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Authors: Angel Payne

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #BDSM Menage

Three-Part Harmony (2 page)

BOOK: Three-Part Harmony
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“You think?” she retorted.

“But to those of us who got created with the mental chip for it, those words are better than a Shakespeare sonnet.” The angles of his face changed then, riveting her with a conviction that seemed nearly noble. “In D/s, it’s not just an act of your body. We sometimes call them scenes because of the focus that’s demanded. There has to be complete commitment on the part of both the Master and the submissive. Total focus from me. Absolute trust from her. Bondage is a way to signify that, even to help it. That can include ropes, cuffs, blindfolds—”

“Okay, got it.” She squirmed for a second, but she knew David didn’t miss the way she flicked her tongue over her lips, too—so yeah, he probably knew. He probably saw that hearing him talk like that, then imagining him using all those things on her, and asking her to be open to him like that…suddenly, it seemed less the stuff of a horror movie and more the fabric of fantasy.

Ohhh crap. The pulses between her thighs became a drum circle.

She had to refocus. She had to address the rest. The other words. The more frightening ones.

“What about…” She took a deep breath. “You said…sadism. And masochism. So there’s—parts of the scenes that sometimes—”

“Hurt.” He supplied it as a fact, not a question, and with brutal calm.
Oh yeah,
like a glassy lagoon hiding a water snake.
“I won’t lie to you about that either, D. Or about me. I’m a sadist, sweetheart. But a fun one. I play hard. I love the high of watching a lovely submissive writhe under me and for me. It makes my body rev and my blood sing. And I like to push limits too, when I know I’m with someone who wants it and trusts me with it—because I
love
what I give her in return.”

“Wait.” She cocked her head, brow crunching. “Did you really say someone who
wants
it?”

He jutted his jaw with enough force to command an army. His one-sided smile balanced the daunting effect. “Tell me something: Raife runs you and the dancers through a new routine and shows you moves that look like torture—”

“Because they
are
?

“Then he makes you do the damn thing over and over until you think your body’s going to come apart, right? But you trust that he knows where everything is going, how everything fits. And then, something happens. That moment comes when everything connects, and
you
get it too.” He suddenly broke out in a huge smile. It was more beautiful than any she’d seen from him before. “And it’s magic.”

Dasha closed her eyes for a moment. The sincerity in his voice compelled her more than the words. But she had to separate the two, if only for a moment.

“Crap,” she muttered. Then shot her tone with more anger. “So, what? Did these women just lie down and say ‘hurt me, Davey,’ now?”

His grin became a little smirk. “In a matter of speaking, yes. But not exactly like that. Most of them came to me with some previous experience in this unique lifestyle, so we had communication about what kind of things they enjoyed. And of course, the lines they trusted me not to cross.”

“Really?” She slid it out with sarcasm but couldn’t hide her surprise. So, even though submissives were—well—submissive, they got a vote about the conditions of their experience? “You mean there are choices? There’s a…variety?”

If it was possible, his sexual heat intensified. And like before, it permeated her too. It turned his response into something that seemed an invitation to a deep, entrancing wonderland.

“Variety would be the understatement, sweetheart. Imagine all the flavors of chocolate and cheese you love, turned into toys for sensation and pleasure.”

“And pain,” she reminded.

“Part of the pleasure.” It sounded practically an order, forcing her to look up again. To her surprise, that wolfish smile lingered at his elegant lips. “Marceline used to cry and beg me for riding crop welts. Katy liked rope bondage and fucking swings.”

Okay, TMI.
But Dasha kept the words to herself. Because somehow, standing here locked in his hold and bathed in his gaze, it wasn’t too much information. Because now, it wasn’t
enough
information. Every nerve ending in her body wanted to know more. Craved more of the feelings he’d now introduced to her muscles, her skin, her very breath…

“I suppose Lilly loved handcuffs and ankle shackles?” It escaped before she could help it. And sounded totally dorky.

“Only if we were into cop and criminal that night.” He looked almost pleased with himself. “Lilly did love her costumes. But yeah, that was probably her favorite. Probably because I withheld her orgasm for hours.”

