Three-Part Harmony

by Angel Payne

  A shiver coursed through her. “You’ve been waiting for me? Why? Why? After what happened in New York?”

  “What happened in New York was amazing. But it was also new and emotional and a huge change, especially for you.” His nostrils flared on a harsh breath. “If I initiated anything with you after that, I knew it would unravel everything we talked about. I’d never know if this was something you really wanted.

  “You think I didn’t want to talk things through with you? To pull you into some dark corner, suck the air from your lungs with my mouth, and ask how you’re doing? To make you repeat everything you’ve been reading to me, feeling your pussy pulse around my finger while you do?”

  She felt her jaw pop open. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” he countered. “Oh fucking oh. That’s what I’ve been up against, about a hundred times a day—all the while dealing with the crew, the dancers, the press, and the world, talking about you every minute as if I can’t stop thinking about you submitting to me once again, opening for me…fuck!”

  His grip on her nape felt like feathers when compared to his stare. His eyes held her captive, a pair of relentless shackles. “So now,” he said through locked teeth, “you know exactly what the choice is, don’t you?”

  Dasha managed a tiny dip of her head. And a shallow gulp. “Yes. I do.”

  “Good. And now you’re going to make it, one way or the other. You’ve danced around this bush for two weeks.” He pressed a thumb up into the bottom of her jaw, digging just deep enough to keep her captive, his touch a steady burn. After a moment, he slid it to her mouth and pressed in, prodding her lips apart. “So open this delicious mouth of yours and give me the words.”

  She tried to shift her mouth around sound, but her heartbeat throbbed in her throat. Her arms and legs had turned to yarn. And her whole womb pulsed, dancing to the beat set by his animal tone. Yearning for him more with every passing second. God help her, needing his total control.

  “I want to give you a world of magic, Dasha. A place where you’ll be set free, your body and your mind pleasured like you’ve never known.” He stroked the corner of her mouth now, the pad of his thumb capturing the tears rolling there. “But you know there’s a price. You know I’ll demand more from you than you’ve ever given to a lover before. Because I’ll be more than your lover.”

  “I—I know.”

  He leaned closer. He smelled amazing, full of musk and man. “Then say it. What will I be, Dasha?”

  “My Dominant.” It came out a rasp, and she wasn’t ashamed. She actually longed to say it again…yet wondered how she ever could. Her body was falling into an abyss, but her mind clung stubbornly to the cliff. Still, she finished, “My Sir.”

  Though his gaze glittered in pleasure, his tone remained granite. “Is that what you really want? Or…would you prefer a Sharpie?”

  She struggled to breathe. But basic actions felt a thing of the past now. Oh, who was she kidding? Life as she knew it had started to change two weeks ago, on that backstage floor in Madison Square Garden. The match had been struck. The fire had been ignited.

  And yet…she’d only just been singed a little, hadn’t she?

  If she did this, what else would the fire burn away inside her? And how much of it?

  But if she didn’t, could she live in the cold again?

  That contrast never seemed clearer as he ran his thumb across the flesh of her lower lip. The contact was a branding iron, its wake a trail of ice.

  “I’m scared,” she admitted.

  “I know.” His own mouth hardened. “And I can’t promise that’ll go away.” A heavy breath escaped him. “It’ll likely get worse.”

  “I…know.” Again, the admission felt terrible. And exhilarating.

  “But I won’t give you any more time to think about it either.”

  “I don’t need any.” She inhaled deeply, then smiled as she let out the breath. “I’ve decided.”

  * * * *

  She reminded herself of those words—more specifically, the conviction with which she’d given them—just a half-dozen hours later. She’d meant every word then. And yes, no matter how loud the thunder in her heart, she did now too. She just had to keep reminding herself of that. She wanted this with David, and she trusted him.

