SinfullyWicked

by Tina Donahue

  It made Mitch speak harsher than he intended, “Move over, so we can lie down.”

  Connor pushed to his feet and removed his condom, dropping it in a metal container meant to give this space a rustic, Old World look. “Not in here.”

  “Where?” Mitch asked. “Nikki’s tired.”

  She stopped her newest yawn and shook her head. “I’m okay.”

  “Fuck that,” he argued. “You’re as beat as I am.”

  “Then I’ll carry her,” Connor said. “Go on, get out of my way.”

  Mitch finally did.

  His brother removed her collar and lifted her hair, examining her neck, no doubt to see if the leather had harmed her.

  It had not.

  He directed Nikki to drape her arms about his shoulders and fold her legs around his narrow hips. With one forearm beneath her ass and the other wrapped firmly on her waist, Connor carried her to the doorway. Nikki rubbed her cheek against his bristly jaw and ran her fingers through his hair, playing with it as she looked back at Mitch and smiled.

  It pulled him toward her. “Where are we going?” he asked his brother.

  “Follow me and you’ll see,” Connor answered.

  Without hesitation, she cuddled up to him, as though they’d been born for each other and had been doing this forever. Just like in his teenaged dreams.

  Connor warned himself not to make more of this than what it was. A hedonistic weekend spent sating his needs. He’d bury his face in her hair because it felt good, not because he couldn’t resist. He’d lick and suckle her skin for no other reason than that’s what guys did. He’d return her impassioned embrace, figuring she’d expect that from a man she was sleeping with.

  She sighed softly.

  The gentle sound stopped Connor dead, undoing his best intentions, making him powerless to resist the boy still inside, so damn wanting of her. He halted in the middle of the second-floor hall and held her as close as he could.

  “Am I getting too heavy?” she whispered, hugging him in return. “I can walk.”

  She could barely speak. Her words were labored, dulled with drowsiness.

  He wasn’t faring much better. Carrying her down that long flight of stairs had winded him, not that Connor was about to admit defeat or let her go. “Hey,” he panted to his brother, “get the double doors at the end.”

  Mitch remained slouched against the beige silk wall, arms dangling at his sides, a string of condoms hanging from one hand. “There’s two on either side of us. Let’s use one of these rooms before you drop her.”

  “I am too heavy,” Nikki said, uncrossing her ankles.

  “Don’t,” Connor ordered her, then growled at Mitch, “Get the fucking doors.”

  Grumbling, he moved toward them. “That decorator you hired better have put a bed in there big enough for all three of us.”

  “Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

  The custom-made mattress was wide enough for six adults and dressed in snowy white linens. They contrasted beautifully with the sleigh-bed frame, its dark cherry wood polished to a high shine that reflected the rain wiggling down the windows. Positioned around the bed were wing chairs in maroon leather, providing comfortable seating for anyone who cared to observe what went on in this room.

  Connor had designed it for a future graphic novel and film he had in mind, one that’d take place in the present. Modern art on the walls and numerous houseplants—from ferns to a variety of indoor palm trees—gave the place a contemporary feel.

  “Wow,” Nikki mumbled, clearly fighting to stay awake. “Are those chairs…” She didn’t finish.

  “Did she fall asleep?” Mitch asked.

  Felt like it. Her weight had increased exponentially. Connor strained to hold her. “Nikki?”

  “What?” Her body jerked. “What was I saying?”

  “You wanted to know if those were chairs,” Mitch said. “They are. Are you having trouble seeing?”

  “Only when I close my eyes.”

  Connor smiled, unable to help himself.

  Nikki stretched as well as she could given her position. “Are the chairs there for guys to view the show on the bed?”

  Connor’s grin faded. “Not today. I told them to stay downstairs.”

  “’Cause you’re the director.” She rubbed her mouth against his collarbone, a measure of endearment he hadn’t expected and wasn’t sure whether to accept.

  “Sounds like they’re having a great time,” she said.

  The gangsta rap had gotten seriously louder. Female squeals now joined the men’s laughter.

  Mitch closed and locked the door. “Not as good as we will.”

