She rose. “Only if you bring the champagne with you.”
“Done and done.” He pulled the bottle out of the ice bucket. “To hell with the shrinkage in front of my Mistress,” Laurent called and raised the bottle.
She burst out laughing. “We’ll reverse it later.”
27
Laurent whooped and threw his entire body into the small wave.
“You have to forgive him,” Steffan said, propped up on one elbow. “He’s reliving his childhood summers in Barcelona. The water’s a little cold in the North Atlantic for his taste.”
“Come on, you two. Get in here,” Laurent called.
Steffan waved to him.
“There isn’t a negative bone in that man,” she said absentmindedly. She leaned back against the cushion of the chaise, feeling the sun beat down on her nude body. She’d let her gossamer sarong with the bright green and yellow hibiscus flowers fall open, and the ends now teased the sides of her legs in the slight breeze.
“He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” Steffan said.
“You’re easy with him. But not lovers,” she said. “You’re unusual, Steffan Vidar.”
“I’m Swedish. Americans are too uptight about gender roles.”
“I have to agree, but some of us do find our way,” she said.
“Alexander mentioned you two met in a club long ago.”
“Yes. A horrible little public play space in southwest DC. I’m surprised it stayed open as long as it did. Thank god Alexander opened Accendos.”
“He also said you thought you hurt someone once.”
He did what? Every brain cell shouted in her head. Please, dear God, let this be a slip-up because she was not ready to go there, not when she felt so good.
“I’m just curious about you, Sarah, please don’t take offense. I can’t imagine you hurting anyone. You’re too careful.”
“Why do I feel that’s not a compliment.”
“It’s not meant to be a criticism.” He leaned back himself. “And I want you to know, I trust you. With me. With Laurent. In case there was any doubt.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“I hope you know you can trust us.”
“It’s a little late for this talk, don’t you think?” she laughed, but it meant a lot to her that Steffan had said those words. It might be dangerous, to allow someone to dictate how she felt about herself, but for the moment, the sun was so warm, and with Laurent’s whoops and calls for them to join them … Unhappiness wouldn’t get a toehold in her this weekend.
Steffan stood and held out his hand. “He’s not going to stop, you know. Laurent is as stubborn as we are in getting what we want.”
She rose. She didn’t need to say “no” to something fun to prove she was in control. That had never been her kind of dominance as so many new to the scene did—be contrarian and hard in order to prove they couldn’t be bowled over.
She held his hand all the way into the water. The cold hit her skin, and a hit of aliveness woke her up to the center of her soul. Or perhaps it was the glee on Laurent’s face as Steffan dropped her hand and lurched toward him. The two men sprawled into the waves in an easy, male bonding thing that she’d never understood. Why the need to bash each other to show love? She didn’t need to understand anything right now. Right now, she was happy.
Twenty minutes in the water and she began to fathom the joy she’d seen on children’s faces as they surfed the water.
“Now remember,” Steffan said, “Lie there like a sack of potatoes and let the wave do all the work. You just ride it. You don’t need to swim it. Here comes another. Ready?”
“Okay.” She put her back to the wave to try for the fifteenth time to ride one. She pushed off as Steffan had instructed—right at the point the wave was cresting one foot behind her. Delicious seawater ran through the center of her legs, over her breasts. This time, it floated her forward as if an invisible hand of Neptune himself cradled her in his open palm and delivered her to the beach.
As soon as the motion stopped going forward, she stumbled to her feet and turned. “I did it!” She pushed her way back toward them.
Laurent hoisted her up. “One for Mistress Sarah. Zero for the takedown!” He tossed her into the air and then she was underwater. She came up sputtering—to a horrified Laurent.
“Oh, Mistress I’m sorry.”
She coughed and splashed him. “I’m so going to punish you for that.”
“Promise?” The eagerness in his voice was palpable.
She pushed herself through the water to him and cupped his cheek. “I promise, lovely Laurent.” She kissed him fully and hard. He seemed taken aback at first but then kissed her back thoroughly. He was another good kisser. A wave threatened to destroy their balance, but Steffan’s arms were right there, steadying them. When she released his lips, Laurent’s eyes were ringed with emotion.
“I—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “I know.” They stayed like that, arms around one another, for a few minutes. It was oddly comfortable, being pulled further into the sea and then bobbing up and down in the waves. Steffan tightened his grip on the two of them.
“Did you know that every seventh wave is larger than the other six?” Laurent asked. “Count them. This one was number five,” he said as he bobbed upward, taking her with him.
When another wave took them up, Steffan whispered six in her ear. When the seventh wave took them even higher, all three of them rising in the cold, salty water, she felt a prickle behind her eyelids. She had a curious sensation that she was feeling the earth all around her and its natural rhythm—like ocean waves that followed a pattern. She breathed in, and for the first time in too many months, she felt connected to something—and two someones.
A loud splash and cry from a woman had them turning their heads. Another couple had jumped into the waves together. Spell broken, she suddenly had to pee.
“Well, gentleman, I must run to the ladies’ room,” she said.
“You’re in the ocean,” Steffan said.
“No way. I’ll be right back.”
