Make Me Yours (11 page)

“Not gonna happen this time. This time, you’re going to suffer grown up consequences for defying me.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her over to a gazebo that had benches built onto the sides.

Sputtering, Morgan asked, “What are you doing? Let’s go in, I’m cold.”

Jack quickly undid her jeans, shoved them down and pulled her over his lap as he sat down. “One guess as to what I’m doing.”

“Damn it, Jack, it’s freezing out here!” she complained, all humor having fled when she realized his intentions. “Let me up! What if someone sees?”

Chuckling, Jack landed a hard swat on her ass. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Don’t worry; I’ll warm you up quickly.”

Cold and embarrassed, especially when she saw Marc pull up and he and two couples took their time unloading their skis while Jack peppered her wriggling ass with swift, hard slaps. As usual, it took only moments for the pain encompassing her buttocks to cause her cunt to spasm in need. Cursing, she turned her head away from her grinning audience and quit struggling. Her ass did indeed warm quickly under his hand until she felt like she was on fire, each smack a little harder, each response a little more needy. Her mortification knew no bounds as she pictured herself all bundled up against the cold with only her white buttocks on display. She felt more vulnerable and more exposed like this than if she was completely naked. At least then, she wouldn’t know what part of her body people were staring at. Imagining how red her ass was about now only added to her embarrassment, but the heat and pain from Jack’s unrelenting, hard hand was arousing her uncontrollably, to the point she didn’t care about anything except coming.

“Jack, please, please make me come,” she sobbed, ashamed that her need was so great.

“Poor baby,” Jack crooned unrepentantly as he ran his hand over her warm, red cheeks. “You do feel a little warm here. But, since you’re being punished, it wouldn’t be prudent of me to reward you with an orgasm, now would it?” Even as he said that, his fingers ran lightly over her dripping slit before entering her just enough to feel her walls close tightly around him.

“But,” she protested, twisting to glare up at him, “You enjoyed our snowball fight, and, you won!”

“Still, I was tired and cold and didn’t want to play right then. But you ignored my warning to stop. Now that I’ve warmed you up, I think I’ll cool you off again.”

Remembering the ice on her nipples, Morgan cringed as she saw Jack reach behind him, just outside the gazebo, and scoop up some snow. “No, Jack!” she cried out while trying to roll off his lap, but he was too fast and too strong for her.

Enjoying himself immensely, Jack grabbed her around the waist, held her down and rubbed snow onto her red, squirming buttocks, her curses ringing in his ears. A few more hard swats on her snow covered ass made her calm down, and several more had her lying docilely over his lap. Taking pity on her, he finally let her up, pulled up her jeans over her wet, sore ass and grinned up into her scowling face. “All done, Princess.”

“Don’t you ‘princess’ me you big jerk. My ass is sore and freezing and you owe me an orgasm.” Turning, she stomped into the lodge, ignoring all of them.

“She’s got a temper,” Marc said as he walked with Jack back into the lodge. “And a nice ass.”

“Yes, she does.” Jack’s little tussle had invigorated him, and made him hard. Then again, Morgan didn’t have to do much to get an erection out of him.

“Do you have plans for her tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Want to help?” When Marc hesitated, Jack asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t want to see you make the same mistake I did. If this is serious between you two, how far do you want the sharing to go?”

“Shit, sorry Marc. I wasn’t thinking.” Jack had been there the night Marc planned to share Cassie with him, and he had been there in the days following, supporting his friend through the anguish of knowing he had pushed too hard too soon. Cassie had been too young and naïve to see that Marc’s actions weren’t because he didn’t care, but because he cared so much he was willing to allow her to experience the ultimate pleasure of having two men pleasure her. “Morgan’s not Cassie and we have a lengthy history behind us. She knows how much I care, and that there’s nothing I won’t do for her. To answer your question, I intended to just torture her some more today until I have her on the cross tonight. I figure between the two of us, we can have her so frustrated and ready for an orgasm, she won’t think twice about being taken in public.”

“I think I can help you with that.” Smiling, they entered the lodge in search of their prey.

