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

by Fiona Archer

  Mike tightened the buckle of the last ankle cuff. He fiddled with some metal ring on the floor, then attached a short length of chain from the ring to the middle of the spreader bar, effectively keeping her feet both spread apart and locked in place on the floor.

  After a quick check on the fit of each buckle, Mike rose to stand in front of her. “Or we could make you wait. Hours if need be.”

  No. No. No.

  “Why? None of us wins then.” Sure as hell not her.

  “You’re wrong. Quinn and I win.” Mike ran his hands over her breasts, kneading their softness. “Seeing you struggle for composure. You’ll plead. Beg us to let you come. We won’t.”

  His fingers circled her nipples, pinching and pulling until she rose up on her toes, stretching the small length of chain on the spreader bar to its limit.

  “Why don’t you make it easier on yourself and simply tell us what we want to know.” Mike sucked her earlobe between his teeth and tugged, laughing at her hiss. Not content, he twisted her nipples, pulling on them.

  She threw her head back. The tantalizing bite of pain fired a hot pulse straight to her core. Her clit thrummed, demanding more than a tap of Quinn’s finger. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  She stared off somewhere over Quinn’s shoulder. “I get it. You’re the boss. Fine. But what happened in the restroom has nothing to do with you.”

  Quinn ran his fingers over her mound. “So something did happen.”

  She closed her eyes. It was so much easier to lie that way. “Nothing important.”

  Mike’s sigh blew over her face. “Reagan, you have much to learn about us.”

  The constant pinching of his fingers subsided only to be replaced by a sharp bite on her left nipple.

  Her eyelids flew open. “Owww.”

  “Ssssh. It’s a clamp. And Quinn’s being gentle. Breathe.” Mike moved behind her.

  Breathe. She gulped in air and looked down, mesmerized, as Quinn adjusted the tweezer-like clamp over her nipple. The device’s rubber-coated ends squeezed the red bud so it resembled a juicy berry.

  Quinn pulled another clamp from his jeans pocket.

  But the first was still hurting! “Noooo.”

  “Quiet.” Mike reached around and spanked the top of her mound, right over her clit.

  She gasped. Ripples of pleasure flowed through her pussy. Maybe he’d smack her again if she—

  “Ahhh.” Another bite. Her right nipple. She lifted her head, pleading with her eyes.

  Her demon Dom laughed. “Sugar, that’s a gorgeous look on your face.” He stepped back, admiring his handiwork.

  And she’d hoped for mercy?

  “Damn, her nipples were made for clamps.” Mike lifted his arms around her and held her breasts high, kneading more blood into their softness. The hard throb of each nipple now beat in time with the demanding pulse in her clit, a sensuous erotic rhythm designed to make her dance to the tune only these men could orchestrate.

  And her plan had been to outfox them? Jesus.

  She felt the heat of Quinn’s stare long before she looked up. When their gazes met, she could only blink, caught in the power, the confidence, of his whole being. This was a leader, a man who never took a step back, and he had her right in his sights.

  She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth.

  Once more he delved into his front jeans pocket before withdrawing a small ring, kind of like a sleeper earring. Before she could see better, he squatted down in front of her, his head level with her pussy.

  Mike pushed the flat of his hand against her lower stomach, forcing her back against him and the obvious hardness in his groin. His other arm rested just under her breasts.

  Held in check by Mike, any chance she had of watching Quinn was impossible. Would he go down on her? What was that metal ring?

  A puff of warm air served as her only warning before Quinn’s mouth captured her clit.

  “Oooooh,” she moaned, her hands gripping the chain as he sucked the bundle of nerves deep into his mouth. All too soon he let go with a pop.

  She blinked. What was that? Pressure built. Something tugged on the skin above her clit. Not pinching exactly…but she could feel everything around her clit—the movement of air, the warmth of Quinn’s breath. She felt exposed, open.

  “What have you done?” She gasped, twisting against Mike’s body. The chain clanked above her, but his hold was too firm. Her heart rate spiked.

  “Mike, if you think her nipples look great in clamps, you should see her hood.”

  “What the hell?” she cried.

