Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) (28 page)

She rolled over onto her side then up onto her hands and knees as ordered.

“Spread your legs, sugar.”  Caleb stepped up behind her and bent to place a kiss on each ass cheek, on either side of her crease, before placing his lips right on the ruby covering her anus.  “God, sugar that is so fuckin’ beautiful. 
You
are so fuckin’ beautiful.  Just knowin’ you’re wearin’ that is enough to keep me hard all day long.  How does it feel?”

“It—actually, it’s very comfortable, although I’m always aware that it’s there.

“That’s part of its purpose,” Simon said.  “To keep you constantly aware of your body, especially those parts that give you pleasure.  We want you conscious of what you’re feelin’ at all times.  Constantly anticipatin’ the pleasure we’ll be givin’ you.”

Oh, goodie. 
If she was this needy with a small plug, she couldn’t even
begin
to imagine the torment awaiting her when they made her wear the larger ones. 
Or a vibrating one!  Holy shit!
  “Basically, it just feels heavy.  But every time I move,
it
moves. My muscles clench around it and it makes me want—”She broke off, biting her lip.

“You want…what?”

Her cheeks heated.  “To come.”

Simon laughed.  “Then it’s doing exactly what it’s designed to do.  It’s givin’ you pleasure.”

“Yeah.  If hours of constant sexual stimulation with no relief can be referred to as pleasure,” she snarked.

“Well,” Caleb said, “you’re lucky it’s only for a few hours.  Some Doms require their subs to stay sexually stimulated without bein’ given a climax for a lot longer than that.  Like days, for instance.  Or even weeks.”

Whoa! 
She gulped. 
Weeks!  Holy shit!  Being constantly stimulated and never being allowed to come?  Fuck, no!  I’d never survive that! 
“That’s—that’s torture.”

“Relax, sugar.  We have no intention of torturin’ you.  Well…maybe a little bit,” he joked.  “Besides, accordin’ to my brothers, you have more than earned your orgasms tonight.  And we can’t wait to give them to you.  But, no penetration tonight, other than the plug, which we will leave in to enhance your pleasure.  We used you pretty hard last night and I know you’re probably a little sore.”

“A little?”  She smiled.  “You mean like Shaquille O’Neal is a little tall? 

He laughed.  “Yup.  Exactly like that.  Crawl up to the head of the bed, baby, and lie down.  It’s time to give you your reward.”

They took turns taunting her, teasing her, touching her.  Tantalizing her with sweeps and flicks of their tongues on her lips, her nipples, her clit, her anus.  Tormenting her, taking her up and over the edge time after time until she was writhing and sobbing and begging for mercy. 

Then, kneeling around her, Caleb and Ash at her sides and Simon at her head, they each grabbed their cocks and began jacking off.  But Kylie couldn’t bear not participating in
their
pleasure, so she grabbed Ash’s and Caleb’s cocks, replacing the rapid up-and-down movements of their hands with her own until their backs arched and their groans rent the air as they shot hot cum all over her belly, breasts, and face.  By the time they cleaned her up and pulled up the covers, arranging themselves around her in a protective circle, she was sound asleep.

She woke up three times during the night, each time thinking she was having an erotic dream only to see a dark, masculine head between her legs and to feel a wicked tongue worshipping her sex, sending her soaring off the cliff into ecstasy once again.  It was too dark to make out who it was each time, but she was beginning to recognize each of her men by the way he wielded his tongue.  Simon was first.  He liked to lick over and over with just the tip of his tongue, gentle swipes across the surface of her clit as if he were slowly melting a cube of sugar.

Ash liked to close his mouth around her entire clit hood and apply suction, lifting his head to pull that little flap of flesh upward again and again, alternating with slow, deliberate circles of his tongue, building that exquisite tension inside her until he launched her off into the stratosphere as her body blew apart in pleasure.

Caleb, on the other hand, just got straight down to business.  Resting his left forearm on her belly, he held her labia apart with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, flicking his right finger back and forth before leaning in and attacking her clit.  Rapid repetitive flicks of his tongue soon had her writhing and squirming, crying out in pleasure as her back arched and she exploded with an orgasm that thundered through her like an erupting volcano, burying her completely beneath a mountain of smoldering cinders and ash.

