With the door open, the dull sound of his bootheels on the tile as he walked down the hall toward their bedroom softly reverberated through her soul.
Those goddamned black leather motorcycle boots that she couldn’t even so much as look at in the closet now without getting wet.
And she knew that was the very reason he ordered them kept right by the door, where she’d have to see them, step around them, every time she went into the closet.
The quiet reminder, every much as powerful as the collar around her neck and the ring on her finger, of who she willingly belonged to.
The same boots he’d worn the very first afternoon at the club when he’d worked with her, before they had a relationship, when he was leading her firsthand through the world of BDSM.
Soft. Supple. The earthy scent of the leather as heady an aroma as the man himself.
He’d been DMing tonight, filling in for a sick friend. Which meant they didn’t get to play.
She’d not just wanted to play—she’d needed to play. Craved it.
Yes, she’d gotten pissy with him, more than a little mouthy when he’d told her she’d have to wait until they got home despite the fact that he’d spent the night before and all that day teasing and tormenting her, getting her hornier than hell, working her to a frenzy with a promise of a really hot forced orgasm scene there at the club.
Well, okay, more than a little pissy with him.
So, yeah, she’d admit it. The news hadn’t made her happy.
The dark look in his green eyes when he’d arched an eyebrow at her and told her to settle down.
The one that meant she’d crossed the line from playful banter into questioning his authority. The line she’d willingly agreed to give to him, to his sole discretion. Especially since she’d crossed that line in front of other people.
Their kinky friends.
At the BDSM club.
A place where, if nowhere else, he was her absolute authority.
Time to pay.
She had no doubt her ass would be feeling it tomorrow.
Could she safeword, stand up, and stand up to him?
Yes, but it would forever alter their dynamic. This was what she’d signed up for, agreed to.
If she didn’t obey him, if she didn’t take her lumps—especially when she damn well knew she’d earned them—she wouldn’t feel right about it.
And she knew why she’d earned them. Instead of accepting it when he told her they’d have to wait to play until they got home, instead of just saying, “Yes, Sir,” she’d spat out a word that even made their friend Tilly’s eyes widen.
Not just what she’d said. That might not have gotten her strokes.
It was the tone in which she’d said it.
And the fact that when Tony had stopped mid-turn and looked back at her, she hadn’t corrected herself.
Yes, okay, maybe she’d subconsciously been trying to push his buttons, pissed off that she was hornier than hell and he’d had three blowjobs since the night before.
Because she’d looked him square in the eye and asked, “What?”
In that same tone.
Maybe it was Tilly’s sharp hiss, her friend literally clamping her mouth shut, that had finally shaken Shayla’s mood. Shayla actually took a second to look into her husband and Master’s eyes and realized,oh, shit.
The line she’d crossed was about a mile in her rearview mirror and disappearing quickly.
And had she apologized and possibly remedied the situation?
She’d taken that damn shovel and deepened the hole even more as fast as she could.
Maybe there’s a SAM streak in me I don’t know about.
Never one to make a dramatic scene in public, not that their little exchange would have been dramatic to the average vanilla person in the first place, Tony had hesitated for a moment, the weight of his gaze heavy on her, before he turned and headed back to the club’s office to pick up his DM name badge.
Tilly had leaned in. “Um, yeeeaaah. If you were looking for a beating, honey, I think you just found one. In the bad way. Even Gilo isn’t that brazen.”
“Gilo wasn’t treated to a day of tease and denial, either, with a promise of getting to scene tonight,” Shayla had muttered.
“Fair enough. You’ve got bigger balls than me, girlie. I’ve never seen your dude look so pissed off.”
“Neither have I.”
Now Shayla regretted her tone. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t deliberately waylaid her orgasms even longer. Derrick, the club’s owner, had gotten rear-ended in the bad way that afternoon and was now dealing with insurance paperwork after his trip to the hospital and several hours in the ER. He’d called the volunteer manning the desk that night to please ask any of the regular DMs who showed up that night to fill in.
Tony and Shayla had been the first ones through the door. Well, Tony had been the first volunteer DM through the door that night.
So it wasn’t some bullshit excuse, either.
Shayla knew she should have been a little more charitable, especially considering the circumstances.
Back in the present, it’d been at least fifteen minutes since they’d returned home. She knew her ass better be kneeling in here, naked and waiting, when Tony finally decided to join her in the playroom. She didn’t know what he was doing, besides dragging this out to give her time to think about what she’d done and what he might be about to do to her.
Finally, the sound of his bootheels on the floor again, heading toward the playroom. Then the sound of him stopping in the foyer, where he’d left their implement bag, a rolling suitcase, followed by the resumption of his trek and the noise of the wheels rolling across the tile and the rattle of canes and crops in the plastic tube he carried them in.
She felt rather than saw him stop in the doorway. Another long, silent moment. Then he crossed the room and brought the implement bag over next to where she knelt, her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her. He laid the cane tube down next to it.
And his boots came into view. The soft matte-black finish, a few stray scuffs on the squared-off toes. He stood there, waiting, silent.
Then he tapped his left boot once.