  The mental sticky note was a necessary measure, thanks to how he’d responded to her next action. She’d given him a gentle kiss, pulled the towel from him, then dropped it to the floor, using it as a cushion on which to kneel. She’d gone even further too, pressing her forehead all the way to his shoes. According to all the BDSM manuals, for lack of a better thing to call them, that should’ve been enough for him to order her to the bedroom, followed by all the Total Power Exchanging he—and she—could make come true.

  Instead, David had gone back to being His Majesty of Inscrutable, telling her he wanted to give her a “surprise,” and that it would take a few hours for the proper “setup.” Her instructions would follow during the afternoon, he’d said. They’d consisted of a single note of four lines, arriving in a plain, sealed envelope to her suite. She now held that note in one slightly shaky hand.

  In the other hand, she held on to the sole item he’d directed her to come with—besides her naked body. Dasha let the floor-length cloak hang against her fingers, the garment feeling important and weighted as the tension in her stomach.

  She’d made a promise. She intended to keep it. Even if her nerves chomped through every inch of her bloodstream—which, right now, seemed very, very possible.

  Chapter Four

  He wasn’t nervous. He was not going to call it that.

  As he stepped off the VIP elevator at the Viceroy’s spa level, David mentally wadded up the word and tossed it behind the compartment’s closing doors.

  Like that did any good.

  He’d just meditated for ninety minutes. He’d summoned every Zen technique he knew to calm the Daytona 500 of his bloodstream, and still came up with the one result he didn’t want. A memory. That memory. The sight of Dasha, so tearful and beautiful before him, showing him she was ready to begin a journey that scared the shit out of her. And, in the process, never filling him with more pride, desire, and adoration.

  All of it hit him again, three times more intense, as the elevator chimed and she appeared beyond the doors. Her hair formed a golden cloud around her face, a luminous contrast against the long, black velvet cloak in which he’d told her to arrive.

  Down, he ordered the cock now slamming against his black leathers. Out loud, he said a simple, “Good evening.” He smiled and crooked one finger, beckoning her to him.

  Despite an obvious gulp, his valiant little submissive obeyed, pacing over. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the shiny marble floor of the spa’s main lobby.

  David reached and gently pried her fingers from where they locked the cloak around her. “Let me see.” He gave it a hint of threat. “Arms at your sides.” She flushed but complied. He nudged the fabric aside with the backs of his fingers, revealing her complete nudity. He took her in from head to toe. Pert breasts and coral nipples. Tapered waist and slender hips. Long thighs and delicate feet.

  He was the luckiest goddamn bastard on the planet.

  “Absolutely gorgeous.” He pressed a long kiss to her lips. “Thank you for coming as I instructed.”

  She tried to smile. Tried. “David—”

  “Excuse me?” he interrupted.

  “Sir,” she fast corrected. “Um—we’re—” Her stare scurried from him, scouring every corner. “This is…uh…really public.”

  He gritted once more against the pain in his groin. Her frantic rasp got him harder than the silkiest come-on lines he’d ever gotten.

  “Breathe, sweetheart. I’ve made appropriate arrangements, so the three of us won’t be bothered. But, D, a note for future—” He reached and stripped the cloak completely off her. “You’ll get naked for me whenever I tell you, wherever I tell you. And you’ll know that I’ll always make you
r safety, as well as your anonymity, my first priorities. Are we clear about that?”

  She swallowed again—but along with the trepidation in her eyes, he now saw unmistakable arousal.

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmured. She parted her lips as if to utter something else but then bit them, hesitant.

  “What?” David asked. “What do you need to say?”

  “Um…you said…the three of us?”

  As if the question were her cue, a figure appeared in the doorway that led from the spa’s treatment rooms. He turned and smiled at the woman standing there. He’d never noticed it until now, but she looked like a dark-haired version of Dasha. Long, curly, dark cocoa waves framed a heart-shaped face of expressive features. She held her gorgeous figure with perfect posture. He would likely have fallen hard for Laurelle at one time, but one most dominant aspect of her personality stopped him. Make that Dominant, capital D.

