Three-Part Harmony (17 page)

“Pretty words,” he drawled. “But too pretty and swift to be your truth.”

He shoved her wrists, now slammed together, back by another few inches. “Hold her for me,” he directed David. With her wrists now passed into her Dom’s crushing grip, Kress caught her face in a dual-sided hold. His fingers splayed against her cheekbones.

“I haven’t known you for years, sugar.” He’d used the term in flirtation five nights ago; now he flung it with pure command. “There’s a good chance my mercy has a lower threshold than your Sir. And a very good chance I’ll use some creative techniques he’s not brought out on you yet.” He loomed, his mouth just inches away now. “But be confident in this: my creativity won’t mark you in places you’ll have to be concerned about.” A smile touched that mouth now, and he brushed those made-for-sin lips against hers. “We’ll just make it count in other places, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dasha echoed on a sigh. She parted for him, yearning for the invasion of his kiss. When Kress didn’t return the pressure, she gave a tiny buck of her hips, urging him to satisfy even a piece of the need that clawed at her pussy. In return, he tunneled his fingers into her hair and twisted.

“Oh, no, no, no, honey,” he ordered. “I’m not here to fuck you, remember? I’m here to help punish you. Maybe my cock will help me do that too, but you’ll have to earn that as well. Dishonest girls don’t get any cocks or any fucks until they’ve served their punishment. Perhaps together, we’ll convince your Sir that you’ve learned your lesson and are ready for those again.”

By gradual degrees, he corkscrewed his hold tighter. Heavy tears came, blurring her vision. But her heartbeat revved to full throttle. “Are you ready to help me do that, Dasha?”

She swallowed again. And honestly wondered how he hadn’t pulled her hair out, roots and all. But despite that, through the splitting pain and the struggle for coherent thought, Dasha only had one answer to give. Only one decision to render.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Christ. Now Kress knew why Pennington was such a tireless asshole when it came to ensuring his woman’s safety. Even with tears brimming in her eyes and pain contorting her face, Dasha was a breathtaking portrait of submission. And her voice…the soprano that captivated millions with an addicting pop hook was a fucking siren’s song when she whispered her brave words of surrender.

He looked up to David and took in the guy’s face full of lust-mad impatience. And was so damn glad that, as they’d discovered countless times during the week, the two of them were on the same page.

“Set her free,” he told his friend. “So she can get naked for us.” He wasn’t surprised that, as David let her arms down, the man reached around and tore back the panels of her dress bodice himself, popping buttons and ripping fabric. Since it was one of those sundress things with the bra built in, her breasts were free as soon as the bodice fell down.

The sight of them blew the air out of his body.

But before he could confirm the truth of what he’d just beheld, Pennington ordered, “Finish up, D. You heard the man. Do it fast.”

Dasha had bent over, peeling down the rest of the dress along with her white lacy thong. When she rose back up, the air rushed out of Kress’s lungs all over again. And blood sluiced straight to his cock.

She was more gorgeous than he remembered. Her skin was the color of whipped honey, and it covered angular, muscled legs that joined in a perfect V at her bare pussy, leading up to the indent of her waist and the soft curve of her torso, shoulders draped in her golden, tumbling hair. And then…oh
Christ,
and then—

“You sly, fucking fox,” he declared. At last, he had the chance to stare unhindered at her perfect, firm breasts, each centered with a dark coral nipple that was wrapped in a distinct diamond letter. “That’s the most beautiful monogram job I’ve ever seen.”

David smiled, leaning to kiss his woman’s cheek. “It starts with a beautiful toy to monogram.”

“No matter what happens, she’ll know exactly who she belongs to.”

Not surprisingly, Dasha shot up a glare of pure copper fire. “I’d know it even without the diamonds,
sugar.
The initials might be pierced on my body, but they’re already branded on my heart.”

For a long second, he didn’t say anything. It might’ve had something to do with the rubber band now cinched around his chest. At last, Kress took her face in his hands once more. This time, he did it with gentle fingers. “Then your Sir is not only sly but damn lucky.”

“All right, man.” David’s grumble came with his reclaiming hold on Dasha. “You going soft-serve on me already?” He arched a black brow as he turned her fully to face him.

