by Joey W. Hill
She stared up at him. Matt was often the quietest member of the group, but he had the largest presence. Though Jon had repeatedly touched base with her, and the others had taken steps to ensure she was in the right state of mind, Matt had chosen this moment, an intermission of sorts, to take his own measure of her and Dana’s wellbeing. And to address the feeling she couldn’t define, that Jon was looking for something from her.
“He needs you, Rachel. Needs your healing nature, your generous spirit, your limitless desire to serve. He calls you a goddess because that’s how he sees you. A goddess who has lost, who has been cruelly treated, but who is the center of his universe. Do you understand? Missteps and mistakes are part of life. Far more important than that is knowing those we love trust that that love is unfailing. Not in spite of those mistakes, but because those mistakes and missteps are part of a journey you are giving him the privilege of sharing with you. Just as he told you at the beginning.”
The table was silent, except for a quiet creak. Jon, leaving his chair. He came to stand by Matt, and Matt stepped back, allowing Jon to bend over her, fill her vision. She was aware of Dana’s closeness, the other men’s regard, but primarily she was aware of Jon. Now she understood what had felt unfinished.
In Jon’s gaze, she saw what Matt was talking about. These days, she recognized it, accepted it, far more easily and often. Originally, it had been a lifeline she’d clung to desperately, that kept pulling her out of darkness. Now, it had evolved into something else. That lifeline had become Jon’s hand, holding hers as they walked through life together. When he smiled at her, it was because she was holding his hand just as tightly, allowing him to hold hers, and they were feeling the same thing for one another. Love. They were so in love, and that happened, reached its greatest potential, when they were both grateful for that love.
She was naked, serving the men’s sexual desires, and yet Matt’s words had been a reminder that, no matter how she was dressed, what she was doing, she was…cherished.
“I love you,” she told Jon, putting everything she felt into the words, into her eyes. The grasp of her hand, because yes, he was holding her hand, his grip so strong and sure. “And it’s your job to take care of me. I’m so glad you do. And it’s my job to take care of you, too. Especially by letting you know I do trust your love because…I’ve earned that trust. I deserve that love.”
His eyes warmed like a sunrise, and he bent down to press his lips against hers, hold there as he spoke against them. “You’re damn right you do. And you are the best thing that has ever come into my life.”
He straightened, squeezing her hand. When he stepped back, he let go slow, their fingers brushing. She saw Matt standing there quietly, and now she wanted to say something to him, too.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “We feel the same way about all of you.”
“That we’re your greatest possessions?” Matt asked, a brow raising. She saw the gleam in his eye, but before she could say the words she was thinking, Dana said them aloud.
“Especially the possession part. You bet your ass.”
“Ring gag,” Ben and Peter declared.
“She shouldn’t be punished for saying the truth,” Rachel protested.
“What does the truth have to do with whether she should be punished or not?” Ben queried. “Now, where were we before Matt went all Hallmark crazy on us? Can we get back to some card playing here?”
And that resulted in Matt telling Ben to blow him. Despite that, Matt gave her a slow smile, a nod, before stroking Dana’s hip once more and moving away.
Jon touched her face, and she nodded to him, her heart so full she almost couldn’t speak.
Matt returned to his chair. She heard him take position, the faint vibration of the table as he pushed against it. He had a direct line of sight to her sex again, exposed by the spread of her legs, a thought that promptly shifted her mind from matters of the heart back to lustful confusion.
She felt the light clasp of Ben’s hand on her ankle, reminding her to keep her legs where they were, but her main focus was still with Jon. He’d taken a chair near her side. When she laid her arms out to either side of her again, he clasped her hand, letting her keep that connection. Then Dana lowered her head and took one of Rachel’s nipples in her mouth.
