Star of Wonder (The Kinky Truth)

by Angel Payne

  Mark shifted to Rose’s side, though he still pumped his hand into the cleft between Rose’s thighs. His other hand now bracketed her jaw, leading her gaze toward his. “What do you need now, pet? What can your Master give you? You need to speak it.” He leaned and licked the seam of her slightly parted lips. “You need to beg me for it.”

  Rose shuddered like just his command was a gift. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. She raised her face higher, pushing her lips toward his, totally aglow in the attention he focused on her. “Please, Master…I need more.”

  Celina’s lungs pumped. Still, she couldn’t seem to get air. She didn’t care. She couldn’t rip her eyes from the raw beauty of what she beheld. The open, sweet gift of this submissive. The powerful but tender guidance of her Dom. The promise of fulfillment, sexual and emotional and spiritual, that they gave more deeply to each other with each passing second. She wasn’t just transfixed by the sight. She was elevated.

  Something sawed into her mental tree house. It was a persistent buzz, vibrating against her shoulder until Dante stopped it. His cell phone? No, it was his watch. Why was his Tag Heuer making like a disgusting fly right now?

  He spoke into her ear again, though now his voice wasn’t sensual. It was laced with sadness.

  “That’s the alarm, stellina. Your hour is up. You’re free to go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dante had never been more thrilled to see a woman glare at him.

  He had no idea where he got the strength to pull away from her, much less rise to his feet. Or how he extended his hand to help her up. Or kept from grinning like an idiot when she glowered at his fingers. And he really didn’t know how he maintained that control as conflict took over her features.

  He endured a second of sharp guilt. He’d forced this struggle on her and now watched it twist across her beautiful features. Did she leave now and forget all this, denying everything that was clearly awakened in her because of it? Did she just go to her friend’s party, shoving aside how this experience, sudden and startling as it was, made her see what they could be together? Or did she stay and consort with the enemy? Could she admit the enemy might not be the enemy, that maybe he was the universe’s “gotcha” on all that armor around her soul?

  Her stare climbed from his hand to his face. He strongly wished he’d had the sense to borrow some of her armor. Her emerald eyes were large, luminous, and lost. He swallowed and locked his body in place. He couldn’t take away her agony. Not this time. He wouldn’t force this decision on her. He’d asked for an hour and gotten it. The rest was up to her.

  She took a shuddering breath. Another. For a moment, Dante forgot other people were in the room. He forgot air was in the room.

  She reached up a trembling hand and twined it into his.

  “Can I stay?”

  The words were barely breaths, but they blasted cannon holes into his composure. He rode the explosion, not waiting for Celina to pull him back down. He yanked her up to him, slamming her full against him, waiting for her with the hungry crush of his kiss. Fuck. Fuck. She was more soft, fragrant, passionate, and perfect than he remembered. Her mouth was a deeper, more delicious cave. Her hips were a more ideal fit against his. Her ass filled his palms as if made for them, a revelation he took full advantage of, kneading her sweet backside. God, she felt amazing.

  She felt right.

  Across the room, a sharp rhythm cracked the air. Rose’s high gasps synched to it. From the sound of it, Mark graduated from manual spankings to sensation play of a more creative form. Earlier, Mark told Dante he was likely to honor this special occasion by pulling out Rose’s favorite forms of discipline, which meant the woman’s ass was now getting reacquainted with their crop or their padded paddle. That wasn’t the part that turned Dante on. But Celina’s reaction to it—merda, she was obliterating him in chunks with it. Her throaty sigh was hard enough to bear. Her fierce grip into his hair, even harder. But when she started stabbing her tongue against his in time to Mark’s whacks, he was pulverized. The only standing pillar in his body was the one between his thighs, screaming at him in need, engraving his zipper on its throbbing length.

  No. No, damn it. He and Mark had talked about this part as well. The part about wanting to flatten one’s woman to the floor—or the bed, the wall, the table, the chair—and spread her wide for ultimate annihilation. This part, Mark had told him, occurred regularly and had to be trained for behavior just like a good flogging hand.

