“Wait,” Diana said less than an hour later, her tone breathless despite her previous attempts at levity. “When I was talking earlier, I was only teasing.”.”
She put her right hand behind her back in a comically futile gesture as self-defense. A strong, broad hand wrapped around her slender wrist. When she started to look behind her, fingers laced through her hair then clenched into a fist. Her wrist was raised slightly, making it necessary for her to lean over the balcony railing.
She gasped, feeling the sting of strands of hair being tugged against her scalp. The dominating hand held her so that she couldn’t look anywhere but down at the slowly moving crowd of people on Bourbon Street.
Diana wasn’t afraid, but she knew that she had taunted the men about their social clout, teased them regarding their sexual power, and defied the deVille twins as much as she could without there being painful consequences. Well, nottruly painful consequences.
She knew with rock-solid certainty that she was about to pay a price for her defiance. The anticipation of that consequence was like an electrical charge going through her system. She wasn’t entirely certain of what she had just started, but she did know that she didn’t want to stop it until the moment had run its course to completion. This wasn’t some sporting event someone like Diana would leave at halftime.
When she put her left hand defensively behind herself, it, too, was taken hostage by a much larger, and infinitely stronger, hand. An instant later, her wrists were placed one over the other at the small of her back and held by a single, powerful hand. She was forced to lean even farther over the balcony railing.
I’ve pushed them too far this time. This time they really mean it.
An instant later something smooth was being wrapped around her wrists, then cinched tight. It took a couple seconds before Diana realized that there was a silk necktie now wrapped around her wrists. In seconds, the necktie was knotted securely.
She was looking down at the people milling about Bourbon Street, one of the most visited cities and streets in all of the United States, and now she had her hands tied behind her back by two of the most eligible and wealthy bachelors in the country.
“This can’t be happening to me,” she whispered. It took several seconds before she realized she’d said the words aloud. She hadn’t intended to. “Please,” she said, her voice hushed as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Please tell me you’re not going to fuck me with all these people watching.”
But the sound of her own words—especially hearing the “f” word spoken aloud by herself, and with a breathy, unmistakably sensual inflection to it—made the nectar of her passion instantly flow to the lips of her pussy. She wasn’t just ready for penetration—she ached for it. A dull, hungry, throbbing ache that could only be satisfied by a deVille cock...or two. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
She felt the hem of her silk dress being lifted as the hand in her hair loosened its grip. When she opened her eyes, she looked down at Bourbon Street. Some people were looking up at her, but not many. Only the tips of her toes were still touching the balcony floor of the deVille twins’ luxury apartment in the Big Easy.
Two feet slipped between her own, and then one kicked sideways. In an instant, Diana’s feet were spread wide, and for several seconds, she teetered on the toes of her high heels, unsure if she could actually keep her feet beneath her. She tested the silk surrounding her wrists and found that there was no give at all to the necktie. Beneath her stomach, the iron railing surrounding the balcony was solid, unforgiving.
“Red light,” Marcus said, his tone low. “That’s your safe word. Do you know what a safe word is?”
After some hesitation, Diana replied, “Yes. But I’ve never needed one before.”
Both brothers chuckled, and William replied, “You do now.”
She knew that there were a thousand words that she could and should say, but she couldn’t think of any of them. She suspected that she should experience nothing less than pure outrage that the deVille brothers should tie her wrists behind her back and bend her over a balcony’s railing while pulling her dress up—all while knowing damned well that they’d demanded she go out for the evening commando—but somehow outrage wasn’t really the emotion uppermost in her consciousness.
I’m going to come the instant one of them puts his cock in me. But who will it be? I won’t know unless one of them says something.
The thought of not knowing which brother would be fucking her was very nearly as erotic as anything they’d ever done to her. Bound, helpless, exposed to an anonymous crowd that might or might not understand or actually see what was happening to her, not knowing which gorgeous deVille brother was going to thrust his cock into her—these were all things that had never before slithered across the surface of Diana’s forbidden or conventional sensual consciousness.
“What a beautiful ass.”
William spoke the words, but an instant later, when two broad palms spanked each cheek of her bottom, Diana knew that she hadn’t been struck by one of them but by both of them. They spanked her with equal intensity, and the sharp cry of surprise that she issued drew the attention of several of the people on Bourbon Street, four stories below.
She saw pale faces looking up at her. The expressions were quizzical. Both men and women were curious as to what was happening on the top floor balcony. They didn’t know the facts, but they were curious as hell. Diana gave her head a shake so that her hair would obscure her face. What if someone should take a picture of her with their smart phone?
Then she felt the conical head of a large cock nudge the lips of her cunt, and her anxiety level ratcheted up into the stratosphere.
