Mischief and the Masters by Cherise Sinclair


  Wait. Max waited right over there. A friend.

  “Help!” She lifted her head and begged. “Help me?”

  “Anytime you ask, darlin’,” he said. The sincerity in his voice pushed his words deep. “Sorry, cuz. Stop hurting her.”

  Alastair gave a hum of approval. “You were faster at asking this time, pet. Good.” Still kneeling between her legs, he yanked her up onto her hands and knees. His grip tightened, and she quivered in his grasp as she felt his shaft press against her pussy.

  That was all the warning she had before his cock drove in, penetrating her completely in one hard thrust.

  She gasped. As he pulled back and thrust in again, she groaned at the slick, wonderful feeling.

  Burying his hand in her hair, he tugged her head back even as he hammered into her.

  “Toy, please,” he called, and Max tossed him something. Suddenly, a vibrator was pressed against her clit, ramping her up and up, and…

  He pulled it away before she could come. His cock slowed inside her, barely moving, keeping her on the edge. Again. Damn them.

  In increasing frustration, she slammed back against him and forward, doing the work herself.

  Laughing, he yanked on her hair, holding her head back until she couldn’t budge—and then worked his hips so his cock moved in circles inside her. God, that felt good. With his other hand, he pressed the vibe against her clit for one second. Two.

  And removed it again.

  “Cochon!”

  “That one I recognize, cuz. I think it’s French for pig.” Max was laughing. “She did mention her mother was Creole.”

  “I’ll have to look up the other words,” Alastair said like a fucking professor. As his cock slid in and out, ever so slowly, the vibrator touched her clit again.

  Oh, ohhh. Her excitement built again, the heavy pressure inside her increasing quickly. She tilted her hips, trying for more. Just a little more. She needed to come so badly.

  He moved the vibrator.

  Damn him. She moaned. Her tight, swollen clit ached for relief.

  Max—would Max help her? He was her friend. She tried to turn her head to see, to assess his face, but Alastair wouldn’t release her hair.

  A groan broke from her, low and pitiful. “M-Max. Sir. Please.”

  “Yes?”

  He wasn’t going to help her. A tear spilled down her cheek.

  “Ask him, Uzuri.” Alastair said in a low voice.

  “Please. I hurt. Can I come?”

  “You only had to ask, baby.” Max’s voice was gentle. “Make her happy, Doc.”

  “With pleasure.” Alastair’s deep laugh rang out, and suddenly he was hammering her hard—and the vibrator was pressed firmly against her clit.

  The sensations burst across her nerves like a whirlwind of electricity. She went up and up and up. Everything inside her clamped down until her vagina was so tight around Alastair’s cock that she could feel every ridge and vein. And then the pressure released all at once, contracting and convulsing. Pleasure lit her up like fireworks, exploding in a dazzling burst of sensation.

  A second later, she felt Alastair pulsing inside her, and each hard jerk of his climax sent fresh pleasure through her.

  He moved back into a kneeling position. With a hard arm around her waist, he pulled her backward onto his thighs, embedding himself even deeper. With his other hand, he rolled her nipples between his strong fingers.

  Swamped by the sensations of being overpowered and impaled, she went over again, squirming helplessly in his arms.

  When she finally went limp, the sadist laughed, pulled out, and laid her down on the rubber sheeting.

  She lay where he’d put her, gasping for air.

  “My turn.” Max strolled onto the sheeting, and his eyebrow quirked up. “Doesn’t look as if she’s got much fight left.”

  “Her arse is getting sore enough, she might surprise you.” Alastair patted her right on the swollen area they’d caned.

  “Ow!” She rolled over and sat up, getting her tender backside out of his reach. Her head spun for a second, and she breathed deep, still feeling the internal quaking of the magnificent orgasm she’d had.

  Alastair rose to his feet, easily, and walked over to the table, returning with a bottle of water, already uncapped. “Drink this, love.”

  She sucked it down, feeling her parched tissues reviving.

  When she finished, Max took the bottle and tossed it out onto the grass. “Ready?”

  “No.”

  “There’s a shame.” He went down on one knee and smiled at her. The glint in his eyes said he planned to take her this time and take her hard.

  A shiver of anticipation grew inside her. But not enough to eliminate her determination to escape the caning this time.

  She failed.

  By the end of the battle, five more painful stripes lined her upper thigh, but this time she’d quickly asked Alastair to intervene. She’d had only five swats.

  MAX ROLLED ZURI onto her back and smiled down at her as he stroked his hands over her full breasts. The slickness was delightful.

