Authors: Sorcha Black
He tried to be okay with Winter’s disinterest
in him, but disappointing his princess by not even trying didn’t sit well. Besides, Winter was sexy as hell. With her white hair and pale blue eyes, she was like the Ice Queen. And she had a good figure, although she was a bit on the skinny side for his taste. Ramsay had a hard time considering anyone as perfect as Saya, though. But watching them together would be... Better not think about that. Not right then, at least.
ed to the living room to relax. The few shots of vodka they’d done started to make him mellow. He sat on the love seat and Saya looked to him for direction. With a flick of his fingers, he indicated that she could choose, and with a small smile she knelt next to his feet and leaned her head against his knee. Automatically, he slid his hand into her hair, toying with her perfect curls and tugging subtly at her public collar. She shivered.
“You don’t let her up on the furniture?” Winter wasn’t looking at Ramsay
, though. Her pale eyes were trained on Saya, seeming to miss none of their nonverbals.
“She doesn’t like sitting on furniture if she has a choice. Around vanillas she’ll do it, just so people don’t get creeped out.”
He pulled gently on one of Saya’s curls and she sighed and leaned into him harder.
Winter’s face lit up in a grin that was completely unexpected.
Beautiful. “We know that feeling. I have a lot of trouble even having a vanilla discussion. Not that small talk was ever my thing.”
“I got that about you.” He chuckled. Mack had settled back into the couch across from Ramsay, and Winter sat next to him, but the two weren’t touching. Ramsay got the impression that she didn’t want to appear weak, like she needed support from Mack.
Mack poured out another round of shots, and they knocked them back. Winter looked completely unaffected. Only Saya wasn’t drinking. The farmhouse was too far from town to take a taxi back, and Saya wanted a good fuck bad enough to forgo drinking, so that she could drive them back home. She was way too loud to have sex under someone else’s roof.
Winter watched him and Saya with the cold calculation of a scientist studying a strange new insect. Her
attitude – her aloofness – made Ramsay a little horny. Mentally, he growled at Saya for putting the idea in his head. It was fucked up, but how much would it take to make her submit and enjoy it? Would it even be possible with a woman like her?
He knew, now that they were adults, that his immature teenaged
dominance had picked up on Saya’s innate submissiveness. It had been such an easy match from the start. At first he’d been vaguely bossy with her, but she’d loved it and slowly she’d handed her control over to him before he really knew what to do with it. They’d grown into the D/s together so there’d never been a power struggle. He’d considered himself lucky, compared to the countless Doms he’d been friends with in California, who were still struggling to keep their subs in check. He’d got Saya early and had trained her into doing what he liked. There were no bad habits taught to her by former Doms. Their relationship was effortless, other than trying not to spoil her.
, on the other hand, would be a challenge, and Saya wanted him to answer it. That was, if there was an off chance that she and Mack were interested. Now that the idea was there...
Mack’s eyes were slits and he was watching Ramsay watching Winter. He was starting to look buzzed. “I bet I could take you.”
“In a fight? Am I pissing you off, Mack?” He chuckled. Jealous, maybe?
Winter looked slightly amused, but not worried. “Don’t mind him. He likes wrestling, and he gets like this when he’s drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, woman.”
“Women don’t understand how it is. That’s all.” Mack continued. “If you don’t know who can kick whose ass, there’s no pecking order. It’s chaos.”
“So you want to wrestle me to figure out who the
band’s alpha is?” Ramsay asked, with a snort. “I’ve been in several bands and I’ve never seen it settled like that.”
“No, no,” Mack frowned, waving vaguely. “
I just mean socially.”
“So you want to wrestle to figure out whether you can respect me?”
Saya gave Ramsay a sly look. She’d love nothing better than to watch. Maybe a simple wrest
ling match would sate her pervy soul. He tangled his hand tighter in her hair and tipped her head back for a rough kiss.
“Fine,” he said to both of them.
Winter sighed, but got to her feet and moved the coffee table out of the way. Ramsay pulled Saya up and coaxed her onto the couch. She tucked her feet up under her and he brushed his lips against her ear.
