Julie blanched, gave her an apologetic smile and whispered, “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you when you got dressed. I love the way Jackson punishes me, but…”
“Don’t worry, I’m not opposed, just…” Hope nodded toward Trevor who stood in front of them with his arms crossed, a wicked grin splitting his mouth.
“No reason to fret, sweetie,” he said, taking the wide, rubber spatula and long wooden spoon from Miles’ and Jackson’s hands. “I’m quite pleased to help out.”
“What?” Hope squealed, watching Trevor trade places with Miles and Jackson. As if on cue, their guys grabbed their hands and pulled their arms out across the table, Miles shackling Hope’s wrists together with one hand.
“You don’t think I’m going to put off eating just because you’re in trouble, do you?” With his free hand, Hope watched him scoop a huge helping onto a plate before Jackson asked him to do the same for him.
“Ten strokes for Julie,” Jackson instructed Trevor, taking the plate from Miles.
“May as well make it easy on Trev. The same, bro, and thanks. Both of you will count and say thank you after each stroke.”
Hope jerked with her first taste of the spatula, the sharp pain going straight to her pussy. The humiliation of her position, his last statement and the way Miles calmly stood before her, eating and watching his friend swat her butt, should have had a negative impact on the pleasure she’d come to expect with a painful spanking, but instead, worked just the opposite.
“One. Thank you, Sir,” Julie said, breaking the ice for Hope. She didn’t look away from her friend’s face as Hope repeated the words.
Trevor delivered a second, simultaneous stroke along with one to Julie, the distinct sound of the implements striking their bare flesh reverberating around the open air. “Two,” Hope gasped. “Thank you, Sir.” The approval etched on Miles’ face when she lifted her head up to him was enough to erase the final dregs of unease and allow her to embrace the arousing warmth spreading from her buttocks to her vagina. After the fifth swat, their tormentor switched the utensils and she experienced the difference between rubber and wood—holy shit!
“Six, thank you, Sir,” she barely managed to get out as the fire encompassed her entire cheek, and her swollen pussy muscles responded with an increase of dampness. Her slick juices were dribbling to her quaking, now reddened thighs by the time he landed the final spank on the back of her right leg, and she gasped out the count and her gratitude on a relieved breath.
Trevor smoothed his hand over her abused flesh, and his softer touch felt so good, she never thought to shy away from the more personal contact. “Warm and red, just how I like to view a lovely pair of asses,” Trevor drawled before dropping his hands and setting the spatula and spoon on the table. “Dish me out a plate, will you, Miles?”
“Sure.” Releasing Hope’s wrists, he told her, “You can join me as soon as you remove your top.”
By joining him, Miles meant he’d haul her on his lap, and as he slid over a plate of food, he shifted his thick, denim-covered thighs beneath her sore butt. Hope winced at the discomfort but knew she would be leaving a damp spot on his leg when she rose. Instead of thinking about the surprising return of her arousal so soon after multiple orgasms, and what else Miles had planned this evening, she dug into the chicken casserole with relish.
The guys conversed casually, as if sitting and dining with two naked women didn’t distract them, and it didn’t take long for Hope to follow Julie’s lead and relax against Miles’ heavy chest. The evening remained balmy with the setting sun, the ocean turning to a glassy black expanse spread out before them. Water splashed against the hull with the slow rocking of the yacht and lulled her into sleepy contentedness. By the time she finished the best chicken pasta she’d ever tasted, her eyes were drifting shut and she never knew she’d beaten Julie at nodding off.
Chapter 9
Hope awoke from the jarring impact of her abdomen pressed against Miles’ shoulder, her eyes springing open to see the dizzying blur of the teak decking from her upside down view. “What… Miles, where are we going?”
“To the playroom. You’ve rested long enough,” he replied as the spiral staircase swam into view.
“He was a lot nicer than I would’ve been,” Trevor commented from behind them. The brush of fingers over her upturned buttocks made her realize how close the other man was to the display of her ass. Hope shifted in embarrassment, but the hard lock of Miles’ arm around her legs prevented her from doing anything except gripping the back of his shirt in desperation.
