ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (208 page)

              He followed her patiently up to the Guest Room, but tossed off his blindfold as soon as they had stepped inside the door.

              “Enough of this, Arabella.  I am done with our formality,” he told her in even tones.  She had walked over to the bed and was sitting on its edge, smoothing out the duvet. 

              “Our…formality?”

              “We have been married over a week, and still, you deny me my spousal rights.  What do you think the other men make of me?  I am nobody’s fool, Arabella.” 

              “Oh, but David, I am just scared.”

              David’s expression softened and he strode over to the bed to sit beside her.  With one large hand, he lifted her chin to look him in the eye.  “My dear, what can you possibly fear from me?”

              Her eyes quietly and shyly swept his long, lean form.  He was elegantly muscled and wiry, not a scrap of anything extra anywhere on him.  She looked into his demanding eyes, answering his question without words. Her lashes fluttered down until she was looking at his other hand, knowing that her lashes were making dark shadows across the planes of her cheekbones.

              “Look at me, Arabella.”

              She looked at him, making her eyes wide.

              “I would never hurt you.  I would, however,” he continued, the fingers containing her chin beginning to stroke her face, “want to tease you, just a bit.”

              His fingers were gently dancing along the curve of her face and slipping down to the top of her neck, an area ripe with sensitivity.  “Tease me?” she asked, unable to resist nuzzling into his hand a little.

              His gaze hard warmed a bit and he had slipped his other hand into her hair; now he held her face in both hands, and Arabella had nowhere to turn.  Not that she wanted to.  David lowered his lips to her chin and softly kissed her there; he moved to her eyes, her forehead, and then her ear.

              “Teasing, sweetheart, is half the fun,” he whispered, and tiny jolts of electricity raced down her spine. 

              He pushed her down onto the great aqua pillows of raw silk on the bed and watched as her bright hair spread all over them.  There was something lovely about her face, a look in her eyes that showed her excitement was real.  He traced a finger in between her breasts and down the line of the vertical opening in the shift to reveal the folds of the gown below, and Arabella shivered. 

              “Are you teasing me now, husband?” she whispered timidly, hands reaching up to caress his face shyly.  He grabbed her wrists in his much stronger ones and said, “Don’t touch me.  Not yet.  That will come later.  Right now, it’s about you, my sweet, and preparing you for our union.”

              He reached over her, filling her nostrils with the light essence of his masculine cologne, to reach for one of the white silken scarves, made extra-large for this especial purpose.  Looking her tenderly in the eyes, he tied each one of her wrists to the vintage headboard behind them. 

              Arabella lay exposed, more naked than she could have been just standing in front of him with no clothes on.  That was part of the magic of their game, she knew—utter vulnerability in its most direct form.  She could not touch him until he released her, and she would submit, as she had before, to what she knew were very skilled and knowledgeable ministrations at David’s hands.  And lips.  And tongue.  Arabella shivered, again, adrenaline puckering her nipples and making them stand out against the sheer fabric of her white gown.

              David stroked either side of her face gently with his finger, eyes tracing the outline of her straight nose and full, curved lips.  The finger traced a path across the tops of her pectoral muscles, right above the gentle heave of her concealed cleavage.  Lazily, almost accidentally—although of course, it was no accident—he peppered tiny kisses across her clavicle, immeasurably hot kisses that she could not believe came from another human being.  Arabella let out a small, almost inaudible moan, and David drank it in, as he did the unconscious arch of her body upward towards his mouth.

              Lying on his side beside her, one large hand working as an agent almost independent of his body, David touched her.  Arabella knew he was watching her face; one of their rules was that she would not hide her natural reactions from him, because this to him was the most erotic charge of all.  His fingers danced a cadence over the folds of her ample belly, found the groove between there and her thighs, and sang along their sinuous curve as if he was a traveler who had found home.  Arabella groaned; her body was alive.

              He reached for the small bow that tied the outer shell of her dressing gown together and pulled it apart.  Reaching down, he pulled the innermost layer back until her ankles, thighs, and simple cotton underpants were visible to him.  He pushed down the straps of the shift to reveal creamy rounded shoulders; he was preparing her most responsive parts for the next part of their game.

              Arabella opened her eyes and watched him as he reached for one of the feathery contraptions on the bedside table - her favorite part.

              “Darling, wh-what is that?” she asked, adding a lilting note to her voice.

              David smiled at her expression, and she knew she had pulled off the innocent act perfectly. 

              “I want to see how you respond to me,” he told her, twirling one end of the teaser between his fingers, the business end gently tickling the top of the valley between her breasts.  Arabella let out a little gasp as the skin there prickled with excitement.

              “Respond to you?” she asked, biting on her bottom lip a little as the feather dancing over the more exposed slopes of her breasts.

              David caught the micro expression and his smile widened.  “Yes,” he told her, the feathers continuing their journey until they were making circles around every part of either breast without touching her nipples, the heart.  “I want to see your face change as I touch you everywhere except the places where you want it the most, until you beg me to put my hands on you, and then my mouth.”

              His words kicked her hormones into high gear.  She was helpless, tied to the bed as he brushed the softness of the feathers over her shoulders, neck and stomach.  He moved down to thigh level, and traced her there until she was twisting sheets below her, mindless and senseless, lifting her hips to send him the most direct signals possible of where this was driving her crazy the most.

              “David,” she whispered hoarsely, closing her eyes tight, concentrating on the incredible swirl of sensations coursing through her body.  “Please.”

              Suddenly, his face was right by the side of her ear.  “Please, what, dear?” he asked her, and she could sense his smile on the side of her face.  He pressed his lips into the tender, soft skin there, and nuzzled her neck, so gently and sensuously that her entire body was wracked with desire.

