High-Stakes Loving [King's Bluff, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  Her gaze zipped between the two of them, trying to gauge who presented the clearest danger. “We never discussed spanking.” Not that she didn’t like it. In fact, she kind of—No, don’t go there.

  “Imagine that.” Quinn slid his hand over her still-tingling buttock and pinched. “Move it.”

  She skittered out the door and then down the hall, grateful they couldn’t see the grin fighting its way over her face. Imagine that. Oh, yeah, she was imagining her little heart out.

  Chapter Six

  It wasn’t until Reagan shut the bathroom door that Quinn’s earlier words sunk into her head. Be naked. She dragged a breath through too-tight lungs and ran her hands over the wide curves of her hips. Why did undressing for a man always feel like the emotional equivalent of walking the plank?

  Last night…heck, they’d revved her libido up so high with their teasing and ordering her about that when she’d stripped in the hallway, any nerves regarding her weight had wilted under their domination. Now, standing alone in the white subway-tiled bathroom, the stark quietness of her surroundings propelled all her body image demons to the fore.

  Women around the world tortured themselves over their curves. And with her generously proportioned figure, she could stand to lose a good thirty pounds, but would she ever be satisfied? Who knew. There was always something to improve, to tighten, to want longer or shorter.

  She glanced up and caught the shower stall’s reflection in the vanity’s mirror. An idea formed. She nodded to herself. He said be naked. He didn’t say where to be naked.

  With more speed than grace, she stripped out of her clothing, dumping it in the hamper. She ignored her shower cap, guessing that was more real-life Reagan than she thought Quinn had in mind, and turned on the water, adjusting it to her preferred warm temperature. Once under the spray, she made short work of shampooing and conditioning her hair.

  A big fat cake of her favorite milled soap rested on the shower’s inbuilt tiled ledge. Organic and cruelty free, its lilac-blossom scent stayed on her skin for hours afterwards and formed part of her nighttime ritual.

  Cotton sheets, a good book, and the fresh scent of lilacs. Nothing relaxed her as—

  The frosted glass shower door swung open. Cool air hit her wet skin.

  “What are you doing?” Quinn almost growled.

  The soap popped out of her grasp, landing with a hard thud at her feet. “Eeep”

  She turned, her gaze filled by a bare-chested Quinn looming just beyond the reach of the water’s spray. Steam wafted between them, swirling in misty clouds up to the ceiling’s exhaust fan.

  His eyes shone with amber sparks. “I told you to be naked.”

  “I am naked. You didn’t say I had to wait before showering.”

  His gaze centered on the cotton washcloth hanging like a pathetic shield over her breasts. “You were in that much of a hurry for a shower?”

  “I…” She pressed her lips together. Dammit, this was her house. She didn’t have to explain herself. Bravado helped kick her chin up an inch higher. “Sure.”

  “That’s your reason for not waiting for me?”

  Jeez, why did he have to keep pressing for an answer? Maybe him staying the night was a mistake. She could cuddle up to Marvin or read a damn book.

  “I’m naked just as you wanted. Why does my being in the shower make any difference?”

  “Because you’re lying to me.” He moved away from the door. She heard the hamper open and shut and a drawer close. Other noises followed. The frosted panels of the shower stall hid her view.

  “Quinn, you’re making a huge deal out of this.” She bent down, picked up the soap before she slipped on the thing, and then shelved it on the ledge.

  “No, you’ve underestimated me. That won’t happen again.” His voice came from over her shoulder. A tanned arm reached out, turned off the water, then his wide hands gripped her waist and lifted her backward.

  “Hey, put me down!”

  Not missing a beat, he stepped to the center of the room, placing her feet on the bathmat. The hairs of his chest rubbed against the wet skin of her back.

  She spied the terry cloth belt of her robe on the vanity, along with two pantyhose and…the white plastic curtain rod from the bathroom window? “Quinn, what—”

  Drawing her arms behind her, he grabbed the belt and had her wrists secured in seconds.

  “Don’t move or I’ll hogtie you.”

