He would continue jacking his cock as though he hadn’t noticed, arousing both himself and the watcher.
Victor stroked his prick from stem to stern, making sure to massage the ball sac, squeezing it in one hand as he lewdly fingered his perineum. He stood in three-quarter profile with his head tossed attractively back, knowing he presented an even better image of an action hero this way. Tony Stark had nothing on him.
He clutched and released the head of his cock, his thumb snaking around the corona. He fondled himself lovingly, knowing Ian was getting a good eyeful of his long, meaty tool. He lasciviously squeezed the thin layer of fat covering his pubic bone, scissoring his fingers around the root of the penis. He was glad for the constant running and mountain climbing he did, his torso carved, his ass shapely, his chest buff and covered with a nice sprinkling of hair.
I’ll bet he’s exhausted from his play session with Mistress Felicity. But I’ll bet I can arouse him all over again in a different way.
Victor dared to open his eyes a slit and peer through the steam. Yes, the eyes still stared back at him, the chest rising and falling with panting. Victor kept watching the eyes, though he knew he was about to come, beyond the point of no return. It stimulated Victor to even greater heights knowing he was being watched, admired, praised. With one more pump of the wrist he shot his load so forcefully it hit the tiled wall in an admirable arc. He choked on his own cry of ecstasy just as he saw Ian push the bathroom door open in a decisive move.
The voyeur wasn’t Ian, but Victor was so frozen in blissful spasms he could do nothing but choke and convulse. Felicity McQueen cast him a knowing, unblinking look. She slowly placed one hand on her hip as the corner of her mouth turned up. She was bold in her assessing look. Not one shred of fear or embarrassment shaded her face as she ran her eyes up and down his form. She may have been dressed like Annette Funicello in her pencil-thin slacks and her ski sweater, but her sophisticated gaze was light years ahead in worldliness.
Mistress Felicity seemed to say, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She was the one lurking in his bathroom, and she had the nerve to scoff at him? What was supposed to be a mind-blowing orgasm was cut short by her sudden intrusion, and Victor nearly slipped trying to right himself into a normal standing posture. He had to drop his cock, still pulsating, and confront the invader.
“Excuse me?” he shouted. Yes, he could see her in a jungle costume. Tiny little triangles would make up the bra... “Is there something in particular in my bathroom that you desperately need?”
“Yes,” she said boldly. “You.”
All anger fell from Victor. “Oh.” He turned off the shower faucet and whipped a towel from where it hung over the stall. He didn’t so much try to cover his still-stiff erection as towel his hair, blot the water from his eyes. Cupping his hand, he slapped his ear to knock water from it in case he had misheard her. He opened the stall door, tentatively now, and pointed at his chest. “You need me?”
She nodded once, curt. “Yes. Well, actually, Ian sent me here to get his contact lens solution and case. But now that I see you jacking off, my mind wanders.” She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, assessing. “You’re chiseled and drop-dead gorgeous, Iron Man. Would you care to come back to my suite for a play session? I’ve ruined my hopeless reputation in Utah already within the first twenty-four hours. I may as well have fun while doing it.”
“Just hold it one second,” said Victor, stepping out of the enclosure. He finally wrapped the towel around his waist, a bit too late to be modest, as his prick was still at half-mast. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t jumping on top of this fine Dominatrix, but he had his reservations. That, and he had just come. “We’re both clearly sexual dominants. How do you propose we practice our kinks if we’re both trying to top the other? I’m sure your style of play goes over well with a servile obedient like Ian Lawson. But I’m not going to take kindly to being tied up and gagged.”
Felicity’s catlike eyes swept over Victor’s face, throat, chest. “Then why is that all I’ve been imagining since meeting you next to that ostrich cage?”
It was Victor’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Wishful thinking,” he said arrogantly.
Felicity shrugged. “I read too many Nancy Drew books as a young girl. She was always getting tied up.”
