Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(81)
A pair of strong hands immediately caught her. Two pairs. Peter and Ben had both moved quickly. It couldn’t help but make her blush, give her more butterflies. Their rapid response spoke to their obvious close attention to her every movement.
“We were hoping you would do that,” Ben teased her. “Give us a chance to be chivalrous. I don’t know how you women walk in those things at all. But God bless you for wearing them.”
“That drag queen down in Texas offered you the chance to wear her boots,” Lucas reminded him from the other side of the table. “She said you two were the same size. I was looking forward to that.”
“Yeah, because you like to stare at the swing of my ass,” Ben retorted.
“It’s so cute and tight, how can we resist?” Peter said dryly.
Rachel hid a smile and Ben tugged her hair, his other hand still resting on her lower back. “Hey, no disrespect of a fellow Dom in front of the subs. Else I’ll have to be all the harder on them to make them behave.”
“That’s exactly what you’re hoping,” Jon said.
“Damn right.”
Jon’s hands took the place of Peter’s on her opposite hip. Ben’s hand slipped away, though the lawyer’s response had added exponentially to the lingering heat of his touch.
“Rachel, I told you where I want you,” Jon said. “And you know I don’t like repeating myself.”
“Yes, sir.”
Figuring out the best way onto the table took only a second, because the question was answered for her. Jon turned her toward him and lifted her onto it, putting her backside on the cool surface. He pushed his body between her legs as he gave her another brush of his lips. “Turn over and go to her on your hands and knees,” he instructed.
“Yes, praise God,” someone murmured. Possibly Ben.
“Once you get to her,” Jon continued, “sit up on your knees, and have her do the same. She has cuffs on each wrist. Draw her arms up so her wrists are behind her head, and latch them to the back of her collar. I want your bodies close, so press your knee against her cunt, your other one to her hip on the outside. Mind the heels on the glass.”
“Yes, sir.” As he backed off, she shifted, pulling her legs up onto the table in a fold and then rolling from there to her knees. It was an easy enough move to do with her yoga experience, but she didn’t usually walk on her hands and knees. However, a glimpse of glittering male gazes became a weighted blanket of heat. It helped her add sinuous grace to the movements as she made her way to the center of the table.
The cut size of the mat meant her knees were immediately pressed into the cushioned support, no chance of her having to handle the unyielding surface beneath.
These men could be hard on their subs. Every one of them had a ruthless side. When the ladies met for their monthly girls-night, they shared stories with one another freely. But those ruthless moments were always, always balanced with notes like this, ways to protect and care for them. Any discomfort or pain was the kind that led to pleasure, a mindless surrender, a letting go, to simply be this.
Theirs.
She reached Dana and inhaled the woman’s scent, so familiar to her. Perhaps because of what they were, the women were frequently physically affectionate with one another. At those female get-togethers, they often retired to Cassandra’s sun porch with glasses of wine, and Dana liked to sit close to Rachel, her fingers playing in Rachel’s hair. Sometimes she laid her head in Rachel’s lap.
Now they had permission to take physical affection, the bond of friends, subs, family, even further—to sexual enjoyment and indulgence. It gave the caress she feathered over Dana’s cheek a different, lingering feel. Either because she was already heavily aroused or because she sensed it, Dana turned her face into Rachel’s hand, brushing her cheek and nose against her palm.
Rachel unbuckled the gag, sliding it out, stroking Dana’s nape as she did so. Dana had dark hair, soft and wooly, closely shorn so it emphasized the shape of her skull, her swanlike neck. Rachel had seen a couple of pictures of Dana before the explosion that had taken her sight, and she’d had sharp cheekbones. The IED had done a lot of damage to one side of her face, but the brilliant cosmetic surgeon had compensated, so that her cheeks weren’t as well defined, but they had a soft line to them that drew attention to her lush lips and firm but feminine chin.
The gag had been wrapped in a cloth to absorb the saliva, and there was a small silver tray next to the woman, with a tube of lubricant sitting on it, ready for further use. Rachel put the ball gag there.
Dana’s cochlear implant helped her hearing considerably, but she still missed things, and Rachel suspected her friend hadn’t heard Jon’s specific instructions, murmured against her ear. She expected he’d kept his voice low specifically so they could enjoy hearing her repeat his instructions.
Rachel stroked Dana’s mouth to ease the strain of the gag. “Our Masters want us to kiss. Sitting on our heels, your knee pressed against…between my legs. Mine the same with you.”
Despite the arousal that still gripped her, her body reacting with twitches under Rachel’s touch, a tiny smile appeared on the black woman’s face. “Can’t say pussy aloud, girlfriend?” she whispered.
Rachel tugged her earlobe playfully, then delivered the rest of the instructions. “You need to sit up, so I can put your wrists behind your neck, attach the cuffs to your collar.”