  “You’re sure?” She drove her fingers through Connor’s hair, cupping the back of his head, keeping him to her.

  He wasn’t going anywhere, at least for the rest of this weekend. Didn’t she know that?

  “There aren’t any bedposts to tie my wrists and ankles to,” Nikki said, then paused to yawn long and loud. “Sorry. Isn’t that going to be a problem?”

  “Your inability to stay awake?” Mitch asked.

  “No.” Her laughter was tired and throaty. “The lack of bedposts…if you guys intend to keep me captive so you can take and tame me for your own gratification.”

  “Believe me, we do,” Connor said.

  She nuzzled closer and breathed, “Then you’ll have to tie my wrists to the chandelier.”

  Fashioned to resemble a circle of lilies opened to the sun, it hung over the bed, inviting men to do just as she’d said.

  Mitch headed for the mattress. With Nikki still in his arms, Connor padded across the cushiony carpet to a door on the far left of the room.

  “Aren’t we going the wrong way?” she asked, sounding ready to fall asleep again.

  “Hey,” Mitch called out. “What are you doing?”

  Using his shoulder, Connor pushed the door open and lifted his elbow to flick on the switch. Wall sconces in contemporary designs glowed with honey-colored light, illuminating the bath that was all oatmeal-colored marble and gold fixtures, similar to the others in this place. However, this room was larger than the rest, owning more square footage than any of the houses he and Mitch had lived in with their grandmother.

  Connor carried Nikki to the glass-enclosed shower, roomy enough for four couples to use at the same time.

  The resistance in her muscles told him she’d interrupted her slumber to regard the area. “We’re going to take a shower?”

  “Nope.” Bringing her inside, he put Nikki on her feet. “You’re going to lie down and I’m going to wash you. Take a snooze if you want.”

  Her brows lifted at the marble benches against the walls, an upgrade for the lazy bum who’d originally owned this place. Rumor had it, he considered himself too rich to stand up and wash like the rest of the populace. At least until the market crashed and he lost everything.

  Mitch shuffled inside and shook his head. “The bed’s more comfortable.”

  True, but Connor had so many long-denied fantasies to act out, sleeping wasn’t something he intended to do right now. He put a waterproof cushion on one of the benches and helped Nikki down to it. Without direction, she spread her legs and lifted her arms above her head, offering herself to him.

  For this weekend alone, he reminded himself, even as his cock stiffened and his good intentions crumbled. “If you’d prefer the mattress,” he said to Mitch, “no one’s stopping you.”

  His brother muttered an oath and fell to his knees at her side.

  Nikki made a face at the nasty crack of his bones against marble. “Mitch, you’re tired. You should sleep.”

  He rested his forehead against her thigh. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” She ran her fingers through his tangled hair. “Take a nap on one of the other benches. You can do the back of me once Connor gets through with my front.”

  “That’s the best part,” he griped.

  “And it’ll still be here when you get
up, in every sense of the word.”

  “She’s got a point,” Connor said. “You’re beyond flaccid.”

  Mitch bared his teeth, but did grab another cushion and slung it on the next bench.

  The moment his brother had settled in, Connor went to the control panel. The designer had placed jets at various heights with a variety of flows from brisk to gentle. He selected one that mimicked a soft summer shower, barely stronger than mist.

  Nikki moaned at the heated water drizzling on her. “Oh wow, that feels so good.”

  “Whu?” Mitch asked.

  “She’s talking to me,” Connor said.

  Mitch offered no challenge. His arm hung over the side of the bench, his knuckles resting on the floor, his mouth sagging open in sleep.

  Leaving all of Nikki to Connor.

  She arched her back and stretched, her nipples pointing in his direction. Despite the shower’s humidity and heat, her areolas had constricted. The sign of a woman who was sexually excited.

  Testing her reaction to him, Connor observed her nudity while lathering his hands with magnolia-scented soap. From the moment he’d known she’d be here this weekend, he’d prepared, ordering his crew to stock the toiletries she’d like, along with the chocolate all women craved.