  So was the way she squirmed. He chuckled. She’d gotten off twice already. Apparently getting lightly caned—because they’d gone easy on her—and restrained was something she enjoyed. He caught Alastair’s gaze and saw his cousin’s slow smile.

  Yeah, she could definitely keep up with two Doms…and he’d say she was ready to take them both at once.

  Not today. Her first time in a threesome should be more romantic.

  Right now, he wanted to be inside her. After all this playtime, he wasn’t going to last long once he got there. “Toss me that new one, cuz.”

  Alastair picked up the second toy they’d prepared, the one that looked like a sexy beetle.

  Uzuri frowned as he sat back and placed the round section over her clit, then tucked the soft, slender “arms” inside her puffy outer labia to keep it in place. “What’s that?”

  He pressed the button on top of the vibe to hit the highest setting and grinned as she gasped. Taking her hand, he pressed her palm over the device. “That’s fun times, princess. Hold it there for me.”

  After pulling her legs around his waist, he leaned forward with a forearm beside her head. Slowly, he slid inside her very slick, hot cunt. Oh yeah.

  Without being asked, she crossed her ankles above his ass.

  He smiled at the feeling of her soft inner thighs pressing against his waist. “Perfect, baby. Now you can put your arms around my shoulders.”

  “We’re having vanilla sex? Seriously?” As she looked up at him with liquid brown eyes, her grin was adorable.

  “In a way.” He settled into the saddle, as it were, and as his weight pressed the soft, buzzing vibrator against her clit, her eyes widened. When her cunt clenched around him, he laughed.

  Then he got down to business, because damn, she felt good, especially with her arms and legs around him. As he thrust into her, hard and fast, he felt surrounded in heat and softness. The wet sound of his cock thrusting into her pussy was accompanied by the noise of the vibrator. The buzzing was softer when his weight came down on her, louder when he pulled back.

  Within a minute, she was panting. Her fingernails digging into his shoulders reminded him of his job.

  This is a lesson. Stay in control, Drago. He pulled back, keeping his cock inside by an inch, as he lifted his weight off the vibrator.

  She let out a wail of frustrated disbelief. This time, there was no hesitation. Her head turned one way, then the other, as she looked for his cousin. She spotted him. “Sir. Please, please, please, Sir. Be my friend. I want to come. Please.”

  Alastair’s laugh held his delight. “Yes, we’re friends, pet. Give her what she needs, Max.”

  “Be my pleasure.” Max dropped his weight back on her and drove in, angling to hit the G-spot with each hard thrust. Might as well do it right.

  It took less than a minute.

  Her little body went rigid; her fing
ers turned into claws, and her cunt clamped down like a vise before spasming hard around his shaft. Oh, yeah. As she came apart under him, he couldn’t stop grinning. Fuck, she was gorgeous when she came.

  He tossed the buzzing vibe to one side. Putting his elbows under her knees, he lifted up her legs, raising her pussy in the air, letting him go deeper as he pistoned into her.

  The pressure built up at the base of his spine. Her cunt was still giving little contractions when his balls tightened up against his groin. Heat rushed downward, through his cock, and out in mind-blowingly pleasurable spasms.

  When he let her knees go so he could come down on her, instead of objecting to his weight, she wrapped her legs around him again. His cock was deep inside her, her arms and legs were around him, and he lay there, savoring the most intimate embrace possible.

  A tug deep in his chest cavity said he was falling for her. Falling hard and fast.

  UZURI HAD TOTALLY limp-noodle limbs as they yanked her up onto her hands and knees for the next round. With Alastair. Her butt and thighs still burned from the other canings—and she might cry if she got more.

  She whined under her breath. She’d gotten off, each and every time, and all she wanted right now was a nap.

  Alastair lined up behind her.

  Max said, “Go.”

  Without waiting, Uzuri punched Alastair hard in the belly. Spinning around, she kicked him in the same place, used the impetus to shove her toward the exit—and over.

  Shocked, she knelt there as the coarse St. Augustine grass prickled her knees and hands. She looked over her shoulder. Alastair sat on the sheeting, holding his stomach, and grinning.

  “I escaped?” She rose to her feet and yelled, “I did it!” The victory dance came out of nowhere.

  Even as she spun and boogied and giggled, she heard a cowboy yeehaw from Max. Alastair was clapping and laughing. Both were as pleased as she was that she’d conquered her fears. Had fought back. And won.

  God, she loved them.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE NEXT DAY was Thursday, and Uzuri swung by her duplex to get more clothes. Holt’s Harley was in the driveway, still pinging slightly. He must have recently gotten home.