Clarisse held her breath as Mac made his way aft from the bow without losing his grip or his footing. This was a sight that, at one point, Clarisse wasn’t even sure she’d ever see again. The image of Mac lying in that hospital bed, in a coma, following the brutal attack by her ex, was never more than a moment’s thought from her consciousness, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it.
Some memories just couldn’t be erased.
He jumped down onto the deck and pulled Sully in for a kiss. “Get naked, buddy,” Mac told Sully. Then he glanced at Clarisse and arched an eyebrow. “Why are you still dressed?”
She grinned as she shut off the engines and cranked the generator. “I’m working on it, Sir.” She pulled her shirt off. “Better?”
“Almost.” He pointed a finger at her shorts, drawing a circle in the air. “Those, too, sweetheart.”
“I’m getting there.” She folded up her shirt and laid it on the dash.
“Get there faster.” He reached out and cupped the back of Sully’s neck. “I know it’s boat rules, but how much latitude have I earned?”
Sully smirked. “Complete.”
“Oooh. Good.” He started pushing Sully down to his knees. “Then blowjob first. I don’t get enough of those from you.”
“Hey!” Clarisse playfully protested as she balanced on one foot and tried to get her shorts off without falling over. “I give you blowjobs all the time, Sir.”
“I know you, do—oh, fuck that’s good. I know you give them to me, but he doesn’t. I was not casting aspersions on your oral talents, baby.” He now cupped Sully’s head in both hands, his cock already down Sully’s mouth.
Clarisse could barely hear the sound of the waves gently lapping against the boat’s fiberglass hull over the sound of the generator rumbling below decks. Entranced, she watched as Sully—usually their Master—slowly got his mouth fucked by Mac.
Yeah, that was hot. Really hot. She loved watching the two of them together, regardless of who was in control at the time. It was just…
She knew some of their friends didn’t get their kinky dynamic, how Sully could switch with Mac, but Clarisse loved it. Even some of their friends who were switches didn’t get it. They weren’t like John and Abbey, where both of them were switches without a “default mode.” And even on the boat, Sully was still their Master. They felt it in their hearts.
It didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy letting the reins loose every once in a while for Mac to take charge of things.
Clarisse didn’t switch. Sully and Mac had once asked her if she wanted a “boat rules” equivalent every so often, but she declined. While she loved and trusted and understood her guys, she didn’t want to dominate either one of them.
They had a little dog for that. Bart the Dom dog.
And their two kids.
The only time she’d ever come close to taking charge was during Mac’s extensive and grueling rehab. Where she’d have to play drill sergeant to get him to do his exercises sometimes when he didn’t want to.
But that was…different.
Even in those darkest days, in Clarisse’s heart, Mac was still her Sir. Even when he lay unconscious in the hospital bed. Yes, also owned by their Master, Sully, but still an extra tier of emotional support and safety in her life once his recovery reached a level that impressed all of his doctors and rehab therapists.
That would never change.
Mac smiled down at Sully, who had his hands wrapped around the other man’s thighs. “I’m not going to deny I enjoy this,” Mac said. “Every once in a while.” He picked up the pace as he fucked Sully’s mouth. “It’s nice to have the memory of looking down and seeing your eyes staring up at me, my cock down your throat. Pet, since you’re just standing there, why don’t you get busy and suck his cock. He’s doing a good job and I want him to have an incentive to keep doing it.”
Mac widened his stance enough that she could lie down on her back between his legs and reach Sully’s cock. Sully let out a loud, long moan as she swallowed his cock.
“Good girl, pet,” Mac said, sounding a little hoarse now. “Play with his balls, too. Just don’t let him come yet. I have plans for him.”
She wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of Sully’s cock, pressing on the underside, going slowly, knowing how to keep him close to the edge without tipping him over. With her other hand she gently squeezed his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hand.
A low hiss of pleasure escaped Mac as Sully moaned around his cock. “That’s it, pet. Make him make noises. That feels so fucking good.”
After a few minutes, Mac pulled his cock out of Sully’s mouth. “Get up, pet,” he said. Time for some fun.” He grabbed the bottle of lube he’d brought on board with them and headed out onto the deck.
Clarisse followed him, looking around, scanning the horizon. They were ten miles offshore, and other than what looked like a large shrimper several miles to the south of them heading in, they had this patch of ocean all to themselves.
Mac had her sit on the stern, legs spread wide. Grabbing Sully by the hair, he bent him over. “Make her yell her head off,” Mac playfully ordered. “I want to hear her coming.”
Sully didn’t have to be told twice. He wrapped his arms around her legs and buried his face in her pussy, knowing exactly how to get her off quickly. She leaned back, propped on her arms, and watched as Mac stripped and started slathering his cock with lube. Then he dropped to his knees behind Sully, nudging the other man’s legs farther apart.
“You want to play,” Mac said, “you have to pay.” He drizzled lube over his hand and started working a finger into Sully’s rim.
Sully let out a moan that reverberated through Clarisse’s pussy, making her moan in response. She was trying not to let her eyes fall closed, not wanting to miss watching a second of the sexy action, but it was damn hard not to just let go and succumb to Sully’s talented mouth as he licked and sucked on her clit.