Acres, Natalie - Sex Club [Cowboy Sex 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (26 page)

“If I have a vote in this—”

“You don’t,” Tristan said, looking more desire-driven as the wee hours of the morning wore on.

“Okay,” she whispered. “You enjoy bossing me around, I see.”

Tristan winked. The eye movement was enough to send sudden shivers throughout her body. It was as if her nerve endings were playing ping-pong as her arousal heightened, her lust intensified.

First, her breasts were tender, and she was completely focused on her hardened and swollen nipples. Then, her pussy was damp, clenching as she imagined the first cock sliding between her folds, thrusting for a strong finish, a satisfying release.

Her walls were sensitive. She wanted to welcome the first visitor, and yet she was unable to invite the initial guest, unwilling to coax any of the men, for fear she’d be punished and her reward would be postponed.

Earning Tristan’s nod of approval, even if only a lingering stare, was now crucial to her well-being. In many ways, she believed it had been that way since the start.

Soon after they met, she found herself dressing for him, wondering if he’d think she looked skanky or sexy, sort of attractive or downright beautiful. She went to the club every day with one objective, to see if she could get a rise, or at least a few words, out of Tristan.

Now, here they were. She was in his bed. He was standing over her, gaping at her like he didn’t know what to do with her.

Naturally, she knew better.

“Relax, Ansley,” Tristan crooned. “When we’re outside of Clink, I’m the boss—or they are. Look at the experience like an employee-employer relationship with a mutually beneficial payoff.”

“I don’t like to think of us like that.”

His shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. “Then think of it like this, gorgeous. I’m in charge. You have a new position. More often than not that position will place you somewhere under me.”

“Nice. I like that,” she admitted. Again, a trickle of excitement zipped through her body, causing all sorts of reactions. Her full breasts throbbed. Her pussy dampened, and her asshole closed around the plug stuffed in her bottom.

“You’re learning to be agreeable. That’s what I like to see.” Evidently on instinct, his lips skimmed across hers and he said, “If you’re good, Ansley, you may actually be rewarded. The way this night pans out all depends on you. I’m willing to compromise. You show me a submissive woman and accept your training, and I’ll give you a good fuck.”

She wet her lips. “Promise?”

“You have my personal guarantee,” he replied, brushing his knuckles up and down her jawbone.

Fluttering her eyelashes, she said, “In that case, I’ll play along.”

“Play?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“Wrong thing to say,” Bailey remarked.

“What do you expect?” she whined.

Tristan slid his right hand under her nape and lifted her head away from the pillow-top mattress. Staring down the bridge of his nose, he looked like a hardened male specimen, sexy and strong, handsome and irresistible. She touched his lips, rubbing the texture as she thought of their earlier kiss. He’d easily captured and held her attention with one mind-blowing meeting of mouths.

There weren’t any doubts in her head. Tristan knew what he wanted. He understood how to attain what he needed in all aspects of life—particularly when he took a woman to bed.

“Your complete submission,” Tristan replied. “You know about Domination and submission, understand the foundation, a Dom’s fundamental requirements. Your mother, your sister, and many of your club’s patrons are submissive women. You of all people should be easy to train. If you’re reluctant, you’ll be punished. If you refuse to give me what I need, we can do this the hard way.”

Tristan tossed around a few rolls of velvet-covered rope. She gulped, quietly watching as the men worked together as a team. Each man unrolled the material. Long strips of rich, red fabric swept across the floor.

“We’ll give you some time to decide what you want,” Tristan said.

Her nipples spiked as he whispered his instructions to Elliott and Graham. Then, they grabbed hold of her ankles while Bailey and Tristan secured her wrists. They took extraordinary care as they secured her limbs to the bed frame.

While Elliott, Graham, and Bailey focused on the task at hand, Tristan’s hot gaze poured over her, oozed down her body like melted sapphire-colored wax.

Tristan was a true Dom in every sense of the word. He possessed a passion for a Dom-sub relationship, a true longing for submissive partners. In that moment, she truly saw why he behaved as he did.

Domination was a basic need. Living in the lifestyle was crucial, imperative for his happiness.

In many ways, she submitted right then. If she could please him, she fancied the idea of becoming willing and agreeable. She was anxious for the rewards a seasoned Dom was often noted for delivering. On the other hand, she still itched to test him. She liked challenging him.

Ansley also yearned for punishment. She wanted to feel the searing heat from a firm hand smacking against her ass as defiance soared through her veins, forcing the men she cared about to scold her. She wanted them to strip away her control as she groveled for pleasure and embraced the limited pain. Sexual frustration would hold her hostage as Tristan, Bailey, Elliott, and Graham insisted upon her obedience.

As her gaze jumped from one man to the next, she caught a glimpse of her future. Oh yes, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was already on the verge of accepting her obvious intended role.

She would submit to them. She was practically on her knees already.

Rather than focus on the threat—or was it a promise—she zoomed in on Tristan’s exigent desires. Her mother’s best friend and Patience’s mother, Vicky, once explained Domination and submission as a natural need driven by pure instinct alone. She’d explained how Patrick, one of her Doms, wasn’t fully complete until she became his subservient partner. He needed a sub’s complete compliance at all times.

