Good Kitten [Stocoma City 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Fel Fern

  “Nice, man,” Rafe dryly remarked.

  “Okay.” Ragan took a deep breath. “One scene.”

  Chapter Four

  Ragan got off Carter’s lap so the werebear could stand. He settled to the plain chair at the corner of the room, unobtrusive, but his presence gave her confidence. They quickly discussed limits and her safe word, and she found talking helped.

  She nearly jumped when Scott walked behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. When he did nothing but massage them, she relaxed. “You’re so tense, little sub, but given the circumstances that’s acceptable.”

  Rafe gave her an appraising look, from top to bottom, making her insides quiver. “You’re overdressed in my opinion, sub. Scott?”

  Scott eased the robe from her, his gentleness surprising her. He kissed the tops of her shoulders, ran a possessive finger down her spine.

  “Assume position,” Scott commanded. His voice had gained a hard and commanding edge, a contrast to his actions.

  Ragan remembered to muster some grace before falling to her knees. Ragan knew they had seen her in a number of compromising positions—bound, helpless, and vulnerable. Still, the way Rafe and Scott circled and appraised her made her feel something she had not felt in ages. Discomfort and pure undiluted excitement mingled in a confusing mess, making her entire body feel heated and hyperaware.

  Rafe nudged a foot between her knees, opening them wider so they could get a better view. Moisture flooded into her pussy at the simple gesture.

  “Clasp your hands behind your neck.”

  Ragan’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she obeyed, keeping her gaze lowered.

  “Such pretty tits. The right size, too, right Scott?” Rafe asked. He fingered the ends of the barbell pierced into her left nipple, before pinching the tip, sending a slight tingle of delicious pain through her. Rafe did the right, until both ends peaked.

  “Perfect to hang weights or clip delicate clamps,” Scott agreed.

  Every private room in Collision had an assortment of toys hanging on the wall. Scott walked to the selection and picked a pair of nipple clamps strung together on a thin chain. Her breath hitched when he returned and clipped both ends to her sensitive tips.

  “Don’t move. Good girl.” Scott caressed her cheek, and then turned to his partner. “Better?”

  With her spine still arched, her legs spread open, Ragan felt incredibly exposed. Her hands trembled, she tried to close her legs slightly, but Rafe pressed a foot against her thigh and made a tsk, tsk sound.

  “Keep your hands behind your neck. No reason to hide yourself from us, sub.” Rafe gave her a cold disapproving look. “Is this how you behave with other Doms?”

  “No, Sir,” Ragan admitted. Some part of her had disobeyed on purpose, she realized. Maybe wanted a reason to be punished and see how far she could push the two men because her body hadn’t reacted to anyone like this in a long time.

  Rafe fisted her hair and forced her to look up at him, the pain sending a thrill through her. “You like playing games, sub? Do you know what Scott and I do to disobedient little subs like you?”

  She hesitated.

  “Answer him, or your punishment will be worse, sub,” Scott said, crossing his arms, gaze severe.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Then tell me why you tried to hide yourself from us?” Rafe said.

  “I don’t know, Sir.”

  “Liar.”

  “I-I,” Ragan halted, unsure if she wanted to admit the real reason.

  “Perhaps you’re ashamed we’d find out the truth, that you’re embarrassingly wet for us?” Rafe didn’t give her time to answer. “Stand up and show me your hands.”

  She shakily stood, the nipple clamps swaying between her breasts, the slight pain a constant reminder, and extended her hands. A crisscross of pink lines still remained from Carter’s ropes, and her wrists were still attached to the leather-lined cuffs Carter placed there earlier. Scott took a length of chain and clipped the cuffs together, before placing them snugly behind her neck again.

  “Perfect. Don’t you dare close your legs,” Rafe reminded her.

  Ragan let out a breath when he slipped a hand between her wet pussy lips, and showed her and Scott her cum glistening on his fingers.

  “See how wet she is?” Rafe asked Scott.

  Scott chuckled, and the deep rumbling sound of his voice made her shudder. “Dirty girl.”

  “Let’s do this again, sub. I’m giving you another chance to admit your mistake. Did you hide yourself because you were embarrassed?” Rafe aimed his steel blue gaze at her again, his wet fingers, still coated with her cum, hovered inches from her face.

