Natalie Acres (18 page)

“Which sister?” she asked, a little perturbed at his insinuation.

“Ansley,” he replied. “Anyone can look at Tristan and tell what kind of relationship they have.”

“Wrong,” Trixie said, smiling to herself. She almost laughed outright. Ansley was spunky as hell and everyone mistakenly believed she was the more untamed of the two, but Kimberly had what her father once referred to as quirks, and God only knew what kind of experience she possessed with BDSM and all the benefits found within the lifestyle.

“Lean over the counter, Trixie.” Mitch’s voice was hoarse. He stepped aside and patted the granite. “Right here.”

Trixie’s nipples brushed against the thin camisole she wore. She stared at the hand of ginger. In particular, she studied the largest bulb, shaped like a pudgy finger.

“Do it now, sub,” he said, acknowledging Brock and Rory with a tilt of his head as they entered the apartment.

“What’s going on here?” Rory asked.

Trixie’s eyes met his. She shook her head once then focused on Brock. He swung his arm behind him, stopping Rory from joining them.

“Lean over like I told you,” Mitch said.

Trixie inched closer to the counter. She placed her palms flat against the cool surface.

“Arch,” Mitch said.

She jerked as her body responded to the excitement. A tremor of anticipation licked at her nape, sending cool chills down her arms and back.

Mitch ran his hand over her rear. “You still have that gorgeous ass.”

“I’ve put on some weight.”

“Shh,” he whispered at her ear. “You’re perfect.”

He stroked her behind and she relaxed as he caressed her. Then, he yanked her jogging pants down to her knees and stood behind her.

“Hellfire,” he rasped, his fingers kneading her skin.

Brock’s eyes were like fiery green lights, as emerald in color as she’d ever recalled. Lust settled there and a bit lower, too. The bulge between his thighs was quite visible from across the room.

Mitch leaned over her back. Nipping at her lobe, he whispered, “I’m preparing you for better times, lover.”

He tucked his arm under her and stroked her folds, pinching her intimate lips together until she whimpered. The sensation was indescribable as he held her folds together then forced a small point of entry, prying her pussy lips apart with one thrust of his finger.

“Mmm,” Trixie hummed, stretching her arms forward and bowing her head.

“That’s my sweet sub,” Mitch said, dipping another firm digit into her center and stirring her hot juices with two fingers and then three.

Trixie was surprisingly responsive, even relaxed and calm. She was enjoying herself.

Mitch traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. He lowered his hand and rubbed the sleek moisture from her pussy to the small pucker tucked between her globes.

Tightening her bottom, she anticipated the penetration, fearing the first entry would send her into an orgasm before her time.

“More?” he asked, tickling the tight entrance with his thumb.

“Oh yes.”

He pressed his thumb against her rectum, wiggling the digit higher. Her body sucked at the pad, drawing him closer, seducing the act, begging for it.

“Such a naughty girl,” Mitch said, reaching for the prepared ginger inches away from her elbow. Selecting one of the offshoots, he shook the glistening ice water from the finger and showed the bulb to her, teasing her with the anticipation of eroticism set to begin.

Trixie studied the thick bulb then focused on Rory’s heated expression for any sign of growing angst. He, too, looked anxious and ready. Brock, however, showed signs of struggle, acting as if he were seconds away from taking control or perhaps ready to stop the acts unfolding.

Her gaze dipped lower. She glared at Brock’s denim-clad cock and wet her lips. She sucked in and out, puckering and releasing, giving him something more delicious to consider.

A crooked smile claimed his lips. “You’re in trouble, sub.”

Rory’s head jerked to attention. “Where’d that come from?”

“I told you what to expect if Trixie wanted Mitch back. You need to make up your mind if you’re in or you’re out.” Brock marched across the room and took his position opposite Mitch on the other side of the counter. Standing at her head, Brock unhooked his belt and lowered his jeans.

“There you go, baby,” he whispered, dragging his cock across the seam of her lips. “Show me what ’cha got for me.”

Trixie fluttered her eyelashes and dropped her head over his engorged head, tapping her tongue against the crest before sucking him between her cheeks. At the same time, Mitch spread her globes and dragged a moistened finger down the seam of her ass, twisting the digit around and around searching for her secluded entrance.

Rolling her tongue, she slurped at Brock’s tip, drawing his hard penis between her lips and mashing down on the crest by using the roof of her mouth.

A heavy moan resounded, and his vocal release overpowered hers as Mitch thrust the piece of ginger deep inside her channel, twisting and turning the root until the bulb was securely in place. A sigh almost escaped her lips, but Brock forced the weight of his cock forward, preventing her from a full-fledged moan.

His jaw flexed. He thumped against her throat, throwing his hips forward before deliberately thrusting them back.

“This is what you always wanted, Trixie.” Brock brushed his knuckles across her jaw and pumped his cock between her lips, grinding against her throat as she swallowed again and again.

Trixie worked her reflexes, training her throat for repetitive oral activity. She craved his taste, longed for his spicy finish.

“So pretty,” Mitch crooned, stroking her bottom with some sort of object.

She flattened her tongue against the underside of Brock’s cock, rubbing the texture with firm strokes until his eyes were as moist as her mouth.

“Baby, that’s sweet. So sweet,” he rasped, changing his stance.

While giving Brock head, Trixie was aware of Mitch behind her, playing with the end of the bulb, shoving it up her rectum, wiggling it away from her bottom, then locking the ginger in place once again.

She hummed as the fiery effects coated her channel. The burning sensitized her walls as if to slowly coax her into the idea of the sex waiting for her, the orgasms she’d eventually experience.

Mitch slapped her hip with the object and she bucked in response. Her head bounced over Brock’s cock while she tried to avert her gaze and catch a glimpse of what Mitch held in his hand.