  “Ma chere!” the woman greeted, striding over in her tailored white medical smock, matching pencil skirt, and white high-heeled Mary Janes. If it wasn’t for her dramatic eye makeup and dark red lips, she could’ve passed for an efficient assistant in any medical building in the city.

  “Good evening, Mistress,” David said in return, dutifully kissing both her outstretched hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t miss Dasha’s furtive glance, filled with curiosity and jealousy in the same little move. He tried to ease both—as much as one could to their newbie, naked submissive—by pulling her close. “It’s great to see you again. Business has been good?”

  Laurelle returned Dasha’s scrutiny with an appraising stare of her own. “Oui,” she said. “But better tonight, I think. She is stunning, David.” She said his name with the exotic flair of the French Polynesian isle from which she came. Dahhh-veed. “And you two are beautiful together.”

  “Merci,” he returned.

  “You say she is…new to things?”

  “Yes,” he answered, smiling down at D as he did. “She’s very new, though the two of us have been friends for a while. I care for her…very much. So naturally, I wanted this to be memorable for her.”

  “Ah, magnifique. And she is called…”

  “D,” he supplied, returning Dasha’s glare with a firm look of his own. Her outrage was understandable; she stood in the middle of a five-star spa reception area, exposed to a complete stranger who might be hiding devices that could instantly export images to the paparazzi or worse. “Just D,” he emphasized, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “when she’s with me like this.” He squeezed her shoulder. “And she understands that trust is going to be a huge factor in tonight’s proceedings.”

  Despite his efforts at reassurance, Dasha’s posture stayed stiff as starch. She still felt amazing against him, her body soft, smooth, tiny, lovely. He pushed on, hoping some regular niceties would relax her, “Darling, I’d like to introduce Madame Laurelle Miri, a dear friend who is going to assist us this evening.”

  “Assist us with what?”

  So much for niceties. He gave her thigh a small swat. “Manners,” he murmured when she jerked in reaction. “I know you’re nervous, but be nice. I trust Laurelle implicitly. Her discretion is solid; you don’t have to worry. She also happens to be the best at what she does.”

  At last, Dasha extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Laurelle.”

  “Enchanté,” his friend responded. As they shook, Laurelle also took the chance to openly admire Dasha’s figure.

  The extra attention didn’t escape his sub. D pressed back against him in a hurry.

  “And what is it…that you’re the best at?”

  A thick pause fell. Laurelle jingled a little laugh, and Dasha trembled harder next to him. He admitted a few conflicted sensations of his own. What he’d planned for the next hour…it was definitely going to be one of his more creative fantasies come true; the scene he’d been saving for Dasha alone. But it would also be the litmus test of whether he and D were meant to follow a path into the D/s realm together. If the test failed, he had to be willing to deal with the repercussions, no matter what form they took.

  But if it was successful…

  Yeah, focus on that. Focus on the sliver of the submissive you unveiled in New York. Concentrate on that awakening you beheld in her eyes, on how gorgeous she was when she climaxed for you. Focus on letting that creature fly free tonight.

  No time like now to get started.

  He took a steadying breath, then smiled at Laurelle. “Go ahead,” he told his friend. “It’s all right to give our girl a little preview.”

  Laurelle smiled back, though this time, the look carried sly feline intent. “Let’s say…I like to play with shiny, sharp things.”

  D’s reaction was actually better than he’d anticipated. Other than the extra tension to her spine, she maintained her decorum better than a queen. “With—” She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I follow. Wh-what do you mean?”

  Laurelle’s here-kitty-kitty look went to the dogs. She took a measured step forward. “Little D,” she issued in a tone to match her harder look, “stop the stuttering and answer me a question.” She nodded at him. “Do you trust your Sir?”

  Dasha squirmed in his hold, almost as if trying to throw him off. But after just seconds, she snapped, “Yes. Of course.”

  David dipped his lips to her nape. “Thank you.”