  He went to his knees. Smiling, Nikki reached for him. “No,” he said. “Keep your arms up. I touch you. You don’t touch me.”

  “Not touch you?” Her hand hung in the air between them, her fingers poised near his diamond stud. “For how long?”

  Damn if he knew…until he was sated? When that would be was anyone’s guess. “Just do it, Nikki. This is my show.”

  “I won’t disappoint you, Connor. I swear.” She dragged her arm back to where it had been and lay before him. A female feast of dewy, flushed skin and rounded contours.

  He wasn’t certain what to cleanse first. Her nipples, breasts, cunt and mouth all begged for his attention. “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “Why?”

  He leaned so close the tips of their noses just about touched. Her breath was hot against his lips. It took a colossal effort of will not to kiss her, but he managed. “Slaves don’t get to ask that question. Just do it.”

  She did not. “Is that what I am to you? A pretend slave?”

  Her question caught Connor off guard, rattling him, demanding he open his heart to her as Mitch had done. He pulled back and frowned. “If I get this lather in your eyes, it’s going to sting, all right?”

  “With me buck-naked, you’re going to wash my face? Why?”

  Too much glitter still hid her freckles and he needed to see them. He wanted her to look as she had when they’d first met. Fresh faced and guileless. Not that he was willing to tell her that. “If that junk you’re wearing gets in your eyes, it could scratch them. Then we’d have to take you to the ER, they’d put a patch over your eye and the rest of the weekend would be—”

  “Do it,” she interrupted, squeezing her lids.

  He smiled at how uptight she looked, and the fact that she didn’t want to leave any more than he did…unless she was worried about losing the gig and payment. Telling himself that was certainly a possibility, Connor pushed aside tenderness and went for cold, hard lust. He removed the remaining feathers from her face and soaped off the glitter, using a hand sprayer to rinse the bubbles away.

  When he got to Nikki’s mouth to scrub it clean of lip gloss, she sucked his soapy fingers inside and made an immediate face.

  He suppressed a smile. “Tastes like shit, doesn’t it?”

  She spoke around his fingers, “I’ll survive.” She sucked him deeper.

  Just like the Nikki of old might have done. Unnerved and yearning, he rested his free hand on her breast, then her pussy, then back to her breast, not certain what to enjoy. At last, he settled on her cunt, soaping her there, his forefinger following the length of her cleft, the seam between her vaginal lips, the rise of her clit.

  “Ahhhh.” Eyes still closed, she spit out his fingers and dug her nails into his wrist. “Not there. Not yet.”

  “And if I insist?”

  She blinked rapidly to see past the water beaded on her lashes. “You’ll be giving me an orgasm without getting one of your own. I’ll fall asleep. You’ll have to wait.” She gave him a knowing look. “How fair is that when I’m willing to wash you, then crawl over every millimeter of your body?”

  “Willing?” he asked.

  “Eager,” she amended.

  Sounded like a plan. He rinsed the soap from her cunt, lathered his hands again and drew them down the insides of her arms. Nikki’s delicate nostrils widened slightly with her sharp intake of air. “Do you always use magnolia-scented soap?”

  Connor’s hands stalled just above her breasts. He lied, “Sure. When the ladies from the club come here to be in my films, they always ask for it.”

  “No kidding?” She regarded him for a long moment. “The soap’s hard to get. It’s not the most popular of fragrances.”

  He cursed the rush of heat in his cheeks, his trembling hands. He fondled her breasts, pushing bubbles this way and that over her nipples. “I’ve had no complaints or trouble buying it.”

  Nikki asked nothing more. She seemed content to know he’d lied, enjoying how he soaped her boobs for a good five minutes, then propped her calf on his shoulder so he could wash the back of her leg right up to the furrow between her cheeks, her anus. Her mouth fell open.

  “Hey,” Mitch said. “That’s my part.”

  Connor glared at his brother. Didn’t stop him. Revived by his catnap, Mitch crawled across the damp floor, water plopping from the ends of his hair, nose and chin. “Move over,” he ordered. “My turn.”

  “There’s enough for everyone,” Nikki breathed.