Morgan had stripped out of her damp clothes and was drying herself briskly with a large, soft towel and still cursing Jack when he strolled into the bedroom. “I did not enjoy that, Jack,” she snapped, irritated to see him smiling unrepentantly while she was still freezing.

“Poor baby,” he crooned. “Here, let me help get you warm.” Snatching the towel from her he softly rubbed the nubbed cloth over her breasts, adding pressure in a circular motion over her nipples before moving down her waist. Kneeling, he draped the towel over his palm and ran it up between her legs, smiling when she parted them willingly.

Morgan automatically braced her hands on his big shoulders as he rubbed between her legs, unable to stifle a moan when is ministrations only added to her unfulfilled desire. She quickly warmed as her pussy moistened further from the stimulation, her nipples tightening as her hips thrust forward in a silent plea for more.

Chuckling, Jack rose, drew his arms around her and proceeded to briskly rub her buttocks as his mouth took hers in a hard, wet kiss. When she melted against him, her pelvis grinding against the rigid length of his cock, he pulled away, draped the towel over her shoulders, and quipped, “There. I think you’re all warmed up now. Slip on my shirt and come help me with dinner.” The damp towel hit him in the back as he made a speedy exit, her curses following him out of the room.

Morgan was tempted to lock herself in the bathroom and relieve this frustration herself. But just the mention of food was enough to keep her from doing just that. She obeyed Jack by slipping his shirt on, but added a dry pair of jeans under it, knowing it would piss him off.

“What’re we having?” she asked as she strolled into the kitchen barefoot.

Jack looked up from the counter where he was chopping potatoes and tossing them into a large pot. He frowned as he noticed her jeans, then laid his knife down and came slowly towards her.

Morgan back away from him, not trusting the gleam in his eyes. Her retreat was halted abruptly when she backed into a hard body and Marc’s hands came around her waist to hold her securely.

“Now what has she done?” Marc asked before he ran his lips up the side of her neck.

“She put on jeans when I specifically told her to put on my shirt.” Jack stopped in front of her, smiling at her look of defiance. Something had happened while he was gone earlier to make Morgan act out, and if he were to guess, he bet she got another call from one of her parents. She was always either at her brattiest or her quietest after a confrontation with her mother or father. “Take off the jeans, Morgan,” he ordered softly, giving her no quarter.

“I’m still cold, and I only have to bow down to your will when it comes to sex, and since we’re not having sex, I’ll wear what I want.” Hopefully, they’d be having sex soon, though, she thought, as the feel of Marc’s lean hard body behind her only added fuel to a fire already blazing hot.

“I think she needs some help, Jack.” Marc kept his left arm tight around her waist as his right hand went unerringly to the snap on her jeans.

Morgan’s breath hitched with excitement as Marc deftly undid her jeans and Jack swiftly shoved them down. Kicking out, she refused to make it easy for them as she fought to keep Jack from pulling them completely off. Her struggles caused her shirt to bunch up, revealing the bare lips of her shaved pussy. When Marc’s free hand moved between her legs, his palm completely covered her mound and held her clasped tightly. Biting her lip in frustration, Morgan held back a moan as Jack stripped the jeans from her.

“Marc, my sub needs to be punished for disobeying me, but I think her ass is too sore for another spanking right now,” Jack said.

“Well, there’s only one other thing to do then,” Marc said softly right before his hand pulled away from her crotch only to slap against her sensitive folds with a jarring smack.

Morgan cried out as his hand smacked her again and again in short, rapid succession, her whimpers going unheeded as Jack just watched Marc mete out her punishment. When her pussy warmed and throbbed and her juices were creaming her thighs, she couldn’t stop from thrusting against his descending palm, meeting and welcoming each painful slap.

Biting her lip, she gazed imploringly at Jack. “Please, Master, please.”

“Stop.”

Marc stopped immediately. His hand was damp from her juices and looking down into Morgan’s red face, he saw what Jack had seen. Morgan was on the verge of climax and a few more, well aimed slaps probably would have sent her flying. “Poor darling.” Rubbing his fingers lightly over the soft flesh he had just abused, he continued to stimulate her just to the point of orgasm, before backing off.

