She shifted her attention to Laurent who’d moved on to her other foot. “No.”
“That’s okay. I’ll believe for the both of us.” His charming smile could undo the toughest cynic. “I think I’m here to help you for a reason, if you’ll let me.”
His fingers moved up her calves, pressing into her muscle to stop at that tender spot behind her knees. He raked his fingers once more down to her ankles. She hadn’t taken note of how large his hands were, his palms spanning over her leg as if they were matchsticks.
“I know what it’s like to have to overcome something,” he said. “After Steffan dragged me home from Amsterdam, I hid out for a while, but then I started talking with Steffan. We played. Steffan insisted I use my voice. Speak out when a line was being crossed. It helped me to know someone was listening to me.”
She could see that. He’d had his freedom taken where words probably didn’t matter. To then have them matter, it could heal your sense of control. All submissives needed to know there were limits and they’d be honored. She needed a library of rules to feel safe.
“I think perhaps we both need to overcome what happened to us.”
“What else happened to you?” Her question came out as a breath as his fingers dug into her calf muscles.
“Dark. They put me in absolute dark. Then I became nothing.”
“The blindfolds. It’s why they bother you.”
“They don’t as much anymore, thanks to Steffan.”
She glanced up at Steffan. His eyes remained locked on hers. His body was taut with sexual tension.
She pulled her leg free. “Laurent, undress for me. Then make yourself comfortable on the bed.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Oh, how she loved those words. Yes. Mistress. She rose and stood by the dresser, took in every bit of his movements as he shed his clothes. He folded them carefully, laid them over the stuffed chair in the corner. He then came to her, stopping a foot away. “Where do you want me?”
“Everywhere,” she said. “I’m going to give you a gift. You are not nothing. You could never be. I’m going to show you.”
In her periphery, she watched Steffan push off the wall. In protest, perhaps? He had said both of us.
“Lie down on your back on the bed for me?” she asked.
Laurent did as she asked. She placed one knee on the long, tufted bench at the end of the bed, and picked up an abandoned wrap dress. It was a deep coral, the color of a sea fan she’d seen scuba diving many years ago, and simple, so not to compete with the woman wearing it.
“I’m not going to bind you, Laurent. Do you know why?” She slid the tie through the loops and wrapped the end around one hand.
He shook his head slowly, not an ounce of fear showing in those gorgeous dark eyes.
“I want you to use those talented hands in every way imaginable.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
Steffan drifted closer to the bed when she crawled on hands and knees toward Laurent.
“I am, however, going to place this over your eyes.” A subtle tension took hold in his jaw as she laid the cloth belt across the beautiful fan of his lashes.
She straddled him, his cock pressing against her pussy, already slick with arousal, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Remember your safeword, and know that you’re going to get something better than watching me. You’re going to feel me. Feel me in the dark.”
Steffan’s breathing grew more ragged. She peered over her shoulder. He’d divested himself of his pants and shoes, and stood by the bed, his cock in his fist. The man’s lack of inhibitions would never cease to amaze her, and she felt her muscles clench a little, now that she’d had him inside her and knew what that cock could do. What she didn’t know, however, was Laurent’s talents.
She returned her attention to the man beneath her. She loved seeing a man on his back—all that hard muscle laying prostrate, waiting for her. It showed such strength for them to submit this way.
She threaded her fingers through his thick dark curls. “I love your hair. The way it moves in the wind. The way it feels in my hands.” His cock twitched under her.
She ran her fingers tips lightly over the tie over his eyes. “Too bad this is a polyester blend.”
He smiled. “Won’t say it,” he said, referencing his safeword.
“You will if you need to, won’t you, my sweet man, because I will be very displeased with you if you don’t.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Hands above you. Palms on the headboard.”
The bed dipped to her left. Steffan’s scent, his presence, grew closer.
She eased up between Laurent’s elbows, her legs straddling his torso. Her body responded to all that male muscle between her legs, her pussy weeping in seconds. The brush of his soft hair across her belly, those ridges in his abdomen, inflamed her growing lust for this man, something she’d kept in check for far too long. Her breasts brushed across his mouth as she rose up higher on him, slicking his belly with her juice. His tongue darted out, stealing a taste. She tsked.
“Mmm, did I tell you to use that tongue?”
She slid down, bumping against his rigid cock. His hips arched up, seeking and searching for entry.
“Still, my sweet man. Let me ride you.”
His chest rose and fell in short pants. “Mistress, whatever you wish.”
“I wish for so many things.” That truth tumbled out of her lips, emotion creeping in. What was it about this man that so easily forced truth from people? She wished for Laurent to have never gone through what he had. She wished she’d never scened with Troy Myers. She couldn’t wish she’d never met Joshua. Perhaps a nice memory of him was her penance for what had occurred.
“Granted,” he whispered.
Her eyes pricked. “So, then I will grant something to you.” She took his mouth, his tongue instantly moving into action, seeking, searching for hers. She needed to connect with him first this way, the tender touching of lips, the secret message that all kisses provided. For long minutes, she kissed him with all the passion she’d kept contained, all the fury at what he’d been through, and all the love she knew she’d never be able to withhold from him ever again. They were two damaged souls who had found a way to live despite their past. Did that not alone deserve this reward?
