Three-Part Harmony Read online

“Hold her still.” Laurelle turned and braced against the table in a commanding stance. She’d ditched the razor, though, for something that iced Dasha’s blood: a long piercing needle. “The less you fight, chere, the better this will go.”

  She shot the woman a glare. Her heart hammered. “The better this will go? I don’t see anything better about—”

  “Pinch it a little harder, monsieur. I do enjoy decorating a nice hard nipple.”

  Dasha glared back to David. His expression arrested her for a second. She’d never seen him so magnificent, the demon in him melding with the beautiful man, eyes molten silver, tongue against his lips, openly desiring her. “David, I—”

  “Yes?” His voice coiled through her with its rough, possessive arousal. Crap. To elicit such a sound in him… Couldn’t she do this? How bad could it be?

  “I’m not a damn cake!” she cried. “I’m not going to be decorated like—”

  She would’ve screamed in shock if the sharp seizure on her breast didn’t hurt so much. She looked at the odd silver clamp David now attached to her throbbing nipple.

  “They were invented by the Japanese,” he explained just before his lips quirked in a sideways chuckle. “Who apparently know how to turn subbies into gorgeous cakes.” He dipped his head and took a playful nip at the side of her breast, right below the clamp. “Oh, yeah. Delicious.”

  “I hope it gives you diabetes!”

  The words were satisfying, but she should’ve known they’d have repercussions. David exchanged a nod with Laurelle just before he tugged a string that dangled from the contraption at Dasha’s breast. The pressure instantly doubled. Dasha keened.

  “Very delicious,” he repeated, then let the string go slack. She gasped in relief but refused to show anything else she felt. Certainly not how his tug-of-war with her breast added a little tingle to the pain…and absolutely not how that tingle danced its way down her body, courting even her toes. Would he even believe her? How could pain make one’s bloodstream feel so magical?

  “All right,” he stated. “Now that I have your attention again, I’m going to ask, once more, would I ever do anything to jeopardize your physical safety?”

  She responded with nothing but a glower, refusing to give him an instant victory. The pause cost her another pull on the string. “Fuck!” she cried—while half her mind thought of the tingles. They would come soon; she had to remember that…

  “Answer my question, D.” He brushed the skin around the grip of the Japanese torture device.

  She fought through the fog of torment. “No,” she got out. “No, Sir.”

  “No, what?” he directed.

  “No…you would never do anything to jeopardize my physical safety.”

  “Good.” His raised his touch to her cheek. “So good, darling.”

  His words, church-soft now, unleashed the final dam on her tears—especially as he pulled off the clamp completely, sending the tingles everywhere. The flood cleansed her to emotional depths she’d thought long-buried. Depths she’d thought sealed forever after the loss that had ripped apart her world. But her heart wasn’t ripped any more. It was filled. Engorged with feeling and color and intensity. For the first time in a long time, she was lost to the wonder of a single moment. She didn’t think back or ahead; for now, all that existed was the fullness of now. Of David. His gaze on her, his touch on her, his focus on her. Dasha bent her head toward his palm, silently begging him for more of that amazing spiritual sustenance.

  Instead, he lowered his fingers back to her nipple, holding it for Laurelle to sanitize. Dasha’s skin went frosty with the cold contact, but her senses froze worse—especially when he stared straight at her, then ordered, “Do it. Now.”

  Chapter Six

  She screamed, and David smothered the sound with his mouth. He gripped her face between his hands and forced her to give him every decibel of her pain. And though Laurelle put the jewelry in with skillful speed, he couldn’t let his writhing little sub free, not yet. He was a fucking fireball, needing to feel more of this, craving the intensity from her body, the fever of her struggling muscles. He finally released her, only to run his tongue up the wild heartbeat in her neck and brace his fingers against her lips, savoring every hot, heaving gasp she emitted. She was taking it, all of it, for him. For him.

  She catapulted him to a new stratosphere. Dasha, his gorgeous and amazing Dasha, let him inside her experience like none before her had.

  He didn’t want to ever pull away. But he finally forced himself to do so, raising a few inches from her.