Brock sneered. “Look at me, sub.”

Shivers of excitement tickled her muscles. She rose to Brock’s tip, slipped her tongue around the engorged head, and drew him inside her mouth again.

“Mitch, hand me that,” Brock said, irritation in his voice.

Trixie’s eyelashes fluttered as she tried to keep her tears at bay. The ginger stung. The angle in which she stretched to accept Brock’s cock was uncomfortable, but she’d placed herself in this situation. She had no one to blame, or thank, except herself.

Brock remained in front of her. Mitch inched closer, passing off a toy to Brock. Rory stood nearby, curiously observing.

Brock flashed the dildo in front of her face. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

He then took a step back. Gripping his cock with one hand, he held the large dildo with the other. He hit a switch and a pulsating pattern began. The vibrator danced and jerked, swirled around again then jiggled some more.

Trixie blinked. “Dear God. It’s shaped like a bullet. And hops like a rabbit.”

Brock chuckled. Flipped the switch to the off-setting and handed off the toy to Rory.

“Join us, Rory,” she pleaded, hoping he wouldn’t remain an outsider but realizing she might have to accept that Domination and submission perhaps would never appeal to him.

A hard line of determination set his lips, and for a second, Trixie thought he would deny her. Instead, to her surprise, he said, “Give Brock head, sub. I want to watch.”

His guttural demand made her shiver. Her pussy wept. Her nipples ached.

He tossed the dildo to Mitch, and Trixie lowered her mouth again. She tightened her lips around Brock’s cockhead and pulled him inside her mouth as her heart swelled with gladness. Rory had reached a decision. He’d come to terms with her needs.

She hummed, vibrating against the thick wedge of flesh thrumming against her tongue. Her bottom tingled. No, it was on fire. The soft tissues inside her ass burned to a degree of heat she’d never experienced.

Wrapping her tongue around the head of Brock’s penis, she kissed the tip and pulled away, ready to admit defeat. “I can’t take the ginger anymore. It’s too hot.”

Mitch wedged his hand between the counter and her belly. He wiggled his fingers down her midsection and reached for her pussy. Using his middle finger, he tapped her clit and she moaned before giving Brock head again. This time, she was committed to a cause as she watched him in appreciation and willed him to come.

Perhaps her commitment to finish him was all the motivation he needed.

Brock flattened his palms against her ears, guiding her up and down. Mashing his balls against her chin, he looked into those beautiful misty blue eyes, seeing her determination, realizing she was set on watching the pleasure she brought him as he approached the finale.

He clenched his ass and ground against her throat, fucking her face as if he’d never had the glorious opportunity before. She suckled and teased him, but when she tightened those lips around his shaft, he was finished.

Grabbing her by the hair of the head, he watched her lips part and surged between them again, tapping her tonsils, stroking for tremendous satisfaction.

“Oh fuck,” he rasped, swallowing again and again as his mouth dried and hers filled with his cum.

She sucked him dry and licked him clean, nuzzling him as she doused her lips in his release, humming against him until he’d given her all he had to give.

Trixie rose to her elbows. He backed away from the counter, leaving her with a simple kiss on her forehead before going to the bathroom to clean himself.

When Brock returned, he was in for quite a surprise.

At the far end of the room, behind a door they’d never exposed to Trixie before, Mitch had unveiled the dark chamber, the room they’d used many moons ago, a room they’d never shown to Trixie when she’d worked at the camp.

There were secrets there, erotic tales, and some of the darkest of events had taken place there under Mitch’s careful supervision.

“I didn’t agree to this,” Brock said, searching Trixie’s eyes for any sign of objection.

“She did,” Rory told him, acting as if he had no qualms about participating.

“Mitch, I think we need to talk about this.”

“We can,” he said, leading Trixie to the center of the room. “Let me get Trixie situated first.”

“You heard the man,” Rory said, a spark of curiosity in his expression.

“Are you okay, sub?” Mitch asked, placing her in the area once dubbed the circle of desire.

“I’m fine, Dom,” she replied, looking up at the metal bar attached to a chain-link rope.

Mitch pulled the bar down from the ceiling. “Drape your arms over the middle.”

Trixie complied. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t complain. She didn’t question any of it.

“Trixie, honey, if this isn’t what you want, you say the word,” Brock said, realizing he was breaking his own rules, the guidelines he’d decided to adhere to when he’d reached the decision to fully embrace the lifestyle once more.

“I’m fine, Sir,” she assured him. Her eyes were heavy with desire. The new lust shaded them a more pristine blue.

Rory joined Mitch and helped him hold the bar steady. Dressed only in a pale pink cami now, Trixie twisted and turned as they secured the handcuffs on her wrists and ran a harness underneath her, a leather strap dividing her legs.

Rory stood in front of her. Mitch fiddled with the thick leather strap then cursed under his breath.

Trixie lifted her brows. “The ginger needs to be removed.”

“I’ll decide when,” Mitch snapped.

“Pudding,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, acting as if her safe word would solve all the world’s ills.

Mitch stilled at the mention. After a moment, he said, “Fifteen minutes. Wear this harness with the ginger in place and I’ll reward you.”

“Will you fuck me?” she asked, licking her lips. “Will you?”

Mitch growled. He glanced down at his package before his eyes met hers again. “I will reward you, sub. How we choose to do that is between the team sharing ownership.”

“I’m owned now?” she asked, a smile tilting her lips.

Her hard nipples imprinted her camisole. Her face was flushed. Her body swayed with the contraption. She acted as if Mitch’s words set her afire.

“Is that what you want, Trixie?” Rory asked, marked concern in his furrowed brows.

“This is what we all want,” she said. “Isn’t it, Judge?”