  She stomped down the perverse need to poke out her tongue and march to the door. Ending up hogtied on her bathroom’s tiled floor wasn’t on her BDSM hit list. And from the hard line of his jaw she spied reflected in the mirror, there was no doubt he’d carry out his threat.

  And hell, her nipples were hard from the cooler air. It had nothing to do with her working against the binding on her wrists. Nor the fact her pussy tingled with a new awareness.

  Quinn reached for the three-foot curtain rod and pantyhose, then crouched down behind her. “Spread your legs.” When she didn’t comply quickly enough, he gently gripped one ankle and guided her feet wider to over a foot apart.

  She looked down, watching in muted shock as he placed the curtain rod behind her ankles and then used the pantyhose to secure each ankle to the rod. After inspecting the knots and checking her circulation, he got to his feet.

  “Umm, what are you doing?”

  “We’re gonna play a game called Tell-me-what-I-want-to-know-and-I won’t-spank-your-ass.”

  He dragged over the squat wooden stool from next to the vanity, the one she used to reach the top shelf of the corner cupboard.

  “Up we go.” He lifted her easily onto the two-foot-wide stool, his hands on her waist, steadying her.

  With her arms tied behind her, she swayed. “Quinn, I’ll fall,” she cried out.

  “You’re safe.” His arms wrapped around her, drawing her back against his front. “I won’t let you fall, sub.”

  Sub. She caught her breath. When he said that word, using his uncompromising, masculine tone, it was like a jolt of helium surged through her body, threatening to carry her away. Only his touch, his command, kept her in place.

  The stool gave her just under an extra foot in height, leaving her a few inches shorter than Quinn. She gazed at their reflection. Her ivory white skin glowed in contrast against his tan. With her arms pulled back, her breasts were forced up high. Some consolation. But seeing her tummy out on display was torture.

  “Quinn, let me down. I don’t like this game.”

  “Imagine my surprise.” He trailed his hands across her stomach, back up over her ribs, then settled them on her hips. “Tell me again why you entered the shower instead of waiting for me.”

  “I gave you my answer.” She turned her head to the side, her face burning.

  He took a step back. Geez, how much of a view did he need of her ass?

  Smack.

  A sharp sting flared on her bottom. She gritted her teeth, refusing to make a sound.

  “Not good enough.” He stepped close again and caught her chin, forcing her gaze back to the mirror, firming his grip when she tried to jerk away. “You don’t want me to see you naked?”

  “It’s not that.” She pressed her lips together. Dammit. Her eyes burned but not from the spanking. Christ, this was humiliating.

  “What then?” His free hand traced over her stomach.

  Jiggly flesh. He had to feel it.

  “I’m fat.” The words burst out fast and loud. “That’s why. I’m fat and I didn’t want to have to stand there waiting for you to come walking through the door and see me like that.” Her shoulders slumped under the shame of her admission.

  She fixed her gaze on a point on the wall, a foot above their reflected heads.

  With the barest touch of his fingers, he stroked the roundness of her hip. “This is fat?” Moments ticked by. His voice darkened. “Answer me.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Fat ass. Fat ass. Memories of the singsong jibes from high school gym class
never faded.

  “And this?” His hand moved back across to her belly, skimming over the rise of flesh that wouldn’t turn flat no matter how many crunches she sweated through.

  She could only nod.

  The grip on her chin softened, his thumb stroking in small sweeps, then moved down her throat, chest, until it rested on her hip. “Sugar, are you saying I have no taste?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I’m attracted to you. Mike too. Proven beyond doubt. Therefore you’re stating we possess no judgment when it comes to attractive women.”

  She wrenched on her bonds, ignoring the way her pussy quivered at how secure his knots proved against her struggles. “Oh, come on, Quinn. Guys like you and Mike have all kinds of gorgeous, skinny women chasing after you.”

  “Women who faint at the idea of ordering a steak or eating dessert aren’t my idea of an ideal date. Never have been.” Quinn nipped the shell of her ear, pulling on the tender skin, drawing out the bite until she hissed. A lick followed, leaving a cooling wetness in contrast to the pulse of the sting.