  He braced for the backlash. Prepped his eyes for her forest fire of a glare. Steeled himself for another scream, perhaps now using the safe word that would end this incredible night for good.

  Instead, she gave him something more decimating. Her tears. She’d been fighting them with valiance but now they spilled, heavy and hard, from eyes that held feelings he couldn’t decipher…emotions that were soul-deep and perhaps on display for the very first time.

  Holy shit.

  What was happening inside her?

  He’d locked up her body, but in her mind, had freed—

  What?

  He didn’t know the answer to that and was damn sure D didn’t either.

  Without hesitating, David reached for her wrist cuffs.

  “Don’t.” Her charge came with forced strength. “Sir,” she corrected and took a ragged breath. “Please don’t.” He watched her fingers actually curl and stroke at the cuffs. “Finish it,” she snapped. “There’s another one, right? So finish it.”

  Laurelle’s chuff confirmed he wasn’t the only one just thrown into a pit of shock. “Well, well, well. Look who has found himself a brave little girl. Lucky you, mon chou.”

  “Yeah.” He gave that reply readily, gaping at the tawny glory of his amazing little sub. He hoped she saw how she blew him away with her courage and fortitude…and now her off-the-Richter fuckable factor, with his first initial in diamonds locked on her right nipple.

  Laurelle tossed a suggestive smile. “Perhaps you should make her the lucky one too?”

  Thank fuck someone in the room was still thinking. “Great. Idea.” He was already in position, probably out of hope that D would really endure the depths of his little initiation fantasy, then let him “make it up” by filling her in a way she’d never forget. But she’d earned the trophy. Now he yearned to give her that brass ring, and turn the thing gold in the process.

  Dasha clearly wasn’t reading his mind on that one. He didn’t blame her for the petrified gaze she raked his way. That made it all the sweeter to secure his hips between hers, then give her pussy a gentle rub. Her glare gave way to a sigh. She followed it with an adorable mewl as he explored deeper, swiping her moist clit with his thumb.

  “Are you anxious to finish things up, sweetheart?”

  “I…ohhh…” Another tease of his fingers. Another sweet, wonderful gasp.

  He pressed his crotch against hers, letting her feel each motion as he unbuttoned his pants and took down his fly. His cock busted free of the soft leather, pounding and ready, diving at her slit like a heat-seeking missile.

  “I have a new lesson for you now.” He stated it while sliding on a condom in record seconds. “It’s called ‘Agony and Ecstasy.’” He had to lock his jaw as he rocked against her, fighting his body’s demand to get inside her oh, about ten minutes ago. “Think you’re interested?”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  He smirked. She was getting the idea now.

  “Excellent.” He started teasing her entrance, pushing in enough so his head was buried, instantly grabbed by her tight muscles. As she whimpered with high-pitched abandon, he again fought against driving into her. He locked his teeth, clenched his thighs. This took care of the “agony” part of the deal. God damn it.

  “Mmm.” Laurelle eyed the juncture of their bodies with glittering interest. “Just what I always thought. You are very well built, monsieur. Your fille is lucky, indeed.” She
reached and pulled the Japanese nipple clamps, the full pair now, from David’s pocket. “Shall I make the lesson more interesting now?”

  “No!”

  “Oh yes.” David grinned through the countermand. Still, he swatted some discipline down on her throbbing, spread pussy. “Unless you do want to end things now, darling?”

  He damn near regretted the words, as well as the implication he backed to them, retreating from her a little.

  But Dasha’s gasp paid back the effort. “Okay!” she cried. “Okay. I’ll be—just please…please don’t…”

  Her body finished that with involuntary cunning, sucking him back with excruciating pressure. He lost the grin as he battled the torment in his shaft. For years, he’d been dreaming of Dasha like this. The fantasies were pale ghosts to the reality.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” The authority in his tone was possible only from years of practice. To Laurelle, he commanded, “Clamp her. But I’m feeling merciful. Use only one, but use it well. I want to see that pretty tit go nice and hard.”

