Their entwined pose reminded him of a myth he’d once read as a precocious child. In the tale an older couple met a weary traveler who needed food and shelter. The couple had very little, yet shared everything they had, their home and the little food and drink they had with the man. But no matter how much was eaten that night there was always more. When the traveler was replete, he asked the couple what the desired for their warm hospitality. They wanted nothing and said as much. But when pressed for an answer they wished to die together, so neither would be left alone. Their visitor was a god in disguise, and granted the couples wish. They never lacked for food or drink for the rest of their lives, until they died and were turned into a pair of trees that stayed intertwined for eternity.
The random thought made him realize he wanted that, too. Someone that loved him enough to die with him and he loved enough to do the same. Plus, he realized that his harem was just an excuse to hold himself back from what he really wanted. How could he make room in his heart, when he had a full bed? It wasn’t possible.
“So what do you think of my talented wife’s painting?” He was so transfixed by the sight before him he didn’t even hear his brothers footsteps.
“It could grace the halls of the Louvre.” He wasn’t lying, the bold choice of stark colors and technical perfection were astounding, not to mention the apparent emotions locked within the paint would catch the eye of even the most jaded of critics.
“Come on.” Charyn walked to the door, and Marq was hard pressed to peel his eyes from the canvas. He backed away until he was forced to turn away and leave. He was going to own that painting even if he had to beg Makenzie for it. When he climbed the stairs and reached the entrance to his brother’s dungeon, he felt just a hint of nervousness. This was so outside of his realm. But Jamison needed to know who was boss here. Not that she wasn’t his equal, but she had to learn a healthy respect for him and their relationship. Something told him his brother could help in that regard, and that was why he was here now. Even with that in mind, when he saw the full complement of bondage and domination tools, he was floored. Charyn must have understood the perplexed look he knew was on his face and responded to it.
“Yeah, we like a little of everything. But do you know why I personally enjoy this lifestyle, Marq?”
“Not really.”
“It allows me to give Makenzie everything I have and know that she is pleased at my will. I can use a force and roughness with her under the BDSM model in our play that many men might love, but are too afraid to try on their partners. The guidelines allow us to unlock every dark desire and know that if it was unwanted or too much that it can stop before going too far. It lets us be free within our rules and be anything that we want to be together for each other.”
Marq was at a loss. He’d always asked for what he wanted, and if his partner wasn’t interested, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose and said as much.
“I’ve never had a problem with just asking for what I want.”
“That’s true, and for a person in tune with their sexuality, they may be able to answer honestly. But for too many others, they are too ashamed to admit their needs aloud. Or for an even larger group of people, they don’t want to be asked. They want to be told or taken. So night after night, many women are unfulfilled because they crave being owned by their lovers and used for every unimaginable pleasure. Think about it like this, from childhood humans are ingrained to think the natural act of sex is dirty or wrong. Those hang-ups are hard to overcome and leave them with no options except to fixate on what they want being forced on them. That way they can feel pleasure without guilt or culpability.” Marq was shocked, to say the least. In his experience, he’d never thought a woman would like being used, per se. But the idea had merit. Jamison loved when he slaked his thirst on her unmercifully, especially the day he’d caught her on a date with D. She had never fallen apart the way she did that night when his jealousy had turned him into an animal slavering over her flesh as she tried to crawl away. Every breath she took wracked her frame, and his every pummeling thrust left her shuddering. She was nothing more than pure sensation made tangible via her flesh those hours of angry raw fucking.
“Nope, not fucking.” Marq looked at his brother. How did he read his mind like that?
“How did you—?”
“Uh, you said that out loud you know.”
“Damn, what part?”
“Just something about angry fucking. While that’s great, that’s not what this is about. It’s about giving and taking control. Nothing confuses a woman’s senses more than rough handling combined with the seduction of lovemaking. That’s how you gain control, through the confusion of the senses. Spank her, tie her up, and then put to her gently like she would break if you gave her an iota more. It’ll leave her crying by the time you finish with her.”
“Wow, you have this down to a science.”
“Yeah I try, but it’s more of an art.” Charyn laughed and held out a length of blond rope.
“We are going to start with a few basic knots that are easy to learn and can be used on nearly any body part. Watch.” He then showed him a series of loops using Marq’s arms as a model. “I’m tying your arms in front so you can see how to do it, but this method of restraint is more effective with the arms in back.” When his brother finished, Marq’s arms were pinned together with a grouping of loops that would band each arm from shoulder to wrist and met with center knots, leaving his hands able to clasp together. But there wasn’t much else he could do with the captive limbs, and he could imagine using this on Jamison as he wrapped fistfuls of hair in his hands while she was impaled on his cock.
“Okay, I like this one.”
“It’s one of our personal favorites, too. Now this position is only good for a half hour, forty-five minutes tops. Otherwise she will go numb and be in some pain. You have to massage her as well when she’s been restrained and use a good oil, not lotion.” Charyn then allowed Marq to use him as a model. It took Marq twice as long as it took his brother to complete however. But when he finished, his brother proclaimed the fit good and ties solid.