  “I understand women are sensitive of their weight. Hell, I have sisters. And punishment is the last thing I’d planned for you tonight.” His forefinger traced over a nipple, circling with ever-narrowing rings. He edged his thumb closer to his forefinger.

  She held her breath. Would he?

  His sharp pinch sent her back up on her toes. She breathed through the burn, moaning as the sharpness of pain rolled into a deep heat that surged down to her core.

  “So I’ll let this pass. However, get this clear in that adorable, muddled head of yours, Reagan. When you insult your body, you’re insulting my sub.”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. His sub?

  He stared back, his look trapping hers with its singular intensity.

  “That’s right, honey. Mine. Mike’s too. We might be taking things one day at a time on the relationship front, but I won’t allow you to put yourself down in the meantime. Maybe that’s more than you’re prepared for right now. Tough. I make no apologies. I’m a Dom, not an enabler. My job is to treasure you, chastise you, and protect you, even if that’s from yourself.”

  “So you’re right and I shouldn’t dare question you?” Arrogant SOB.

  “When we’re like this, just the two of us, or three if the case may be, and we’re calling you sub, then, within reason, yes, we’re right and you need to trust us.” He released her nipple and dropped his hand to her mound. The pad of his finger circled her clit. “You haven’t used your safe word.”

  No, she hadn’t. As much as she hated him confronting her, she didn’t want to lose his dominance. What did that make her? Needy.

  He slid two fingers along the slick folds of her pussy. “I love it when a sub’s body gives her away.” He rubbed her clit with the merest hint of pressure.

  Just enough to drive her insane.

  His other hand moved from her hip to her front, pressing on her ribcage and forcing her bound arms harder against his chest. “Listen to your breathing, sweetness. You like being helpless. Tied to a spreader, your pussy open for me.” With no warning, he thrust his fingers deep inside.

  She bucked under the intrusion, rising up on her toes, the spreader bar heavy against the back of her heels, a luscious reminder of her captivity.

  “That’s how I want you. Tied. Legs spread. Where I can do whatever fucking perverted thing I want to.” He pumped faster, his fingers curling, twisting with each stroke.

  Her body stiffened. Breathing became harder.

  His free hand thumbed her clit with short, upward strokes. Pinched. More strokes.

  She lifted one foot, tugging against the spreader bar. No escape. She was caught.

  Another flick of his thumb. A rub of her sensitive spot. Her pussy clenched, refusing to give up his fingers. So close. Deep inside, her core tightened. She threw back her head.

  A couple of more turns. One more pinch. So fucking close. Yes. Yes. Y—

  His fingers slipped from her vagina.

  What? “No, pleeease.” She’d beg. She didn’t care.

  “Been fucked on a counter, sugar?” Quinn lifted her, kicking the stool aside, and set her on wobbly legs. Keeping one hand locked on her hip, he grabbed two towels from the rack, throwing them on top of the vanity to form a wide cushion.

  “No.” But the idea had promise.

  She found herself turned around and sitting on the plush mountain of towels beside the sink.

  “You’re gonna love it.” Grinning at her quick intake of breath, he ripped down the zipper of his jeans, dragging them and his underwear halfway past his thighs. From there he kicked them loose until they lay in a pile to the side.

  His cock sprang free. Thick, red, and powerful looking, it bobbed with seeming impatience.

  She had some sympathy.

  He tore open a foil packet and sheathed himself. Reaching down, he untied the spreader bar and lifted her feet so her heels rested on the edge of the counter, opening her wide for his view.

  Quinn’s nostrils flared as his gaze centered on her pussy “You’re so wet, Reagan, You’re glistening under the light.” He lifted a finger, trailed a line down one outer lip, spreading the slick proof of her desire to the curve of her inner thigh.

  His earlier haste in disrobing seemed to have evaporated as he traced over one side of her labia then down the other. With a meandering slowness, he circled her clit.

  Caught in the power of his stare, she held her breath. The light shining in his eyes promised her little mercy.

  A part of her didn’t want any.