  Ragan leaned forward, despite her bound hands and the clamps, and her tongue darted out to lick at his fingers and taste herself on him. Her arousal.

  “Fuck,” Scott muttered under his breath.

  Rafe stared at her tongue for a few seconds, watching her licking at his fingers. “You want the truth, Sir? I’m not embarrassed, or shy. I did it on purpose.”

  God. She longed for him to touch her again. To feel the rough texture of his large hands—Focus, damn it. As a sub, Ragan had always been on exemplary behavior. Just what was it about Scott and Rafe that transformed her into this wanton, disobedient creature?

  He pulled his fingers away, and for a moment she thought she finally pissed him off. Instead, he took her bound hands and placed them in front of her, then clasped the back of her neck. Rafe towered over her by a head, but he lowered his head and to her shock, began to trace and nibble on her bottom lip. She felt Scott behind him, firmly molding himself against her back. The thought of the two men, still dressed, while she lay naked between them, was an erotic one.

  Scott’s hands wrapped around her body, hands greedily touching her flesh while Rafe continued, prodding her bottom lip with his tongue. She opened her lips for him, and drowned in the overwhelming heat and force of him as he pushed his tongue in. He gripped her hard, until the clamped tits pressed against the hard expanse of his chest. Ragan moaned when he released her lips, and she became aware of his erection pressing against her, and Scott’s against the curve of her buttocks.

  “Turn, sub, so Scott can savor the combined taste of you and me in your mouth.” Rafe gently spun her, so she now faced Scott.

  Scott didn’t waste time. He plundered her mouth, his kiss rougher, harder, dispensing with ceremony. Behind her, Rafe slipped a hand down the curve of her ass. Rafe thumbed the puckered hole of her ass teasingly, before beginning to find her wet pussy lips.

  Scott released her lips for a second. “This is what is going to happen, little sub. For being disobedient, Rafe is going to push you to the edge, but you don’t have our permission to come. Once he’s worked your body, we’re going to drape you over the couch, and you’re going to take twenty blows of the paddle. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Ragan whispered.

  Scott took her lips again, while Rafe began to stroke her, back and forth, gaining speed before slowing down again. True to Scott’s word, Rafe stopped when the pressure building inside her hovered to the brim, but not enough to tip her over. Scott released her. Ragan panted, letting out a frustrated sound that made Scott laugh.

  He released her clamps, and she gasped at the sudden flood of sensation. Scott teasingly pinched her clit, and she nearly came, but Rafe banded his arm around her waist and squeezed the nape of her neck.

  “Remember, sub. You don’t have the permission to come. Now drape yourself on the sofa and offer your ass to us, and remember to spread your legs,” Rafe warned.

  Ragan nearly stumbled when he released her, but Scott caught her and led her to the couch. She bent over, arms still bound, the leather cool against her forehead. Ragan tensed when she felt a hand on her ankle, but someone rubbed at her left ass cheek in reassurance.

  “Just cuffs, kitten,” Scott assured her.

  Ragan relaxed, and let Rafe finish putting the cuffs on her ankles, then the spreader bar
. With her ass exposed to the air and their scrutiny, she felt incredibly exposed and aroused. Worse, her pussy lips felt swollen and needy, her clit missing Rafe’s fingers.

  “We’ll do twenty for now. You think you can handle that?” Scott took a seat on the couch and gently rested her forehead on his thigh. She saw he had his zipper down, and his cock curved upward, thick, long, and beautiful. Scott gently tugged her hair, looking at her sternly. “Eyes on me, kitten. Your attention span is horrible.”

  She made a protesting sound in her throat.

  “You want this?” Scott asked her mildly.

  Behind her, she felt Rafe rubbing at her ass cheeks. Rafe gently swatted her with the implement, giving her an idea of what he wanted to use. A paddle, she realized, plastic with holes. It would hurt worse than a wooden one, but she knew it would intensify the experience.

  “Yes, Sir,” she mumbled into Scott’s lap.

  He lifted her chin. “Rafe didn’t hear you. I want you to tell us how badly you want my cock while accepting Rafe’s punishment.”

  Her cheeks heated again. Ragan couldn’t remember the last time any Dom made her blush so many times in a single night. “May I suck your cock, Sir, while Rafe punishes me for my impudence?”