  Laurelle wasn’t so impressed. “Bien,” she stated coolly. “Then prove it. Heed his word. Mind your manners. Trust that he has arranged a unique surprise for you. Come along now.”

  She cut a model-perfect pivot on her heels, then started down the hallway to the treatment rooms. David already knew D wasn’t “coming along” anywhere with anyone at the moment. But this reaction he could deal with. To be honest, it was better than he expected. That gave him justification to give her a patient regard instead of a reprimanding scowl.

  “You have concerns.”

  Dasha sighed, though her gaze flashed bronze fire. “Damn right I have concerns. You want to give me a clue about what’s going on here? When I got your invitation, I thought we were meeting here alone to…”

  Her blush continued down to the center of both breasts. He let his gaze linger there as he began his response.

  “You thought you were coming to begin your journey as my submissive.”

  She stared up at him. “Well, yeah.”

  He cupped her gorgeous little chin. And couldn’t help a small smile. “And that’s exactly what’s going on, sweetheart.”

  She didn’t return his smile. Not that he expected that. What he didn’t expect was the breathtaking sight he witnessed instead, how she didn’t falter in letting him see the rest. The little bite she gave one side of her lip. The fast glance down the hall, at where Laurelle waited. Then the thoroughly tormented look she turned back to him, exposing how she wrestled with the promise she’d made this afternoon versus the reality of paying up tonight.

  He waited with all the patience in the world. Because he couldn’t take his gaze off her.

  And wondered how he ever would again.

  Hell.

  He’d called it conflict a few minutes ago. Now the truth broadsided him like a hit from a Hummer. This wasn’t conflict. It was plain, simple, cart-before-the-horse stupidity.

  Turn it off. Now. Tonight was about showing Dasha where they were going from here, if they were going from here. It was about her submission and her satisfaction, but it was also about showing her the clear rules of this deal. Going Barry Manilow now, being anything other than her Dominant, feeling anything except the desire to control her and the mission to pleasure her, wasn’t part of that deal. Not now. Not ever.

  She swallowed. Then bit the other end of her lip. “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s an…appearance that I require in my playmates.” He lowered his hand now, cupping it over the little curls of her mound. “No offense, you understand. This is gorgeous, but I demand direct access to your sweet clit at all times.”
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br />   “Oh.” The word flowed from her with warmth now, like the heat in the V where he lingered with the backs of his fingers. He dipped his voice to a possessive growl.

  “I don’t want anything in the way of touching you in the deepest ways possible. Of feeling you, all of you, quiver for me.”

  Three more seconds passed before their reverie got sliced by D’s comprehension. “Sh-shiny and sharp things,” she blurted. “Oh. Oh. So…you’re going to… Laurelle is going to…”

  “Shave your pussy clean for me.” Saying the words did nothing to improve his composure. He fought the craving to just slide his fingers into her right now. He’d find her wet too; he was sure of it. He could feel the moisture, teasing his fingers even through her pubic hair.

  “Wh-why don’t you just do it yourself?”

  “Because I want to watch you. I want to see every beautiful inch of you…as you enjoy things.”

  She didn’t miss his stress on enjoy. “You sound damn sure of that.”

  “Because I am.” He met her gaze directly. He wanted her to know how deeply he meant it. Most importantly, he needed her attention for what he said next. “I’ve also requested Laurelle’s expertise…for a second procedure.”

  Carefully as he’d couched it, he still couldn’t predict her response to that. All things considered, he thanked fate for her fondness of the royal family impressions tonight. Her step back, seeming to forget her nudity in the wake of indignation, was both adorable and gorgeous.

  “Procedure?” She gave the word air quotes. “Listen, Mister. The girl-kissing thing jumped the shark last year. And I’m not sticking around for a pap smear either.”

  He let her see the arousal in his face as he lunged and pulled her close again. Like he’d be able to hide it. “No mouth touches yours but mine tonight.” He palmed both her ass cheeks. “And believe me, Laurelle doesn’t do speculums.”