He waited for her to adjust, but only for a few seconds before he began to fuck her, his hands cushioning the small of her back. Slaps of flesh echoed against the tiles. She loved that he was getting off on her as much as she was on him. There was such beauty in the give and take of it all. Alexander had always said, “ Ying and yang was made for people like us.” Us.
Her second orgasm came quickly on the heels of the first, this one smaller but deeper, sparked by that thick length pushing and pulling on her insides. She hadn’t let another man inside her this way in two years—not since Steffan, and now she knew why. Why be disappointed when she knew they wouldn’t compare? They might understand her need for dominance, but to be with someone who could give her pleasure and not be submitting to her, but instead matching her, was as rare as a miracle.
Steffan roared into her neck, finding his own release, not requiring her permission. Steffan hadn’t once tried to top her two years ago, yet he hadn’t backed down. They’d worked in concert, pleasing each other, enjoying one another, just as they were doing now.
He eased her legs down and pulled her forward into a kiss.
The three found themselves in her bed, still damp from the shower, bodies moving slickly over one another once more.
Sarah, between them, had her arms around Laurent, her breasts pushed into his shoulder blades. She stroked his cock.
“Hold off for me, yes?” She nipped his ear.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Behind her, Steffan blew a long breath across her neck as he seated his cock inside her again. Despite being on their sides, it was a dominating position, which she balanced by teasing Laurent with slight strokes on his erection. Steffan gripped her hips and yanked her backward, dragging her over his hard length.
“Laurent, turn around.” She released his cock, and he did what she asked. She hitched a leg over his and offered him a breast, which he sucked into his hot mouth. His cock nestled against her belly as he laved one nipple and then moved to the next. She buried her face in all that glorious hair. She inhaled his scent and felt the stretch of Steffan inside her. His lips were on her neck, Laurent’s lips on her breast. Drag and push. Steffan’s cock moved in and out.
She continued to play her fingers lightly over Laurent back until a choked sound came from his throat to accompany the grunts of pleasure as Steffan maintained a rhythmic thrusting.
“Please …” The words formed around her breast as his lips hadn’t left her flesh, his pelvis pitching forward seeking relief. She clucked, and only when his hips stilled did she reach for him. He scooted up so she could grasp a hold of his cock.
“You’d like to come, wouldn’t you, Laurent?”
A frantic longing filled his eyes making him look wild and unrestrained.
“I want to feel you in my hand,” she said. “But keep sucking on me. It pleases me.”
He had drawn up to his knees to keep his cock in her hand and to reach her breast. He managed it. He flicked her nipple, first one and then moving to the other, over and over until she’d hardened into steel points.
She dragged her top leg higher and opened herself more to Steffan. Steffan’s fingers drifted over her ass and under her leg. He found her clit. Let him please me, she thought. Let both of them take care of her needs, one wishing to serve, the other wishing to … what? Did it matter?
With one arm tucked under her head, she leisurely stroked Laurent’s cock, her hands moving up to the engorged head and pulling slightly on the way down. “You’d like to be inside me, wouldn’t you, Laurent? Inside your Mistress?”
He nodded and sucked hard, drawing in her areola, his tongue flicking and circling her nipple, his teeth grazing … Oh, God. Her head fell back. Steffan’s rough five o’clock shadow brushed along her neck, her cheek. Picking up his rhythm, Steffan drove inside, pulled out and slammed back into her. His fingers now plucked her clit like a violin.
While he and Laurent weren’t lovers, it seemed her words to Laurent—you’d like to be inside me, wouldn’t you?—drove Steffan forward, to perhaps claim her? He could try all night, but she’d simply take the pleasure, the scents, the sounds all around her, and enjoy. Her fingers picked up the pace on Laurent’s cock as well, and soon, under Steffan’s talented hand she neared the point of cresting.
