The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (36 page)

Seton took advantage of the distraction and sank into my asshole, seating himself to the hilt.

I jumped up and let out a startled cry—eyes wide—at the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the core by two men at the same time.
 
It was extreme, intense, overwhelming and…abso-fucking-lutely amazing!
 
I had never come close to experiencing anything like it and doubted I ever would.

Both men went still for a moment, letting my body adjust to the double intrusion.
 

“Are you all right?” Seton asked, voice strangled.
 
“Am I hurting you?”

A deep, animal-like sound tore out of my chest.
 
I was completely beyond speech.
 
Trembling, I leaned my head against Mitch’s.
 
He kissed me softly on the lips as if to comfort me.

“Marjorie?” Seton insisted.
 

“I’m fine,” I managed to rasp out through gritted teeth.
 
“Just keep going.”

He obliged, his hips undulating back and forth in slow, tentative strokes.
 
Mitch thrust up at me in the same slow motion.
 
I could only but groan as I felt both men filling me, stretching my two nether orifices at the same time.
 
Mitch’s jeans brushed against Seton’s, and Seton broke the contact with Mitch by resting his thighs against mine.
 

Seton’s strokes became faster and deeper now that my body had fully adjusted to the size of him.
 
His thrusts pushed me forward, nudging my clit against Mitch’s groin.
 
I moaned and met their thrusts, throwing my hips back at Seton and sinking myself into Mitch’s cock.
 
Then I stopped moving, just stayed there, sandwiched between them as they rocked me with their thrusting, our bodies settling into a sensual, delicious rhythm.
 
Seton set the pace, deciding how fast or slow we all moved against each other.
 
He was the leader in our erotic dance.
 

Mitch was very brave, taking the bulk of two people on him, but he didn’t seem to mind.
 
In fact, he looked like he was on cloud nine—biting his bottom lip as he let out loud, strangled groans.

Seton was enjoying himself too.
 
He seemed delirious with pleasure, growling in my ear as if in terrible agony, the fingers of one hand dug into my hips as the other one cupped my breast, pinching the puckered nipple.
 
I whimpered and my outstretched arms quivered on either side of Mitch’s neck.

“Enjoying yourself, my pet?” Seton teased thickly, moving in and out of my ass in long, sensuous strokes.
 
“You like having two cocks buried deep inside of you?”

I whimpered in response as my body became rigid, getting closer and closer to reaching a climax.
 
Seton recognized the signs, so he moved faster inside of me, enabling Mitch to move in the same tempo.
 
His thrusts pushed me forward, rubbing my clit roughly against Mitch’s body.
 

“Come for me, baby,” Seton growled as he trailed soft, feather-light kisses across my neck and shoulders.
 
“Come for me
now
.”
 

My anus contracted against the enormous cock that pounded it mercilessly.
 
My pussy pulsed uncontrollably, in the brink of orgasm.
 
Seton reached a hand into my pussy and dragged his fingers hard against my clit.
 
Oh,
God
…

I ground my hips against Mitch and came wildly and violently—so overwhelming it almost hurt.
 
Clenching my eyes shut, I cried out my orgasm through gritted teeth.
 

Mitch convulsed beneath me, his hips charging forward as he rode out his own climax.

Seton kept going though, pounding my ass so hard it was almost painful.
 
His breath had grown shallow and he groaned as if in pain, announcing that he, too, was about to come.
 

“Yes,” I breathed out encouragingly at him.
 
“Fuck my ass, Sir!
 
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”
 
I said it in time with his thrusting, and thought my ass would burst into flames if he didn’t come soon.

He bellowed my name when he finally came, his entire body shuddering above me as he emptied himself inside of me.
  

I was about to collapse on top of Mitch when I was wrenched away from him, landing on the other side of the King-sized bed.
 
Seton panted next to me.
 
His body sank down onto mine, weak after our vigorous encounter.
 
I closed my eyes briefly and enveloped him in a post-coital embrace, fighting another wave of confusion over this enigmatic man who had bestowed on me the gift of carnal pleasures that reached beyond my wildest expectations.

“My sweet darling,” he whispered to me just moments before his mouth opened mine in a long, passionate kiss.
 
Then he rolled over to the side, pulling me toward him so that my face was mere inches from his.
 
Silence fell between us, only the shallow sounds of our breaths filled the room.
 
I heard Mitch mumble something to us about needing a shower, then he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

We lay there in each other’s arms.
 
I stared at Seton.
 
He was gazing at me, green eyes pensive.
 
“You can’t leave me, Marjorie,” he murmured softly, smoothing away a strand of hair that had spilled across my forehead.
 
“As I’ve said before, it’s not over until I say it’s over.”

His words pierced through my foggy brain.
 
He was the one in control, always would be, and he wanted me to remember it.
 
I didn’t need a reminder.
 
