Lord & Master by Emma Holly Page A

do,” he said, “but I like the look of it either way.”
    Did I trust him? Was I capable of judging wisely when I was this aroused?
    “Choose as you like,” Damien said. “It’s important to us that this pleasures you.”
    He said us so easily. I wanted to take part in that esprit de corps . I didn’t know if the longing was wrong or right—or even feasible. There seemed only one way to find out. I nodded, and Jake rose out of the chair.
    He hadn’t lied. He fastened the straps with sufficient give to pull out of them if I wished. He sat again, his movements stiff and his breathing changed. His legs were spread to either side of the chair back. He rubbed his palms up and down his thighs.
    He seemed to have forgotten how to smirk.
    “Go ahead,” Damien said. “Study his erection.”
    A little shiver seized me when I did. The rise at his crotch was large. I tore my gaze away to look at Damien.
    “Thank you,” my husband said. “I’m grateful you trust us.”
    He kissed me even as I wondered if I’d decided that. As his mouth took mine, his chest rested on me lightly, his legs and forearms supporting him. I twisted unavoidably with desire. My body knew the bliss his could bring.
    My hold on the headrail helped lever me against him.
    “That’s it,” Damien praised huskily.
    He pulled my leg higher on his side, exposing the whole of it plus a portion of my rump to Jake. Then he caressed me from waist to knee as if to guide his friend’s attention along my curves. I clutched the railing tighter, my pussy flooding with desire.
    “May I?” Damien asked. A suggestive motion of his hips clarified the question. He meant could he make love to me.
    It was difficult to think straight. I craved him inside me as he’d been last night. “Jake will stay where he is?”
    “He will,” Damien promised.
    “Yes, then,” I said softly.
    His hand moved between us to open his clothing. I loved his eagerness to bare himself, to join us together. His silky tip nudged my folds and burrowed between them. Damien looked at me, skin flushed, dark gold hair fallen over his forehead.
    If I could have painted him then, I would.
    “I’m ready,” I assured him.
    He pushed, his hot lovely rod forging slowly into my sheath. I groaned, already addicted to the sensation of him filling me.
    “Mm,” Damien hummed when he reached both our limits.
    He pulled back and notched me again, firmly enough that his pelvis ground the swollen button at my apex. He must have known I liked that, because he repeated the motion.
    To my very great satisfaction, this ride was longer than the one he’d given me before, when he’d been concerned for my virgin state. Now I savored every second of rising tension, gradually giving myself over to sensuality. The straps that bound my wrists were reassuring—as if they’d keep me safe no matter how much control I lost to abandonment.
    I sucked a breath as Damien’s hips dug more insistently into me.
    “Too much?” he asked raggedly.
    “Not enough,” I dared to answer, thrusting to him from both heels.
    He growled softly, his face dropping to my throat. Perhaps he relished my bound state too. He slid one hand up my arms, as if to confirm I was secured. His breath was choppy, and I sensed him struggling not to finish. The guttural noises he made were wonderful. They told me I had power, though I was the one beneath. I heaved up to force him deeper between my legs, to claim more of that ascendance. The bed creaked as we thumped it, and Damien groaned my name.
    Suddenly another hand wrapped mine. Not Damien’s. I felt sweat and heat and calluses on the palms.
    “Jake,” Damien gasped, as if he had to acknowledge him.
    My excitement surged. Knowing the other man was there, that he hadn’t been able to resist fondling my restraints, drove such an ache between my legs I could hardly bear the suspense.
    Did Jake feel the same? Was he as hungry for release as I?
    Damien addressed my pangs with a frenzied