Bound and Pleasured (The Masters) (3 page)

Jacob said nothing in response to her confession, and Darla wanted him to say something. She stood on top of that pedestal and watched him undress, and with each piece of clothing that disappeared, she forgot about words. She’d show him what she felt, show him she wasn’t afraid of him, that nothing they did tonight would scare her away. And it was a plan she was going to enjoy. Jacob, naked, was simply spectacular, everything a man should be, everything no other man could be for her. And she was going to tell him, to show him.

His eyes never left hers as he undressed. Dark and passion-filled, they warned her of no mercy; they warned her of the demands he would make of her. Told her he would push her limits, take more than she was willing to give. And she wanted him to, just as she had three years ago.

She was wet, just as she had been then, so wet, her thighs were damp; her clit so swollen, if not for her constrained hands, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from touching it, from trying to relieve the burn. Then, to her surprise, he walked away in all his glorious nakedness and made a phone call, turning his back so she could not hear him, but giving her one hell of a nice look at his rock-hard backside and broad, perfect shoulders.

It was a sign of domination, she thought, the ability to keep her naked and on this pedestal while he made a phone call. She got that; she understood it. But what she was still coming to grips with was that being dominated by Jacob aroused her so completely. Her—the woman who thrived on coming out on top in a legal battle, of being the one in control. She was
aroused
by not being in control.

By the time he ended the call, she was dying with anticipation. He stalked toward her, up the pedestal stairs, moving with predatory grace—six feet plus of finely muscled male. And she watched him with unabashed admiration, wetting her lips at the sight of his cock—thick and heavily veined with the pulse of his arousal. It was clear that he wanted her as she wanted him, but she also knew that this would offer her no hope of swift relief if he wished to tease her.

Their sex life might not have been bondage and games before that final night together, but it had never been lacking pleasure or longevity. He knew how to please a woman; he knew how to please
her.

She wondered in anxious anticipation if he would tease her, and walk to the back of her and approach from behind. Instead, he stopped in front of her, and his gaze raked over her body with the same boldness with which she had watched his approach. Touching her with a hot inspection, he slowly walked around her, as if he were drinking in every inch of her with his eyes. He paused by her side and surprised her by going down on one knee, his hand on her backside, mouth brushing her hip.

She stared down at him, desperate to know what he was doing. His eyes held hers as he nipped her hip, as he had her backside, and laved it with his tongue, then eased her shoes off, one at a time. Next, one by one, he caressed her thigh-highs down her legs, using fingers and lips and his ever-so-talented tongue to draw out the process.

When she was completely naked, free of anything that might separate any part of her from him, he settled in front of her, staring up at her with dark promise in his eyes. He pressed his lips to her stomach, and she quivered with the touch, with anticipation of where he would kiss her next. He dragged his mouth lower and lower yet, before his lips closed over her clit.

She sighed with the warm, wet pressure of his mouth, as he suckled it, licked it, tasted her with long, seductive caresses of his tongue, and two big masculine fingers pressed inside her, stroking her to insanity. Her knees went weak with the pleasure of it, almost buckled. Jacob wrapped a strong arm around her, palming her backside to both hold her up and arch her hips to better taste her.

Desperately, Darla wanted to reach for his head, to touch him, but her hands were still restrained behind her. It was like heaven and hell mixed together, pleasure and yes, that pain he’d mentioned. But if this was his form of torture, it was sweet, wonderful torture she would never deny herself.

He wasn’t pushing her away; he was pulling her into a seductive web, spun of need and desire. And that need was close to becoming relief. She was so close to coming, so close to the edge, she could feel her womb clenching. His tongue licked and teased, and his fingers, those magical fingers, touched in the most erotic way, stroked her, pleasured her.

A moan escaped her lips, and she arched against his mouth, trying to force him to stay in that one perfect spot she knew would make her crash into those waves of bliss she so desired. And just when it would have happened, could have happened, he stopped what he was doing. He just stopped. His mouth was gone. His fingers were gone.

“What are you doing?” she panted. “Please, I was…”

“You won’t come until I tell you to come,” he said, sliding up her body and bending at the knees at just the right height to offer her blessed relief in the form of his cock, pressed between her thighs, rubbing himself against her. She leaned into him, rasping her teeth over his chest, even as she squeezed her legs around the growing thickness of his erection. He curled his fingers around her jaw and crushed his mouth to hers, and God, he tasted good, so damn good. Nothing mattered but his tongue and his cock and his body next to hers.

But too soon, he tore his mouth from hers and stepped away, already walking behind her. “You are just being cruel,” she accused over her shoulder.

“Pain is pleasure,” he reminded her, his hands on the jacket that held her captive. “Would you like to leave now?”

“No, damn you. I do not want to leave, and you know it,” she ground out. “I want you to stop teasing me.”

“We have barely gotten started,” he replied. “I’m going to untie you, but you will keep your hands at your back. If you do not, our play ends here and now. Understood?”

“You’re killing me.” He wasn’t touching her. She really wanted him to touch her again.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she yelled. “Yes, I understand.”