“You’d make a good Nawashi.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“The first time I learned to tie bonds, it took three times as long as you did to get the fit right. Mine were too tight, and it was hard for me to learn to be patient with my ropes and feel them along the way. So for you replicate the ties as well as you did shows me you have some potential. If you care to explore it.” Marq then began untying the bonds starting from the hand up. When he got to the elbows, he got a tap on the shoulder.
“I’ll take over from here.” It was Makenzie, and she had a wicked grin on her face.
“All right then, I guess I’ll talk to ya’ll later.” Marq walked downstairs in a much better mood. He was a man with a plan.
Chapter Fourteen:
From Flash Drive to Sex Drive
Jamison was halfway into her third and final week in Juneau. She decided to leave at the end of the week as there wasn’t much left to do here, and she was going to travel the world. It was something she always wanted to do, but her pride wouldn’t let her touch the guilt money the government gave her. She had kept the fact the money existed to herself for years, and only a handful of people knew of the funds at all. Her bankers, the lawyer who took her case, and the social worker were the only people who were privy to the suit in the first place. Since she was a minor, her name was kept from the media circus that flocked around the trial and subsequent suit. Marq was the only person who knew her as an adult that was privy to the secret of her hidden funds. They were a dirty secret that she kept to herself. She never wanted another person to know the truth of what happened to her or the aftermath, and that type of money would raise a few eyebrows along with nosy queries she had no intention of acknowledging with an answer. Jergen was still being Jergen and he had no intention of letting her leave without one date. But at this point, why not? Marq was gone for goo
d most likely, and it wasn’t like the date had to end up with anything other than good-bye. The man had been so persistent that he was coming close to wearing her down. Damned if he didn’t contrive some reason to call her everyday along with daily text messages and e-mails all with the same question at the end. Have breakfast or lunch or dinner with me tonight? He was really not going to quit. Hopefully when she told him she was leaving, he’d stop getting his hopes up that they could date even on a casual basis.
She had eaten a quick breakfast of granola and had her morning session with her amazing view as the only witness. She had packed up most of her things already and decided to ship them to her house as she wouldn’t need them where she was headed. Alaska was beautiful, but too cold for her tastes. Now she was ready to see beautiful people in beautiful weather with umbrella topped rum based drinks to freshen her palate. She was going to sunny Jamaica, and instead of working, she would spend much of her time playing. The producer and director of Jamaica Rocks was excited to hear she would be able to fit their show into her blog earlier this week, so she was able to give herself a paid holiday.
Jamison had just taped up the last of the boxes for shipment back to Wilmington when she heard a knock on the front door. It alarmed her at first as no one knew where she was, but when she saw the uniformed delivery man, she calmed down. She forgot for a moment that she had a scheduled pickup for twelve. But the clock told her the delivery guy was early as it was only eleven. She opened the door and smiled at the thick-legged male in front of her. How in the heck did he wear shorts in this temperature?
“Hi, I have my boxes right here.”
“No, excuse me, are you Jamison?”
“Yes I am.”
“I have a delivery for you.” Her first thought was Jergen, even though she wished it was from Marq.
She signed the computerized notepad the man handed her and took the simple envelope in return. She barely wanted to open it when she saw the perfect script gracing the label. When she walked to the heavy arm chair and took a seat, it took several deep breaths before she could calm her speeding heart to see what was inside. Her hands shook even as she ripped the band at the back seam of the folded cardboard packaging. When she was done, two flash drives fell into her lap and a hastily scripted letter fluttered behind them. She knew Marq barely made time to write it as the paper was ripped from a spiral bound tablet with scruffy edges and the words were a quick scrawl across the page.
I am not sorry for anything but hurting you. Watch the black drive first.
Marq
She walked over to her laptop, which currently resided on her borrowed bed. She laid down on her stomach and settled in to watch. The drive had hours of film, but she just let it play from the beginning. The first thing she saw was a dorm room from a strange angle. It was directly across from a spotless bed and a sea of bachelor mess everywhere else. She could hear giggles and laughter then she saw where the sounds originated as a pair of lovers moved into view. It was Marq, although this version was much younger than today’s man. He stood in front of the bed and stripped his shirt first followed by a pair of shorts, both items tossed haphazardly in the miasma of mess. He helped a beautiful flaxen-haired sorority girl take off her garments, which were sent the way of his. The girl kissed him sweetly, and he responded back.
Jamison watched as the man she loved fucked another woman. It didn’t appear as if the girl was enjoying herself very much, but that was little consolation. The young woman was stiff and rarely moved the whole time. For all of the work that Marq was putting in, it seemed as if there was little reward as the girl laid there and didn’t so much as mutter. When they finished with sex, Marq rolled off of her and Jamison saw that he didn’t even come as the condom he wore appeared dry. The ballooned tip of the rubber hung down from his still hard cock as he peeled it away and tossed the flaccid latex into the bedside trash can.
“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked and Jamison saw the lie Marq told before he even spoke it.