  The air from Quinn’s chuckle wafted over her pussy, tickling the throbbing bundle of nerves like a flurry of microscopic licks. “Her clit’s red and shiny. I could reach out and pinch it between my fingers.”

  “I want to see.” Mike trailed a hand across her back and then down over her hip as he stepped to the front, maintaining contact at all times.

  She couldn’t help but stare at the fierce possessiveness in Mike’s eyes as he gazed at her pussy. He breathed deep, his nostrils flaring. “Oh, sweetness, you’ll be wearing clamps a lot more in the future.”

  They had a future? God, she wanted one with them, but there was so much to sort out.

  Quinn stood up, lifting and squeezing her breasts with his firm, work-tough hands. “It would be more fun if we clipped a chain between your clamps and joined that to your cuffs, but we’re trying to go easy on you tonight.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  His jaw hardened. She guessed not.

  “Remember how Mike told you I was a breast man?” He bent down, rasping his tongue over the point of one throbbing nipple. Once, twice, three times.

  She trembled under the sensation, shaking the chains above her head. Just breathe.

  At her side, Mike settled his hand over her pussy, resting it there in an act of sublime torture. “I wonder what’s so bad you won’t share it with us. You have a dark secret? A hidden lover?” He pressed harder, his palm grazing over her clit ever so slightly.

  A flurry of delicious sparks raced over her pussy. With the hood pulled back, every sensation was magnified, its power devastating.

  She pressed her mouth tight. A few more rubs of his hand and she’d be so close to obtaining an orgasm it wouldn’t matter.

  “Still holding out?” Mike’s sigh sounded full of regret. “Don’t say we didn’t give you a chance, sub.” He stepped away and headed toward the table.

  She twisted her head to the side, wanting to see what he had planned.

  Quinn had other ideas. Grasping her chin in his hand, he kissed her with the force that left her reeling—literally. She swayed back, only to fall forward as his arm came around her, pulling her close to his chest.

  The contact against him jarred her nipple clamps, sending a burning jolt across her chest. She squealed. Under his mouth it sounded more like a moan of pleasure, which seconds later proved true as the fire-tinged trail circled her nipples before flowing down through her chest and out over her body.

  Maybe it was the feel of his muscled arms surrounding her or the way his leg pressed against her clit, but she soon joined in his kiss, her tongue dueling with his as they tasted and sipped each other.

  She tried tilting her head, attempting to get a better angle. He gripped her chin tighter, refusing to allow her any advantage. At last, he released her mouth to kiss along the side of her jaw.

  “I can’t wait to hear you beg, sugar,” Quinn whispered in her ear.

  A cold wetness pressed at her back entrance.

  “Mike!”

  “A plug, sweetness. The biggest you’ve had so far.” Mike’s hand clamped on her hip, holding her in place as he pushed the invader deeper into her passage. “Breathe in and relax your spine. You can handle this.” He twisted the plug, coaxing the muscles to open with each relentless push. Nerve endings stirred to life. Her mouth opened, but she made no sound as a volley of sensations overtook her
initial objections.

  “That’s it. Breathe. Don’t fight Mike.” Quinn’s hand moved from her chin to her pussy. The sure fingers dipped between her lips, sliding moisture over her clit, but never hard enough to bring any real satisfaction. Like a fleeting kiss from a stranger, his fingers moved on, plunging into her vagina, curling to stroke her special spot before sliding up over her labia and around her clit.

  Pressure built around her sphincter. She arched her back. In one last push, Mike forced the plug past the tight ring of muscles. She panted at the immense feeling of fullness. Her body wasn’t so shy as the muscles deep inside gripped the plug, fighting Mike as he dragged it out a couple of inches before sliding it back.

  Quinn strummed his finger on her clit, over and again. She was the string on a guitar he played at his lazy whim.

  A low whine started at the back of her throat, rising in volume as Mike quickened his thrusts with the plug. Shudders raked over her body as the twin sensations of Quinn teasing her clit and Mike dominating her ass converged, forming one giant wave of pleasure.

  So close. Just a few seconds more.