“This is for you, princess. This is all you’re getting, so make sure you pay attention.”
When he drew back, her eyes were shining. “Yes, Master.”
He crossed the room to Winter and took the bottle of vodka from her, drank from it and handed it back.
She rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. Why are men like this? Saya, do you have the slightest urge to wrestle me to find out who’s queen bitch?”
Ramsay glanced over his shoulder in time to see Saya turning bright red.
She ducked her head. “I know I’m not. I don’t need proof.”
When he turned back to Winter, her g
aze was traveling over Saya with interest. Ramsay could imagine them kissing and, between all of the booze and the sexual tension in the room, his cock refused to stay down. It was pressing irritably against his underwear, and he was glad he’d thought of wearing them, since he generally didn’t bother.
It was a bad scene when a man’s
own cock wouldn’t obey him.
Without warning, a body barreled into him, knocking him off his feet and into the couch. Saya squeaked and
he watched to make sure she moved farther away.
“I take it we’re starting
.” He grunted and pushed Mack away onto the floor. Ramsay jumped on the smaller man in an attempt to pin him, but Mack was stronger than he looked.
“You kept talking. I figured you were stalling
.” Mack chuckled and got hold of one of Ramsay’s wrists and wrenched it behind his back. Ramsay pivoted and wrapped his legs around Mack’s torso then fought to grab his arms. The other man bucked and heaved, managing to wriggle free. Mack stood and stripped off his shirt, flushed from the exercise. Ramsay took his off too – there was no use in giving him extra handholds.
“Holy shit,” Winter whispered, barely audible over their harsh breathing.
Saya giggled. “I know. He doesn’t even work out. It’s a crime. The two of them are completely different kinds of hot.”
“We should oil them up and sell tickets.” Winter crossed the room and sat next to Saya on the couch.
“You do realize that taking off our shirts doesn’t mean we suddenly can’t hear you, right?” Mack smirked.
Following Mack’s earlier lead, Ramsay took him down unexpectedly and they started rolling around on the floor, grappling again.
This went on for quite a while, with Ramsay getting several pins on Mack, then Mack squirming free.
They were alternating between laughing, grunting, swearing. Sweat mingled. Mack’s face was too close a few times
. His lean muscles slid under Ramsay’s hands as the thinner man tried to escape. Ramsay hadn’t done anything as asinine as wrestling a guy since he’d been in middle school. Why had this seemed like a good idea?
Starting off drunk, horny and with two hot girls eggi
ng them on was crossing his wires. The need for rough sex was getting distracting. He needed to put a halt to this now, before it got any weirder – but how to stop without losing?
He had Mack pinned again. The smaller man was getting tired and panted beneath him.
“Are you done?” Ramsay growled, angry at how this was making him feel.
eyes hazed and his lips parted, reminding Ramsay of the look Saya got when she submitted to him. And was that Mack’s cock hard against his own leg? It was the booze, right? It was just because they’d had too much to drink, and the girls were here and...
His captive came alive again, struggling in a
last-ditch effort to not lose. Mack craned his neck and bit Ramsay’s chest, hard. Pain shot through him and hit his groin like a jolt of electricity.
He cuffed the side of Mack’s head and when his teeth let go of his flesh, Ramsay bit his shoulder in retaliation. Mack cried out, and the noise caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. He pulled back and looked down at Mack’s face. He was panting, a look of naked desire in his eyes. No man had the right to look so beautiful. For a desperate moment Ramsay fought the urge to kiss him violently – to show him once and for all who the bitch was.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He detached himself from the other man and stood, holding up a staying hand. “That’s enough.”
Mack levered himself up on one elbow and watched him, his face bright red either from exertion
, embarrassment or both. “I shouldn’t have bit you. I don’t know why I did that. Sorry.”
“It was fuck all.” In his jeans, Ramsay’s cock was throbbing at an uncomfortable angle. He wished he could readjust without drawing attention to his condition.
The kitchen. He strode into the next room, straightened out his idiot cock, and grabbed a glass from the drying rack. It was soothing and normal to pour himself water from the faucet. He drained the glass and put it down on the counter.