Tears filled her eyes as Marc caressed her sensitive folds then softly dipped between them to lightly stroke over her inflamed clit, then quickly retreating before she could come. All the while, Jack stood in front of her, arms crossed, just watching out of those dark, enigmatic eyes. “Damn it, you two, quit teasing me. I can’t take it anymore,” she cried out when Marc once again teased her clit just to deny her again the relief of release.

Jack kissed her on the nose and nodded at Marc. “Come help me get this stew going, Princess, or we’ll never eat.”

Marc released her and joined Jack at the counter where the two of them resumed cutting vegetables as if nothing happened. And, damn it, nothing HAD happened as far as she was concerned. She knew Jack well enough to know he didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive; she just had to figure out what that motive was, because right now she didn’t have a clue. Striving for nonchalance as if she hadn’t been begging only moments before, Morgan joined them in preparing the beef stew. Within minutes, the three of them were laughing as Marc and Jack told her about some of the spills and antics the guests had pulled that afternoon.

Morgan’s hopes that Jack was done toying with her were dashed when he unbuttoned her shirt and flipped it open before boosting her onto a stool between him and Marc for dinner. Even though she had gotten comfortable pretty quickly in being naked in front of Jack, she was still self conscious in front of Marc, especially with both of them being fully dressed. Even though his green eyes lit with appreciation when he looked at her, years of hearing her mother put her down for her larger figure left her with insecurities that were hard to suppress.

Grabbing the edges of the shirt, she pulled them closed, retorting, “I’m not sitting here exposed while we eat.”

Jack, who was attuned to her every nuance, saw her glance uncertainly at Marc before glaring up at him. “Yes,” he stated implacably, “you are.” Pulling the shirt from her tight fisted grasp, he spread it open again. “You’re so pretty, Morgan. Surely you don’t want to deny us the pleasure of looking at you.”

Marc, taking his cue from Jack, added, “Gorgeous. Soft in all the right places.” Reaching over, he cupped a full breast, kneading it softly. “It’s no wonder Jack’s had a hard on for you for years. If it had been me, I sure as hell couldn’t have refrained from taking you for so long.”

Morgan saw only sincerity in his face. Marc was handsome, nice and his hands knew their way around a woman’s body. She didn’t crave any man but Jack as a lover, but if he wanted to add to her pleasure by giving Marc certain liberties, who was she to argue? He was the Master after all, she thought with an inward smile.

“Eat, Princess, you’ll need your strength for tonight.” Jack relieved her from the awkwardness with his disconcerting statement as he meant to do. Throughout dinner, he and Marc conversed casually while every once in a while caressing Morgan’s breasts, legs or soft folds, keeping her arousal high and on edge. Their touches didn’t affect her appetite, he noted, as she ate her whole bowl of stew even as her eyes grew glassy and her legs tightened together in an effort to ease her frustration. By the end of dinner he was satisfied that she was ready and eager to be taken by him and she won’t care where they are or who was watching.

An hour later, Morgan was so ready to get laid she could literally scream with the frustration. Jack helped her do the dishes while Marc went downstairs to greet their guests and then waited while she freshened up to escort her downstairs. Little did she know two nights ago that wearing nothing but Jack’s shirt in his club was going to become a habit.

Morgan was now able to put a few names with faces and was warmed by the way everyone greeted her. This group seemed to be a close knit bunch and it was obvious they thought highly of both Jack and Marc. Jack had explained how a lot of these people frequented strict BDSM clubs where certain protocol was demanded at all times, as well as strict dress codes and modes of address. Here, there were no such rules, it was left up to their guests to decide how they wanted to spend their vacation. The lodge simply provided a safe, fun getaway where they could indulge in their alternative lifestyle if they wished and to whatever extent they wished. As long as they obeyed the drinking limits and their play was safe, sane and consensual, they were free to do as they pleased.

Jack held Morgan’s hand as he walked with her through the club, socializing and waiting for her to relax. An hour later and one strong rum and coke, she was comfortable with the play going on and by the look in her whiskey eyes as she watched a dom take his sub who was restrained on one of the raised padded benches, more than ready to indulge in a little play of their own.

“Come, Princess. I believe I see a cross with your name on it.”

Chapter Seven