  Laurelle released something between a purr and a growl. Dasha whimpered but said nothing else. He adored her for the surrender, for the increasing chunks of trust she gave him…and more. He wasn’t sure what that “more” could be described as, not yet, but he was determined to show her how much it meant to him.

  He pressed forward again, giving her another inch of his erection. Raw ecstasy filled her face, and he savored every second of it. Her walls pulsed around him, sucking at him harder with each passing second. He hovered both thumbs over the dark pink folds just above the juncture of their bodies. As Laurelle began to pinch Dasha’s breast, prepping her second nipple, he lowered his fingers into fluttering caresses on her slick flesh. Dasha winced, then gasped. When Laurelle secured the clamp beneath her stiff bud, he slid everything in to full hilt. His thighs slammed to hers. His cock was a solid stick of fire, plunged deep inside her body. He drove his fingers along her clit.

  For a moment, he simply soaked in everything about Dasha’s energy. The clench of her teeth, countered by the arousal in her eyes. Her moan of pain, mixed with little gasps of pleasure. Suffering and succor. Penalty and payback.

  Agony and ecstasy.

  “You’re doing so well,” he praised, loving how that lifted the slick ribbon of her mouth. But she grimaced the next moment as Laurelle gave a little pull on the clamp string. The sight of her now, her breast pinched, her body bound, drove him insane. He had to claim her now. Dominate her womb as the final seal of his ownership, as the second symbol of his name got driven into her nipple. And feel her accepting him too.

  Completion tore close to his surface. Cum raced up his cock. That was a good thing, because Laurelle was nearly ready now too. Under his fingers, D’s juices seeped like tears. Her clit pulsed, hard and ready. Thank God. “You’re going to come with me now, D,” he ordered. “Do you understand? You’re going to come hard.”

  “Y-yes, S-Sir…”

  He nodded at Laurelle. “Pierce it.”

  His groan slammed with Dasha’s scream as Laurelle drove the needle in. His climax was a mixture of soaring heaven and decadent hell. It rocked him, drained him. He felt D’s orgasm consume her too, even as her face contorted from the torture to her breast. He kept up his strokes as a second orgasm shook her, and he signaled to Laurelle to release the clamps along with her wrists. As soon as she did, Dasha pulled him down, clinging hard. She gulped and shook, gripping him like a life ring.

  “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Slow, take it slow.”

  She rebelled by clutching harder. “I—”

  “What?” He stroked the dip of her waist. “What is it?” he pressed. “No holding back, remember? I need your complete honesty, D.”

  Her tears soaked the crook of his neck. “Confused,” she finally whispered. “Just…confused. I didn’t…”

  “What?”

  “Expect that. Expect this. All of this.”

  David smiled and kissed her forehead. “Okay, that’s honest. And most acceptable.”

  She burrowed deeper against him before speaking again. “David?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for my new jewelry.”

  He pulled away enough to take in the delicate features of his beautiful little sub. No, beautiful didn’t begin to describe her. He hadn’t given her a subtle experience tonight, a decision he’d first written off to impatience, for he’d dreamed of doing this with her, only her, for years. But as he’d prepared for the scene and looked hard at his motives, he realized that somewhere, somehow, the vision had blossomed with D’s desires in consideration too. Dasha Melodia Moore wasn’t a “halfway” person. The woman had raced bicycles with Matt Bellamy, Zumba’ed with Rihanna, even skydived with Bono. A beginner’s scene wasn’t going to hit shit with her. After all the reading she’d done, she would’ve called him on it too. So, he’d taken a huge chance. In a bunch of ways, he’d ventured onto his own limb of terror tonight.

  And to his not so small shock, the limb had…grown. It’d grown into a tree, majestic and magnificent, bolstering them to this moment, to a height so incredible he couldn’t find any words to give back to D. He worked his jaw, hoping it would help him get coherent, but nothing came.

  He opted for leaning in again, then tenderly taking her mouth under his. She tasted creamy and warm, sexy and sweet; he let every flavor flow through him. Words would come soon enough. They always did. He had a knack of picking something appropriate too, a glib combination of humor and appreciation that brought on bashful laughter from his submissives, easing everyone back behind their walls, nice and comfy, where they all belonged.