Oh, Goddess. As before, the woman was incredibly adept at this, suckling her deep, tugging on the clamp and chain, and occasionally nipping her sharply. She writhed, clung to Jon’s hand, and her hips began to move, resulting in an increase of Lucas and Ben’s grip on her legs to intensify the sensation. She cried out when Dana suddenly gentled her approach, alternating between a lovely, swirling suckling and then tiny, teasing little flicks of her tongue.
As Ben dealt a new set of cards, Peter took his place to hold onto Rachel’s leg. Her hips pressed against the mat and then lifted, as if she was being penetrated. She was bearing down on the plug in her backside, and it was somehow translating to spasms inside her sex.
When Dana squeezed her breasts, Rachel heard Peter make an animal-like noise. His sub knew what he liked. Thinking about that, Rachel lifted her own hands, capturing Dana’s small breasts in her palms, trying to keep her elbows out wide enough not to interfere with what Peter had ordered.
She began to play, as much as she was able, with her mind shattering into pieces and her body writhing with abandon. She flicked the nipples with her thumbs, enjoyed the pleasure of touching and handling the other woman. They hadn’t said she couldn’t. She tugged on the chain, played with the rubber tips of the clamp, squeezing them.
“Christ, yes,” Peter growled. “In another few minutes, they’re going to have me jacking off. They’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Yes, they are. But hold off on that just yet. I have the winning hand this round.” Matt threw down his cards, because Rachel heard a light slap. “Rachel will complete Peter’s demand, and then it will be my turn.”
“That’s two things. Isn’t that like you having two turns?” Ben asked.
“That’s why he’s the boss,” Lucas teased, his free hand trailing up and down Rachel’s inner thigh. “He can fire us if we don’t like it.”
“He’d be lost without us,” Ben retorted.
“I’d be lost without Janet. You all, I’d mildly miss,” Matt returned.
“Yeah right.” Lucas chuckled. “First time you had to put together a financial report, you’d cut your own throat.”
Rachel heard parts of the conversation, but she lost all of it as Dana started flicking her and squeezing in a manner that had her hips jerking harder.
“Time for you to come for me and my Master,” Dana muttered against her flesh. “He loves your pretty tits. Wants to see you gush, just from me playing with these gorgeous girls.”
Goddess, she couldn’t…oh…
She ached for some kind of friction on her cunt, but as she lifted and lowered, the reverberation against the table, the squeezing of her inner muscles, did the job for her. Her sex convulsed, and she went rigid, one set of fingers pressing into the flesh of Dana’s breast, the other hand clinging to Jon’s, absorbing his powerful grip as the climax seized her.
It was impossible to experience this quietly, and she laid the blame for that entirely on him, and now on the rest of the K&A men. Her screams echoed through the board room, Dana making noises of passionate approval against her flesh. Her mouth was still busy, driving Rachel into wild, bucking motions. The men held onto her, held her open. Thinking of Matt sitting back in his chair, watching her pussy spurt with response, only had her groaning through more aftershocks.
It seemed like it was much, much later when she was limp under their hands, her body covered with a light perspiration. Her hair was tousled, several strands falling into her face.
“Well done,” Jon said quietly, squeezing her hand again. “That’s my sweet, beautiful sub. Come here.”
Dana helped her lift her upper body, though the woman’s hands were shaking. Rachel could tell she
was powerfully aroused herself, but Dana was better equipped to deal with a combat situation
On that humorous thought, Rachel weakly managed to reach for Jon. He slid her off the table into his lap, where he’d taken a seat in one of the roomy chairs. He cradled her there, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. “Just take a moment,” he murmured.
“Time to come to me, too, Sergeant,” Peter said.
Dana moved on all fours in his direction, her movements erratic because of her worked-up state. She came close to making a straight line toward him, though. Peter only had to step a couple feet to his left to be in front of her when she reached the edge of the table. Dana was a confident woman, but Rachel knew her lack of hesitation in this situation had to do with her trust in her Master’s care. Since her own Master’s protectiveness and care never failed to stir her, seeing it demonstrated by another only enhanced the feeling for Rachel.