Someone came up behind him. Saya, coming to see how he was, no doubt.
He drew a breath and turned just as the person slammed into him, knocking him against the counter. Damn it – the guy just didn’t give up. Adrenaline sang through him. The little bastard needed to learn some fucking respect. He wrestled Mack down into a kneeling position then forced his forehead to the floor – his own body covering Mack’s and his hard-on pressed against his ass. Mack grunted and tried to get free, but Ramsay had both wrists pinned behind his back, shoving them upward.
“This stops now,” he growled low to Mack, hoping the girls didn’t hear it. “If you come at me again I’m going to make you suck my dick. Do you understand me, you little bitch?”
Beneath him Mack shuddered and went still. Ramsay dry humped the guy’s ass a few times then let him go. They both got to their feet and stood there awkwardly for a moment.
“You win,” Mack whispered, pushing his hair out of his eyes. The purple teeth marks
on his shoulder stood out in sharp contrast to his very white skin. He was trembling. “I think I need a drink. You?”
The last thing Ramsay wanted was a drink.
He just needed to fuck someone hard. Grabbing Saya and running for the door was just going to make this weirder. They’d clicked so well when they were jamming that he didn’t want to lose that hope over this...weirdness. All he could do was pretend this never happened.
There was, however, this niggling feeling he had that if he touched Mack right now
, things would get naked fast.
“Make mine a double.”
Hot water cascaded down over his head, but even that combined with having brushed his teeth hadn’t made him feel
any more human. He’d washed his hair and everything else, but procrastinating had become more attractive than getting out.
Winter wanted to talk.
For the first time in his life he wished he’d drunk more so that he could say he didn’t remember what happened. He remembered everything in vivid detail.
It wasn’t as though
they’d never talked about the fact that he found some men attractive. She’d just never seen it, herself.
Under the heavy spray, his eyes drooped shut. His head was pounding, but not as hard as his cock. The memory of being held down, helpless, Ramsay grinding against his ass. There was no way he was jacking off to that. It was supposed to be a business relationship. What the
hell had happened?
He didn’t remember thinking Ramsay was attractive. They had
a similar sense of humor and an all-consuming love of music, but had he checked him out at all? He didn’t remember giving into that part of himself until after a few too many shots of vodka. Wrestling had seemed like a quick way to get it out of his system. He’d used it as an excuse with other guys before. They’d wrestle and he’d get over it, but last night it’d gotten out of control.
Ramsay had followed through on his threat? Would Mack have used the command as an excuse to go down on him?
That he was
bi wasn’t a revelation. Winter knew – they’d come out to each other early in their relationship. But, although he’d watched Winter make out with a girl at an after party once, and they sometimes checked out guys together, what had happened the night before was new territory.
The thoughts in his head were jumbled and raw. He was still horny, but didn’t know how he’d deal with it when they saw Ramsay again – if they saw him again. When
Ramsay sobered up this morning he’d probably be disgusted.
they saw him again, he’d either pretend it hadn’t happened and things would be awkward, or he’d punch Mack in the face and get over it.
How could he have fucked up their chance to have an awesome drummer
just to work off some sexual attraction?
Eventually he had to turn off the shower and grab a towel. Knowing Winter, she’d be waiting.
Draped across their bed, naked, his woman was a work of art. Her pale skin displayed a creative series of welts and bruises, along with long, thin scabs and other lovely marks. Unlike most other masochists they knew, Winter had never given into the lure of tattoos, which provided him with an entirely blank canvas. He crawled onto the bed with her and traced a dark cane mark that bisected one of her ass cheeks. When she simply shivered, he dug the pad of his thumb into the bruise, more satisfied with the hiss and moan that he got.
“Turning me on is not going to get you out of talking,” she mumbled into the mattress.
“It was worth a shot.”
She rolled onto her side and he stretched out alongside her. They kissed, calmly at first then more heatedly when he caught one of her nipples between his fingers and crushed it. She half-screamed into his mouth and the noise made him shudder, then grind against her.