“I’m not nice,” Miles replied, the low rumble of his deep voice drawing goosebumps down her spine.
Stepping off the stairwell, he slid her off his shoulder and steered her into the space she had heard so much about from her friends, giving her only enough time to cast a cursory glance around the teal-carpeted enclosed room. The floor-to-ceiling poles in the middle of the space were easy to spot, as was the chair that resembled an apparatus you’d find in a medieval dungeon sitting against the far wall. Hope caught sight of a strange contraption consisting of netting and multiple, dangling straps hanging in one corner before her attention got snagged by the padded bench Miles unfolded from the wall. All her senses went on high alert when he clasped her waist and hoisted her up on the end.
His hands settled on her waist and he kept his eyes locked on hers as he asked, “Can I trust you to keep your eyes shut, or do I need to blindfold you?”
Trevor was assisting Jackson in binding Julie to a St. Andrew’s Cross that Hope hadn’t noticed until she looked over Miles’ shoulder for her friend. With them across the room, she thought she could keep her eyes closed since it would be just Miles touching her, but then Trevor looked her way and winked. A hot flash zapped her of that confidence and she shook her head. “You better blindfold me, uh… Sir.” His quick frown reminded her to address him properly.
“Good enough. Remember the safewords if you become too uncomfortable.”
“If that reminder is supposed to make me feel better, it failed.”
“I like to keep you guessing.” Miles pulled a black swath of silk from his back pocket and made short work of tying it behind her head, taking away her sense of sight. “Lie back.”
Hope leaned back on her hands then lowered herself until she lay flat on the bench, finding it easier and easier to obey his commands without hesitation. That wasn’t surprising since her interest had already been there, in both BDSM and the man, before they’d started this short journey. If only she didn’t have the dark cloud of worry over her past returning to test the limits of her newfound friendships hovering above her, she would be able to embrace these new experiences with wholehearted enthusiasm.
Leather straps stretched across her spread thighs, rough fingers caressed up and down her inner legs, trailed over her gaping folds then tickled her abdomen. A giggle escaped before she could suppress it, followed by Miles’ warm breath whispering in her ear and the rough scratch of his denim-covered thighs brushing against her legs when he bent over her.
“I didn’t know you were ticklish. That opens up all kinds of new possibilities.”
“That would be… mean,” Hope whispered back.
“Like I said, I’m not nice.”
She disagreed with that until he strapped her arms to her sides and then felt two mouths latching on to her nipples, suckling the tender buds until she swore she could climax from one small touch on her swollen, aching clit. Strong pulls drew her nipples into elongated tips, sharp nips were soothed with soft, stroking tongues and hard hands kneaded her soft fullness. They didn’t speak, but her low moans were loud enough to blend with the soft cries Hope heard from Julie across the room.
“Please,” she begged when two hands moved between her legs and fingers played over her plump folds, dipping inside her sheath just far enough to tantalize, not enough to give her release. She tried to writhe against those hands, encourage them to move in deeper, harder, but met wi
th the resistance of the straps. “Damn it!”
As if Hope had said ‘stop’ instead of cursing, both Miles and Trevor pulled back, removing their mouths and hands from her perspiration-damp body and sending her into a tailspin of frustration. “Is that any way to talk?” Miles quipped, his tone lighter than she’d ever heard it.
“I don’t think so…” Trevor said just as his fingers found the puckered scar on her side. She winced when he exclaimed, “What the hell?”
Cringing on the inside, she sucked in a deep breath to say something but Miles beat her to it. “Don’t ask me, she’s mum on the details.” The sudden silence between the two men sent up a red flag of warning, but before Hope could question them, warmth glided over her left nipple followed by searing heat on a small area of her breast’s fullness. “Breathe, Hope, it’ll pass.”