“Come for me, sweet Laurent, and let me hear you.” But she only heard herself cry out as wet creamed over her hand and wrist. Steffan’s his hips ground against her ass hard, a tell-tale pulse inside her that said, while the three of them hadn’t come together, they’d been close.
She drifted, aware of Steffan slipping from her and Laurent’s warmth drawing closer. Words were said, but she let them drift over her and then up to the sky.
She opened her eyes to find Steffan propped up on one elbow looking down at her. He tapped her nose.
“Sleep,” he said.
And she did … finally.
25
Her eyes cracked open, blinked at the stripe of sun that streamed across the carpet and ran over her chest. She rolled over—or tried to, as a male body instantly stopped her.
“Morning.” Laurent was up on one elbow, peering down at her. His curls were tossed in random directions. He still looked like a Grecian God.
“Good Morning.” Good, indeed. She’d slept last night—pressed between two warm males—for how long?
“What time is it?” she asked.
Steffan stirred, turned over, his arm pinning her to the mattress. “Afternoon,” he said into her back.
“It’s 1:00 p.m. You were out last night.” Laurent grinned. “And this morning.”
She had been asleep for 16 hours? That couldn’t be. What time had they finally fallen asleep? Who cared? She felt good. Better than good. Great.
“I guess I needed it.”
“You did.” Steffan kissed between her shoulder blades, and she felt his cock pressing between her thighs.
“Mmmm, morning sex in the afternoon,” he said.
“You’re insatiable.”
“You’re a goddess.” Laurent tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“True,” she said and managed to shimmy free and slide over Laurent’s body. It was time to get up, or they never would. His hands dragged over her hips as if to help her, though she noticed he held on longer than he should have. She stepped on a man’s shirt on her way to the bathroom. She gathered it up.
“Didn’t I teach you better than this? This is Armani.” She slung it over her shoulder and marched to the bathroom. She shut the door.
She needed a moment of privacy. Her muscles complained as she did her business. She’d not had that much activity followed by that much inactivity in … ever. After brushing her teeth, she pulled her hair—a total mess since they’d all moved to the bed without drying any part of them—into a messier ponytail. Last night replayed in her brain. Okay, she’d slept with two men—one submissive, one Dominant. The submissive accepted her being in control. The Dominant? Well, he wasn’t controllable, but it had been okay. Oh, who are you kidding? It had been spectacular. At some point in the evening, she’d dissolved into pure feeling, pure instinct, and let them have her. Afterward, she took them, their roles staying defined but blending like a painting. If she could have that all her life …
“Put it into perspective,” she said to her reflection. One good evening did not a life make. They were here for a year. They could explore, enjoy one another. She could take this year as a vacation, of sorts. Vacation. She liked the sound of that.
“Oh, my god. The plane leaves first thing in the morning.” She threw on the men’s shirt balled up on the counter.
She slung open the door to find a smiling Steffan standing there, Laurent hovering behind him.
“I have to pack.” She pushed past him.
“Freaking out?” Steffan asked.
“I don’t freak out. The plane for St. Thomas leaves at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.”
“So?”
“I’ll get coffee
,” Laurent offered.
“Perfect idea,” she said. “There’s a coffee cart downstairs in the bar area. Do you know where that is?”
“I do.” He grabbed his pants.
“You don’t need those,” Steffan began.
“Oh, yes, he does,” she said. “You don’t want anyone to get any ideas, do you?”
Steffan chuckled and stepped aside for Laurent who stuffed his leg into his still damp and wrinkled-beyond-repair pants.
“I’ll pick up some dry clothes for us, too, Steffan. Our locker,” he explained.
“Great idea. Though I wouldn’t mind spending a few days in here.” Steffan eyeballed the bed and smiled. He stood there, tall and nude, not the least bit self-conscious. But then looking like that, why would he? A small pang between her thighs agreed.
She went to her closet, threw off the Armani shirt, and yanked on a robe before the other parts of her body took over.
As soon as Laurent left the room, Steffan moved to her. “Okay, what’s wrong? It’s just me.”
