Page 252 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

MEL

W eston Fontaine sucks my nipple into his mouth.

Oh. My. God.

Rob moves his hands to my shoulders. I bend forward in response to West’s touch, encouraging him to suck harder, but Rob’s firm grasp holds me still. “Don’t move,” he growls into my ear. “You take what we give you, is that clear?”

My insides blaze with heat. I asked them to take charge, and they’re more than ready for the task. “Yes, Sir,” I whisper. They haven’t asked me to call them Sir, but somehow, in this room, it feels right.

If West has a reaction to being called Sir, he doesn’t reveal it. He keeps his attention on my breasts, pulling an erect bud between his teeth.

My knees go weak, and only Rob’s grip keeps me standing.

Desire floods through me. West sucks on one nipple and then the other. And just when I think I’m going to come from the sheer eroticism of this moment, he pulls away, letting my nipple slide from his mouth.

“You want to be tied up, kitty cat?” he asks, a smile ghosting over his lips. “I think we can make that happen.”

West walks over and opens the wardrobe. I glimpse its contents.

Oh wow. It’s filled with every kinky toy imaginable.

On the left door hang various clips, hooks, straps, fur-lined leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and an assortment of whips and floggers.

On the right door hangs ropes of all sizes, colors, and thicknesses, along with a pair of scissors.

I try to see what’s on the shelves, but Rob spins me away, blocking my view. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, his voice amused. “You doing okay so far?”

My heart warms. I’m doing great, but I appreciate the check-in. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Stay still. I want you to watch yourself in the mirror.”

I stare at my reflection with wide eyes. The woman staring back looks like someone else. She’s wearing a red skirt and nothing else, and she looks like a creature composed of lust and passion.

She feels like a braver, sexier version of me. This woman wouldn’t come up with an elaborate plot to sleep with her bosses. She wouldn’t be afraid of rejection, and she wouldn’t flinch away from the truth. She would just tell them she’s interested, and if they rejected her, she would deal with it.

Rob’s hands slide up my chest to cup my breasts, yanking my attention back to the present. He rolls my erect nubs between his fingers, then he pinches them hard.

I gasp out loud.

“Too hard?”

My nipples throb in the most delicious way. “No. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Maybe you should keep your attention on me,” he suggests silkily.

Oops. Of course he noticed my moment of inattention. Robert Yarrow does not miss the details.

West retrieves a length of hemp-colored rope from the wardrobe.

He runs his fingers along a length of it, gives me a thoughtful look, and then puts it back.

He selects another coil, crimson this time, and appraises its weight and texture.

It must satisfy him because even through his mask, I can see the change in his expression. He looks hungry. Feral.

“Yes, this will do nicely,” he says, his voice a low purr.

He nears me and lets the crimson rope unravel. His face brushes against mine as he reaches around me, holding the rope against the middle of my back. He wraps the two ends around me, under my breasts, loops around the section of rope at my back, and then he pulls it snug.

I can feel it tighten under my breasts. Pinpricks of desire dance across my body. The tightly woven rope is surprisingly comfortable. I was afraid it might irritate my skin, but there’s no chafing at all.

West brings the two loose ends over my shoulders, down through my cleavage, around the rope under my breasts, and back over my shoulders. He’s making a rope-bra of sorts. Rob watches intently as West finishes by tying the rope snugly in the back.

My breasts feel like they’re being squeezed by a pair of hungry, powerful hands.

I feel exposed. No, not exposed. I feel both vulnerable and yet strangely secure.

I love it.

West isn’t done. “Hold your hands behind your back,” he instructs.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply. I feel each loop of rope pulling against my skin as I clasp my hands behind my back.

I half-expect either him or Rob to tie my hands together, but they don’t. Some unspoken communication happens between them, and they switch places. Rob moves in front of me. His gaze falls to my bound breasts, and he inhales sharply.

Then he kisses me for the very first time.

Rob has kissed my shoulders and my neck, soft and fleeting and delicate.

But he’s not soft now. His lips crash into mine, crushing, passionate, and bruising.

Our masks collide, and for a split second, I panic that it’s going to move, revealing my face.

Then I fret that kissing isn’t sex-club-normal, and should I be kissing him back?

And then desire takes over.

I have fantasized about Rob and West for a year. I have yearned. Every single time Rob was out on a date, I brooded and pined. And now he’s kissing me. His hand circles my neck, dragging me closer. He runs his tongue on the seam of my lips.

I part my lips and kiss him back, almost breathless with need.

His chest brushes against my swollen, rope-bound breasts. My nipples are sensitive. So sensitive. I’m balanced on the knife-edge of an orgasm, and one touch would make me explode.

Our tongues tangle. I try to bring my hands up to cup his face, but the moment I move them, West stops me, holding my hands in a firm grip. “Did I give you permission to move your hands, kitty cat?” he asks, his voice level.

Oh fuck me, this is hot. “No, Sir,” I pant into Rob’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Are you?” West moves behind me and runs his hands down my sides, resting them on the waistband of my skirt. I can feel the bulge of his penis against my back, and I’m ready to combust.