  He tore his lips away, punctuating with a determined growl. Celina’s stare threatened to engulf him again, a thousand frightened questions swirling in the dark green depths. Her desire was there too, an entrancing sheen. She was so breathtaking, ready, and open. Her bravery stunned him. Moved him. And holy hell, did it arouse him.

  He had to get those eyes off him.

  With another grunt, he spun her around. He tugged both hands into the bottom of her turtleneck. “Off,” he ordered into her ear. “Now.”

  Celina helped him pull the sweater free. Her hair tumbled down, a sweep of lush sable against her smooth olive skin. The sight stoked his sexual furnace even more when the bra he’d unclasped also fell free. Now she was bare from the waist up, like a gorgeous servant girl offered for his pleasure. And judging from the tight nipples that met his touch, her desire too.

  That fantasy thickened as he and Celina refocused on Mark and Rose. Sure enough, Mrs. Moore was fully attending the needs of her Master, who paced behind her trembling form as he stroked the tongue of a leather riding crop along her upper thighs. The woman’s ass wasn’t a delicate bridal blush anymore. It bloomed a hot red. There were even a few burgundy marks scattered along her skin. Rose looked far from hating the treatment, however. The woman’s head rolled to the side, her eyes closed in ecstasy, her lips panting in excitement.

  Celina let out a gasp. Dante wondered if the reaction stemmed from mortification or arousal. She didn’t make him wait long for the answer. As Mark began another series of crop strokes on his wife, Celina’s nipples hardened to little stones. Dante ran his thumbs across them. She moaned. He enlisted his forefingers in the torment, pulling at those sweet peaks harder than he had before. She bucked against him, ramming their hips together, arching her back and tearing a hand into his hair again. Her nails dug into his scalp, pulling his face into her neck. He took the pain gladly, because it turned into a bolt of pure electricity by the time it shot to his cock.

  “I take it you still want to stay, stellina?” He grazed her neck with his teeth, then laved the abrasion with his tongue. Her fervent nod clutched at his chest and filled his soul. It was more than enough for now. Forcing her to form words wasn’t the goal this moment. Forcing her to see a new side of herself, a terrifying discovery in herself—that was the plan and the much harder mission. Merda, he’d spearheaded multimillion-dollar mergers with more confidence than his next step.

  Luckily, Mark had walked him through a few key points. His friend’s words resonated in his mind. Listen to what her body tells you. Follow that with what your gut says.

  The trouble was, his gut didn’t do the talking right now. The last time he’d endured a more painful erection, he’d been fifteen. Celina’s urgent little hip rolls helped as much as tinfoil in a lightning storm. He clenched his jaw and reset his legs, setting them just inside hers. He put them there to support hers…or at least that was the bullshit he was going with the moment.

  Go with his gut. Right, his gut. It was around here somewhere. He hoped.

  “What else do you want?” The words felt good. And they did generate from his gut, though this part of his instinct wasn’t so familiar to him. It had only been awakened in full force on Friday, then taken out to examine in curious little chunks throughout the week. Mark had given him a name for it. His hidden Dom. He’d winced when his friend first slapped the term on him, but he now realized the label was fucking perfect. He liked this part of him. And he loved what it did to the woman in his arms.

  “What
else do you want, cara?” He ground even more command into the repetition, reveling in her deep shiver of reaction. “Do you want more of this?” He gripped her breasts fully, twisting the luscious skin, making her cry out. The sound ripped through him with primal force. “Do you like what the pain does to you?” He bit into her earlobe. “Do you like where it sends your mind, your body?”

  She let out a louder shriek as he gave her mounds a pair of light swats. When he thumbed her nipples again, they were hot and pulsing.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “You do want it, don’t you?”

  She shook again. She was still a mess of deep confusion. He felt it in every undulation of her body, especially when things got more intense on the other side of the room. Mark tossed aside the crop and opted for a pair of long, heavy leather floggers. He gave Rose a kiss on the back of her neck before continuing to her ear, murmuring something that made his wife’s body go limp in the cuffs. Then he backed up from her by three broad steps.