They may have gotten her into the ocean, but she drew the line at peeing there.
She pushed her way through waves that tried hard to get her to stay and jogged up to grab her sarong—for whatever reason she’d never know. Half the resort walked around nude. The thin fabric clung to her wet body as she forced her sandy feet into her flip-flops and made her way to the ladies’ room by the pool. She was wrong. By the play happening in and around the pool, more like three-fourths of the resort were now fully nude. A volleyball game was in full swing, and in one of the white canvas cabanas, a man had a woman draped over his arm and was delivering a hard spanking.
She found herself alone in the ladies’ room. One look in the mirror and she didn’t recognize herself. Mascara ringed under her eyes, her hair in its inadequate ponytail looked like a drowned rat’s tail. She moved to pull the elastic out and found it wasn’t going to budge easily. Shit, she should go up to her room and put herself back together.
After doing her business—because there was no way she’d make it to her room without doing so—she rounded the corner and ran smack into a wall of Alexander.
“Sarah?” He held her arms, keeping a foot distance between them. She couldn’t blame him. He wore a stunning white linen shirt and khaki pants—the billionaire’s beach look. She’d have gotten him soaked.
“Hi, Alexander.”
His face stretched into a huge grin. “Having fun?”
“Steffan and Laurent insisted I go into the ocean.” She laughed lightly. “Can you believe it? Me?”
“That’s wonderful. I haven’t been in the ocean in years. You may have inspired me.”
“Well if you do, I recommend Steffan’s body surfing lessons.”
Alexanders’ hearty laugh warmed her a little. “I may have to do that. I’m so glad they’re here with you, Sarah.” He leaned down—he was so tall—and said. “I heartily
approve.”
“Don’t read too much into it, Alexander. We finally worked out an arrangement that could work.”
“It’s enough for you?”
“Believe I need more men?”
“If anyone could handle more, you could. Well, I can’t keep my guests waiting any longer.”
“I’m sorry we’re not there, Alexander.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s more important to be where you are. I’ll see you later.” He winked.
Guilt rose up in her. She’d been Alexander’s right-hand person—in a way—for so long; she should be supporting him—not indulging in body surfing and tanning. Here she was acting like an ordinary guest when she wasn’t ordinary. Nothing about her life was. It wasn’t a pretentious thought, but rather the truth. She wasn’t better. She was just more careful.
She headed back to the beach. It was time for them to rejoin the party—the whole party.
28
Sarah stepped up to the mirror as she fastened the long, thin gossamer strand of gold into her ear that teased the tops of her shoulders. Laurent waited for her acknowledgment. Her lashes raised and a relaxed smile played on her lips in the mirror when she saw him.
“Thank you, Laurent.”
He’d brought her the shoes she’d requested—sandals with a lower heel than he’d ever seen her wear, but still a two-inch heel.
“No death heels tonight,” Steffan leaned against the door frame, a formal jacket over his t-shirt.
She smiled over at him, something she was doing more of now on a regular basis. “They don’t go with this dress,” she said. “But I did bring some for later.” She winked at Laurent and his pride swelled.
She’d kissed him today full on the mouth. He’d been stunned by that move, felt his heart move under his chest in a way he didn’t think possible. He was in love with her. Steffan was as well. They could do this, all three of them. Laurent had loved seeing her let go in the ocean today. Hair plastered against her head, her mouth in an “O” as the wave carried her to shore. He wondered what she was like as a young girl—that much vitality now unleashed in girlhood?
Steffan pushed off. “This came,” Steffan said in the doorway, holding out a small cream-colored envelope. Her first initial only - S - was written in an elegant hand across the front.
“An invitation already?”
“Invitation?” Laurent asked.
“Alexander loves the formality of things. I recognize his handwriting.” She walked into the large living area, slitting open the envelope with her nail.
It’s time. For both of us.
“Mysterious.” Steffan read over her shoulder.
“Yes, Alexander loves his mystery.” Her brow furrowed as she placed the note on the coffee table. “Well, ready?”
Laurent glanced at the message. He could only hope what he read meant Alexander was going to finally do what he’d hoped. They were so close, so very close.
29
Sarah nodded at the gentleman dressed in black, wearing a black mask, who held open the door for her. They immediately paused inside the main doorway to Alexander’s official birthday celebration.
“Wow,” Laurent said.
“Alexander certainly knows how to throw a party,” Steffan said.
Sarah smiled at her two dumbstruck males. “He enjoys ceremony and opulence.”
“Master, Mistress.” A statuesque blond woman wearing a slick, red body that upon closer inspection was nothing but body paint, held out a tray of champagne flutes, tumblers, and goblets holding various drinks.
“Something for everyone?” Steffan asked as he plucked a champagne flute off the tray for Sarah and a Scotch—at least he thought it was Scotch—for himself. Laurent waved off the offer of something to drink. From the size of the man’s eyes, the sight before him would capture him wholly in for a while.
The room was actually three ballrooms opened to one another to create one large space. Specially designed furniture, St. Andrews’ crosses, water tanks, and suspension units filled the area, with the hundreds of guests dispersed throughout, some in full play, others in conversation. Two redheaded men, who looked like twins, flogged a man to their left. A man in a tuxedo caressed a woman in suspension to their left.