Dana put her arms around Peter’s neck and he lifted her off the table, swinging her effortlessly into a similar cradling hold as he sat back down in his chair. Dana curled up in his lap like a kitten. But Peter had more on his mind than nurturing. Putting his hand between her thighs, he stroked, causing her to grip his biceps and make a breathy little moan.
“That’s my hot slave,” he said in his husky voice. “You want to come too, but you’re going to have to wait until I say, aren’t you?”
She nodded, her face tightening with the effort. When he cupped her jaw, she turned her head and nipped his fingers, nuzzling and licking them, taking one finger in her mouth to suck and play as he watched, feral heat in his eyes.
Despite the mesmerizing power of that display, it only took one decisive movement from Jon to bring Rachel’s attention fully back to him. He settled his hand on her throat, fingers spreading out to collar her below the hold of the silver one. She stilled under that commanding touch, but it was his gaze that captured her.
Everything he’d shared with her tonight, especially that interlude with Matt, was there in his expression, and more. As she met his gaze, she saw an even more volatile power than she’d felt when he’d first taken her on the table, earlier in the night.
Everything about him, not just his hands, held her, as he mouthed the word Rachel knew well.
Mine.
There was a dangerous layer beneath the Zen crunchy granola stuff, as Ben put it. And while she loved his gentle side, this side did something to her she could never deny. Not on any level. She swallowed, because she saw in his gaze what he wanted, and not much was holding it in check. He wanted to take her on this table again, hard thrusts that would be about him asserting his dominance over her, and he wouldn’t stop after she climaxed. He’d continue until she was so weak, he would have to scoop her up and carry her home.
“Matt,” Jon said, not taking his gaze away, that look holding her in place. “You have the winning hand. What’s your pleasure?”
“I’m fond of frottage. When Rachel is recovered enough, I want to see some of that.”
“That’d be a nice way to see my girl come,” Peter mused. He stroked the back of Dana’s neck, his hand dwarfing the slender column. “Would you like that, baby?”
“Look at her,” Jon said quietly, a command. Rachel reluctantly pulled her gaze away. Dana was nodding against Peter’s chest. Her hand rested on it, nails biting into his shirt, revealing the struggle she was having, with his other hand continuing to play between her legs, squeezing and tapping the clit shield, and stroking her labia beneath it. Her lips were working, and occasionally Rachel could hear a little whimper escape her.
“Rachel is recovered enough,” Jon said. “Aren’t you, sweet girl?”
There was a rough rumble beneath his deep voice, and when she turned her attention back to him, she was ready to do as he wanted. But what he needed concerned her more.
“I’m yours, in whatever way you need me,” she said softly, for his hearing alone. “Even if it takes my last breath. Master.”
His gaze sparked, and his hands tightened on her. His mouth was on hers in the next breath, and she moaned at the strength of it, the way he invaded with tongue and lips and teeth, his hands sliding around so one was tight around her shoulders, the other gripping her ass, fingers almost bruising.
When he eased her back, he seemed a little more settled, though she expected that fire was merely banked. She wouldn’t mind letting the flames rise up and immolate her, sooner rather than later.
“Ready to take care of Dana?” he asked again, clearing his throat.
She was, but she had a question, one she was a little self-conscious about asking. She whispered it in his ear, her lips teased by the soft strands of his black hair.
Even before she and Jon had come together, she’d surfed the BDSM sites online, lurking and looking at the things she yearned to do and feel. She’d done it so much that, in the months before they met, she’d stopped, because it hurt too much to see what she wanted and had to accept she’d never have. But for all her personal understanding of what being a submissive was, she really wasn’t all that sophisticated when it came to terminology.
Jon lifted his head, brushing his nose against hers with tender affection before glancing across the table. “Matt, can you tell Rachel what frottage is? I think she’d also like the story of why you particularly like watching it, if you care to share.”