That actually gave Victor an idea. He took her chin between his fingers, resting the pad of his thumb in the dimple there. “Why don’t we just try acting like two normal people who are attracted to each other? Two people on a date?”
Felicity frowned. “Act like vanilla people?” She scoffed. “It’s been so long since I tried acting like that, I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Victor put his hands on his hips “Well, you like challenges, don’t you? Start with this. Miss Felicity McQueen. I am highly attracted to you. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”
He was relieved that Felicity giggled. She even tried to hide her mouth behind her little fist. “Why, doctor! That is quite a challenge. But Mr. Ian Lawson is supposed to be squiring me around the lodge. I could have both of you take me to dinner, but that would raise even more eyebrows.”
“Probably not, from what I’ve seen of the arrangements between your sister, Sasha, Rowan O’Shea, and Perry Donovan.”
She giggled at that, too. “So true. And I really wouldn’t mind having the both of you attending to me at the same time.”
Arousal stiffened Victor’s nipples. The idea of fucking the delicious Ian’s mouth while his face was buried between Felicity’s thighs sent instant arrows of stimulation into his groin, but he had to focus on the matter at hand. Felicity had just come from a scene with Ian Lawson. Victor knew he had to display to Felicity how different he was from Ian. He couldn’t lie down and literally let her walk all over him, as he was sure Ian loved to do. No, he had to display how he was not just another submissive client of hers, begging to have a ball gag shoved in his mouth. He moved from the bathroom to his suitcase at the foot of his bed, casually selecting some fresh clothes that didn’t have ostrich footprints across them. He knew he was mystifying Felicity. She had probably never experienced a rejection. Well, he wasn’t rejecting her. Not quite.
“Did you know your doctor sister had that particular kink?”
Felicity compressed her lips together. It occurred to Victor there may be some rivalry between the sisters. “Not at all. Sasha has always been a very prim and proper girl. In college she dated some blond Olympic skier, and then there was a fellow med student. That was about it. She was more interested in cadavers than live men.”
Modestly, Victor took his clothing into the bathroom and spoke to Felicity through a crack in the door. She had already seen it all, pretty much, but now he was hitting the reset button. She could spank Ian until she was blue in the face. She had to relate to Victor on the same level. “So it’s pretty obvious that that sort of polyamory is acceptable in these parts.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “I keep forgetting you’re a doctor, too. Well, only of biology.”
Victor knew she was trying to get his goat. He hadn’t reached the age of forty-five without hearing those tired jokes about how he wasn’t a “real” doctor because he only studied animals. “That’s why PhD stands for Patiently Hoping for a Degree,” he agreed amiably. “I’m saying that you might be surprised. Your particular kink might be more acceptable around here than you think.”
She sighed. “Oh, I doubt it. When I saw my father briefly in Charleston earlier this week, I suppose during one of his lucid phases, he told me he wants me to find a different career. It upsets him very much thinking of me working in a bordello—his words.”
Victor paused, his fingers buckling his belt. “Lucid? Does he suffer from dementia?”
“Yes, apparently, the final stage, although I think I only saw him lucid during my visit. Well, that’s not true. He kept calling me the name of this Shady Pines nurse, Elsie.”
“Could it be that he real
ly wanted Elsie to change career paths?”
“No, he definitely said ‘I want you to stop whipping nancy men.’”
Although the situation was dire, Victor had to chuckle. Nancy men. As though only weak or homosexual men would desire to be dominated by the carrot-headed, sultry Domme. Actually, Victor could see submitting to that sort of dominance himself. He had never once envisioned it until running into Felicity, but the idea had been seeping its way into the fringes of his brain all day long. Maybe he was just jealous of the randy CFO who had just had a session with her. “Now I guess you’re obligated to honor his last wishes.”
Felicity sighed heavily. “Exactly. I suppose, anyway. It’s not as though we’re terribly close. I was married before, you know. I’ve lived in Stockholm for eight years, and before that I was married to a banker in Charleston for seven years. The perfect housewife, don’t you know. So I haven’t really been around my father for quite a while.”