She eased herself down so her folds parted on either side of Laurent’s erection. Steffan eased himself alongside them, and his hand came down on her back as if he needed the contact. She glanced at him. His eyes held hunger, awe, and yes, love. He honestly didn’t mind her riding another man’s torso, about to take another man’s cock.
“I thought you didn’t watch,” she said to Steffan.
“Oh, I am participating fully in my mind. Keep going.”
She slicked up Laurent’s thick length with her wet, and small moans left his throat with each drag and slide. Steffan’s hands moved up her spine to her neck, threading fingers through her hair. He massaged the base of her skull so deliciously, and she let herself get lost in the sensation of touching and being touched by both of them. A rush of more fluid came at the thought of how she wanted them—both of them, despite Steffan’s harsh arrogance, despite Laurent’s goodness that shamed her.
Her own breath puffed from her lips as she glided up and down for long minutes until Steffan’s fingers curled against her back and Laurent’s breathing was labored from holding himself back.
“What would you give to be inside me?” She stared at Steffan though the question was for Laurent.
“Anything.” Laurent’s fingers curled into fists as if he was trying to punch through the thick padded fabric of the headboard.
She cupped Laurent’s face. “Then, I want you to do something for me. Whenever you’re in the dark, remember this feeling.” She raised up on her knees positioned his cock at her opening and sank down. Steffan’s hands pushed against her lower back as if helping her sink onto him. God, she loved the dual feel of his palm on her and the
stretch inside from Laurent’s cock.
“Oh, God,” Laurent huffed out. His lips quirked up in lust and relief.
Steffan’s hands fisted her hair, and he yanked her face to him, mashing his lips to hers. She should have fought it—this taking of her mouth, but the taste of his tongue, the talented way he curved his lips over hers, obliterated any need to break away. She had a man underneath her, straining to stay still for her. That would be enough.
“Mistress.” Laurent’s voice was strangled, taut with strain from holding himself back.
She broke away from Steffan and brought her lips down to Laurent’s.
“Come for me. Don’t hold back, and remember what I said about the dark.” She rose up and ground herself against him, her clit throbbing in pleasure but not yet cresting over.
He released quickly, arching his back against her. She didn’t let pleasure overtake her, not yet.
She dragged the tie from over Laurent’s eyes, and he blinked up at her. “Thank you,” he mouthed, still panting from his climax. She lay down on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths until they steadied. Only when he freely slipped out of her, did she ease off him. The bed jostled as the three of them moved all at once. Before she could swing her legs over the side, an arm grasped her around her waist.
“You denied yourself.” She looked down at the blond hair dusting that forearm. Steffan had moved quickly, lurching over Laurent who pulled himself up to sitting against the headboard.
“Offering?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She twisted to face Steffan, his cock hard and ready for her. She had denied herself for reasons she couldn’t explain. She let herself be pulled into his lap, her legs straddling his. “Laurent’s not through with his massage, isn’t that right, Laurent?”
Without needing any more direction, Laurent moved in behind her. His hands fell to her shoulders.
“Thank your Mistress for her gift to you, Laurent. Use all that physical therapy education to remove that worry from her shoulders,” Steffan said.
Laurent’s hands kneaded the tight hard muscles of her upper traps and words of protest died in her throat.
“I’ll take care of her lower half.” Steffan took her hands and placed them over his cock. “Perhaps you have use for this … Mistress.” His mouth quirked up into a sly smile.
“Perhaps.”
Steffan’s definition of ‘perhaps’ was broad, because he pulled her higher onto him until his cock nestled against her clit.
“You should have told me.” She didn’t know why she had to say those words again. Perhaps because she needed him to hear her, really understand, what a breach of trust it was to not know the depth of Laurent’s pain, even though she’d been no better.
“Yes. Forgive us.” Steffan cupped the side of her face. “You should have been told many things, Sarah. Like how you are a gift to people—to me, to Laurent, to so many.”
No words would banish her demons, but for a few minutes, they might hold them at bay. She rose up on her knees and sank down on him, his cock stretching her as much as Laurent’s, but longer, reaching her furthest point easily. That thudding pain as he neared her cervix didn’t stop her from wanting him, wanting to come, so all those words that had crossed her lips and theirs in the last few hours would be erased—if just for a minute. He arched his hips and thoughts were no longer necessary.
Gripping his shoulders, she rode him, hard. Steffan’s fingers dug into her hips until bruises formed. Laurent pressed his fingers and knuckles into her muscles, never stopping his massage, as she moved up and down. So many hands were on her, pleasuring her, giving to her.
Male musk rose in her nose, mixed with the Ginger Thomas and jasmine flowers of the night air. In the far-off distance, joining with her low moans of pleasure, the ocean roared while she took her fill of both of them. Her orgasm built and rose like the waves crashing outside. First rising up and then falling into a ripple that radiated down her legs and up her spine. Steffan’s mouth was on hers again, swallowing her needy little cries as she ground herself into his pelvis, her breasts pressed into his chest.