Dasha shifted again. But this time, it wasn’t to resist or squirm. She started to return the pressure from his hold, curling her fingers around his thumbs. “So you…handcuffed her?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And then…told her she couldn’t…”

“Ohhhh yeah.”

“And what did
she
do?”

“She said, ‘Thank you, Sir.’”

Okay, bypass
dorky.
Barrel straight to
what-the-hell. “She
thanked
you?”

“In more ways than one.”

For a second, Dasha couldn’t identify what she felt about that. Then realization slammed. Jealousy. Envy that she hadn’t been in Lilly’s skin, pleading with David…pleasing David.

The ache bloomed again between her breasts. She didn’t hide her tears from him this time. “All right, then. Let me thank you in the same ways.” Before he got in another protest, she rushed on. “I want to try it. I want
you,
David.”

“Dasha—”

“Test me. Show me. How do you know I won’t like it too?”

He chuffed. “By the way you had to practically choke that out?”

“You haven’t even given me a chance.”

“Oh yes, I have.” Suddenly, his grip went from tight to unyielding. His stare bore into her with a feral honesty that turned the pain in her chest into chaos. “I’ve done exactly that, sweetheart. About a thousand times, in my imagination.”

She didn’t hide her reaction to that either. She let him take in the new desire that surely took over her face, to go with the thunder of her blood. This new knowledge about him, about this secret world to which he belonged…it shifted an important axis inside her. She admitted this was about way more than her disappointment in Dad’s no-show. Now this was about confronting her need for David, acknowledging that she wanted to please him, in every way possible. Even if it meant trying it his way. Even if it scared the crap out of her. Maybe
because
it scared the crap out of her.

She pressed nearer to him. Clean, luxurious scents surrounded her. His sandalwood soap. The bleach in his shirt. A trace of aftershave. “And in your imagination,” she murmured, “what did I do?”

She felt his breathing still. His stance stiffened. He pulled away by several inches but didn’t relax his grip. “You did nothing,” he answered. “At first.”

“Why?”

“Because you were on your knees.”

Dasha swallowed. She couldn’t tell if the words were comment or challenge. It didn’t matter. She accepted them as the latter. Using his hands for balance, she slowly lowered herself to the floor. She looked up, hesitant but achingly aware of his whole body now…and cognizant of the distinct ridge in his pants, right at her eye level. “Like this?”

David released one of her hands to stroke the hair from her eyes. His own gaze was hooded and molten…and consumed with her. Everything about the moment moved her in a deep, inexplicable way.

“Not quite,” he finally replied.

The meaning of that came loud and clear. Definitely a challenge this time. And she never backed down from challenges, especially now. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her other hand from his and shirked off her shimmering tank top. A bra had been built into the costume, so now nothing barred his eyes from her exposed, full breasts. His eyes went from gray to kohl, their embers stoked into dark fire. The look hit her like a physical move. Her womb quivered. Her nipples puckered and throbbed.

“Then…like this, maybe?” she managed to rasp.

“Yes.” He drew the “s” out, making it into soft praise. “Better. And beautiful.” He stroked her cheek. “So beautiful.”

Dasha’s skin flowed with warmth; her mind soared with happiness. She smiled up at him. “So where did your imagination take it from here?”

She didn’t expect his answer. He hauled her back to her feet in a sudden, fierce surge. She didn’t get a chance to gain balance, toppling into him, gripping him for simple purchase. He handled her weight without stopping his own action, locking her against him, then kissing her without a second of hesitation or an ounce of mercy.

She opened for him because he gave her no choice; his possession was brutal and absolute, a consuming command. She whimpered, loving the thorough shock of it. He groaned hard in return. The sound vibrated through her as well. She thought he’d let her go then, but no. He tunneled a hand into her hair, seizing the roots, yanking back her head so he spread her wider for him. Now he went at her with his tongue in rhythmic thrusts, making no secret about other acts on his mind. Dasha reveled in every second of the assault. She’d never felt so consumed, so desired. It was exactly what she needed. And she wanted more. Much more.

He pulled away. But not by far. He still held her, cradling her head. His stare was almost black. His jaw was the texture of dark marble. His mouth, slightly parted, dragged in air. Raw heat shot through her bloodstream.