The former husband seemed to weigh quite heavily on Felicity. Victor wanted to know more, but he couldn’t be rude. “What happened to the banker?”
Felicity had the tone of one trying to be flippant, but not succeeding very well. “He died of cancer. Before that, I was fifteen when my mother died of cancer. We never had anything approximating a ‘normal’ childhood, but if you’re thinking I’m such an Über Domme because I was whipped as a child, you can think again.”
Felicity was briefly struck dumb when Victor emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. He’d even put on a tie, something he only did when making speeches in Rome about biomarkers of toxicity. But if he wanted to treat Felicity like a normal date, he needed to dress like a normal date. “I wasn’t about to think anything like that. I have no childhood trauma that I can remember, but I love to dominate other people as well. Actually, wait. My father did inflict one traumatic event on me. He died suddenly when I was seventeen and because I was the only son, I naturally inherited his mink farm in Poughkeepsie. I had never been inside that weird smelly warehouse, so I was completely unprepared for what I saw.”
Felicity looked up at him, unblinking. Her voice was so girlish, so innocent. “And that’s why you became a biologist?”
“Exactly.” Victor didn’t want to get too involved in the ghoulish details of the day he’d first gone inside the fur slaughterhouse. He didn’t want to paint a very vivid picture for Felicity to dwell on. So he mentioned the positive, heartwarming aspects of what he did for a living. “I knew I wanted to study animals, to save as many as I could, to be instrumental in preventing the extinction of a species, anything I could to stop the pointless slaughter of defenseless animals.” That sounded good. That always made a big impression on women.
Right now was no exception. Felicity’s eyes widened, sparkling with compassion. She allowed him to take her chin between his fingers again. There was no hint of the Dominatrix about her—she was all soft edges, as though viewed through an unfocused lens. “And you’ve definitely succeeded at that. Aren’t you some kind of famous scientist?”
“If you follow such things,” Victor admitted then bent an inch or so to plant a kiss on her.
Chapter Seven
Her lower lip trembled when Victor kissed her. She was acting like a middle school girl who had never been kissed!
Of course, she didn’t kiss her clients. That was never done. They kissed her spiked boots, if anything, and she was glad she had texted Jöran to ship those along with her fetish outfit. They would come in handy when showing this impudent ass who had the upper hand, but for now, she tried to relax and let him think he was in control.
Playing with Ian had stimulated her beyond all reason. His story of watching his brother’s girlfriend masturbate in the shower had juice trickling down her thigh. The part where the neighborhood thugs got off on his helplessness had her pussy turned to mush. She had never heard anything as erotic as when the boys bukkaked on young Ian’s face. She would have continued edging Ian longer but to be honest, it was she who couldn’t hold out. She needed to end the scene, to bring him down, or she was on the verge of mounting the sexy accountant and using him as her own well-hung vibrator.
When she had popped into Ian’s room to get his contact lens stuff, viewing Dr. Reznik jacking off in the shower made her hold her breath until she nearly passed out. This was torture, sheer and utter torture! How much was a girl supposed to take?
Felicity allowed Victor to think he was the first man who had ever dominated her. Truth be told, her husband Brad had been the dominant one in their marriage. That was where she had gotten the idea. A loving, gentle but firm man in their daily world, Brad turned into a domineering sensual sadist by night. She had been thrilled to be bound and toyed with, to have her tits slapped with the riding crop he’d nabbed from their stables. That was how she had learned edging, orgasm denial, because he’d practiced it on her. When he died, of course being the submissive reminded her too much of how much she missed him. So she’d traded in personas, become Mistress Felicity, then Mistress Klara, submersing herself deeper and deeper in the lifestyle that would obliterate her tragic loss.
Victor was a deep, soulful kisser. He kissed her as though he loved her. She parted her lips and allowed him to tickle her pearly whites with the tip of his tongue. She found herself twining her tongue around his, raising her arms to embrace him around his neck. She even spread her feet on the carpet to open herself up to him, lifting one high heel and bringing it around the outside of his dress shoe. The raised ridge of his massive cock was obviously firm again when she rubbed her pubic bone against him. His groan resonated deep inside his impressive chest, making her want to cling to him in submission.