* * * *

Kylie, Caleb, Simon, and Ash entered the foyer of Marshall’s Hill, the gracious antebellum mansion that was Sarah Colter-Sinclair’s ancestral home.  It was now a Bed and Breakfast, although the only guests staying there this particular week were members of Clay and Leah Nighthorse’s wedding party.

The three Rafferty men were wearing suits and dress shirts open at the neck, but no ties.  Ash carried a Canon EOS camera in his hand, while a Nikon with a long telephoto lens hung around his neck.  Kylie figured there was close to ten thousand dollars’ worth of photographic equipment in just those two items.  Probably another five thousand inside the nylon accessory bag hanging over his shoulder.

“Kylie!  You’re walking!”  Leah came rushing forward to greet them.  “OMG, those shoes are so cute!”

Kylie bent forward to look down at the turquoise leather ballet flats her three men had bought for her that morning over in Charlottesville, along with a dozen more pairs of shoes and a pair of cowboy boots to wear to the Icebox on Saturday night.  They’d also bought her a couple of denim skirts, some plaid shirts, a fringed leather vest, and a straw Stetson. All proper two-stepping attire, they had assured her.  She’d gone along with it, figuring if she was going to make a fool of herself out on the dance floor, at least she was going to do it in
style.

She’d spent the afternoon in the recliner with her feet up.  Doms’ orders.  Dr. McKay had told her not to overdo and they were determined to make sure that she didn’t.  They didn’t want her to risk opening up any of the deeper cuts that were still in the process of healing.

Tonight, as per Leah’s suggestion, Kylie was wearing the gauzy turquoise cotton dress she’d worn at Granny Grace’s. Only she and the three Raffertys knew that that was the
only
thing
she was wearing.  Except for the stainless steel butt plug in her ass.  The thrill of excitement that had raced through her when Caleb had bent her over the bathroom counter so Simon could insert the plug still shimmered inside her. Her body buzzed with anticipation of all the wickedly sinful things they were going to do to her later tonight.  The gorgeous Shibori silk scarf with its incandescent interplay of colors was looped loosely around her neck, its long ends trailing down over her breasts.

“Omigod, Kylie!  That scarf is
perfect!
”  Leah touched it reverently.  “It was made for this dress.”

Kylie’s hand lifted to finger the delicate silk.  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned,” she said.  “Please tell your artist how much I love it.”

“I’ll do even better than that,” Leah exclaimed, pulling her cell phone out of the pocket of her softly gathered skirt.  “I’ll send her a picture so she can see for herself.  Say cheese.”

“Limburger.”

Leah laughed and took several photos before re-pocketing her phone.

“You know, Leah, I just realized that I don’t have anything suitable to wear to your wedding.  Lots of simple cotton sundresses, but nothing dressy enough for a wedding.”

“No problem,” Leah said with a breezy wave of her hand.  “Why don’t I meet you tomorrow morning at the Toy Emporium?  We can try on some of the gorgeous cocktail dresses Granny Grace carries.  One of those would be perfect.”

Kylie frowned.  “Are you sure you have the time?  I mean, your wedding’s just three days away.  Surely you’re busy with—”

“Believe me, I need a break from all the wedding stuff.  Especially if it’s to do something girlie and fun like dress shopping.  Please say yes.”

“Well, since you put it that way,” Kylie laughed.  “It
will
be fun, won’t it?”

“I already can’t wait.”

“And who is this lovely young lady?” asked a male voice with a slight but distinct British accent from behind Kylie.  An older gentleman wearing dress slacks, deep blue shirt and a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows came around Kylie to stand next to Leah. His hair was white, but he looked tanned and fit for his age, which Kylie judged to be in his mid-sixties.

“Oh, this is Kylie, the woman I told you about,” Leah said, putting her arm through the man’s and hugging it to her side.  “Kylie, this is my uncle Everett Burke.  He just retired here from San Francisco and has been helping me get my gallery up and running.”