  Mitch sat on his heels, his hands on his thighs. “Oh brother.” He spoke to Connor. “Think her head’s getting too big?”

  “Not nearly as big as the two of yours,” she said.

  “That’s it. She needs to be spanked. Come on,” Mitch said to Connor, “help me turn her over.”

  Nikki managed to do it all by herself. “Have at it.” She bent her knees and lifted her ass.

  Connor leaned against the bench, watching his brother bathe, not punish her. Mitch made certain not to miss a spot, particularly between her legs. By the time he was finished, Nikki was moaning in delight and Connor was ready to collect on her promise.

  He smacked her ass with the palm of his hand, ignoring her startled gasp, “Wash me. Crawl over every millimeter of me.” To show her what he wanted, Connor lay on the shower floor, arms and legs flung out.

  Strands of sodden hair clung to her cheeks and throat. It took Nikki two tries to pull in a decent breath and more than that to roll off the bench. Her upper lip scrunched at her hip hitting the wet floor.

  “Don’t break anything,” Connor advised, “or we’ll have to take you to the ER.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she complained, then frowned at Mitch as he handed her the soap.

  “I’m next,” he said, then lay beside Connor, mirroring his position.

  Nikki tapped her finger against her bottom lip as she regarded them both.

  “What are you waiting for?” Connor asked.

  Mitch groaned. “Has she fallen asleep again?”

  She kicked his foot. “I’m trying to decide what I want to do first.”

  “Start at my cock, move to my balls, rinse and repeat several times and we’re good,” Connor advised.

  “If that’s what you want.” She didn’t bother to lather her hands. Instead, she leaned over him, pressing her face in his pit.

  He flinched. “What are you doing?”

  “Smelling you.”

  Huh? “Why?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” She moaned as much as she had during her many orgasms, rubbing her nose in his underarm hair as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Had she done this with all the other guys she’d been with? Was it some
thing Ty had taught her?

  She shivered with pleasure, then leaned past him and did the same to Mitch. Only a gazillion dollar lottery winner could’ve grinned harder than his brother.

  Nikki wasn’t through. Scooting down, she pressed her face into Connor’s groin, smelling that hair, clearly loving it. She lifted his cock but didn’t take him into her mouth. Instead, she focused on his balls, tonguing the hair-roughened sac, lapping it with obvious pleasure that had him sputtering incoherently. And then she sucked his right nut inside her mouth.

  Holy motherfucking shit. Connor’s legs shot out at the sensations rocketing through him, his toes curling, splaying, then curling once more. He pulled on the ends of his hair, trying to withstand the extraordinary feeling of heat she generated within him. He didn’t want to climax in the air, free of her sheath or mouth.

  Nikki seemed to understand, stopping before he got too close to the edge. Not that she was finished. She gave his other ball the same amount of attention, this time combing her fingers through his pubic hair as she did so.

  He was a sorry mess, gasping for oxygen, as she moved to his brother, lapping his testicles, taking one in her mouth.

  “Uh-uh, no,” Mitch warned, sounding like a man in serious carnal pain as he fought to resist. “Stop. Now.”

  “Better do what he says,” Connor panted, “or your next orgasm is history. Right, Mitch?”

  He was gasping too hard to speak, but he hadn’t come.

  Obediently, Nikki backed down, no longer trying to arouse them with her mouth. Her hands did a fine enough job. Connor’s shoulders and spine kept bumping the unforgiving marble as she lathered his groin, balls and still-erect cock with oatmeal soap rather than the magnolia-scented one, fondling his rod a bit too long before rinsing him clean. Turning away from his trembling body, she next tended to Mitch. He alternately gasped and swore, then went quiet.

  Nikki asked, “Did you guys fall asleep on me?”

  Connor grunted. Mitch faked a snore.

  She purred, “Guess we’re through here.”

  Connor caught her wrist to keep her from leaving. Giving him a smug smile, Nikki straddled his hips and lifted her ass, making both of her openings available. It didn’t take a genius to know what she had in mind. Mitch had already tuned in on her wavelength.