Jon eased out of her, wresting another quiet sound from her throat both from the friction and the timing, since Peter landed his last blow on Dana then, the woman responding with a sharp cry as he apparently put a little extra zing into what was already a pretty aggressive paddling.
Peter murmured something soothing, and rubbed his large hand over the abused area. “Just can’t ever learn to behave, can you, Sergeant?”
Dana shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was choked with tears. “No, sir.”
A grim smile touched Peter’s mouth, and he bent to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. “I love you, Master,” Dana said. When she turned her cheek to her shoulder, Rachel saw the tears that matched the broken voice.
Peter increased the pressure of the kiss, and brushed his forehead against the base of her neck, holding there an extra moment, a tactile answer that responded in kind.
Then he straightened, but he didn’t draw back. He ran his hands over Dana’s ass, her lower back and higher, combining caressing and checking the tension in her muscles to ensure she wasn’t uncomfortable in the wrong way. Though Dana no longer needed PT, Rachel gave her bi-monthly massages to keep the back and joint issues that could plague her after such a traumatic injury at bay. But no one was as diligent as Peter about keeping an eye on that.
Easing a hip onto the table, Peter bent and kissed Dana’s shoulder again. “Want to come, bad girl?”
Dana nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you think you deserve to come?”
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
The response caused a smile on Peter’s face, but his gray eyes were storm-cloud dark, focused on Dana’s face. “All right then. If I let you come, you’ll owe me some time on your knees, taking my cock in that smart mouth of yours.”
“Yes, sir. Please, sir.”
Peter twisted partly around as he ran his hand down her back. Rachel held her breath as the hand disappeared behind Dana’s hips. Her head came up further, lips stretching back as Peter massaged her clit and labia, his gaze upon his wife.
Jon had tucked himself back into his jeans and drew Rachel up to stand between the pressure of his clothed body and the smooth edge of the glass table. As Rachel watched Dana’s climax build, her hands unconsciously wrapped around Jon’s arm banded around her, just below her breasts. She quivered against him as she saw the process she’d just experienced seize Dana. Her expression twisted, lips opening and stretching, her body stiffening and arching.
As the climax started, Peter used his free hand to grip the chain between Dana’s nipples and tug, his long fingers caressing, flicking a nipple. Dana screamed, and Rachel saw the fierce male satisfaction on Peter’s face, his fascinated absorption with his sub’s response, which made him work his hand even more energetically behind her hips. He twisted his fingers in the chain to make it tauter, the pull on the nipples more insistent.
“Fuck…” Dana’s soldier language tended to escape her in uncontrolled moments, and this was undoubtedly one of them.
Though it was mesmerizing, Rachel wanted to know how the men were reacting. She found them as absorbed as she was.
Matt had risen from the table, maybe to refill his glass, and he leaned his hips against the side bar, arms crossed, raptor gaze intent. Ben had that dangerous expression that made his green eyes glitter, his mouth set in a concentrated line. Lucas leaned back in his chair, a slow rock back and forth, as he watched Dana’s reaction. Jon was still as he held her close, but the grip of his arm told her he wouldn’t be letting her move away.
They were totally into it, but there was a provocative detachment to it, she realized. When a man wanted a woman he didn’t have, there was an edginess to his attention, predator calculating prey strategy. This was the attention of men who knew what they were enjoying was theirs to enjoy however, whenever they wished.
It was the attitude of conquerors, the best kind. She suspected when they were handling a business deal they demonstrated the same singular focus, knowing the battle was won before they even started, because they’d accept no lesser outcome.
They might be merciless about acquisition, but everything after that point made a conquest feel blessed. Case in point. As Dana was sliding back down the hill to semi-sanity, Jon eased his hold enough to run his hands over Rachel’s hair and shoulders, down her arms. He turned her toward him, shifting his grip to clasp both her hands. As he did, he stepped back and gave her an appraising look.
She wasn’t sure on her feet, and he noted that. Lifting her back onto the table, he bent to unbuckle the shoes. He stroked the area the wrapped straps had cuffed before he eased her back to her feet, holding onto her until he was sure of her balance.
“Go to the sidebar and eat a couple deviled eggs, drink some water. When you’re steady enough, check and see that each man has what he wants, drink and food-wise. This was just the preliminaries. We’re about to start the game.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant until she noted that Ben had picked up a deck of cards and passed them to Lucas. She felt a little faint. Just the preliminaries? Ben’s goal of pushing them far beyond the wear-out point might just be realized. And encouraged and supported by every man here.
But she had to give them credit. They excelled at aftercare, and had diabolical ways of using it to start them up that ramp again, even when a woman thought she didn’t have it in her.
Peter had eased Dana down to her side and taken his seat behind her. He’d brought her even closer to the edge in that curled up position, so he could stroke and murmur to her. She was facing toward Rachel, Peter’s arm around her waist, hand possessing her breast, his other hand tucked into her pussy from behind. Because his hand required her knees to be slightly apart, Rachel could see the glistening lengths of his fingers gliding in and out, gently, as she made little noises, a reaction to his stroking of those highly sensitive post-climactic tissues.
Jon hadn’t been kidding. This night was far from over. Thank Goddess. And please, great Lady, help us survive it.
The sidebar was full of snacks she’d only vaguely registered when she entered the room. She followed her Master’s direction, knowing it would be wise to refuel. She drank half a bottle of water and ate two of the deviled eggs she was sure had been made by Ben, since she’d never had a deviled egg so good. The man had culinary skills equal to the little old ladies in the Piggly Wiggly grocery store deli section. They could cook comfort food in ways five-star restaurants wished they could.
As she ate, she watched the men interact in a whole different way than they had a few moments before. They were razzing one another about what game they were going to play, who had cheated the last time. This provoked an indignant response from the accused—Ben, of course.
“It’s a waste of effort to cheat, because you guys suck at cards,” he retorted.
“I think we should shake him down beforehand,” Lucas suggested. “Make sure he doesn’t have cards tucked in somewhere.”