I can't help but push my ass back against him.

His palm connects with my bottom in a stinging spank.

Oh. My. God.

My pussy gushes. I almost come right there, just from that one hard spank.

I’m not going to last. They’ve had me wound tight since the moment I stepped into this room.

From the moment I came on to them at the bar.

No, from before that. I’ve been aching for this ever since that strange night in Paris, when the air was alive with possibilities.

It’s too much. I’m going to explode.

Rob responds by placing his hand on my mound, an inch above my swollen clit. I can feel his fingers through the fabric of my skirt. He trails his other hand lightly over my breasts. I whimper, need rampaging through my blood, and push my chest forward.

“Do you want me to touch you, honey?”

Honey. I don’t know what’s worse. Hearing Rob call me by my sister’s name or hearing him call me honey , a word he’d never use in real life. If he knew the truth. . . He would feel rightly betrayed.

What the fuck are you doing, Mel?

But it’s too late for uncertainty. I’m in a sex club, standing half-naked in front of Rob and West. The damage has already been done.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Rob gives me a maddening smile. “I can’t hear you,” he says, tilting his head to one side and giving me an appraising look. “You’re going to have to be more clear.”

“I want you to touch me.”

“Touch you where?”

Everywhere. I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I want you to touch my breasts.”

He trails his index finger over my breasts, following the rope’s path. “Like this?” he asks.

He’s being deliberately obtuse, and I want to scream. “I want you to touch my nipples. I want you to suck them into your mouth. Please. . .”

The last word is almost a sob. West pulls on the rope at my back, cinching it tighter. Rob’s hand closes around my swollen breast, and he flicks his tongue against my aching tip. “Like this?”

“Please,” I gasp again. My brain has shut down, and that’s all I can say.

“Your breasts are lovely,” he says. “But I think I have a better idea.” He sinks to his knees and lifts my skirt out of the way. His fingers slide up my inner thighs, coming heart-stoppingly close to my thong.

He looks up at me. “What do you want?” he asks again.

He’s right there. His fingers are almost grazing my clit. If West wasn’t holding me motionless, I could move my hips. I could deepen the contact. My orgasm is a touch away, and I’ve never needed it more. “Please put your fingers inside me.”

He smiles up at me. “Like this?” His fingers slip under my thong and move to the side of my clit. I squirm, trying to get them to make contact.

West's firm voice sounds a warning in my ear. “Be still.”

I bite back my frustration and obey.

Rob slides a finger into my slick pussy. My eyes flutter shut in response to the onslaught of sensations from his touch. “So wet,” he growls. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathe. Even if I wanted to lie, my body offers copious amounts of proof about how much I’m enjoying myself.

“Do you want another finger inside of you?” Rob’s voice is hoarse. “Ask for what you want, and I will give it to you.”

“Yes.” All thought has fled my brain. All I can do is repeat what he said. “Yes, I want another finger inside of me.”

This feels so intimate. As closely as they’re holding me, I can feel West and Rob’s every move. I can hear every harsh intake of breath. I can feel their arousal, their desire, and their need, and it fans the flames burning inside me. I’m building up into a crescendo.

“So fucking wet,” Rob murmurs. He pushes another finger into my pussy. “So fucking tight.”

I feel my body stretching open for him. My muscles grip his fingers, clenching around them. He begins rhythmically stroking me, his fingers pistoning in and out of my waiting, eager pussy.

“Please,” I gasp again. I’m close. So close.

He increases the tempo and curls his fingers slightly upward. His thumb grazes my clit, and then circles it, slowly and deliberately.

West tightens his grip on me. I can feel his erection bulge against the curve of my ass.

The room, the sounds, the rope cinching my breasts, the slickness in my pussy, the sensations in my body—everything is blending into one.

“Please, please, please,” I chant. My pussy clenches around Rob’s fingers, trying to bring them deeper inside me.

I writhe against West, helpless, needy, and aching for release.

My breath is coming in short pants. Heat pulses through my body.

I am perfectly balanced on the knife-edge between anticipation and ecstasy.

I want to experience all of this. All of West. All of Rob. I want to feel every bit of them.

The tension in my body spikes. A quiver runs through me. “I’m coming,” I wail.

“Ask for permission,” West whispers in my ear, his voice dark and delicious. Hearing him, Rob cooperatively stills his touch.

“Please,” I beg, my voice high and trembling and unrecognizable. I will die if Rob stops. “Please, I need to come.”

West’s tongue brushes across the shell of my ear. “Since you asked so nicely,” he growls. “Come for us, baby.”

Rob’s thumb circles my swollen, throbbing clit.

And. I. Shatter.

Uncontrollable shivers wrack my body. My muscles spasm, and I moan and writhe between West and Rob, breaking apart into millions of pieces of pleasure. Rob continues to finger me until my tremors ease.

West holds me up, kissing my neck, anchoring me against his body. He guides me to the couch, and I sink onto his lap. He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back against him.

Rob offers me a bottle of water, and I drink. For a few minutes, nobody breaks the quiet. Then Rob gives me a wicked, challenging look. “Ready for more?”