“Why do you think something’s wrong? We had a glorious night together.”
“That.” He pointed at her face. “That right there is what’s wrong. What is with this glorious night bullshit?”
“Disappointed in last night?”
“Not in the least. In fact …” He pulled her into him.
“Like, I said, insatiable. You two are coming, right?” she asked. “To Alexander’s party?”
“Hmm, if reliving last night is on the auction block? Sold.”
She placed her hands on his pecs and looked up at him. “Good. Now I have things to do, like figure out what I’m wearing for five days in the heat and humidity.”
He ran a finger over that soft spot over her clavicle bone, and an involuntary shudder threatened her ability to say ‘no.’ She had dry cleaning to retrieve, messages to return, luggage to inspect.
“What’s going on in that beautiful head?” he asked.
“I can’t remember where I put my bathing suit.”
“Wear nothing. It’s your best look.” If he didn’t stop that infuriating caressing …
“I’d say it’s yours, too.” She held out her hand to stop him from advancing on her. “Okay, let a girl do what she’s gotta do.” She stilled. “What?”
“I’ve never heard you refer to yourself as a girl before, but it fits, and take that in the best way possible, Sarah Marillioux,” he admonished.
She laughed lightly. “I will if you find Laurent and make him hurry back with that coffee.” She turned him and pushed him toward the door. “Then go home and pack. You will need your passport. The plane leaves from Entry Point One at 6 a.m. for Regal. We can’t be late.”
“Am I supposed to know what Entry Point One means?”
“No, I’ll have a car pick you and Laurent up at 4 a.m. It’s Alexander’s party, and you know what a stickler he is for getting what he wants.”
“So are you apparently. I’ll book the car.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So, where do Laurent and I show up later? Here or at your home?”
“My home.” My, how quickly she said that. Well, it made sense for the car to pick all three of them up from one address. So they’d have another night together—not a hardship. “I’ll text the address.”
“I already have it.” He shrugged. “Hey, no pout, you had mine, plus my entire history in that Accendos folder.”
She laughed. “Touché.”
He left her but not until kissing her until she almost asked him to stay. She did let him go, of course. She was willing to play with them, but not completely lose herself. She could do this—for a little while. To have two gorgeous men in the Caribbean? As Steffan had said, sold. She couldn’t remember the last time she had one in her life beyond a night. Now, she had two.
26
Air conditioning was a crime in the tropics. Why bother being in St. Thomas if she was going to sit in recycled, reconditioned air? Hot weather meant she could be deliciously nude—as she had been all afternoon. They’d arrived at Regal Resorts in one of Alexander’s private jets—Alexander, she, Steffan and Laurent, along with Jonathan and Christiana. The young woman finally relaxed with every mile put between them and Washington, D.C. Sarah, herself, had blissfully curled into one of the over-sized recliners on the plane while Laurent kneaded her feet. Steffan had sprawled on the opposite side and regaled her of tales of summers in his family’s cottage on Gotland where apparently half of Sweden goes when “worshipping summer” as he put it. She understood the delight in his eyes at talking about warmer weather when one is so tired of boots, coats, scarves—and in the Swede’s case—a lack of sunlight.
Now the sun hung low over the Caribbean water, red, orange and yellow bands growing more pronounced in the fading blue sky. She curled her fingers around the brass railing of their balcony and forced herself to acknowledge all this was real.
A warm male body pressed against her back. “Spectacular view.” Steffan’s arm went around her, his other hand holding up a flute of orange juice.
“It is.” She accepted the offered glass.
“The ocean and sky are nice, too.” He nipped her shoulder.
She took a sip of the drink. “A mimosa?”
“I know how you like champagne, and getting enough Vitamin C is important.”
“Where is Laurent?”
“Still asleep. I do believe we wore him out.”
“Well, there was no time like the present to get started.” A loud slap and moan echoed underneath their balcony. “Everyone else is.”