She shook her head vigorously this time, making sure that her ebony locks completely hid her face. The last thing on the planet she wanted to be was the next viral Internet sensation.
The long, slow insertion of an iron-hard cock into her wet-and-willing pussy caused her to gasp, her mouth opening wide. Annoyingly, strands of her hair entered her mouth with the sharp inhalation.
I’ve got a cock inside me, and I don’t know whether it’s William’s or Marcus’s.
“Come to me,” Marcus said quietly, his tone authoritative. “On your knees. Crawl.” His face was impassive. His voice and words were dictatorial. “Come to me now, Diana. I’ve waited long enough.”.”
Diana looked at his erection, thinking it the most erotic thing she’d ever seen in her life. Never before had she thought of a man’s arousal being attractive, being something that was beautiful and erotic to look at—but she did now.
She closed her eyes against the visual stimulation of Marcus’s erection. She couldn’t look at his cock and think with any semblance of rationality.
I don’t crawl to men. Especially not when they tell me to do it as though they had some authority over me, like a prince over a peasant...or a Dom over a sub.
She opened her eyes and looked upward. The sun was still high in the sky. A quick glance around told her that there were no boats nearby, but being out in the middle of the river meant that anyone with a telescope or binoculars would have a bird’s-eye view of her behavior.
Slowly, she slid off the bench seat. She felt as though her body was a foreign object, capable of moving without any conscious thought of her own. Suddenly, Diana realized that she was on her hands and knees. When she felt the prickly synthetic carpet of the deck of the pontoon against her palms and her knees, she felt a sudden heat wave of embarrassment.
If I stay low enough, no one on shore can see me.
A momentary flash of elation went through her. She felt daring as never before. The sensation was exhilarating. And it frightened the hell out of her.
She crawled on her hands and knees across the narrow space from the port side of the pontoon boat to the starboard side. She kept her gaze turned down, not sure if she was unwilling to look into the eyes of Marcus and William or if she was afraid to. They inspired in her a sexual exuberance that she’d never before experienced, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they respected her for her lack of restraint.
The thought that she might become a source of humor to them sent a cold shiver up her spine. If there was anything in the world that Diana despised, it was being laughed at. Could anything be worse than being the unintentional source of amusement—and it’s first cousin, scorn?
“She’s...” Marcus said, but then his sentence died away, and Diana’s heart stopped beating. “So awesome.”
An incredible sense of relief swept through Diana. There was no sarcasm in Marcus’s tone. No condescension or anything that could in any way be considered demeaning. When he said “awesome,” he meant “awesome” with all its glorious connotations.
She turned her gaze upward, allowed it to linger on his large, pale, visibly pulsating cock, then travel to his face. His eyes were glassy with sexual hunger. It was everything Diana had hoped to see.
“I want to suck your cock.”
The words themselves were shocking, but to hear them in her own voice made the breath catch in her throat. It wasn’t the kind of sentence that had ever passed cavalierly from between her lips. She couldn’t remember ever actually saying such a lurid thing.
But she meant it. She meant it now with more sincerity than anything she’d ever said. Ever.
Marcus’s cock was iron hard. He put his thumb to the upper side of the shaft, right at the base, and pushed his cock so that it was at a ninety-degree angle to his body instead of hugging his belly. Diana felt her mouth water as though she were a starving woman looking at a delicious meal. In the past, giving blowjobs had never been something she particularly enjoyed unless she was wildly turned on by the foreplay, but with the deVille men, the usual rules of this game called “sexuality” were turned on their head. With them, she was always in a sexual fever. Her ability to say “no” had been reduced to approximately zero.
Marcus spread his knees apart. The action apparently was both enticing and obscene. His cock, pale and pulsating, looked as though it was ready to explode.
Don’t come too quickly. I want to suck you for a long, long time.
She turned her gaze slowly up from his cock to his eyes. She knew, then, looking into his eyes, that Marcus wouldn’t come too quickly. He was a man of infinite sexual discipline and stamina. The sexual confidence that was so much a part of his soul was so evident.
The thought that he might want to do more than just get a blowjob from her suddenly flashed across the surface of her mind, and she flinched and shut her eyes. She wasn’t ready for another alpha male in her sex life—at least not vaginally.
“I know you want everything,” she whispered, looking him directly in the eyes as she knelt between his wide-spread knees, his cock so close she could smell its musky aroma and almost taste its virility, “but I can’t give everything to you. But you’ll be satisfied. I’ll satisfy you.” She closed her eyes briefly then looked directly into his eyes again. “I promise.”
She put her hands on his thighs, never turning her gaze away. Then, slowly, while never breaking eye contact, she brought her moist lips to the head of his cock and then let the tip of her tongue caress its velvety surface.