“Fuck you.” Though it was just part of the banter they’d fast developed, he almost felt guilty about the crack. This encounter was one hell of a generous gift, especially from a guy he’d first pegged as a show-biz poser.

On the other hand, maybe David hadn’t even heard him. The guy was busy giving their sub a long face-suck of a kiss. When he was done, he directed her back toward Kress. “Watch her for a few,” his friend requested. “I’m going to go get some things ready.”

Kress nodded, using the moment to widen his stance. His erection was already at torture status. Dasha, watching her Dom disappear with a look mixed of confusion and longing, didn’t help the sitch at all. God
damn,
she was so gorgeous. And so naked. And so close…

“What ‘things’ does he mean?” she asked him softly.

Though Kress didn’t know the answer any more than she, he debated his choice of responses. Let her ruminate while he enjoyed—make that really enjoyed—the sight of her, or take advantage of the chance to see how she liked his style?

He decided within seconds.

Without preamble, he leaned over and gave her little ass a firm strike.

“Owww! What the hell, Kress?”

He pivoted to stand in front of her. “First, I’ve changed my mind about that. Addressing me as Kress clearly has given you the illusion you can take casual address with me tonight. So from this point, I’ll be Sergeant to you. Second, initiating questions without asking permission is also not your place. Are we clear?”

He half expected her little smirk. “Sergeant?”

Before the word left her lips, he’d dropped to one knee and slammed her over it, delivering another series of whacks to her lovely, smooth backside. “My rank in the army before I left for the Bureau. Anything else you want to challenge me on, as long as we’re at it?”

“No, Sergeant,” came her breathless response.

“Damn shame,” he replied. “Because your ass is stunning with my palm marks on it.”

She writhed in a delicious way beneath the appreciative strokes he now gave her cheeks. “It…feels nice too. Thank you…Sergeant.”

Though she hesitated over the last word, her voice gave it to him with a dreamy cadence. Too dreamy. It was acclimation time. He’d get her too dreamy; they had a lot more ground to cover first.

With a determined sweep, he returned her to her knees, then rose to his feet.

“Stay right there,” he bade when she moved to join him. “You’ll assume proper submissive position while we’re waiting. Ankles beneath your ass, hands atop your thighs, back straight, gaze on the floor. Do you understand the instruction?” he asked when she shot another questioning look at him.

He watched her mouth twist as if she’d just swallowed something nasty. Still, she complied with, “No…Sergeant,” as she slowly lowered to the floor.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he returned.

“I’m fine.”

Her starchy little quip had Kress chewing back a chuckle. Ahhh, the sound of a subbie fighting her feistiness. It had been too long for him; the Internet was a crapshoot, and he’d given up on club play at least a year ago. Even in the members-only BDSM houses, the unattached submissives were so eager to
be
attached, they’d nearly let a guy slit their wrists in exchange for the dynamic. Now he had a beautiful pixie at his feet who could barely string two civil words to him right now, let alone submissive phrasing. The challenge doubled the tension in his cock and jacked his senses like an addict after a dry-out.

He had to look at her again. Up close. He crouched, nearly eye to eye with her—only she took care now, keeping her gaze turned down, exactly as he’d instructed. Kress didn’t mind. Not only was her acquiescence a thrill, he knew exactly where her stare now rested—and knowing she was getting her fill of his crotch gave him a pure, hedonistic thrill.

But he had other things to address with her. Such as the event that had gotten her like this in the first place.

He gently tugged up her chin with his forefinger. She met his eyes directly, though hers surged like a bronze tempest. So many layers that compromised this fascinating creature. Some that made perfect sense. And others…that clearly didn’t.

He followed just a strand of that contemplation. “I’m not here to bust out a psych-job on your issues with Daddy, at least not tonight—but I do need you to be brutally honest with me right now, D.”

The solemnity of his tone settled over her whole face. “Okay.”

Kress dipped in closer to her. “If you don’t want this to happen, then you say so right now. Though we’re here because of what you can’t communicate to Dad, I’m not him. I won’t take offense. I won’t hang up in your ear or disappear in a sulk, and neither will David. He’ll still drag you off somewhere, have you fifteen ways till tomorrow, and I’ll be right here outside the door, still watching out for you, still ready to go hunt the bad guy for you tomorrow morning. Do you understand?”

