The Mistress

Page 33
Author: Tiffany Reisz It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She had always been attracted to Kingsley, fascinated by him, feared and desired him. And he tasted amazing in her mouth. It was strange, though, going down on someone other than Søren. When she did this to him, he always held her so hard she’d have a bruise on her back at the nape of her neck the next morning. She thought of those bruises as her souvenirs, a little black-and-blue reminder of the previous evening’s pleasures. But Kingsley had threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her head, giving only the gentlest of encouragements. Strange, definitely. Not what she was used to. But definitely not bad. Not bad at all.

After a few minutes, Kingsley snapped his fingers in her ear and Eleanor pulled away and rested back on her hands.

“Now do you understand?” Søren asked over Kingsley’s shoulder as they both looked down at her waiting on the floor.

“If I didn’t before, I do now. ” Kingsley gave her his hand and helped her to her feet. But the chivalry ended there. Kingsley pushed her over the end of the bed and yanked her skirt to her hips. Per Søren’s instructions, she’d worn no underwear. With her face buried in the red silk sheets, she couldn’t tell whose fingers entered her from behind. “She’s wet. ”

“Of course she is,” Søren said.

“Of course I am,” Eleanor said from the bed. “Monsieur. ”

“She’s rather. . . what is the word I’m looking for? Enthusiastic? Ardent?”

“Horny,” Eleanor supplied.

“And talkative, too. ” Kingsley sounded annoyed but annoyed in that way only a Frenchman could be annoyed. Annoyed and aroused at the same time. “We’ll have to gag her if she keeps this up. ”

Eleanor fell silent immediately. She hated being gagged, hated being blindfolded. When gagged she couldn’t crack jokes to annoy Søren like she loved to do. And what woman spending the night with two such beautiful men would ever want to be blindfolded?

“That’s better. Good girl,” Søren said as he ran his hand over her bare thighs. “Less talking. More moaning. ”

“Moaning. . . I like that sound of that. ” Kingsley dug his fingers deeper into her. “Let’s see how much we can make her moan, shall we?”

“After you. ”

Something hit her hard across the backs of her thighs. Long and thin—a crop or a cane. Didn’t matter, they both hurt like fuck. Again and again it came down and set the back of her body on fire.

Finally it stopped and she sagged in relief against the bed.

“You were right,” Kingsley said, running his hand over her burning skin. “She can take pain. ”

“I’ve only known one person who could take more. ”

Kingsley laughed then, a warm intimate laugh that told her Søren hadn’t merely told a joke, he’d told an inside joke, one only Kingsley understood.

She wasn’t given much time to recover. Kingsley gripped her by her white leather collar and yanked her to her feet. He grasped her by the back of her neck and brought his mouth down onto hers for a bruising kiss.

She kissed back just as hard, feeling her hunger rising with each liberty Kingsley took with her. She’d never dreamed it would be so erotic to be used by another man while her own lover watched and helped. But Søren knew. . . he knew she would love this. That’s why he’d ordered it, why he had ignored her protests and her objections. The man knew her better than she knew herself. One of these days she’d learn to trust him.

As they kissed, Kingsley unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it out of her tight white skirt. He unhooked her bra and dragged it down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. He cupped her breasts, caressed them and toyed with her nipples. He pinched one hard and she retaliated by biting down onto his bottom lip.

“Merde,” he cried, pulling back. He wiped his bottom lip and blood came off on his hand. Eleanor braced herself for his anger, but anger wasn’t what she saw in his eyes. . . not at all.

“I knew you two would get along,” Søren said.

Kingsley looked at Søren as Eleanor waited, half-naked and nervous. Something seemed to pass between them as Søren studied the blood on Kingsley’s bottom lip.

“I told you that’s no submissive you found for yourself,” Kingsley said. “Your little kitten is going to grow up to be a tiger. ”

“Even more reason to tame her now. ” Søren winked at Kingsley and Eleanor saw something in that wink she didn’t quite understand, but whatever it was, the way Kingsley and Søren looked at each other made her body temperature shoot up about ten degrees.

Kingsley came up to her again and faced her. Only a single drop of blood still remained on his lip.

“Lick it off,” he ordered. Eleanor stood on her toes to reach him. With a flick of her tongue she lapped off the blood. Kingsley’s eyes half-closed with naked desire. “Keep kissing. ”

He raised his hand and opened his collar more. Eleanor kissed his chin, his neck, under his ear, his neck and throat.

“Bite. ”

She dug her teeth into the graceful tendon between neck and shoulder.

“Harder. ”

She dug her teeth in hard enough he flinched. After the flinch came a groan, barely restrained. Not of pain nor of pleasure but pain in the pleasure, pleasure in the pain.

As she kissed and bit her way slowly across his neck and shoulders, Kingsley ran his hands possessively over her back, her breasts and her arms.

“We will both be inside you tonight,” he whispered as he raised her chin with one finger.

“I know. That’s the plan, right? Wouldn’t be a threesome if you didn’t both fuck me?”

He gave her one last kiss, this one almost tender. He followed up the kiss with a smile, one utterly terrifying.

“You misunderstand. I mean we’ll both be inside you tonight. . . at the same time. ”

All gentleness and tenderness ended at that moment. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and steered her to the bed. Søren waited with rope cuffs in his hands. He wrapped the cuffs around one wrist and threw the end over the wrought-iron bar of Kingsley’s canopy-style bed. He cuffed her other wrist and pulled the rope tight. Now she stood facing the bed, the front of her thighs pressing against the mattress, her arms tied high over her head.