Last night they’d had another evening of sex at her home, and then as soon as they’d arrived, she’d tied Laurent’s wrists to the bedposts and proceeded to have sex with Steffan on the dresser facing the end of the bed. The large mirror over the bureau allowed him to see everything—front and back, and while she hadn’t believed she possessed an exhibitionist streak, she did like seeing Laurent’s eyes fire as she watched him over Steffan’s shoulder. Afterward, she let Laurent have a taste of her while fisting his own cock to completion—on his knees in the shower.
“So this weekend will be nothing but debauchery and pleasure?” he asked. “Sounds like Laurent and I are going to enjoy our Accendos membership. It seems the entire club has moved here.”
“It has, but now we have to get to Alexander’s cocktail hour. We missed his opening lunch—”
“I missed lunch?” Laurent yawned and stepped out onto the balcony, fully nude.
“Don’t worry, there’s an open buffet 24/7 by the pool. No one will go hungry this weekend.”
He grinned at her and squinted out over the water. “Wow. I say we never go back to Sweden.”
“And give up those days of no sunlight and eight feet of snow?”
“Sadist,” Laurent said.
A loud knock sounded at the door.
“You won’t go hungry today,” Steffan strode through the balcony door. “I ordered you one of everything on the menu while you were out.”
“The man secretly loves me, what can I say?” Laurent shrugged.
Of course he did, and not so secretly. Steffan was physically comfortable with another male in a way that so many American men were not. He and Laurent exchanged touches with no hesitation, though she hadn’t seen them have sex. She wouldn’t mind watching them if they chose to. In the meantime, she was going to have to keep a close eye on Laurent who’d enchanted the front desk, the bellman, and everyone else he encountered from the time he got on the plane until he’d walked in the door to their room.
She stepped inside to find Steffan laughing at something said by the dark-skinned woman who pushed the tray closer to the center of the room. “Beautiful Madras.”
The woman’s smile revealed white teeth against her dark skin, clearly delighted by his reference to her dress. He had a way with people—like Laurent, but different. Steffan noticed everything about them, seemed generally interested in them.
Her admiration fo
r these two men had moved into an entirely different realm. She felt her heart edging closer to a tipping point.
“May I take you to breakfast, Mistress?” Laurent presented his elbow, as both of these men did so often for her.
“Breakfast?”
“It’s Steffan’s favorite meal of the day. He’ll eat it anytime.”
Those two really did know each other well.
She took his arm. “Laurent, after we eat, what do you say the three of us head down to the beach? Alexander won’t mind if we miss this cocktail thing. The sunset will be beautiful to watch.”
“I’d love it. Steffan is ‘okay’ in the water.”
He laughed. “Okay, my ass.”
The man hadn’t been kidding. He’d ordered one of everything, so she did something she hadn’t in years. She had a little bit of everything from all the plates—pancakes in warmed syrup and fresh blueberries, an egg-white omelet with Gruyere cheese, mushrooms, and chives, and Laurent fed her strawberries as she sipped a third Mimosa.
Even as her belly finally groaned in protest, she still found room for a few bites of a beignet, where she ended up wearing half the powdered sugar. Steffan kissed off the white dust on her lips and chin and poured her yet another Mimosa. She finally had to cry uncle.
“I’m afraid I won’t fit into my bathing suit,” she said.
“You brought a suit?” Steffan’s horror made her laugh. His surprise wasn’t unwarranted. Derek had closed the resort to anyone other than his and Alexander’s guests, and Regal Resort’s beaches were closed to the public.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Steffan said. “I haven’t swum with a suit in years.”
“I haven’t swum in years.”
Both men looked at her aghast. “Get ready to end that record.”
Laurent stood. “Mistress Sarah, will you do us the extreme honor of accompanying us to the beach and oversee my first swim in the Caribbean Sea?” He extended his arm once more. She really could get used to this escort service.
Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Page 14