Great.
Now
she looked away.
Shit.
Kress ground his teeth together, willing his grip to remain gentle and his breath to stay steady.
You opened her escape hatch yourself, lunkhead. Don’t be surprised if she uses the damn thing.

But then she turned her stare back to him. And gave a little smile that turned his gut to butter. “Sometimes, I think David knows me better than I
do.” She squared her jaw a little higher. “He knows…that I probably need this. And you—” Those two words tripped out fast. “He knows you—”

“Need it too.”

Okay, so much for breathing right. Or controlling anything below his navel. “Christ, Dasha.” He compelled his hand to stay on her face and not travel those gorgeous inches south. “Nearly since the moment I met you, I’ve dreamed of this. Wanted you like this.”

The declarations were enough to crown him King of the Dorks—but as her smile grew, he proudly bolted the crown into his psyche. She took a breath, lifting both her breasts higher, also ensuring he was ready to screw diplomacy, flatten her, and fuck her if Pennington didn’t get his ass back here within the next minute.

Where the hell was he?

In their talks throughout the day, the guy hinted if things developed into a situation like this, he had a surprise waiting at the mansion. But for God’s sake, how long could it take to set out some toys and turn down the bedroom lights?

“Well. What a nice sight.”

About that long.

“What the fuck?” he snapped. “Did you forget your toothbrush in Miami?”

David had the balls to chuckle. “Looks like you put the time to excellent use.” The guy joined him in front of Dasha, crouching as well. “Very pretty, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But not my favorite presentation. Do you remember what that one is?”

The gaze that’d flared at him now went liquid caramel for David, a sight almost as stunning as the new pose she took. Kress gave a long, low growl as she tilted into a full kneel-back pose: knees parted, thighs taut, her pussy now high and moist and inviting. The growl died in his throat when Pennington reached, parted her pussy and, without hesitation, pushed a couple of fingers up into her. She moaned, hiking the sexual heat in the room by about a million.

“Feels like this little one has been enjoying the anticipation for this too.” Pennington extracted his fingers, then raised them to his submissive’s mouth. “Suck it off, sweetheart. Get it all.” After a few wet licks filled the air, he rose, pulling her with him. “Good girl. Stand up now.”

Kress didn’t think he’d ever get used to gazing at her totally naked. Her body was a lush collection of curves and muscles, all defined by that deep honey skin. As for those diamonds in her tits…damn.
Damn.

“One more appetizer before our main course,” David said then, a devil’s glint in his eyes.

Kress noticed the guy had changed pants, going from his twill Prada
GQ
look into a heavy, custom black pair with multiple pockets down the legs. From two of those pockets, he pulled items that made Kress grin.

A pair of padded wrist cuffs. And a matching pair of ankle shackles.

“Help me out.” David tossed him one of each.

“Don’t have to ask twice.” As they closed the clasps around their sub’s slender extremities, Kress’s pulse roared. But it placed a distant second to where his mind careened. What the hell kind of setup had Pennington arranged? He didn’t remember seeing any hard points for bondage or ample space for other kink equipment in the pair’s antebellum-era bedroom. On the other hand, the last time he’d seen the chamber, he’d been distracted by—well—other sights.

“
Now
for the main event, kids,” his friend said. David kissed Dasha before taking her hand, courtier-style. “Are you prepared for your punishment?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Once again, her layers astounded Kress. Her eyes screamed how she wanted this to be over, but the rest of her body proclaimed she never wanted it to end. One glance confirmed it: the tremor of her lips, the twin erections of her breasts, the willing way she followed her Sir. God
damn.
Pennington was indeed a lucky bastard.

That envy was eclipsed by the feelings that slammed three minutes later.

David led the way to the back of the mansion, to a plush study with bay windows and lots of leather furniture. After producing an ornate metal key, the guy walked to what looked like another panel in the wall and yanked on one of the sconces on it. The fixture turned out to be a handle, assisting David to slide back the entire panel. Behind it lay a smaller door, clearly original to the house, which looked like a portal to a simple closet.