I knew he had complete control over me, and I didn’t have the strength to fight against it.
 
I wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore.

His eyes were now closed, thick eyelashes resting beautifully over high, masculine cheekbones.
 
Within minutes, his body sagged, his arms loosening around me as his breath fell into a deep rhythm of sleep.
 
I sighed and tugged my body tighter against his.
 
His cotton white t-shirt smelled of cologne and sweat, warm with his body heat.
 
For a moment, I thought about lifting his shirt to feast my eyes on his naked chest for the first time, but I immediately squashed the idea.
 
I didn’t want it that way.
 
When I got to see the rest of him, it would be because he’d shown himself to me, giving me all of him.
 
Not just his body, but also his heart and soul.
 
I knew that would never happen, but I could dream, couldn’t I?

 
I stared at him for a long time, tears swimming in my eyes.
 
He was beautiful, truly beautiful, in a way that only a man who oozes sheer masculinity can be beautiful.
 
He was also full of mystery and contradictions.
 
He was dark and dangerous and sexy and domineering and… wonderful.
 
I swallowed a lump in my throat.
 
I didn’t want to feel anything for Seton, yet I was powerless to resist him—“powerless” being the operative word.
 

There was no use in fighting a useless battle within myself.
 
I knew what I felt for him, I supposed I’d known all along, and the realization disconcerted me.
 
The thought of going through our arrangement until it ran its course stirred something deep and painful inside of me.
 
And yet I knew I had no choice.
 
It wasn’t just Seton’s control over me that took away my choice but also my heart.
 
I couldn’t leave him, and I wouldn’t try to.
 
Not anymore.
 
I would take whatever he offered, however little it was, and for however long it lasted, just to be close to him.
 
I would relish our limited amount of time together and treasure it in my heart forever.

Still, I would never tell him that he already had my heart and soul.
 
No use giving away
everything
about me.

I yawned and squinted at the dimly lit room.
 
I had no idea where Mitch was, and I didn’t care.
 
Exhaustion swept through me, so I pressed my face against Seton’s neck, stretched an arm across his cloth-covered chest and settled down to sleep.

Chapter Twelve

“Why haven’t you called me?” my mother’s agitated voice poured into my ears.
 
“It’s been almost two months since I last spoke to you.”

I had been asleep, and my mother’s barking voice was hardly a pleasant wakeup call.
 
I said nothing for a few moments, just lay there, staring almost blindly at the ceiling and trying to stifle a yawn but not succeeding.
 
“Mom,” I croaked groggily, “you do realize it’s only seven in the morning, do you?”

“I know it’s early, but I was worried about you.
 
I’ve been calling you and talking to that stupid machine of yours for days, and you never called me back.”

“Did you try my cell?”

“Of course I have.
 
It always goes straight to voicemail.
 
Why have you been ignoring my calls?”

“I’ve been busy—”

“Too busy to call your mother for a few minutes?
 
Just wait till I die, then you’ll be sorry.”

I rose up on one elbow and pressed two fingers to my temple.
 
Man, sometimes I felt like I was trapped inside a Cathy comic.
 
This was
so
not my idea of a good morning.
 
I hated speaking to my mother when she was upset because she sounded just like one of those cliché moms found in the pages of almost every chick-lit book ever written.
 
And then people wonder why the heroines’ mothers in those novels sound the same.
 
It’s because they’re based on real-life moms.
 
I mean, you there, reading this.
 
You’ve probably had this kind of phone chat with your mother, say, dozens of times, right?
 
You have?
 
Well, okay.
 
Let’s make a deal.
 
If I ever have a daughter and I turn out to be as nagging and as annoying as our mothers…shoot me.
 
Just shoot me.
 

“Sorry, Mom,” I said earnestly.
 
“But I’ve really been busy.
 
It won’t happen again though, promise.”

She made a loud “hmmph” sound and continued to nag away as I flung off the covers, scrambled out of the bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom.
 
I washed my face, brushed my teeth, took a quick shower and was now peering inside my closet while my mother continued to jabber about something or other.
 
I clutched the phone to my ear, half-listening.
 
Mom’s calls were always long and boring, and my mind often wandered about halfway through the one-sided conversation.
 
Even now, as I stared blankly at my closet, I felt my mind drifting to the one subject that had been monopolizing my brain for a long while now.

Seton had been in London for a week.
 
He’d decided to travel with his sister Dana because he had to “sort out some personal matters,” as he put it.
 
He had also gone to show his work-in-progress to his UK publisher.
 
Karen York had gone with him, and the thought of them together made me sick.
 
He came back yesterday, but I hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t expected to, but that hadn’t stopped me from jumping with excitement every time the phone rang.
 
But the calls were never from him.
 
They were either from Alfred, Jeremy, Magda, some authors, or in this unfortunate case, my mother.
 
Seton was probably still jetlagged from his trip.