Hanging On 2: Surreal Neal [Awakenings 6] (Siren Publishing Menage and More) (16 page)

He knelt at my feet. “I would be honored, Mistress.”

Drew watched as I buckled it on, fierce and possessive pride gleaming from his eyes. Though I’d picked it out, I hadn’t purchased it until he’d voiced his approval. He liked how the color would bring out Neal’s eyes.

We arrived on the island in no time, and Heather McDougall met us at the dock. Flanked by two men wearing tiny black shorts, she stood out as the leader of the group. The men helped tie up the boat—yacht—and then they leapt aboard and took our luggage.

I smiled at the tall, dark-skinned woman. I hadn’t seen her in years. Even then, our association had been brief. I was friends with Jonas, and Heather had been buddies with Jonas’s ex-wife, the evil bitch from Hell. There was no bad blood between us, though things could have been awkward if Jonas hadn’t already reestablished a relationship with her.

Sabrina liked Heather and wanted to keep her as the manager of the resort. Ellen liked Heather as well, but both of them wanted my opinion on her before any decisions were finalized. Samantha had plans to fly down and meet Heather in the next few weeks.

One of Heather’s slaves held out his hand to help me disembark, but Neal got there first. He stared down the other submissive with a glare that would have chilled ice. Neal might be submissive, but he was no pushover, and nobody was going to touch me without my expressed permission. He lifted me from the boat and set me gently on the dock. Drew received Neal’s assistance as well.

In all the years I had been a dominatrix, I had never been in this situation. My submissives were bedroom playthings. Even before Drew had come into my life, I hadn’t allowed my subs entree into my personal life.

Heather held her arms open, and I hugged her warmly.

“Hey, girl. You are looking even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. Thirty looks good on you.”

I was twenty-eight. I wondered if she meant I looked good for thirty or if I looked good in general. As I carried on my worried internal monologue, Drew intervened.

He laughed, the bastard. Of course, thirty was in his rearview mirror, so he no longer thought it was a big deal. “It will in a couple years, anyway. You must be Heather.”

Her eyes widened. “Sorry. Note to self: Shut up after the compliment.”

I smiled to let her know I wasn’t angry. “Heather, this is my husband, Drew.” She shook his hand. “And this is our submissive, Neal. Neal, say hello to Mistress Heather.”

Neal bowed his head respectfully, which was good because I didn’t want him kneeling for anybody else but Drew. “Hello, Mistress Heather.”

She acknowledged him with the barest lift of her chin. “He’s lovely. Did you want an extra set of chains in your suite? Perhaps attached to the bedpost?”

“No, thank you. We’d like to freshen up, and then we thought we’d explore the resort.”

Heather nodded. “I’ll have a guide available for you in an hour.”

Drew slung his arm around me. “That’s not necessary. We want to see everything the way a guest sees it.”

That was my business strategy. To that end, I had asked Heather for the most popular suite. Some of the buildings were quite old, and Ellen had mentioned that some of them needed updating. Alexei and Stefano had allotted money to cover renovations, but they hadn’t set foot on the place to gauge the extent of what needed to be done.

Our suite consisted of a large living room and kitchenette, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. The wallpaper was old and faded, and the floors needed to be refinished. Though the furniture was serviceable, it was also dated. I took one of the bags Heather’s slave had parked in the bedroom into the bathroom, where I stopped short.

“Drew!”

He was there in seconds, drawn by my panicked exclamation. At first, he tried to push past me. “Did you find a bug?”

I gave him a dry look. He was the one who had issues with creepy-crawlies. My brother had anesthetized me to the sight of spiders and their ilk. He and I had played sadistic insect-related jokes on one another often enough so that our parents had stopped intervening. Once, he’d even put garter snakes in my bed.

Drew, the love of my life, didn’t scream or make a big deal about insects, but he also was in the habit of calling me to remove them.

“Why would I call you for that?”

Not bothering with a pointless protest, he shrugged.

“Look around.”

I watched his face, and it didn’t take long for it to assume an expression of comical amazement. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah. It looks like someone went to a hotel demolition in Vegas and thought they hit the jackpot.”

Huge yellow flowers sprung from clusters of leaves on the wallpaper. The plumbing fixtures furthered the garden theme. The huge soaker tub—large enough for the three of us—had a swan spout and signet handles.

I felt Neal behind me. His bare chest pressed against my back. “I’ve seen worse.”

Looking up over my shoulder, I took in the smile lighting his face. “Really?”

“Yeah. Not much worse, but yeah. Worse. At least it doesn’t look like a whore’s bathroom.”

Drew shook his head. “I might have preferred that.”

“All the suites will need to be made over,” I decided.

“Themed decor,” Neal said. “People who stay here will want different themes. Dungeon, of course. Pirate, harem, garden, things like that.”

“No,” I said. “No gardens.” I liked his other ideas. As with his suggestion for a new name, Neal seemed to hit gold whenever he opened his mouth.

“Garden of Eden,” he argued. “Do a simple, versatile decor in the rooms, and you can change out accent pieces that create the theme.”

Drew turned a signet and water came out the swan’s open beak. “It’s clean. Just old and worn.” He poked at the feathers on the swan’s open wing. “And dangerous. I think somebody drunk could impale themselves on this.”

I turned the water off. “We can try it out tonight. Heather mentioned in an email that she has something special planned for this evening. I want to check out the island before dinner, and we all need to freshen up.”

An hour later, I wore a bikini top and wrapped a sarong around my waist. It matched the blue of Neal’s collar. I didn’t leave Drew out of the palate either. I’d packed him royal blue shorts, and I’d set them on the counter in the bathroom when he’d gone in to rinse off and check his face. He liked to be clean-shaven all the time. I liked the scruffy look on him every now and again, but he refused to look less than perfect in public. My diva.

