripping my nipples through the shirt and lace bra hard enough to make my knees shake. “You have thirty seconds to freshen up.” He turns me toward the bathroom. “Go, now.”
My legs are wobbling so badly I can barely walk. Every step rubs my swollen clit against the material of my underwear. Hell, my devious Doms probably realize how torturous it’s going to be to sit through dinner in a classy restaurant with a swollen clit and wet underwear.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I have an emergency pair of cotton panties in my purse, and I fully intend to make use of them.
* * * *
Ryan tried not to grin when he noticed the panty line of unauthorized underwear through the thin skirt. He wasn’t sure who Melody thought she was fooling, but it was obvious that his brother noticed it, too. He nearly laughed out loud at the anticipation on Bradley’s face. Apparently, when it came to playing the role of full-time Dom, Bradley intended to thoroughly enjoy himself.
Chapter Twenty
I’m really looking forward to sharing a nice, normal meal with my men. Technically we’re still Doms and sub even at the restaurant, but at least I’ll get a small reprieve from the intensity of the last twenty-four hours. I’m still pretty mad at Bradley for making me so damn horny and not letting me finish, but at least I won’t have to sit in a wet G-string for the duration. My plan is rather sneaky, but I fully intend to change back into the G-string as soon as we get home. As long as they let me go to the bathroom first, I should get away with my little deception without them ever noticing.
Unfortunately, there is one little thing I forgot. Just as we are entering the foyer of the restaurant, Bradley places his hand on my ass and caresses me softly. I know the jig is up when his hand starts roaming faster, tracing the elastic edge of my full-brief panties.
“Ry, it seems our sub’s poor behavior is continuing.”
“How so?” Ryan asks with a half laugh.
I’m starting to smell a setup. If there’s one thing I know about my two best friends, it’s that they can’t act to save their lives.
“Bend over,” Bradley whispers in my ear.
I give him a startled look and turn my gaze to Ryan, pleading with my eyes for him to step in. I am not bending over in the foyer of a classy restaurant.
“Do as he says, brat.”
“You’ll get us arrested,” I whisper urgently. Holy hell, do they even remember we’re not in the club?
I color with embarrassment as the hostess comes over to see what the fuss is about. “Can I help with anything?” she asks politely. I shake my head quickly, avoiding eye contact, desperately seeking a hole I can crawl into.
“Thanks, Haley,” Ryan says with a grin. “I need a wooden spoon.”
“What?” I yelp in shock. He just asked the hostess for a wooden spoon…and the woman didn’t bat an eyelash. What the fuck is going on? The fact that she has a brand-new one, still in its plastic under the counter, is more than a little disconcerting.
&nb
sp; “Bend over,” Bradley says once more. Haley hands over the spoon and goes back to dealing with a phone call, and I’m standing in the foyer—that can’t be seen from the street, thank heavens—still fuming over Bradley and Ryan’s tactics. They could have done this at home. Obviously they knew of my attempted deception long before we arrived at the restaurant. “Drop the panties to your ankles and step out of them.”
Okay, that I can do. With a bit of awkward maneuvering I manage to drag the panties to my knees and step out of them without bending over or showing the world my ass. I quickly grab the flower-covered material and try to shove them into my purse.
“Nope,” Ryan says. He plucks the cotton panties from my suddenly nerveless fingers and drops them into the garbage bin beside the hostess’s podium. “Now bend over.”
I glance around the area, nearly mindless with my need to escape. My eyes finally land on the hostess, and instead of looking appalled she gives me a friendly smile and lifts her hand up to the golden choker at her throat. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s a collar similar to the ones I saw at the club last night. God, was that only last night?
But seeing the woman settles something inside me. Ryan called her Haley. Mitchell’s Haley? I think she looks familiar. I’m not in a public place. The only witness to my punishment is a woman who knows what’s going on.
Bradley apparently takes my silence as consent, places a hand on my hip, and uses the other to push me forward until my hands land on the seat of a chair. I gasp as he flips my skirt up but try to stay still. The first hit with the wooden spoon leaves me quivering with need. Hell, I’m still horny from my spanking at the apartment. The second makes me moan. By the fifth I’m all but climaxing in the middle of the foyer. Fuck, I’m so needy that I want at least one of my lovers buried balls deep no matter who is watching. I try to open my stance a little wider. Maybe one good hit on my pussy lips will send me into orgasm.