She hated herself for that. She had not been meekly submissive since Brad Silva’s death, and she’d be damned if she’d start now. Breaking their kiss almost violently, Felicity grabbed a fistful of his neat silk tie and held his forehead close to hers. “Now look here,” she nearly growled, “we play by my rules or we’re not playing at all.”
Victor’s smile was mild, as though she were merely an annoying fly buzzing around his head. He covered her fist with his and peeled her fingers one by one from his tie. “Now, now,” he said soothingly, “you’re going to have to learn to play with me, not against me. Was it not clear that I don’t do submissive?”
Yes, that had been pretty clear. Felicity just didn’t know any other way—or didn’t want to remember. She allowed him to peel her fingers, but now she grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket. He looked quite adorable, startled like that. He had very handsome, smooth features and creamy olive skin, as though he’d never suffered a mortifying zit in his life. He was deeply tanned from years in the sun studying lizards or skinks or whatever he did. She’d handled these reluctant ones before, the ones who didn’t know that a man could still retain the upper hand by accepting the pleasure-pain of her toying.
She swiped her tongue across his luscious lower lip. “Listen to me, doctor, and you won’t have to ‘do’ submissive at all.”
They nearly attacked each other with their next kiss. Panting, snorting, and bucking like two feral dogs in heat, they chewed on each other’s mouths. Felicity gave a little hop, and Victor was there to catch her ass in his hands as she wound her heels around the backs of his knees. He carried her to a low dresser of some sort where he dropped her butt, knocking aside bottles of cologne or booze or water. Their tongues did bitter battle, twining and snaking. Victor bit Felicity’s upper lip. Surprised, she bit him back. She would have giggled if she hadn’t known Victor was so dead serious.
She allowed him to press her torso back against the wall. She was crushed into the corner by the manliness of his chest, but his broad hand cradled her shoulder blades as he plied her throat with sucking kisses. Gooseflesh arose, down her neck, over her bosom, stiffening her nipples until they poked out the skiing sweater, as though she wore nipple clamps, like in that infamous photo. He crushed her to him, but he wasn’t overbearing in his grasping. His touch was firm and
sure, yet gentle. She could tell he didn’t want her to bang her skull or shoulder on anything.
Twining one ankle across the juicy rise of Victor’s ass, Felicity made herself vulnerable to him. She dry-humped him vigorously to show her desire, mashing her pussy against the tight bulge in his trousers. She admired that he’d gotten so hard again so fast. Many men were strictly one-trick ponies and that was always fine with her. She’d tie and tease them for an hour until the verge of orgasm, usually denying them because that was her kink and theirs. They were plastic bowls of jelly by the time they left Fett Axel or were scraped off the floor by an assistant.
But she’d certainly never allowed one of them to dry-hump her.
It must be because she was in the States again. She was out of her element—away from her comfort zone.
Here she was, humping and kissing a man, a doctor no less, she’d met only hours before. He was kissing her down her throat, kissing her collarbone, unzipping the tight alpine sweater slowly, tantalizingly. Felicity knew that her abundant boobs were a major turn-on for most men, so she arched like a cat, gripping the edge of the dresser. For some reason it was important that she turn this man on.
“Lovely…” he murmured, taking a big slurp from the valley between her breasts.
She gripped his skull in her palm, mashing his face to her. Even with the buxom extra-support bra she wore, her nipples were close to poking from the underwire cup. “Lick me, you bastard,” she snarled.
He pulled back a few inches and regarded her with humor. She vaguely remembered that look, and it wasn’t until several moments later that it struck her. Brad. Brad used to get that no-nonsense look when he knew he wasn’t about to give her what she demanded, no matter how hard she wailed and begged for it.
Two Sirs, with Love [McQueen Was My Valley 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6