She watched as Kingsley walked to the opposite side of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks. He unbuttoned his vest and shirt before crawling across the sea of red silk toward her. He straddled her thighs so that she stood trapped between his open legs. With both hands he stroked her breasts, her chest and stomach.

“He’s going to beat you now,” Kingsley said before pausing to give each nipple a long, slow, deep kiss.

“You did say you wanted me to moan, monsieur. ”

“That’s not why you’re going to moan. He’s going to beat you. . . I’m going to eat you. ”

At that she felt the first lash of the flogger onto her back. She gasped from the sudden shock of pain even as the things Kingsley did to her nipples sent shock waves spiraling deep into her core. The flogger came down again and again. It bit at her back with a dozen fangs while Kingsley kissed and licked every inch of her chest. Søren paused only long enough to switch to a harder flogger and, in that moment, Kingsley rolled onto his back, spun around so that his head lay off the end of the bed at her hips, lifted her knee onto the bed and buried his tongue inside her.

Eleanor’s body went to war with itself. Pleasure versus pain. . . with every passing moment, one would top the other. Pain dominated the pleasure until the pleasure threatened to take over her whole being. She knew she moaned and moaned loudly as they’d predicted. In the back of her mind she could even hear herself. Witty, articulate, intelligent—all words that had been used to describe her a thousand times. Now these two men and their desires had reduced her to a cat in heat moaning for relief.

“Please. . . ” She panted the word and didn’t know what she pleaded for. Relief. . . release. . .

The flogging stopped even as Kingsley continued to lap between her legs, licking and teasing her with his lips and tongue. She felt like every drop of blood in her body had pooled in her clitoris. She would die if she didn’t come soon.

Søren pressed his naked chest into her back.

“Not yet,” he whispered in her ear. “Not quite yet. ”

She could have cried from disappointment but for the erotic torture Kingsley continued to inflict on her.

“If you don’t mind, Kingsley,” Søren said with an air of the nonplussed gentleman.

“Pas de tout,” he said as he pulled away from Eleanor and resumed his prior seated position in front of her. “Allow me. ”

Eleanor whimpered as Kingsley raised the front of her skirt and tucked the hem into the waistband. He slipped a hand between her legs and penetrated her with his middle finger. He wore a silver ring with a fleur-de-lis signet on that hand. She could feel the cold metal pressing against her burning clitoris. She waited for another finger or even two. . . the more the merrier. She was so wet she could have taken his whole hand with a little patience. But no. . . only the one finger. He pulled his hand toward him and Eleanor cried out as her inner muscles spasmed hard as he stretched her open. Then she felt something else. . . Søren opening his pants. And then he started to enter her from behind. Slowly, inch by inch, he filled her. . . they filled her, both of them—Søren sharing her body with Kingsley’s finger.

She’d never felt so filled before, so open. Søren thrust into her with torturous slowness as Kingsley moved his finger in tandem. She couldn’t say what aroused her more—that Kingsley and Søren were both inside her at once, or that Kingsley was touching Søren.

She might have taken a few seconds to decide the answer to that question but Kingsley then decided to bring his other hand to her, and start stroking her clitoris.

“Now you can come, Little One,” Søren whispered into her ear. “Come for Kingsley. Come for me. ”

When she came she came hard, her vaginal muscles contracting wildly around both Søren and Kingsley. As the spasms fluttered and faded, she leaned back against Søren’s chest and sighed.

“Don’t be mad, sir,” she said to Søren, “but I totally came for me. ”

He laughed then, a deep pure laugh of utter happiness. A beautiful wide-open laugh. She wanted to hear it every day of her life.

“Oh, very well,” he said, kissing her as he cupped her breasts from behind, “but the next one is for us. ”

“Promise. ”

“She might not have come for me. . . ” Kingsley said as he pulled his finger out of her. “But she did come on me. ” He raised his arm and, in the candlelight, Eleanor could see a wet stain on Kingsley’s cuff.

“Very nice,” Søren said, impressed.

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” Eleanor promised.

“Never. I’m never washing this shirt again. ” He sounded like he meant it.

Søren untied her from the bed, and her arms fell heavy to her sides. She wobbled a little on her heels, light-headed from the orgasm and the restraints. Søren caught her up in his arms. Kingsley pulled back the covers and Søren laid her down. He unzipped her skirt and pulled it off her hips. As he undressed her, Eleanor watched Kingsley. His eyes moved from her to Søren and back to her. She saw desire in his dark eyes but not only for her.

When he’d stripped her of everything but her white high heels, Søren pulled her into the bed. She lay on top of him, her back to his chest. He draped her legs over his thighs and held her arms down by her sides. With his body alone he held her in bondage as Kingsley crawled between her knees and kissed her from her hips to her breasts to her mouth. When their lips met he pushed inside her. She’d had to fight one moment of panic when she looked up and saw Kingsley’s face over her and not Søren’s. But the pleasure consumed her. This wasn’t making love or even sex. Kneeling between her legs, Kingsley fucked her and he fucked her harder than she’d ever been fucked. She came with her eyes closed and only after, when she opened them again, did she see Kingsley staring down, but not at her.