“Before I give you the answer,” he said, “I need to hear that you trust where I’m going to take this right now.”

She forced her reeling head to nod. “Yes,” she answered. “Oh yes.”

“I mean it, D.” His fingers dug deeper against her scalp. “We’ve been through a lot in the last five years. We’ve been across the globe and back together. But tonight…this is going to be a very different destination. Our roles won’t be the same, and you might not like it. I won’t go grabbing you a bottle of water or an extra hairpin. I won’t have time to worry about stashing your lip gloss.” He raked his tongue along his teeth, looking hungry and hot as his gaze dipped to her mouth. “Actually, I’d prefer no gloss, with what I’m dying to do to those lips.”

Desire deepened her dizziness. He was so close now, she nearly tasted him again with every syllable. His breath was laced with spices, a little imported beer, and a lot of arousal. It was all she could do to dip an eager nod.

“You’ll have a way to tell me ‘no,’” he assured. “It’s called a safe word, something specific and definite between us. I expect you to use it if you need to.”

“Uh…huh.” She tried to slam some coherence onto her tongue. “Ruh-ruh-right.” Oh yeah, that went well.

“But make no mistake about it, I’ll be the one in charge.” He framed her face with his hands as he gave the order. “Are we clear? This is a different playing field. I can’t concentrate on reading your body
and
playing verbal ping-pong with you, so even the way we communicate will be regulated. Direct questions from me; honest answers from you. No using your safe word to control things either. Not that you could get away with that anyway.”

Dasha vacillated between fear and way-turned-on. He was right; he’d always been able to read her like a butterfly under a magnifying glass. It was one of the reasons they made a successful business team. But now, confronting the reality of getting naked with him and then some, she knew he’d now have the biggest window into her soul. The recognition made her tremble in good and not-so-good ways.

She nodded again, more evenly this time. “All right,” she said. “I—I understand.”

“Are you sure? The rules aren’t flexible here. Not right now. It’s your safety at stake.” He wryly hiked a brow. “And likely my sanity.”

“I trust you, David.” She pressed her soul into each word, wanting him to know how much she meant them. “I do.”

He tilted her face up once more and took her lips again. This time, he lingered with it, tasting her deeply, sweeping her mouth with his tongue. But when he pulled away, every elegant line of his face was stamped with command.

“I’m going to give you another second to think about that while I lock the door,” he stated. “I’m also going to tell the limo to wait, then I’m putting my phone on DND. If your answer’s the same, then I want you kneeling on the floor next to the couch, naked and ready, when I get back.”

“All right.”

She gave back the words with eager speed, almost needing to please him—only to have him catch her by the elbow, circling her back to face him again. “When we’re together like this, the proper response to that is ‘Yes, Sir.’” The glittering light in his eyes took away the sting of the words. “It’s a sign of your respect for me, but how you say it also lets me know where your head is at, what you’re feeling. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Dasha whispered and swallowed hard. “Sir.”

David gave a sharp nod, released her, and turned without another word or touch. Again, confusion swept in. The orders and details from any other man would’ve had her fuming like a soaked cat. Instead, she trembled a little in anticipation. David had always been a man who knew what he wanted and went after it at Mach five, so discovering his private “appetites” wasn’t the biggest jaw-dropper here. But now that he’d mandated total honesty in all this and set the example with his frank and open answers to her questions, Dasha confronted the same in her own heart. His authoritative ways were part of why she desired him. Okay, a
really
big part. His strength, intensity, and vision had carried her through many a hellish day and just as many nights.

And now, she yearned to have that passion unleashed solely on her.

With hands that shook a little, she doffed her stage heels and pants. She padded to the couch clad only in her tight panties, trying to ignore how the air-conditioning chilled her exposed skin. The floor, though carpeted, covered a plain of concrete, and its hardness only heightened her awareness of being so open, so exposed, so utterly out of her element. Just thirty minutes ago, the two of them had bantered like old schoolyard pals as he guided her back here after the post-show press conference. And now…

BOOK: Three-Part Harmony
10.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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