  “Tell us.” Mike drew out the plug, keeping barely an inch inside her tight ring.

  “What?” Then her brain switched back into gear. Darcy. “No.” She licked her lips. “Please, don’t stop.” She thrust back on the plug, but Mike pulled away in time. Frustration washed over her in cold waves. She wanted to kick and scream at the men. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, ran down her cheeks.

  Quinn’s finger circled her clit, his fingernail grazing the bundle of nerves. “Just a few words and then you can come. Why fight us?”

  God, he made it sound so easy.

  She shook her head, but nothing was clear any more. Lust blinded her to logical reason. She wanted, needed, to come. Only Mike and Quinn could make that happen.

  “Please. Please, let me come.”

  “Tell us, Reagan. Who was in the restroom with you?” Mike slid the plug in just a couple of inches, not enough to count. He twisted the plug, rubbing against skin covered in nerve endings that sizzled under such stimulation.

  Quinn thrust two fingers deep inside her vagina, stretching her as the plug pushed inside. “You’re so close to experiencing both us of at the same time. My cock in your cunt. Mike’s in your ass. Imagine how we’d stretch you, fill you up. One thrusts in while the other draws out.” They now timed their movements to mimic Quinn’s words. In. Out. In. “Our cocks will be bigger, stretching you like never before. There won’t be a part of you that won’t feel us. You’ll scream as you come.” He curled his fingers over her G-spot, allowing her a mere fraction of stimulation before pulling away.

  So, so close. Her legs shook as her lungs burned.

  Her tears wet her face, dripping off her chin.

  “I c–can’t. Please.”

  “Tell us, Reagan.” Mike kissed her ear as he thrust the plug harder, faster.

  She was sinking. The lure of pleasure dragged her under, smashing her resistance like a wooden ship thrown against the rocks of a craggy shore.

  “I—” She broke off, sucked in a breath.

  Quinn pinched her clit.

  She crumbled.

  “Darcy. It was Darcy,” she screamed, throwing back her head.

  Quinn pressed his thumb to her clit and thrust two fingers inside, stroking there two, three times. “Come for us, sub.”

  She climaxed with such force her body shook as she dangled from the chain. The muscles in her back passage clamped around the plug, sucking it deeper as Mike attempted to pull out.

  His rumbling laugh flowed over her like a velvet dark river, covering her with its richness. “Feel that? Imagine that as my cock. You gripping me so tight, I can’t pull out.” He pushed hard, twisting the plug, sending a raft of sparks along her passage and up her spine.

  Quinn softened and slowed his strokes, settling her down as her breathing caught up with her need for air. His fingers slid from her core, sending tremors fluttering in their wake.

  More shudders converged as Mike removed the plug. She smelled the scent of baby wipes a second before he wiped her back entrance.

  With her eyes shut, she became aware of their bodies brushing against her naked self, the fabric of their clothing—the roughness of denim as opposed to the comfy softness of a cotton T-shirt—adding another layer of stimulation.

  She opened her eyes in time to see Quinn wipe away the hair stuck to her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek, over her mouth. His lips quirked. “Hold your breath, sugar.” Tapping the tip of her swollen left nipple, he squeezed the end of the clamp.

  There was no preparing for the searing throb as blood flowed to her nipple. “Oh, heck.” She panted through the burn and felt her eyes go wide as his fingers trailed over her skin to her right breast.

  “Breathe in.” With a pinch, the remaining clamp came off. More throbbing. Quinn gently licked over each tender bud, leaving a wetness that cooled in the cabin’s air, adding a delicious contrast from the heat of her skin.

  “One more to go.”

  Holy hell. The hood clip.

  Quinn stepped away, making room for Mike. She caught a glimpse of evil merriment in his eyes before he dropped down before her. He gripped her hips, keeping her steady, and his prisoner.

  She held her breath, waiting.

  The soft lick to her outer labia was unexpected. A nip followed, then another lick. Her muscles loosened as he continued to taste on her pussy lips. His tongue edged closer to her clit, circling the swollen bundle. Each flick of his tongue jiggled her clamped hood, firing off a burst of pleasure so intense she gasped. Then he took her clit, hood and all, into his mouth and sucked hard.