Miles’ calm instruction settled her better than anything else could have, and she sucked in a deep breath as the warm wax dried and tightened on her skin. One of them, she guessed Trevor, returned his hand to her pussy, his fingers tormenting the seam to her entrance as another drop of wax landed on the softness of her right breast.
“How’d you get shot, sweetie?”
With her attention centered on anticipating where the next drop of wax would land and when those fingers would give her relief, she barely heard Trevor’s question. A quick, teasing pinch to her clit accompanied scalding heat encompassing her left nipple. Hope jerked in her bonds, the sudden yank jiggling her breasts as the wax tightened around her throbbing tip, the warm pressure now arousing instead of painful.
“Please, Miles… Sir… I can’t…”
“Answer my question, Hope,” Trevor inserted, right along with the plunge of his fingers deep enough to tickle that special spot sure to ramp up her arousal.
“I… was caught by surprise… by someone… I trusted,” she gasped as Miles tormented her other nipple with a splash of wax. The hard, driving thrust of fingers inside her that put more pressure on her clit ignited a heat as hot and potent as that now surrounding both nipples, and drove her right to the cusp of orgasm. Sucking in a deep breath in preparation of the explosive climax, she was once again denied the release she so desperately needed when Trevor pulled his hand out of her clasping channel.
“Who?” he asked with a calmness that made her grit her teeth to keep from railing at him.
Hope shook her head then turned her face toward Miles, whom she knew stood next to her. “Miles, please.” He answered her plea with silence and another drop of wax, this one on her stomach, and followed quickly by another on her inner thigh, close enough to her gaping vagina that she could feel the warmth at her apex.
“Just tell me this,” Trevor demanded in the sternest voice she’d ever heard from the usually mild-mannered Dom. “Was the person who attacked you caught and punished?”
“He… yes, he paid for what he did.” And so have I.
A few seconds of shuffling positions passed then Trevor crooned in her ear, “Good girl,” at the same time as Miles’s sheathed cock pushed into her long-neglected pussy. Trevor pulled the dried wax drippings off her nipples, waist and thigh, the sharp tugs heightening the pleasure of Miles working his thick length inside her one excruciatingly slow inch at a time. The pressure built, robbing her of both breath and sanity, her mind so awash with sensation she didn’t heed Trevor walking away.
Why didn’t I stop him? Miles cursed his mistake as he pushed his way through Hope’s tight folds, loosening her muscles, her abundant cream easing his foray into her hot, slick channel. He’d wanted answers to the very questions Trevor asked, but had known that would open the door to her asking about his own scar. When he’d finally embedded his full length inside her snug heat, he leaned forward and whisked off the blindfold, needing to see her bright blue eyes, needing reassurance she wasn’t so pissed at him she wasn’t with him before he began fucking her in earnest.
“Fuck but you’re tight,” he gritted out when she blinked in rapid succession until her vision cleared and she stared up at him with dilated pupils. Her blonde hair shone even lighter spread out against the black leather, her pale skin with its arousal-induced rosy tint another beautiful accessory to the bench. “How long has it been?”
“A while, so please, don’t make me wait any longer.” Her soft voice held nothing but longing, the same as her face, and Miles breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled back until just his cock head remained enfolded inside her.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” With a quick, experienced flick of his fingers, he released the straps holding her arms and thighs, preferring to feel her wrapped around him this first time. “Hold on tight,” he instructed, thrusting back inside her quivering pussy while lifting her thighs to his hips. Catching on fast, she looped her legs around him, her small heels digging into his ass when he leaned forward and braced his hands flat on either side of her waist. He reared back and rammed into her again, the tight grip of her swollen muscles clamping around him nearly driving him over the edge. “That’s it, Hope, squeeze me tight.”
Her hands gripped his forearms and her head went back, eyes closed with her exalted cry as he pummeled her sheath with relentless, well-aimed thrusts. Miles’ breathing grew labored with his exertions, egged on by her cream soaking his cock as she spasmed around his girth with mewls of pleasure. “Again,” he ground out, increasing his rhythm even faster, harder, his balls drawing up with his own hovering climax.