“Disneyland for the kinky,” Steffan declared.
Sarah laughed. “Care to walk around?”
“Love to.” He took her hand and pulled her close. Laurent fell in step behind them as they traversed the expansive space.
“Derek could hold an event for three thousand people here,” Steffan said.
“Yes, and it’s perfect for three hundred who require a wide berth.”
“Alexander does give quite a nod to the Greek Gods,” he said absentmindedly. Several large fountains with statues of Greek Gods—one placed in every third of the space—lorded over the crowd.
They paused at the first fountain, where a woman was pilloried between two statues of young Greek men facing one another. Each of the statues wore collars with rings dangling from the center like pendants, and the woman’s arms were stretched out, each cuffed wrist hooked to those rings. Her cuffed ankles received similar treatment, spread wide and connected to eyebolts in the base. Her diaphanous dress was soaked and clung to her so Steffan could make out the hard points of her nipples and the delicate folds of her pussy quivering as a man stood behind her, whispering and caressing the shell of her ear. The lightest touches were often felt the most, and when Steffan pulled Sarah a little closer to him, she let him. She trembled slightly, a mix of the sight and Steffan’s hand lazily drawing circles on the curve of her hip.
She peered up at him. “Laurent would look amazing in that position.”
“He would.” He glanced back at his friend close behind them. Steffan nodded once, and Laurent’s body met her back. She murmured at the contact, enjoying his warmth, his smell. She brought Steffan’s hand up to her lips and sucked on the tip of his forefinger.
“Let see what else Alexander has in store for us,” she said.
They walked for many more minutes, stopping occasionally to say hello to a friend but mostly moved slowly from scene to scene, letting the energy seep into them. At each stop, Laurent and Steffan drew her between them, and she relished that maleness engulfing her. The room had grown exceptionally warm, despite the constant air conditioning tumbling over them in a frosty white mist overhead. Sweat, male musk, colognes, and perfumes mixed and mingled and the slaps and delighted moans filled the space until the room was a symphony of pleasure.
Music thrummed from unseen speakers, a mix of electronic chill with enough beat to keep up the energy but enough melody to be pleasing. The thumps of the music coursed through the soles of her feet and up her legs, and she grew impatient watching all this play with Steffan’s warm hand engulfing hers, Laurent trailing behind them.
They stopped at the largest fountain in the middle where a woman lay faced on a spider web of chain links suspended over the largest foundation. Curls of water hit her in various places—her breasts, her legs, and occasionally her pussy.
“Like what you see? I know how you like water,” Steffan chuckled.
“It’s ingenious,” she said. Before she could step closer, a familiar voice called her name.
“Sarah.” Jonathan stood a few feet away. They strode to where he conversed with a couple she didn’t recognize. Christiana was so tightly banded to his side she was surprised not to find a diamond-encrusted leash around his fiancé.
She kissed her stepbrother on the cheeks and gave Christiana a hug. “You look beautiful as always,” she told the young girl, who did who did indeed stunned in a midnight blue bandage wrap dress. So much for her not wanting something tight.
“Thank you. Jonathan picked it out.” She looked up at him and smirked good-naturedly.
“Where’s the guest of honor? I haven’t seen Alexander,” Sarah asked.
“Turn around.” Jonathan inclined his head to a point behind her.
It was th
en Sarah tuned into the tittering all around her. She pivoted in time to see Alexander stripping off his shirt, tossing it to a woman, and walking—shirtless—to the large podium which featured the water torture feature. He couldn’t be. Sarah hadn’t seen him play in years. Yes, that’s right, she thought. It had been years. Why hadn’t she thought to question him why before now?
A man, marked as one of tonight’s slaves by his head-to-toe black clothing and mask, jogged up to the steps, dropped to one knee, and presented a worn, black flogger on the palms of his hands. Alexander peered down at the man, grasped the handle and let the long tails trail over the man’s open palms. The slave shuddered—whether at the sensation or the fact Alexander had caused it, she couldn’t say.
“Thank you, slave,” Alexander said.
The man’s lips parted in pleasure at his acknowledgment.
Alexander didn’t seem to realize he’d attracted a crowd. Instead, he homed in on the woman at the center of the spider web. He circled her until he got to her head. The water jets stopped, the burble of water replaced by the music instead. He crouched and whispered. The woman shuddered, but Sarah caught a slight nod. Whatever Alexander had asked of the woman, she’d given her consent. Alexander held out his hand, and the woman strained to reach out and kiss his knuckles.
Sarah’s foot kicked the base of the bottom step, and she quickly scanned the crowd. She’d unconsciously moved forward until she was the base of the podium, now ringed with observers. Their own play had likely halted the second Alexander stepped up the two stairs to the pedestal holding the large fountain.
Alexander rose and walked to a starting position. He tested the weight of the handle of the flogger, and Sarah almost couldn’t believe her eyes. He was going to do it. He pulled the flogger back and cast the long tails forward. The tips landed sharply on a woman’s back, and she shuddered. The chain links of the spider web on which she lay clanked under her movement.
Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Page 15