  “Shit!”

  The scream came from Rose as her Dom landed the flogger falls hard into her back. She gave the word a do-over when he crossed his arms and delivered a second strike, echoing the force of the first.

  “Anything you’d like to contribute to this exchange besides that, pet?” Mark queried.

  “N-no, Sir.” It was tight yet breathy. Dante imagined the same two words coming out of Celina like that, and his erection beat at his pants like Satan’s hammer.

  Across the room, Mark went into an underhand motion, flicking the falls softly along Rose’s pussy. “Your back looks amazing, my love.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “It’s setting my my cock on fire.”

  She sighed. “I’m glad, Master.”

  “Does it burn for you too, honey? Is your skin hot now?”

  “Oh yes, Sir.”

  “A lot?”

  She tilted a teasing glance. “Not a lot…”

  “Pity.”

  Without warning, he swung the floggers in two more fierce overhands. The smacks literally rang off the walls. Mark kept up the strokes this time, whirling the floggers in graceful figure eights that crisscrossed each other on their way to his subbie’s creamy back. Rose screamed. Celina wanted to. Dante could tell. He felt the strain in her muscles and the convulsion in her throat as she held back the exclamation.

  “Stop holding it in,” Dante ordered. “Goddammit, Celina, I need to know what you’re feeling!”

  Her hand dropped from his head, flailing helplessly. “I’m trying.” Her voice broke, tugging at both his heart and his cock. “Oh God, I’m trying, but—”

  “But what?”

  Beneath his hands, her chest trembled as she struggled for air. He felt her frustration, even related to it. This was a gigantic door to throw open to her at once, but Dante refused to acquiesce now. This was a fight, a quest for the prize of what they’d merely glimpsed Friday night. But she was having trouble accepting what she saw and felt as a “prize.” He was dedicated to keeping the door open, to make her see differently.

  Stunningly, the submissive across the room came to his rescue on that front.

  With every kiss of the flogger to her skin, Rose Moore turned into a sexier little pet for her Master. Just as Celina wrestled with her answer for Dante, Rose’s ordeal got the best of her. She twisted and shivered. Her head no longer lolled but thrashed. Her ass quivered, and her thighs trembled. “Master!” she shrieked. “Oh please!”

  A grin parted Mark’s lips. “Please what, pet?”

  Rose huffed. Her buttocks constricted. “Master! I’m so close!”

  “Don’t you dare think it, Rose. Tighten that ass harder. Control your sweet, juicy pussy. No coming without my command, honey. We have guests. Make me proud.”

  Rose let loose a sound best described as pissed-off she-cat. “Damn it!”

  Mark didn’t help her frustration by letting out a chuckle. He brushed her back with taunting strokes of the flogger. “Honey.” His voice dipped with reproach. “I’m going to give you what you need, right?”

  The she-cat hiss became a soft moan. “Yes, Master.”

  “Well, I only want to hear you say it. Give me the words, Rose. Give them to me loud and clear. Show Dante’s lovely lady what good subbies get when they face, then find the strength of their surrender.” He gave the flogger strokes a little more strength. “What can Master give you? Tell me, Rosalind.” He hit even more skin. He used even more force. “Tell me, pet!”

  “Harder.” Her whole body strained. “Please, my skin needs more. Harder! Please!”

  “And why does your skin need more?”

  “Be-because my spirit needs more. Ohhhh yes! Again!”

  “Your spirit…and what else?”

  “My—my body. My—my pussy. It—it—”

  Rose faltered, interrupting with her own tearful sob. Celina grabbed Dante again. Her fingernails made crescents in his forearms. He didn’t feel her breathe, but couldn’t take in air for himself either.

  Thunk. Thunk.

  Mark dropped both floggers, then stepped over them to his wife. With the surety of the soldier who still stomped through his bloodstream, he twirled her on the cuff chains so she faced him again. Nearly in the same movement, he slid a hand past the mahogany curls at her apex. His other arm bunched as he caught her, holding her steady for his invasion into her core.

  “Give it to me, pet.” It was a gritted mix of conquest and request. “Shatter for me, love. Now!”