“Why didn’t you want to fuck me last night?” she asked. “You were hard as hell. Am I not good enough for you when you’re turned on because of a guy?”
He froze. Reading each other was something they did well, but now he wished there was somewhere to hide. Before he could think of a good excuse, she’d peeled back his damp towel and wrapped a firm hand around his
sex. A groan escaped him and he tried to make her stop, but she refused to be deterred.
Winter shoved him onto his back and dragged her teeth over his cock. He gasped, but didn’t fight as she
opened wide and slid all the way down on his dick, then clamped her mouth shut around it. Hot, wet suction – her creepy pale eyes watching him – the movement of her neck as she deep throated him and swallowed.
He panted and tried to resist her, but he’d had a raging hard-on since the wrestling last night, with only a few hours’ respite while he slept. Winter deep throated him again and gagged and he was a lost man. The throbbing of his cock stuttered, built to a painful crest. His hips came up off of the bed, and he released into her merciless mouth. When he was an empty husk of a man she finally took pity on him and stopped.
She crawled up beside him and he wrapped his arms around her
. Her head pressed to his chest.
For a few moments she gasped for breath – he’d probably half-drowned her.
She drew designs on his chest with her fingertip, and he grunted and shivered. “It isn’t something to be ashamed of, Mack. So he makes you hot. I can live with that.”
“It caught me off balance. I don’t know how I feel about it. Whatever that was last night, I can’t let it happen again. This relationship with him is supposed to be professional, not me having a stupid school-boy crush on our drummer.” He winced at the lingering embarrassment – it wouldn’t go away until he’d faced Ramsay again. Maybe not even then.
“After what you told me happened in the kitchen, I’m having a hard time believing it was all one way.” Winter gave him a naughty grin and ground her pussy against his leg. Mack moved his thigh between hers and pressed upward.
She purred and roc
ked her hips. Wet.
“And what has you all turned on, little creep?”
“A mix of sucking your cock and watching you touch a hot guy last night. I’ll be saving
thought for later.” She winked.
The feel of h
er forehead under his lips made his chest ache. He had been so sure she’d be angry or judgmental, although he knew damn well she wasn’t that kind of person. For him, there was no intention of ever pushing away the best thing that had ever happened in his life. Unlike anyone else he’d met, they fit together – like a complete thought. Their creepiness was compatible, but more than that, she understood him and all of his little quirks, yet still accepted him and loved him back.
He kissed her again
, ran his tongue over her lip rings then pressed her to her back. Pale nipples poked up at him, proudly displaying the bars that still made him crazy. A piercer friend had shown him how to use the equipment he’d bought, and the jewelry was like an echo of the pain Winter had taken. He closed his mouth over one of her nipples and sucked until she squirmed beneath him, then he bit down. She froze and a whimper escaped her. In response, his cock stirred, even though he’d just gotten off. As he slid down her body and between her legs, the feverish heat of her skin smelled lovely.
“I’d love to watch him fuck your ass,” she whispered nastily.
Mack bit hard at the soft skin inside of her thigh, holding her in place as she shrieked and tried to buck him off. After a minute or so she settled, taking the pain with a grunting, gasping acceptance. He eased off and ran his mouth over the deep purple marks he’d left – a twin to the one he’d left on Ramsay’s chest. He laid his cheek against the mark for a moment and shut his eyes as another wave of embarrassment flooded him.
red his throat. “I’m too afraid to let you try that tiny strap-on you bought. There’s no way I want the real thing.”
She ignored his balking.
“Would you rather he gave you a hand job while he fucked your pretty ass, or would you prefer I sucked your cock while he did it?” she murmured. “Maybe Saya would help me if she could get over how terrified she seems to be of you.”
An inch from her pussy, the
scent of her arousal was evident. His cock throbbed against the mattress at the numerous sordid pictures that her words evoked.
She laughed and raised her hips to him, and he knew she was too afraid to ask him to go down on her when he was in the mood to inflict pain. Poor little thing.