Later, when they were lying in the bed together, her body tucked against Steffan’s, Laurent curled on his side, his front to her back, sadness replaced her anger. Now that she knew his story, all the pain she felt for Laurent and all the pain she felt for herself mixed together and thumped against her heart. It wasn’t going to let go of her, was it? Not ever. But she could take care of Laurent. He’d be additional penance. As for Steffan? She couldn’t think. Instead, she let the dark take her over.
33
Steffan drummed his fingers on the restaurant table and watched as Jonathan strode over with a stormy expression. Steffan nodded to the man as he yanked the chair back, its legs protesting in a scrape along the ridiculous, over-the-top marble floor.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Steffan said.
“What’s this about?” Jonathan tossed his cell phone in the middle of the small table. He pointed to the text Steffan had sent. Joshua Martin. Troy Myers. Coffee Bar. 9 a.m. “Where did you hear those names?”
So Jonathan knew who those men were. Steffan had taken an awfully big chance last night, and he still wasn’t sure how it was going to pan out. Sure, they’d had sex, but he woke up this morning to the calm, aloof woman who’d met him in The Library four weeks ago. Gone was the carefree woman who rode waves to the shore. In other words, she was back to her old self, and he knew, deep down, guilt had a stronger hold on her than he could have imagined. He needed more information.
“From Sarah. Last night. Coffee please?” he mouthed a waitress who glanced over at them.
“Fuck.” Jonathan grabbed a packet of sugar and waved it to settle the crystals. “That why Sarah hasn’t answered her phone or my text. How did this come about?”
“Something I said triggered her.”
His waving hand stopped, and Steffan raised his. “It was nothing significant, but apparently it set her off. I found her on the beach, and she told me the story.”
He leaned back in his chair as the waitress poured them each a cup of coffee. “What may I get you gentleman, or will you be having the buffet?”
Without looking up at her, he said, “We’ll have the buffet, Karen. Thank you.”
“How did this happen, Jonathan? And don’t tell me it’s none of my business. I love her.”
Jonathan eyed him. “Well, if she told you about Martin and Myers, believe it or not, she probably loves you back. She’s warning you away.”
“I get that. Psych 101. Tell me how to reach her.” He tried one way last night, which worked for a time.
“Give her space,” Jonathan said.
“Not an option.”
“Well, sorry there, Steffan, my man, that’s what you’re going to need to do.”
“Bullshit.”
“Listen—”
‘No, she’s been left alone enough, Jonathan, my man.” He scrubbed his chin. “Shit. Sorry.”
Jonathan chuffed. “You do love her.”
He hadn’t believed him? “Hell, yes.”
“Okay, then.” Jonathan took in a deep breath. “Joshua Martin was an immature kid. He had everything. Sarah was the first thing in his life he wanted but couldn’t have—something daddy couldn’t buy. It was very hard on Sarah as she didn’t want to break all ties. She considered his mother, Clementina, the mother she wished she had. When the suicide took place, Sarah ran home hysterical. Clementina followed her and pounded on the front door. Screaming. Crying. Accusing Sarah of killing her son. Claire and my father packed Sarah up and put her on a plane to New York with instructions not to come back any time soon.”
“You were there?”
“No. I was a clueless teenager and off at some boy’s camp when the shit hit the fan.”
“But she told you this story?”
“It took me months to piece together the whole thing, but about a year later, I did get the complete story.”
He blew out a long breath. “Good, no one should carry this around alone.”
“Good response.” Jonathan took a large gulp of coffee. “With our family’s reputation in danger, Claire didn’t handle it well.”
“Shocker.”
“I see you’ve met her.”
“No, Laurent did. Didn’t take a shine to her, and I trust his judgment implicitly.”
“Intuitive man.”
“Sarah didn’t have therapy or anything? Even after Troy Myers?”
Jonathan cursed. “That was a cluster. But, no, not until she met Alexander. He has his own brand of therapy.”
“Protocol.” Rules are what make us who we are. Those remembered words of hers dropped like lead into his gut. She’d explained the “why” behind all those guidelines she was so fond of. It was her own personal road map of relationships. So long as everyone stuck to the plan, all would be well. He leaned back, aware of the stiffness in his spine. His coffee remained untouched, and he had no appetite for anything.
“It helped,” Jonathan said. “Gave her boundaries she felt she lacked. Boundaries that might have had things turn out differently.”
“You know that’s bullshit, right?”
“I’ll give you a pass on that tone because I believe you when you say you love her. But everyone deals with things in their own way. She’s had a good life.”
“Half a life.”
Jonathan apprised him. “And you want to be the other half. So where does that leave Laurent?”
“With us. We’ve always lived an unconventional life. So why not?” The question was, how to make her seriously consider a permanent three-way relationship. He felt they’d broken through one of her walls last night, but then this morning … well, if she was afraid of getting involved with one man, two might be overwhelming.
Jonathan stood. “I promised to bring Christiana tea. She gets cranky without it.” He looked down at him. “If you really love Sarah—and God help me, if you’re fucking with her you’ll have more than me to deal with—you’ll do what I say. Give her space but be around. If she hasn’t asked you to leave, then she needs you.”
Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Page 18