Patrick, she’d explained, wasn’t a Dom because of his life choice. He was a Dom because his entire survival depended upon being in a committed relationship based on trust. He was a dominant partner solely responsible for his submissive, and somehow that gave his life extraordinary meaning.

Ansley’s mother had outright disagreed. She’d explained that the lifestyle was a choice. She’d told Ansley how she felt about Vicky’s relationship with her Doms, explaining Vicky chose to teeter right along the edge of being a Dom’s slave rather than his sub.

Her mother wasn’t critical of Vicky. Still, she’d described the differences between her relationship with Patience’s fathers and her own relationship with Daddy Kane, Dad Evan, and Braden Daddy.

Was Tristan looking for a slave or a sub? Was he interested in sharing her once and then never again? Would he want to take her to bed in the future, or was he only using her for a limited number of hours to satisfy his curiosity, sate his temporary needs?

Ansley was pretty sure she knew the answer, but why ruin a good thing by complicating the moment with future hopes and dreams? For now, she was tied, bound to the bed, and enjoying every second. In fact, she couldn’t wait to see what each man held in store.

Chapter Thirteen

“This was not how I expected to spend my night!” she screamed, gripping the rope as she braced for another shattering climax.

She couldn’t even enjoy the pleasure overtaking her without them there to witness her orgasms, watch her violent body spasms.

Damn it! She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted an audience! And what had they done? They’d stuffed her pussy with a vibrator. Then, they disappeared, closing the door leading from the master bedroom to the living area.

What she was experiencing was like an out-of-body voyage. Full tremors shook her body as one orgasm slipped away and another one drew closer. It was almost as if she could see the damn thing coming!

She’d climaxed four times, but a quadruple wasn’t enough. She needed a cock in her ass. A dick stroking, pounding into her pussy. With a dry mouth, she should’ve longed for a drink of water. Instead, she craved a long, stout dose of Tristan’s release.

Oh God, she possessed animalistic instincts. Tristan had become an obsession, not a passing thought. Each time her body tightened around the thick object occupying her cunt, she tried to resist.

This wasn’t fulfilling. Her nipples were tender. She could feel her asshole puckering around the cold stone as the dancing dildo tore through her channel again, a new speed on the automated gadget stroking her pussy as the jolts sent a true tickle through her rear passage.

“How do you feel?” Bailey asked, stepping inside the room.

Breathless, she clawed at the strands of velvet and hoisted her upper body off the bed. “How do you think?”

Beads of sweat peppered her brow. As a lone drop drifted into her eyelashes, she said, “Bailey, please. I’ll behave. I’ll submit. I’ll do anything you want if you’ll untie me. Let me kiss you, hold you.”
Fuck you
.

“Are you sure it’s me you want?”

“You know I do,” she replied.

He stalked the bed. “Are you willing to show me?”

“Untie me and I’ll prove it to you.”

Tristan and the others entered the room then. “It’s time,” Tristan announced, traipsing into the bathroom.

After he started the shower, he returned to the bed and they untied her. Lifting her into his arms, Tristan carried her. As soon as her feet hit the floor, he caught her collapsing form. She was so numb, she felt as if her limbs were gelatin. After he gave her a second to adjust, he said, “Turn around.”

She faced him. Glancing over his broad shoulder, she smiled at the other three men standing nearby.

Elliott said, “Let me remove the clamps.” He stepped around Tristan, and she winced as his fingertips surrounded the clawlike contraptions.

“Here,” he crooned. “Let me make this as painless as possible.”

He dropped his full lips over her left nipple and sucked, loosening the clamp. She felt the tug on the hard bead, but it wasn’t a painful clamp removal. She’d used enough nipple clamps to know what to expect. Tremendous agony could follow the discarding of the metal-plated clawed gadgets if those using them weren’t careful with their disposal.

Ansley held Elliott against her chest as he kissed the other point. Soon, the other clamp fell to the wayside, but he didn’t stop lavishing his attention on her breasts.

The others watched as he suckled one nipple and then the other. He tenderly kissed her right bead and then ferociously lapped at the left, flattening the middle of his tongue against the nipple tip and teasing her like mad. Devouring her, he drew the point between his teeth and consumed her, drawing her full breast into his mouth until she was bucking, grinding against his extended leg, the one he raised for her, providing the perfect humping seat.

“They’re jealous,” Elliott told her.

“I hope so,” she said, thinking if that were true, the sex would soon come. The finale was drawing near.

Graham cleared his throat from behind them, and Elliott regained his composure. He stood in front of her and pressed his palms against her cheeks. Then, he kissed her. All the familiarity in the world wouldn’t have prepared her for what came next.

Elliott’s large hands glided down her sides. He cupped her behind and lifted her, raising her to him and holding her at an angle. With her backside completely exposed, Graham stepped up and gave her a helping hand.

“All the toys are placed in the bucket there. I’ll clean them later,” Tristan said.