The first sweep of his tongue was so light that she whined in frustration
and tried to press closer. He grabbed her thighs and pushed them back until she was splayed wide – completely open and helpless to him. She wriggled but couldn’t get away, so she complained half-heartedly that this position made her nervous.
Next, he swept the flat of his tongue upward over her slit, tasting her, flicking at her clit, which was already hard and waiting for attention. She cried out and tried to squirm, but he held her still. He nipped at the soft flesh at the top of the inside of her thigh, where it met her pussy, which made her muscles twitch. The little whined “no” was hot.
He spread her labia apart
and coaxed her tiny clit from its hiding place. When he blew on it, she squeaked and struggled to close her legs, but he was far stronger than she was. With his tongue, he brushed at the sensitive skin around her clit, avoiding coming into contact with it. One of her labia became a target for his teeth momentarily then he teased her clit with the very end of his tongue, working hard at making her crazy. She’d been close to desperate when he started, so it didn’t take long.
Gasping, writhing, trying to fight him, begging to come – when she was a complete mess, Mack let her go and walked from the room. She screamed at him, pleaded for him to
come back and finish what he started. Chuckling, he grabbed a bagel from the kitchen and went into his office to start work.
A few minutes later she walked into the room, still naked, a towel draped over her shoulder.
“I hate you.”
Mack gave her his best
seductive smile, and her tough expression melted. Her desperation was still there though, under the bravado.
“Suffering will heighten your pleasure later.”
She stared at him, looking frustrated, but didn’t argue. He was right, after all. They’d discussed it many times.
When she’d wandered off to shower and Mack had checked his e-mail, he settled down to sketch. His
BDSM superhero webcomic’s main character, Rime, had just been caught by her arch-nemesis, Rigg. His plan was to tie her up in sinister ways and torture her. It was a bit of a pattern for them. Instead, under his hand, a large blond Viking took form, and there was Rigg, kneeling at his feet – whether it was in defeat or for a blowjob was left to the imagination.
In irritation, he moved to crumple it up, but couldn’t make himself do it. The dominance in the Viking’s face and the supplication in the bow of
Rigg’s shoulders were perfect. It didn’t fit the plot – not at all. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy it. He slid open the bottom drawer of his desk, which held a stack of unused artwork, all waiting to possibly see the light of day, someday.
Viking went into his secret stash, and Mack impatiently worked on forgetting he was there.
He should have grabbed a cart. Juggling the array of items he’d amassed, he made his way toward the front of the store. There were no carts in the corral, and no one was checking out, so he couldn’t grab one from there. Figured. He scanned around the floor for a stack of baskets, but a pair of shapely legs was between him and his objective.
“Hi.” The word was small, almost breathed instead of
Mack followed the legs up, over curves that were shown to their best advantage in a flirty dress, to Saya’s lovely face. A wealth of ringlets haloed her head, her expression both sexy and in
nocent. Her big brown eyes met his for a moment, creasing into shy a smile at the edges, before she dropped her gaze.
Hey. Fancy meeting you here.”
one needs groceries eventually,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, it looks like everyone needs to get theirs today.
I can’t believe how busy it is. I was just about to grab a basket since there were no carts.”
Her brows drew together and she looked around helplessly. “Maybe I should come back later.”
She so wasn’t like Winter, who would have walked off into the parking lot to find a cart, or just carried a basket. People tended to get out of Winter’s way when she looked determined. Men might sacrifice their carts to her, just so she didn’t beat someone to death.
Saya, on the other hand, had an air about her that made you want to help...to protect. An often-untapped part of his personality sat up and took notice. Helpless female needed a cart. Poor thing.
“Hang on. I’ll see if I can find you one.” When she didn’t object, he dumped his burden into the basket at the top of the stack and went into the parking lot. Only one stray
cart and it had a wonky wheel.
He limped the thing back into the store and found Saya waiting where he’d left her.
“This one isn’t very good, but there weren’t any others. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Thanks.” She accepted the handle from him and he grabbed up the basket that held his groceries. A few feet away she was already struggling to keep it going in the right direction.
“Yeah, it’s worse than I thought.” He chuckled.
“I got my cart license in a cereal box, so it’s to be expected.”