  “Yes, Sir.” She gasped. “Yes, Sir. Oh…yessssssssss!”

  While Rose Moore climaxed into a billion shards for her Master, Mark unlatched her from the suspension cuffs and extended her orgasm by gripping her hips and rubbing her pussy against the huge ridge in his crotch. Her breaths slammed out of her in time to that rhythm. She gripped his shoulders like he was driftwood in a hurricane.

  Celina’s own breath kept the same beat. Dante knew because she had him nearly wrapped around her now, his hands clutched between her breasts and her hips wedged between his. Beneath his palms, her heartbeat was a stampede. Under his pants, his cock was an inferno. He locked his knees to keep on standing, discovering it got a little easier to tamp his lust if he focused on keeping her stable.

  That became damn near impossible as Rose’s sighs started pitching toward ecstasy again.

  “No,” came Mark’s strict command. “Don’t do it, Rose. Don’t you dare!”

  “Fuck!” Rose screamed. “Master! Ahhhh!”

  With a whimper of defeat, the woman in Dante’s arms crumbled to her knees. They were so tangled with each other, he fell with her. “Easy, stellina. I’ve got you. Easy.”

  “Easy?” she snapped. “Eísai trelós? This isn’t easy, damn it!”

  “I’m completely sane, cara—and of course I know this isn’t easy.” Now that he had better leverage, he tucked his head tighter against her neck. “But we’re here doing this together. I’m right here. I want to give you everything you crave, show you everything you can be.” He breathed in deeply, loving the eucalyptus scent of her shampoo, the tang of sweat of her skin, the heady hint of her arousal. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so good. You’ve been so good tonight. So right…”

  He spilled it all into her ear as Mark tilted his head and murmured more things to Rose that he couldn’t hear. But as Celina melted deeper against him, he concluded the guy could be reciting the Declaration of Independence for all he cared. His pulse hammered harder when his stellina pulled his hands back up to her breasts, coaxing him to pinch her there again.

  “Make me feel even more right,” she whispered. “P-please?”

  He hesitated for a second, feeling around for his elusive gut. Once again, the only thing operating at full volume was the megaphone of his cock. But damn it, tonight wasn’t about getting inside her body. He needed to open her mind, and he had to do that before she bolted. He’d barely expected her to honor a full hour in here. He sure as hell hadn’t predicted she�
�d beg to stay.

  And this turn? This belonged so far in the realm of his dreams, he had no idea what to do now.

  “Dante. Oh God, Dante!”

  Her urgent rasp coincided with the trip Mark took across the room now, his naked wife still clinging to him. His stare was already fixed on the leather bondage swing. He settled Rose in it, then shackled her. The woman now lay open for her Master, legs apart, arms over her head, her body bent in a soft V, and a look of pure longing on her face. Every blink of her eyes riveted her gaze harder on Mark. Her chest rose and fell in a feverish pace as he stripped off his shirt, then moved between her thighs.

  “What you need from me now, Rose?”

  Dante tightened his fingers on Celina’s nipples, a silent version of the same question.

  “Please, Master…your cock. Fill me with your cock!”

  Celina gave her own answer by taking one of Dante’s hands and jamming it down the front of her skirt.

  “Fuck, yes.” Mark exclaimed it as he let down his zipper and palmed his full erection.

  “Fuck, yes.” Dante’s version of it came from the part of him that could still talk. The other part only churned a wordless snarl as his fingers dipped into the heaven of wet, soft layers at the apex of Celina’s thighs. A small distraction came from the material now grating against his forearm. It took a second to recognize the texture, then another for the insight to shoot its way to his cock.

  “Holy shit,” he uttered. “You’re wearing fishnets?”

  She gave a guilty-as-charged smile, which should’ve meant some tension relief for them both. It only cranked the pressure in his body even tighter. He needed to possess this woman every way he could. She captivated him more with every second they spent together. All the surprising moments like this. All her embarrassed little looks. All the revelations of a sexuality she’d barely explored, all unveiled beneath his fingers, at his will.