The hard contractions of Hope’s first orgasm hadn’t abated before they tightened up again with the onset of her second. The way she responded so quick on command was enough to trigger Miles’ release, and he let go with a shout and warm gush into the condom he wished was spewing inside her womb instead. It took only moments after the fog cleared from his brain, and hers, to notice the cooling of her gaze and the way she avoided looking at him as he lowered her legs and helped her to sit up. Looking around, Miles saw they were alone and realized the yacht was once again gliding through the water. Since they’d cruised less than fifteen minutes from shore to begin with, he guessed he only had a few minutes before they docked.
“Wait here and I’ll get your clothes.”
Hope answered with a stiff nod, another sign she wasn’t happy with him, and he couldn’t blame her. After retrieving her clothes from the top deck, he found Julie at the rail outside the helm where Jackson and Trevor were steering them toward the dock. “Give these to Hope, would you?”
Julie took the clothes with a questioning look, but only said, “Sure.”
Miles knew he should be the one with Hope right now, ensuring she was all right after that intense scene. She deserved his full attention now as much as she had while he’d fucked her but given the way he’d allowed Trevor to interrogate her when he knew she didn’t want to discuss her injury, she likely preferred Julie’s company right now. Even though she hadn’t revealed much about the assault that resulted in her being wounded, it was more than he’d gotten from her. Miles knew first-hand the added pain of betrayal by someone you trusted, someone close to you who should care enough never to hurt you. His chest ached when he thought of Hope not only getting attacked and hurt physically, but emotionally also.
Maybe, given his volatile thoughts, he ought to go ahead and end this relationship. He’d given her the taste of BDSM she’d gone looking for, but was it enough to satisfy her curiosity, or just whet it for more? And, if she wanted more, he didn’t know if he could stand by and watch one of his friends take over for him, because he refused to allow her to return to the club until the man abusing subs was caught.
“Fuck,” he swore, hating the corner he’d backed himself into. He wanted Hope, he didn’t deny that. But nothing had changed the past few weeks. He still carried a butt-load of garbage from his parent’s deaths, and his temper would always remain a hair-trigger away from exploding if someone else he cared deeply for were to ever get hurt at the hand of another.
“What gives, bro?” Jackson leaned his fo
rearms on the rail next to Miles, his gaze out on the approaching slot Trevor was guiding the yacht into.
“I fucked up.” If Miles could tell anyone other than Ed anything personal, it would be Jackson. But even their close bond wouldn’t help him with this decision.
Jackson snorted. “Haven’t we all at one time or another?” He hesitated a moment then admitted in a quiet undertone, “You know how I walked away from Julie after she changed so much, and how much it almost cost me, and her.”
“Even if you hadn’t, that doesn’t mean you would have been with her that day or could have prevented what happened to her friends.” Julie’s ordeal of hiding in a bathroom while listening to the murder of her two friends had shocked all of them, but even though his friend gifted Julie with a way to cope with her fear and panic attacks they both enjoyed, and they were closer now than ever before, Jackson continued to feel guilty for not being there for her when she’d needed him most. “You can’t blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control.”
Jackson straightened and pinned Miles with a direct stare. “Exactly. Try remembering that when dealing with Hope.” Turning at the sound of footsteps, he held out his hand to Julie. “There you are, baby. Ready to go home?”
Hope heard the warmth behind Jackson’s endearment, saw the way he clasped Julie’s hand in a tight grip and watched as he helped her off the boat. She waved to her friend, shifting in uncomfortable awareness when Trevor slid out of the helm and joined her and Miles. A part of her resented both men for the way Trevor pulled answers from her to his probing questions, another part feared where the little she’d revealed might lead them. Then there was the contradictory part that ached to hear Miles address her with an endearment, such as baby, said with an undertone of caring as he held her hand, a more personal touch than clasping her elbow, as he did now. She needed to get a grip on what she wanted most, and what she would be willing to risk for it, and tonight proved she needed to do so soon.