              “Please touch me.”

              He opened his mouth to let his tongue, wet and strong, touch the skin of her neck in slow, small circles, sucking gently.  He nibbled his way down her collarbone until he was over her body, holding each of her substantial breasts in his hands, lavishing them with kisses, kneading them with his fingers, again, everywhere but the one part she wanted most.

              “Open your eyes, Arabella,” he told her, firmly and in a low voice.

              She opened her eyes.  When he was sure they were on his face, with incredible slowness, he dipped his head towards her breast and traced the areola with his tongue, eliciting an expectant little whimper from her lips.  And then, looking her directly in the eyes, he took her raised nipple directly into his mouth and sucked.

              Every suck, every nibble, every light graze with his teeth was pleasure and torment together.  He paid attention to the rest of her body, as well, lavishing it with the touch of his lips and hands until she was lost in a mindless whirl, her ragged moans a lazy purple plume of smoke in the air. 

              David was between her thighs.  He pulled down her underpants until she was bare to him, and she thought that perhaps this would be the place to stop. It was further than she let other clients go, certainly, but the sight of David’s warm hazel eyes peeking up at her from her most intimate place pushed her past the edge of professional reason.  She
wanted
to experience this. 

              He breathed softly into her, warming her, tingling her nerves awake.  He ran his lips gently over her nether ones and she lifted her hips at the first warm flick of his tongue against her.  He rubbed her with his mouth, the edge of his nose, and the idea of him breathing her in, the feel of the wet circles he was making on her clit caused her to strain against the silken ropes, to grab onto her restraints with her hands and hoist herself deeper into his probing mouth.

              He split her open with his tongue, and if she could have, she would have reached down and grabbed his head to push him deeper in.  He licks and sucks her, worrying her peritoneum gently with one finger, and the fact that she cannot touch him, and is lost in the agony of her own building orgasm spurred him on.  Arabella twisted and moaned, and felt like she was going to pull the headboard crashing down on both their heads, but David relentlessly pushed forth, dipping his fingers into her, into the deep ink of her body, drawing her out.  She built, faster and faster, bucking against him like a woman on the verge, until quite suddenly, she was no longer on the knife’s edge, but gushed out onto him, the juices of her excitement no longer contained in her young body, free and beautiful and convulsing onto his lips and tongue and fingers and mouth.

              She felt him smile against her, breathe her in, and kiss his way from between her legs, up her stomach, and to her mouth.  She tasted herself on him, and it was almost enough to bring her back to the brink again, but she clamped her legs shut.  It would have been too much.  He untied her, and her arms, aching, fell at her side while she shuddered, still rocking from the strength of her orgasm. 

              “Next time, you’ll be ready to receive me fully, little one,” he told her after the shaking had subsided.  She smiled, glad to know they were still playing on.

              “Receive you how?” she queried, green eyes large again, although she could see how flushed her skin was in her reflection in his eyes.

              He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.  “You’ll see,” he winked, eyes twinkling.

              The letter she received in the mail a few days later gave her some pause.  Along with the generous check David had sent, there was a bonus request.  The next time he saw her, he wanted a third to join in.  He wanted to build on their story by consummating their “marriage”—which, besides the addition of another person to the duo was what weighed heavily on Arabella’s mind.  David was one of the few clients she was considering actually partaking in the full monty with, but where would she find another client to join in on the fun?

              Most of her clients tended to be very private people who did not appreciate any kind of audience on their most private desires.  With a wry smile, Arabella realized that even with her years of experience in the field, she had never entertained a ménage a trois for this very reason.  Who would be willing to join them, and submit to David’s particular brand of domination, as well?

              Her brain scrambled amongst the unfinished scenarios of her clients until her mind finally landed on James.  It made perfect sense—she was always threatening him with the husband who was about to come home; what fun it would be if there actually
was
a husband to catch them in the act?  And while David was intoxicated by her played innocence, she knew that the added dimension of some kind of competition, a servant, perhaps, would only enhance the fantasy. 

              Sitting at her writing table a floor below the Guest Room, she penned an answer to David, asking him if he would like to come to visit her at four—their regular hour—the following Wednesday. 
I will arrange your request
, she wrote, a wicked little smile spreading across her face.  Next, she rang up James and asked him if he would participate.  When he heard her proposed scenario, she was surprised to find that he was more than a little receptive.  As it turned out, his tastes ran to both sexes, fair and strong, and he had long since dreamed of indulging in this particular brand of submissiveness.  The fact that David was attractive—Arabella was very honest in her description and David’s natural looks worked in his favor—and that their fantasies meshed well together was a good sign for James.  He agreed to the session.  And Arabella looked forward to testing her charms with a group session, so to speak.

              At three thirty the following Wednesday, Arabella’s doorbell rang.  This time, she hurried down the steps in a dark green velvet frock that skimmed her knees and bared her arms; it dipped into a low vee at the neck and matched her beautiful eyes perfectly.  Timing would be everything with this particular scenario—they only had half an hour before the next step.

              She opened the door and grabbed James by the collar of his coat, dragging him into the house.  While she scrambled to wrest his jacket off his broad shoulders, she asked him anxiously, “Did anyone see you?  Oh, did the neighbors see you walk in here?”  As she spoke, she took him by the hand and led him quickly up the stairs, not bothering with her customary blindfold.  James was so distracted that he would not have noticed the part of the co-op that was hers anyway.  He was caught up in the excitement as much as she was.  “Nobody knows I’m here, don’t worry.”