  “Eeeeee.” She squeezed her eyes shut, rising up on her toes. The walls of her vagina quaked as a sharp throb of pleasure shot out from her clit. The pressure of her release rolled closer and closer, gaining in strength and speed until it erupted in one giant climatic explosion. Her limbs shook. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face. Her plump hood pressed on her already sensitized clit, making everything seem bigger, closer than ever before.

  Mike kissed the still-pulsing hood before leaving a trail of kisses over her mound. He tightened his grip on her hips as he launched to his feet. Standing in front of her, he pulled the small gold ring-shaped clip out of his mouth before placing it in his back pocket.

  Warm hands palmed her face, holding her head steady. Those mocha-colored eyes held hers spellbound as his thumbs brushed her cheeks. “Who’s Darcy?”

  The ground opened up underneath her. She could feel herself falling. Down. Down.

  Her mouth opened. She knew she formed words but none sounded past her lips.

  “Take a breath, Reagan. No, don’t look away.” His grip tightened, holding her head still.

  Quinn stepped behind her, his arms molding themselves around her waist, drawing her against the solidness of his body.

  Even in her captivity, she couldn’t mistake the comfort of his nearness.

  A sense of rightness overwhelmed her. These two men had fought her for the truth, refusing to let her hide behind her fear, knowing she could hate them for doing so. And yet they’d persisted.

  It was time.

  “She’s my past.” She blinked away a sudden rush of tears. “My ugly past.”

  “Keep going,” Mike urged.

  “Darcy was”—she swallowed—“she was everything I wasn’t. Tall, cute, s–skinny.” More moisture gathered at the corner of her eyes. She ignored it. “In school, she teased me.” Relentlessly. “Called me names. Got her friends to join in.” Fat ass. Fat ass. “I hated gym.” There were always taunts and stares in the locker room. And then the cruelest prank of all, the paper sign taped to her back. Fat and lonely. Date a loser. In blissful ignorance, she’d worn it for an hour the week before the spring dance, ridiculously happy to see boys smiling at her. Then she’d met up with Purdy for lunch. The sound of her friend’s horrified gasp would stay w
ith Reagan forever.

  “Darcy Richards is a member of one of King’s Bluff’s oldest families. Spoiled. Her father chased my mom. Consequently, his wife and daughter hated Mom.” She paused, took a breath. “And me.”

  “What did Darcy say to you that day at the diner?” Quinn’s deep voice cushioned against her ear as he reached up and unclipped her cuffs from the chain. Gently he lowered her arms so her cuffed wrists rested over one of his arms that still curved around her waist.

  Reagan sniffled, ignoring the tingles as Mike massaged her limbs. “She insinuated Dad was a killer. Took delight in pointing out he had no alibi.” A spurt of anger hardened her voice. “And that you guys seemed to be of the same opinion. Darcy asked me why you hadn’t discussed it with me before then.” She sighed inwardly. Probably because they’d known she’d fly off the handle.

  How did she say the next bit? Just blurt it out? They wanted honesty, right?

  With a deep breath, she forced herself to meet Mike’s stare. “When she insinuated you were both biding your time, using me for sex, I,” Just say it. “I let her win.” Let my fears win.

  “You believed her lie.” The anger in Quinn’s voice made her stiffen. Things weren’t that simple.

  “No. It wasn’t her I was listening to.” Here goes nothing. “It was me.”

  “Explain,” Mike ordered in that rough tone that heated her inside.

  “My fears made me panic. Darcy’s accusation was the starter’s gun that got me racing.” Her laugh sounded bitter even to her own ears. “I managed to jump the hurdles all on my own.”

  She closed her eyes to help collect her thoughts. Having the men so close, bracketing her with their strength, empowered her in a way she’d never felt before. Maybe that’s something she should tell them too.

  “Reagan?” Quinn’s tone sounded equal parts warning and prompt.

  She snapped her eyes open, blurting out the words before they stuck in her throat. “I believed I was too fat and ugly to hold your interest.”