“Yeah, it was okay.”
“Do you want to go to the kegger at the Pi house tomorrow?”
“Nah, I have a test to cram for.”
“Okay, want to have a burger at the Pit?”
“That’s all right. I have some things to do this morning.”
“Like what?”
“Stuff.”
“Are you trying to dump me?”
“Dump you? We’re not even dating?”
“I don’t have sex with just anyone, you know.”
His response was muffled, and Jamison couldn’t understand him, but the girl must have heard his reply, as she flipped out when he finished speaking.
“What the hell do you think I am? I’m a Psi Kappa, and any man would give his two front teeth to have me!”
She watched the young Marq walk the infuriated girl away from the camera. There was nothing for hours. Marq came back to bed covered in some liquid that he hastily toweled off before he crashed into the slightly mussed bed. She clicked forward until there was something more than sleep taking place. What happened next shocked and appalled her. A knock at the door woke Marq who wiped away drool from his lips before he answered it. Two uniformed officers walked in and informed him he was being charged with rape and took him away in handcuffs. Marq might be an oversexed jerk, but he was far from a rapist, and she knew what she was talking about on that topic for sure. She stopped the playback for a minute to get herself together and give a mental reminder that he couldn’t have gone to jail.
He was rich, and not on the sex offender list. She checked those lists habitually on a weekly basis and received e-mails nearly daily, too. But as she continued through the data on the drive, it became apparent that Marq had a serious appetite for sex. The drive was full and contained just over two hundred fifty hours of labeled vignettes. If the other was anything like this one? That was damn near five hundred hours of sex. No wonder she was over her head with this guy. She saw a little of everything as she fast forwarded from one scene to the next. The sight made her feel pangs in the vicinity of her heart. There were threesomes, foursomes, anal sex, all starring Marq and positions she’d never thought of or imagined existed. How in the world did she ever think Marq would enjoy sex with her? The numerous women all were beautiful, with perfect bodies and manicured pussies. She was lucky to have him to herself for the month that she got. With that thought, she looked outside. Night had fallen and her belly grumbled, so she stopped to have a quick meal and shower before diving into the second drive.
When Jamison was done, she was clean and felt somewhat calmer after the way her chest hurt from the first tapes. But when she loaded the second, there was only a single file, and Jamison clicked to start the playback with trepidation.
It was theirs.
The sex between them was so amazing she couldn’t help but rub her neck and clench her thighs in response. She let her desires go and her hands wander. It had been too many days and nights without a single orgasm after a month of gluttonous indulgence. She came to the sight of their tasting lips and thrusting hips. One orgasm became two then a third before their handful of hours on the stick were done. Jamison fell asleep, sated and sad at the same time. There was nothing she could do to satisfy herself like Marq could. Nothing could replace him. Not a toy, not her hand, nor her imagination could give her what he did.
Jamison woke at dawn as usual, but she didn’t feel too good. She felt like she had the flu, her belly ached, her nose was runny, and coupled with a headache was enough to send her diving below the covers again. Damn it, she was supposed to be getting ready to fly tomorrow, not lie in bed all day. But that was what she planned on as there she was on her own schedule, and not for the timing of other people. If she had to push the flight back a few days to recoup, that was fine, too. After a breakfast of ginger ale and toast two hours later she didn’t feel great, but she was at least mobile. She needed to get over herself and at least try to make her body work right. She was too tired to do her usua
l yoga routine, but she did force her limbs into a few meditative poses before she gave up in apathy. The videos that she watched the night before still weighed heavily on her psyche and were far from helpful with her broken heart.
At eleven she received her traditional message from Jergen.
Let’s have lunch.
She had nothing to lose at this point. Marq was already gone and most likely had been hip deep in a bevy of beauties from the moment she left.
Sure, why not.
The response back was too fast for words. It may have taken him thirty seconds to respond.
Finally. I thought you’d never give in.
Before she could even absorb the words, her phone rang.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to lunch.”
“It’s fine, Jergen, but I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t you know I’ll find you no matter where you go? That’s if you want to be found.” She wanted to be found, just not by him.
“Not really, but where and when, Jergen?”
“How about Scooter’s in an hour?” Scooters was a local dive, but the food was purported to be delicious.
“That’s fine.”
“Want me to pick you up?” No way, she could make her own way.
“Nah, I can find it.”
When she hung up the phone, it was time for another shower. It would take her fifteen minutes or so to get there, but as sick as she felt earlier, it would take time to dress herself. Jamison arrived at Scooters on time, and when she walked over, Jergen waved her to a corner booth he held for their lunch. He stood and waited until she was comfortably seated before he took the seat across from her. His back was to the wall, and she watched him glance over the handful of diners seated across the dive bar. There were peanut shells everywhere, and they made a crunchy carpet with each motion her feet made in their Timberland boots across its surface. The mass of dry hulls made her feel OCD, and she twisted her shoes in the crunchy muck until there was clean floor beneath her.
Willows, Jennifer - A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 18