The jacket came off her hands, offering her blessed freedom that she contemplated using to push him to the ground, mount him, and slide his cock right inside her. It had been so long since she’d felt him inside her. But it was a short-lived fantasy, staved off by another more insistent pleasure.

Jacob dangled a silk tie down the front of her, brushing it across her nipples, sending a tingling straight to her thighs. At the same time, he reached for her hand and drew it behind her to close it around his cock, stroking it with both their hands and hers. He was thick and pulsing in her palm, the wet, slick tip silky against her fingers. She worked it, cursing her short reach, the limitations he gave her at every turn. Still, she stroked him, touched him, did her very best to drive him over the edge, to force away his restraint. To make him enter her.

But he didn’t enter her; he teased her again, driving her wild. Suddenly, the silk tie was on her wrist, and he lifted it to her side to secure her hand to the right side of the golden arch. Darla started to turn.

“Stay as you are,” he said shortly, his hand on her waist. His gaze locked on hers, waiting for her confirmation. The idea of more pleasure without satisfaction, more torture that was the denial of orgasm, was now bordering on excruciating.

He arched a brow at her hesitation. “Ready to end this?”

“Ready to tie you up,” she countered.

He laughed, low and sexy, and brought her hand to his mouth, teasing her fingers with his tongue. “That’s not part of the game.”

“Not this time,” she said, turning away from him, silently agreeing to be tied up. One day soon, she would tie him up and torture him as he was doing to her. She’d go down on her knees and lick his cock, tease it with her tongue, and never take him in her mouth, never let him come. Oh, yeah, revenge would be sweet, she decided as he finished securing her hands at her sides. He stepped behind her, his cock pressed to her hip as he reached around her and dangled two sliver clips in front of her.

“Jewelry for your lovely nipples,” he said, dragging the silver over her erect tips and nibbling her neck.

She inhaled, her nipples tightening against the friction. “You’re going to put those on me?”

“No,” came a male voice from the shadows. “I am.”

Shock spread through Darla, her head snapping to the familiar male voice. Marcus stepped out of the shadows and to the end of the pedestal, and he was naked and aroused.

“I thought you didn’t want to share me?”

Jacob heard the panic in her voice and cradled her close to him, his lips brushing her ear, his hand splaying over her stomach. Marcus held steady at the pedestal, waiting for Jacob’s okay to approach. He trusted Marcus as he would a brother. They’d shared women before, but this wasn’t just any woman, this was the one he loved. But it had been Marcus that told him Darla would always feel insecure about the life Jacob had inside the Society until she understood it, until she’d experienced it, and he’d been right.

“I don’t want to share,” he said. “But I realized something when you were standing up here, all tall and proud while I watched you. I know what I’m giving up when I leave this all behind for you. But you have no idea—you haven’t explored it. So I’m going to take you on a journey. I’m going to show you everything the Society has to offer. Then if you walk away, you do it without regret. Like I will.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, trying to turn to him. “No. I don’t need this, Jacob. I know I choose you.”

He brushed hair from her face, kissed her cheek, her neck. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t feel aroused by both of us wanting you?”

“I’m aroused because you made me that way,” she whispered. “I don’t need Marcus.”

“But you want him,” he said, reaching around her and stroking her breasts, gently now, easing her into what was new to her. “I want you to explore this world. I want you to know what you want like I know I want you.”

“It’s not right,” she whispered.

“It’s not right if you say it’s not right,” he agreed. “I’ll untie you and send him away. All you have to do is tell me to.” He caressed her body, slid his cock along the seam of her body. “You’re so wet you’re dripping. You want this. Tell him to come to us. Tell him, Darla.” He brushed his cheek against her. “This is
our
experience. Our exploration into pleasure together.” He nipped her ear. “Tell him to come to us.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I will,” he said, turning her head and brushing his lips over hers, waiting for a reply that came in her barely there nod.

Jacob motioned to Marcus, kissing Darla, distracting her from Marcus’s approach. She was nervous; she was guilty. He wanted neither of those things for her. He wanted her pleasure, her submission. He wanted her completely. That meant giving, not taking. Freeing her to pleasure, not enslaving her to his.

Marcus stopped in front of her, close, so close she wouldn’t have to look at him, and Jacob felt her stiffen. Felt her tremble as Marcus began touching her, slowly moving her mouth to his, tasting her lips. She moaned and tried to bite it back.

“Don’t hold back,” Jacob cooed in her ear, reaching around her and handing the clamps to Marcus, tweaking her nipples to prepare them for her next level of pleasure.

Marcus licked her nipple, suckled it. She arched into his mouth, her back pressed to Jacob. Jacob and Marcus looked at each other in silent agreement. Marcus slid the clamp onto her nipple. She gasped, and her eyes lowered to Marcus.

“It hurts,” she cried.

“Give it a moment,” Jacob promised, and then held her through a moan as the pleasure swept through her. He eyed Marcus. “Tighten it.” She gasped again.

Marcus licked her unattended nipple and clamped it. She cried out, and Marcus slid down to his knees, eying Jacob for approval before he drew her into his mouth. Soft sounds of pleasure, pleas for release, slid from her mouth into Jacob’s. He kissed her, touched her, made sure she felt pleasure in every inch of her body. And then she shuddered and jerked into release.