  And then he dragged the pad of his wet finger over her clit, lifting back the hood.

  She held her breath, waiting for more. A touch, a tap, or God help her, a pinch.

  Air wafted over the sensitive nub, teasing with its too gentle caress.

  Her moan coated the tiled walls of the bathroom, mixing with the lower, harsher sound of his laughter.

  “Your clit’s hard and pink. Ready for my tongue.” He grabbed her upper arms, then pushed himself closer between her legs. His cock rubbed at her entrance, prodding into her warmth. “Another time. Right now, I need to fuck.”

  He entered her fast and deep, filling her with his hardness. Her tissues stretched against his invasion, her body reveling in the sweet burn of claiming.

  “Wrap your legs around me, sugar.”

  She rushed to do his bidding, crossing her heels at the small of his back, nudging him closer, deeper, connecting them.

  “You feel fucking wonderful gripping my cock. Tight and wet. Just right for me. You’re perfect, Reagan.”

  His praise, especially after her earlier meltdown, filled her soul like flooding rains after a drought, bestowing a sense of newness and vitality.

  He held his arms around her in a loose band, giving her body room to take the impact of his thrusts. Adjusting the angle of his entry, he bombarded her with short strokes aimed at the roof of her vagina.

  Ripples of pleasure turned into a full-body tremor that started from her shoulders down to her feet, weakening the grip of her ankles. Sweat-dampened hair stuck to her forehead, blurring her gaze. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered but dragging Quinn closer, forcing him deeper, making him give more. Fill her to the brink until she couldn’t take anymore.

  “Please, Quinn, let me come.” She clenched her fingers into fists as he plunged into her flesh.

  “No. You can come when I tell you and not before.” Again, he changed his strokes, never giving her enough time to build into his rhythm and bring herself closer to release.

  Around her, his arms tightened, meshing her upper body to his. The springy curls of his chest hair scratched her sensitive nipples, the sensation of roughness amplified with the power of his thrusts as they pushed her chest up hard upon his, rubbing her tender buds over his skin.

  Tied, off balance, and at his mercy, she bit her lip against the frantic need growing inside her. The muscles of her vagina gri
pped him tight, dragging on each outward stroke, then stretching, burning in delight as he slammed back on re-entry. Against resistant lungs, she dragged in quick breaths. Sweat stung her eyes, pitching her deeper into a wild state of helplessness.

  Just one more thrust, maybe two, and she’d have her release.

  Thighs shaking, breathing labored, she drew on her last ounce of strength and gripped his waist tight with her ankles, pushing deep into his back, forcing him closer.

  She hissed as his fingers dug into her hips, keeping her in place.

  He pulled out to the tip of his cock. The coolness of his gaze robbed her of what little breath her lungs possessed.

  “I can stop right now, leave you frog tied on the bed. Gagged. With nothing but your fantasies to help you get off. Is that what you want?”

  “I’m s–sorry, Quinn.” She swallowed, almost afraid to meet his gaze.

  One hand moved from her hip up to her breast. His unblinking stare held hers captive as he plucked at her nipple. Her instinctive jerk sent her breasts bobbing.

  “Don’t move.”

  He twisted the tender bud, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Pinching. Hard. Harder than ever before. Too hard.

  “Ahhhh.” She clenched her bottom, straightened her back, rising up on the counter, desperate to lessen the burn. Jesus, she’d beg. Anything to stop—

  She caught her breath, blinked against this new sensation. Pain transformed into…pleasure. A spear of white heat shot straight to her core. Her clit pulsed in sharp beats, feeling so, so large.

  “Some boundaries are made to be broken. What scared you before excites you now.” Quinn kissed her, forcing her lips open for his tongue. All the while he kept up his pressure on her nipple, not releasing the now throbbing bud until he raised his head. “You have limits you haven’t begun to imagine, Reagan. That includes how long you can go before reaching climax. I’ve warned you before we’re not five-minute lovers. Don’t try to rush me again.”

  She nodded. The temperature of his stare dropped another ten degrees. Ooops. Answer him properly. “I promise, Quinn, I won’t.”