  Scott tightened his grip on her hair. Ragan could feel her nipples tightening to points, her cunt incredibly wet and needy. “What do you think, Rafe?”

  “Good enough.” Then the paddle whistled through the air.

  The first smack caught her across the right ass cheek, and the unforgiving second came over her left upper thigh. Ragan groaned. Scott gently guided her mouth to her cock. Finally a chance to hear the gorgeous fiery head Dom moan. Some subs didn’t like giving head, but Ragan enjoyed the task.

  She skipped the prelude of licking and exploring him further, because at this rate, her body wouldn’t last. Ragan licked at the pre-cum gathered at his tip, before wrapping her lips around his length. She gagged at first, distracted by Rafe’s smack, but quickly reoriented herself with Scott’s impressive size.

  “Holy fuck, Rafe. She’s amazing.” Scott’s grip on her hair tightened, and she took him completely in her mouth. He guided her back out. Ragan gasped, bound body jumping in surprise when the edge of Rafe’s paddle hit her pussy. She shook her head, determined to bring Scott to climax. Ragan took him again, rhythmically moving in and out, until he let out a telltale gasp.

  “Swallow, don’t spill a drop.” Scott’s words sounded like a harsh whisper, more than a command. Ragan did, working her throat and jaws as the salty taste of his load filled her mouth. God, she was grateful shifters couldn’t catch anything and were immune to diseases.

  After she finished, she dared to steal a peek at him.

  “Good girl,” he whispered hoarsely. His grip loosened on her hair, but he didn’t let her go. Scott continued stroking her hair, pressing her cheek against the soft fabric of his jeans.

  “Twenty. Fuck that was hot,” Rafe said roughly. Ragan heard the paddle dropping on the floor, and groaned loudly when he fingered her incredibly soaked pussy.

  “Does kitten want me inside her?” he asked.

  “Yes, please, Sir.” Gripping her ass cheeks hard, he entered her in one stroke. Ragan gasped at the fullness of him. Although her ass and thighs still felt the ache of the paddle, her pussy was slick and ready for him.

  “Tell Rafe how you like to be ridden, kitten,” Scott told her. His fingers gently weaving through her hair was a contrast to Rafe’s delicious roughness.

  “Hard. Fuck me hard, Sir.” Rafe smacked her left ass cheek, making her groan into Scott’s lap, and then began to ride her. He gripped her hips, his strokes sure and deep. The couch practically vibrated under the force of his thrusts. Rafe reached for her clit, making her moan and twist.

  “Come for us, kitten. We want to hear your sweet voice.” At Scott’s command, Ragan let out a breathless sigh. Waves of pleasure assaulted her body, the orgasm more intense than she ever felt.

  “Wonderful,” Scott murmured.

  Behind her, Rafe let out a triumphant growl, and finally emptied himself inside her. Vaguely, Ragan felt Rafe cleaning her, and taking off the spreader arm. The next thing Ragan knew, she lay curled up on the laps of both men on the couch, her wrists freed and a blanket wrapped around her. She vaguely heard voices. Carter’s face loomed above her, gently tucking strands of her hair aside.

  “I’ll be outside. Tell me when you’re ready to go home.”

  “We can do that,” Rafe protested. Then he sounded disappointed and a little sad. “No. I guess we can’t.”

  The door closed. Ragan shifted her body slightly, and felt a hand affectionately rubbing at her thigh. She moaned, feeling sleepy, incredibly warm, and good. “Hush, kitten. You’re safe with us.”

  Scott and Rafe said more words in hushed and quiet voices. While she couldn’t make most of them out, the combined sounds of their soothing voices and their touches made her feel safe. Ragan realized she could differentiate their touches now. Scott had slightly longer fingers, and Rafe’s felt slightly rougher and had more scars.

  Ragan wanted to stay that way forever, but what felt like moments later, Scott nudged her shoulder gently. “Time to wake up, Cinderella. It’s past midnight, and your carriage is waiting.”