Kylie put out her hand.  “How do you do, Mr. Burke?  It’s lovely to meet you.”

With a gracious little bow he took her hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing a light kiss across her knuckles.  “Believe me, my dear, the pleasure is all mine.”  He gestured to another man, shorter, younger, with glasses and a crew cut.  “Daniel, come and meet Leah’s lovely new friend.  Kylie, this is Daniel Rayburn, my partner.  Daniel, this is Kylie Ferrell.”

Daniel approached and took Kylie’s out-thrust hand.  “Pleased to meet you, Kylie.”

“Same here, Mr. Rayburn.”

“Oh, no, call me Daniel.  I am the new director of Leah’s gallery.  Since you’re her new bookkeeper, I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Daniel it is, then,” Kylie grinned.

“The ceremony is going to be outside in the South Garden,” Leah went on.  “You’re not gonna believe how gorgeous it is out there!  Sarah and Jesse and Adam had their own wedding here last summer.  One of her bridesmaids kept telling her she needed to offer her garden as a venue for weddings.  So she decided to look into it.  She now has a full-time wedding planner with a staff of four.  Our wedding will be the twelfth.”  Leah gave a tinkly little laugh.  “We figured we’d let somebody else have the honor of being unlucky thirteen.”  She touched Kylie’s hand.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, will you excuse me for a minute?  I just thought of something I need to tell Raven.”

“Sure.”  Kylie looked around at the elegant foyer with its sweeping grand staircase and polished wooden floors, down the long central hallway with its high ceilings, ornate crown molding and ceiling medallions, gleaming chandeliers, Persian carpets, and antique tables decorated with vases filled with fresh flowers.  Then she turned to Everett Burke, spreading her hands.  “This is so gorgeous.  I thought this was a BDSM club.  I imagined black curtains and chains and torches.  Certainly nothing as elegant and homey as this!”

Sarah approached, laughing.  She was followed by Jesse and Adam and once again Kylie was struck at how utterly sexy all these men were.  “This is the B & B part of our business,” she explained while the men were all shaking hands.  “The Club is around a quarter of a mile farther up the driveway, where the old stables used to be.  Jesse’s cousin built it to look like a sprawling medieval castle.  And it’s full of chains and torches and all the atmospheric stuff you would expect to find in a BDSM club.  Including suites where our kinkier guests can stay.”

“But this is such a huge enterprise.  Surely you already have someone doing your books.”

“Oh, yes, we have a CPA doing the B & B’s books, as well as SinTech, Adam’s security company.  But he’s too busy to take on the club.  And the wedding business is
my
baby.  It’s separate and new and I need a bookkeeper.  Unfortunately, my efforts so far are probably a lot like Leah’s, a box full of receipts.  Which I will be more than happy to turn over to you.  You can take it home with you tonight.”

“I’ll be happy to get you set up,” Kylie said.

“Hey.”  Clay Nighthorse emerged from the sitting room and looked at the group milling around in the foyer and hall.  He was wearing dress jeans, a western style shirt, and black cowboy boots.  His long, straight, coal-black hair was pulled back and tied with a leather thong at his nape.  “The judge is waitin’.  We gettin’ this done or what?”

Kylie felt Caleb, Simon, and Ash come up behind her as the group made its way down the hall and out the French doors at the back of the house, across a spacious patio where white wooden chairs were stacked in readiness for being set out for the wedding guests on Sunday.

The Wedding Garden was on the south side of the house and Kylie gasped at how gorgeous it was.  Clay and Leah would exchange their vows beneath an arbor which would be draped with white flowers.  Behind the arbor, extending for at least a hundred feet on either side was an entire bank of crepe myrtle trees in full bloom, their colors ranging from white through varying shades of pink to lavender.  Beneath the myrtle trees were mulched, manicured beds featuring a variety of greenery, ornamental grasses, and flowers, lending a touch of magic to the surroundings.  Stately oak and poplar trees, hundreds of years old seemed to anchor the space, as if keeping it from escaping back to whatever fairytale realm from whence it had sprung.