  That was when a realization slammed him broadside.

  He didn’t want the goddamn words. Didn’t want to waste a second chasing them. He wanted the walls to stay a few million feet away. He yearned for the power to freeze this instant, to lock himself inside D, and—

  And then what? Buy her a collar and ride away into the sunset together?

  You gave up on collars a long time ago, buddy. And sunsets? They’re best enjoyed with margaritas and a lively discussion about limits for the night’s kink. Nothing but that. Nobody who wants more than that.

  He swallowed hard. It was sage advice, given from a tried-and-true friend: his soul. Getting the buy-in from the rest of him, that would be the trick.

  And the necessity.

  Chapter Seven

  They exited the spa, still empty of any staff or clients, once more via the hotel’s VIP elevator—though Dasha wondered why the ride was necessary. She likely could’ve flown up the side of the building, since her brain had turned into a cloud. It floated atop the ball of sensations she somehow still called her body; such a stupid and plain label for the limbs and nerves and muscles that’d been transformed in the last hour. She’d been run through the full spectrum, from low to high, then back again, an e-ticket journey she still replayed in her mind’s eye. Yes, all of it. Yes, even the pain—perhaps especially that, since her nipples already screamed at her for acetaminophen—and even the bondage—

  But absolutely all of the pleasure.

  Pleasure she never imagined she’d know. All because of David.

  David. She cried out for him silently, yet somehow he heard; the thick pewter darkness of his eyes told her so as he turned, captivating her with the same look he’d had after their climaxes. Ohhh, that look. Taut yet searching, like he had something to say but couldn’t find the words. Dasha didn’t push him. Were words enough to describe this? She had her doubts, especially when the brain cloud thickened again as he stepped to her. As the elevator doors slid shut, David slid his arms under the cloak, gently pulling her against him. She sighed, breathing him in: sweat, sex, spice, skin.

  David. Sir. Home.

  His murmur warmed the top of her head. “Thank you for being so sweet to Laurelle. Offering her tickets to the show in Baltimore was a lovely gesture.”

  Dasha smiled into his shoulder. �
�She’s your friend. And she was part of a wonderful night for us.”

  He tugged her head back enough so they looked at each other again. “Wonderful?” he echoed, unleashing the power-to-a-hundred version of his stare. An equally dazzling smile bloomed on his elegant lips. “You…mean that, don’t you?”

  She was certain she poured more of her soul, a flood of sap and mush, into her heavy-lidded stare and dreamy, silly smile. He didn’t look like he cared. “Yes,” she told him, holding her chin high with surety. “I do.”

  She hated to interrupt herself with a frown, but her gaze fell on the floor call buttons then. Only one number had been punched. “Sir, my room’s on forty-eight.”

  “Not anymore.” He amped up the force of his proximity, bringing his legs beneath the cloak now, bracing her with them. “I want you next to me tonight,” he said, bracing a hand against the elevator wall next to her head. “Right next to me. I know you. You’ll want to play with your new bling, and that can’t happen. Your piercings need to heal, and I need to monitor that. Closely.”

  “Every second?” she teased, trailing a finger up to a breast. “Isn’t that a bit like watching paint dry?”

  David yanked her hand back. “I’m serious. No playing with your piercings.” He turned her palm over and gave it a rough kiss. “Besides, I’m bound to find some diversions.”

  The possessive move made Dasha bold. She ran her other hand up the front of his black shirt, loving the rock-hard pecs and delts under her fingers. “Does that mean the dancers can have my suite now?”

  “That means I’ll think about it. You may have to earn that privilege…on their behalf.”

  She bit her lower lip and smiled. “Starting now?”

  The elevator doors shooshed open to his floor. He grabbed her hand, and she saw the start of a laugh on his lips, but he answered in a growl, “Absolutely not now. You’ve given your fair share of dues to the cause tonight. Food for you, then right to bed.”

  “Party pooper.”

  “You’re taping with Piers Morgan tomorrow. You wanna be spouting, ‘Sorry I look like shit on a stick, Piers ol’ boy, but my Sir was fucking me silly till four this morning’?”