  She rubbed at her eyes, almost rolled into the floor, but Rafe gripped her arm. “Steady, kitten. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay.” Awake now, Ragan clutched at the corners of the blanket. She dug her toes into the carpeted floor and wondered why the two men looked so miserable and conflicted. They hid it, or tried to hide it, but she could taste the restlessness in their beasts. What could she say for her own conflicted cat? Ragan didn’t want to leave, but if she remained here and asked questions, asked if they would meet again, that would be disastrous for all of them.

  “Carter brought in your clothes. He left them by the table,” Scott said. Ragan walked over to where he directed, and quickly put on her jeans and shirt, aware of the weight of both their gazes.

  That must have been the longest seconds of her life. Each layer of clothing she put on felt like another piece of armor back in place. The armor that made up the public persona of Ragan Vivaldi, faultless, ruthless, and infallible—although none of those qualities had really been her.

  The voice of her father spoke in her head. “In our world, the strong eat the weak, Ragan. If you’re my daughter, you must be strong. Even if you’re not strong, pretend. Pretend and eventually you will be.”

  But Raquel Vivaldi was dead. When Ren came back to Stocoma City, Ragan thought she had her only ally back, but Ren had moved out of the Vivaldi Mansion and started living with his wolf mate. They still met once a week, but it hadn’t been the same. Most of the Vivaldi lions saw Ren and Charity as traitors, and each time she met them, it felt like the ice she walked on became only thinner.

  Rafe and Scott though, they had instantly known, they had sensed her loneliness like bloodhounds. Worse, instead of using her weakness against her, they had been drawn to it. It didn’t take a genius to realize nothing good would come out of this.

  “Kitten,” Scott said tightly.

  Ragan heard his approaching footsteps. He reached out to touch her, but she took a hesitant step back. She heard Rafe coming to Scott’s shoulder, but she already walked to the doorway where Carter waited for her. Ragan berated herself for pausing, and looking at them.

  “I had a wonderful night.” Her tone sounded strained.

  Ragan didn’t think she could move her feet, but thankfully Carter gently took her arm. He tucked her under his large frame, a large and comforting teddy bear. He guided her out the public play areas and out of Collision. Ragan shivered, despite her jacket, realizing with a cringe, she already missed Rafe or Scott’s warmth.

  Out in the car park, she glimpsed Garrett, a grizzly old lion in his late forties and one of her most trusted lieutenants. Garrett finished his cigarette, and Ragan straightened her spine, parting from Carte
r. She ignored the disapproving look Garrett gave Carter, but Garrett had been the better choice among her enforcers. Ragan knew half of her men saw her as a daughter, while the other half wanted to mate her, but at least most of them she could rely on.

  “Thank you for tonight,” Ragan told Carter.

  Garrett growled softly when Carter clasped her shoulder.

  “Give me a call anytime, if you need to talk.”

  Once in the car, Ragan closed her eyes, aware of the leather seats digging into the fresh aches over her ass and thighs. By tomorrow morning, she would hardly feel them. Hell, this must be the only time she ever regretted having a shifter’s fast regenerative abilities. Ragan wanted to wake up in the morning and run her fingers over the welts, the reminders of the only night she would most likely have with Rafe and Scott.

  “You okay, Ragan?” Garrett asked. “You seem different. Well, different than usual.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired,” she effortlessly lied.

  “With your brother’s wedding and all, I need to bring this up,” Garrett began.

  Ragan groaned. She combed frustrated fingers through her hair, remembering how Scott stroked her while she laid her head on his lap, or the way Rafe fisted her hair, so she could look up at him. Ragan swallowed. She tried to snuff the feelings back, because she knew exactly what Garrett wanted to talk about, and she needed all her screws in place.

  “Look, I know you’ve been seeing that giant werebear for years, but he isn’t an appropriate mate for a Vivaldi princess. You have your pick of males from the pride.”

  “I’m not attracted to any of them,” Ragan said bluntly.

  Garrett let out a sharp breath. “I know you have taken some of them to bed when you were younger, but have you really tried looking for a mate?”

  “River or Red haven’t found mates either. Why should I?” she demanded.

  “River and Red are the heads of the pride. With Ren gone, your position is shaky. A mate beside you could strengthen your position.” Garrett took her silence to continue, “Look, Luca and Riso have been asking around, and some of River and Red’s men don’t like their brand of leadership. Since taking charge, deaths of lions have doubled. They’re reckless, but you’re not. You’re careful and calculating.”