Jacob untied Darla’s hands with one intention—to bury himself as deeply as he could get inside her.

The minute her arms were free, Darla turned into Jacob’s arms. He kissed her, soft and passionate, but there was a raw hunger beneath his surface. “Jacob,” she whispered, the need to pleasure him immense.

Marcus came up behind her, enclosing her with his body. She was between them, these two gorgeous men. She could feel them everywhere, but yet, she needed more. The idea that she was doing this was incomprehensible, yet it was happening.

Jacob picked her up and carried her to the bed with the curving arms and sat her down. She reached for him, stroking his cock with her hand and lapped him with her tongue, drawing in the salty sweetness of his arousal. Marcus sat down beside her, flicking the silver clamps on her nipples, drawing her hand to his cock. It was a powerful feeling, having one of them in her mouth, the other in her hand.

She sucked Jacob deeper, tightened her grip on the base of his thick erection. Somehow they moved her; she barely knew when. Jacob sat against the arm, and she was on all fours, sucking him deeper and deeper. Marcus was behind her, stroking her clit, rubbing his cock against her. The pleasure ripped through her, and with each stroke of Marcus’s cock along the seam of her body, she sucked Jacob harder, deeper.

A rough guttural sound slid from Jacob’s lips, and he pulled her to him, over him, until she straddled his hips. Marcus moved behind her, handing Jacob a condom, which he ripped open. Marcus teased her nipples while Jacob sheathed himself and then settled his hands on her waist, balancing her as he pulled her down to his erection. Their eyes met and held, and he pulled her slowly down on top of him, sliding in inch by inch.

He pulled her mouth to his, “It’s been too long since I’ve been inside you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Far too long.”

“Prove it.” He ordered in a guttural challenge, pulling her down as he thrust into her.

Darla leaned into him and pumped against him, lost in a frenzy of need, riding him, kissing him, until with a guttural sound of pleasure, he exploded inside her. The sound, the look of pleasure on his face, drove her wild.

She bucked against him, ground herself against the hard pulse of his contracting cock, the climb to the edge controlling her until she fell over, tumbled with a sucked-in breath, her voice lost as her womb shattered into spasms that shook her to her very core. She fell against Jacob, burying her face in his neck, kissing his neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, stroking her hair, his hand so gentle—such a contrast to the wildness, the rough dark hunger she’d seen in him only moments before. She loved that contrast, devoured it with tender kisses on his jaw.

Behind her, Marcus began trailing his lips over her back, his hands caressing as gently as Jacob’s were, turning more sensual, exploring her body, until he slowly eased her to a sitting position and drew her back to his chest. Jacob was still inside her, his dark stare watching her, as Marcus stroked her breasts, arousal bleeding into Jacob’s features, into her body where he thickened. Jacob began pumping into her again, and she lost herself, wasn’t even sure when or how she was on her side, Marcus at her back, Jacob at her front.

“My turn,” Marcus said, his cock pressing the seam of her backside. She gasped as Jacob pulled out of her, as Marcus slid in from behind. Marcus cocooned her, hard muscle wrapping her, his dick buried deep inside her, one hand on her stomach, the other squeezing her breast. The pressure of the clips on her nipples ripped through her, tore at her with pain and pleasure. She could barely breathe.

“So hot, and wet,” Marcus said. “I can see why Jacob can’t get enough of you.”

“So hot,” Jacob agreed, stroking her clit, kissing her.

Her senses were exploding, her body on fire. “I need…”

“Need what?” Marcus asked.

“Jacob,” she gasped, her fingers gripping his shoulder. “More. Need more.”

Jacob slid his hand over her hip, pressed closer. “More,” he agreed, and she knew he looked at Marcus, knew they said something, but she didn’t know what.

Suddenly Marcus pulled out of her, and she cried out with the injustice of it. But then Jacob was there, inside her, filling her, and Marcus was spreading something warm and tingling along her backside, pressing fingers inside her, invading her from behind. She cried out with the first entry then moaned as pleasure roared through her.

Jacob’s tongue delved past her gasps, stroked her into oblivion, held her captive, as he pumped into her, as oh—there weren’t fingers inside her anymore; there was Marcus. Stretching her—it hurt, but it was a hurt like nothing she’d ever known. A hurt that spiraled inside her and had her dripping, clutching Jacob’s thickness inside her.

She forgot her cry of protest, her fingers curling on Jacob’s chest. He pumped in, pulled out. Marcus pumped in, pulled out. Then they were both buried inside her, and it was too much; it was not enough. Two men inside her, front and back, driving her wild. She lost all sense of time, of identity besides the woman that belonged between these two gorgeous male bodies. Orgasm came on her and rolled into another until it felt like one long, riveting ride into bliss.

When it was over, Jacob pulled her close, held her, kissed her tenderly, and then stroked her hair from her face. Marcus caressed her neck, kissed her shoulder. And if she hadn’t already melted into a puddle of desire, she would have melted into sleep.