I’d let Neal change into a pair of sexy short-shorts that matched his collar. He looked good in bright blue. Very good. I thought about stripping him down and sucking on his cock.

When Drew came out of the bedroom, he looked from his shorts to Neal’s collar and then to me. “Sophie, I love you, but this is ridiculous.”

“I think you both look damn sexy.”

Drew rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Neal grinned at me. “Mistress, have you ever topped Chef?”

I began to shake my head, but then I rethought my answer. “When we first met. It didn’t work out.”

“That’s why you’re here.” Drew rejoined us, looking resplendent in plaid shorts and pale yellow shirt, and we all exited the room. “Sophie needs someone who always wears what she picks out without arguing.”

Neal scoffed good-naturedly. “She was right, though. You did look damn sexy in those shorts. They bring out your eyes.”

For a second, I think Drew considered putting them back on. Instead, he grabbed my hand and twined his fingers in mine. Then he nodded at Neal. “Come on, boy toy. Let’s see what kinds of trouble we can get you into.”

Neal

The shorts were tight. They constricted my balls and forced me to position my manhood straight up so that if I got hard, the tip would peek out of the waistband. I liked the squeezing sensation, and so I didn’t complain. I think Mistress knew exactly what she was doing by making me wear them.

Whenever we stopped to look at something, she would reach back and absently stroke me until my dick came to life. It didn’t take long. Sophia was a gorgeous woman, inside and out.

I liked her. I liked her a lot. She respected my limits without question, though I suspected that if I opened myself to her, she would push me. I both craved and feared that eventuality. Thank goodness I’d built in an expiration date for this adventure in ménage.

The collar was something I hadn’t expected. With or without it, I recognized Mistress as my Domme and Chef as my Dom. I’d never been topped by two people before, and I was looking forward to seeing how it worked out.

Drew, of course, wasn’t openly topping me. Yet. I had every confidence that he would come into his own while we were on Elysium. It’s funny because when I first saw them together, I had thought that he was the Dom. I had been reluctant to become involved—even though I knew their reputation for playing around—precisely because I didn’t like the idea of multiple subs. Somebody inevitably got jealous, and things went down the tubes.

I had observed them for several weeks before I realized that Sophia was the Domme and that Chef wasn’t in touch with his dominant side anywhere outside of the kitchen. I also had figured out that they weren’t going to proposition me. The fact they respected me and treated me with professional courtesy meant a lot, and it made the decision to offer myself that much easier. Or less hard. I hadn’t offered myself to anyone since Master Geordie.

The island was beautiful. The rooms were outdated, but the landscaping had been kept up well. The island didn’t seem to boast anything outside of the usual amenities. The guests were the only points of interest so far. Some were naked, others were engaged in some kind of BDSM or ménage play. Most of them just looked like people on vacation.

I walked behind Mistress and Chef, watching them hold hands. Drew often paused to kiss her, and though he mostly held her hand, he dropped it frequently to let his hands wander over her exposed skin.

Sophia didn’t seem to mind. I wondered what she would do if I tried to take some of those liberties.

The next time we paused at a railing, I moved in next to Mistress. In the large, open area, I made out stations set up. Some had frameworks where a submissive could be tied. I recognized a Catherine wheel that looked old and unsafe. Nobody used this space.

“This is where you should put the coliseum,” I said. “You can have shops or alcoves that cater to different kinds of kink and an open area for the games.”

I skimmed my fingertips down her arm and across her back. She responded favorably, softening her body and turning toward me.

Drew got into my idea, pointing out the area under discussion to better define it. “The field can be used for fairs, demonstrations, or displays. It could accommodate workshops and lessons. We could host kink conventions.”

Mistress cupped her hand around my dick. “I like it. I’ll ask Samantha to draw up what it could look like.”

I had no idea who Samantha was, and I didn’t care. I stroked a caress down her spine to the same rhythm she used on me.

“That’s not going to get you laid,” Drew said. “Frustrated, maybe, but that’s it.”

Mistress slid between me and the railing, adjusting her grip on my hard-on as she turned to face me. She tilted her head back and grinned. “Kiss me.”

I gladly obliged. Mistress had great lips, and she kissed with her whole body. By the time she released me, my mental faculties had taken flight.

Drew eased her from my embrace and put his lips where mine had just been. I watched them, contentment washing through my system. They were right together, and I was honored to belong to them.

When I thought they’d stop, Drew lifted Sophia onto the top rung of the metal fencing and pushed her wraparound out of the way. Underneath, her electric blue thong, visible under the sheerness of the fabric, matched her top. Drew slid his knuckles along her slit, and she moaned into his mouth.

He broke away at last, his magnificent bare chest heaving in the late afternoon sunlight. “Kneel between her legs. Lick her until she comes. I’ll hold her steady and keep her from falling.”

Mistress tasted better than sweet summer melons. I hooked my finger around the crotch of her thong and dove into her warmth. Chef moved in behind me, and I felt his hard cock press against the back of my head. I wanted to take care of him after I saw to Mistress’s pleasure, but I didn’t hurry. Her moans were a music I would never tire of hearing.

She clamped her muscles on my tongue, and I think the only reason she didn’t squeeze my head was because Chef had her knees on the outside of his hips. He rocked against my head, pushing me into her, smothering me. No matter—I didn’t need to breathe. The suffocation made my head buzz.

Mistress cried out, and her climax poured into my mouth. I sucked and slurped, licking her clean in my greed for more.

Chef eased back. I swiveled and seized his cock, pleading for permission with the look in my eyes. He nodded, and I had his shorts around his ankles faster than he could help Mistress down from the railing. With her juices wetting my face, I took him deep into my mouth. My cock pounded, pulsing with need. I was so close to climax it wasn’t funny.