She’d whispered it for a reason, but from the sensual warmth in his eyes, she expected he had a good reason for making her question public.
“Frottage is two women rubbing against one another,” Matt said, in a matter-of-fact way that didn’t make her feel like he found her lack of knowledge anything unusual. He shifted back in his chair, resting his ankle over his opposite knee and placing a hand there. His dark brown eyes were as direct and piercing as always, but she also sensed he was looking at a picture in the past as he continued.
“Years ago, in Amsterdam, I’d had a meeting with a man I didn’t particularly like, but we did a good deal of mutually beneficial business with one another. Later that night, I decided to take a walk. In Amsterdam, there are windows where women and men display themselves in a sexual manner to coax visitors inside for paying services. Some of the situations are reputable and consensual, while others don’t feel that way.
“But one particular window caught my attention, and not just because it was at an upscale club I knew to be run the proper way. Two dark-haired beauties were in the window, lying naked upon a mattress draped in dark green shimmering fabric, framed with gold posts as if it were a bed.”
As he continued, offering more description than Rachel would have expected from the laconic Matt, the picture unfolded in her mind. She was aware of Jon’s hands upon her, stroking her skin, her hair. His lips brushing her temple.
“A flowing gauze gold canopy hung from it, partially screening them, but not so much you couldn’t see the golden tones of their flesh, the movement of their bodies as one lay upon the other. They moved like a man and woman, only smaller movements, more circular, as the woman on top rubbed her clit over the one on the bottom. All while she played with the bottom woman’s breasts, with her large, pink, pierced nipples.”
He paused, a light smile touching his lips, but she noticed there was no humor to it. “Now, what drew my eyes to this window, even more than the lovely women in it, was who stood before it.”
His lips tightened. “The man I had met in Amsterdam was Geoffrey Tennyson. Savannah was his CFO at that time. She’d capably pulled more than her share of weight at our meeting.” He paused. “She was the person in front of those two women.”
Rachel blinked. Matt’s dark eyes sparked with the light she most often saw when he looked at or, in this case, thought of, his wife. Whereas he’d said Savannah’s name with undeniable devotion, it was obvious he didn’t care to even speak the name of her father.
“While my first reaction was what the hell she was doing on that street by herself, it was quickly replaced with something else, becau
se rather than distract her, I watched.”
His expression became even more distant, yet Rachel felt almost as if she stood next to him on the Amsterdam street. “Now, mind you, I could only see her from the back. She was wearing a pair of trim black slacks, a sky-blue long-sleeved shirt tucked into it. Short heels. Her form of casual wear, nice enough to have drinks with her father’s clients, but not as dressed up as she’d been for the earlier, more formal meeting.
“Her blond hair was twisted up on her neck, and I’m glad for that, because she conveys so much through the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, the tightening of the muscles in the back of her neck. From those things, I could tell she was utterly absorbed. Mesmerized, even. I began to walk toward her, one slow, quiet step at a time. When I was three steps from where I wanted to be, right behind her, she put a hand on the glass.”
He twisted his half-finished whiskey around, one circle, on the square cocktail napkin Rachel had placed beneath it earlier. The other men were listening to him as attentively as she was. From the way Jon had asked him about it, she knew they knew the story, but she wondered if they knew it in this detail. Dana, despite her unreleased state, appeared to be caught up in the tale as well, her head cocked to listen. Peter had moved his hand from her sex to her thigh, and was idly stroking the slim column.
“It was as unexpected as an eclipse,” Matt said, lifting his gaze back to Rachel’s face. “Savannah was different then. Every movement precise, disciplined, thought out. Pressing her palm to the glass, something she was not supposed to do, was the least of it. It revealed something inside her that wanted to connect to those two women. She told me, much later, what had captured her attention was how genuine these two women were. They were obviously lovers, as well as co-workers, because there was an intimacy to their lovemaking, as if they were unaware of anything but one another.