  Apparently, he’d heard her car since he waited in the open door. “Hey, sweetie.” He tugged her into his arms for a long, warm embrace. The Dom had hugging down to an art, and the day’s irritations drained right out of her.

  With a sigh of happiness, she squeezed him back. Holt was one of her favorite people in the whole world. Like every woman in the Shadowlands, she’d lusted after him. At first. But as she’d come to know him, he’d reminded her more and more of Nicky.

  She’d met Nicky when she wrecked her skateboard and sat bawling on the sidewalk. Taking pity on her, the big teenager had bandaged her knees and walked her home to her apartment. The tough blond lived a flight up and turned into the big brother she’d never had. Nicky’d protected her from mean dogs, bullies, and perverts, teased her about doll costumes, and shoplifted new fabrics for her. When he and his father moved away, she’d mourned him like family.

  Like Nicky, Holt had turned into family. She grinned up at him. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too, you.”

  She stepped back. “How’s life? Are you getting caught up on your sleep now you’re somewhere quiet?”

  “Yep.” Taking her hand, he pulled her into the house. “I’d forgotten what non-apartment life is like. Sure, I can hear Mrs. Avery sometimes, but since she’s—what eighty?—she’s not into wall-banging sex, horror flicks, or playing grunge rock so loud the dishes rattle. And duplexes share only one wall with someone else. Not four walls and the ceiling and floor, too.”

  She laughed. In her last apartment, she’d always known when the construction worker upstairs was home. Thump, thump, thump. “I like this better. In an apartment, when the neighbor’s children screamed, I’d get irritated. Here, when the kids are playing outside, it feels…nice. Like a home.”

  “Yeah. That’s it exactly.” He led the way to the kitchen. “Beer? Coke?”

  “If there’s diet.”

  “Considering the six-pack is one you left, yes, there’s diet Coke.” He handed her a can from the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect to see you. Did you have a fight with your Doms and want your place back? Or are you here to see if I’ve destroyed the place? Or maybe to pick up some girly shit?”

  Giggling, she leaned against the counter. “Answer C. I didn’t pack much since I thought I’d be back here within a couple of days.”

  “Yet, you’re still there.” Holt sat at the table, rested a boot on the chair next to him, and studied her. Like Max, his eyes were blue, but Max’s were an intense Caribbean blue, deep enough to drown in. Holt’s gray-blue eyes were like the sky on a windy winter’s day.

  “I am. But…”

  “But?” Holt crossed his arms over his chest, his tattooed biceps stretching the faded black System of a Down T-shirt. “How is it going with your two Masters?”

  “I’m not sure.” Uzuri smoothed her dark red, linen skirt. “They treat me like…like Jake treats Rainie. Like Galen and Vance treat Sally.”

  “Like you’re their submissive?”

  She nodded as confusion welled inside her again. “And like they…care.”

  Holt’s brows drew together. “We all care about you, Zuri.”

  “I know.” Well, maybe she hadn’t truly realized it before. Now she did. “Only they’re acting”—she frowned—“possessive? Different somehow.”

  At the Shadowlands on Saturday, they hadn’t played. She’d had a barmaid shift, and they’d been dungeon monitoring, but they’d constantly checked on her and made it clear to everyone that she was under their protection. That she was…theirs.

  “Right.” With a finger, Holt rubbed his mouth as if to wipe a smile away. “I did get the impression they see you as…hmm…perhaps, more permanent than you realize.”

  The happiness swelling inside her was disconcerting. Nevertheless, those were the words she’d wanted to hear, because she was starting to see them as more than temporary Masters. As if they were hers. As if she could have a…a relationship with them. “They do?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart. But how do you feel?”

  She dropped into a chair across from him at the table and let her despair show. “Oh, Holt, I think I’m falling in love.”

  Taking her hand, he rubbed the back with his thumb. “Looks like it to me. Why’s that a problem? Don’t you want to love anyone?”

  “I do.” She traced a water stain on the tabletop. “I grew up hearing stories about my wonderful daddy and all the sweet things he’d do for my mama. I don’t remember him well, but they were completely in love. She never got over losing him.”

  His voice darkened. “I’m glad you had a start to life like that.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t, boo.” She studied the strong, lean hand holding hers. When she’d first met him, she’d labeled him California beach boy. All tan and muscled, with streaky blond hair and chiseled features. He looked a lot like the actor who played Thor in the movies. In fact, in college, he’d picked up extra money modeling.

  However, he was much more than merely gorgeous. Considering the ugly start he’d had in life, he could have been a brutal, vicious killer rather than one of the finest people she knew.

  With a shrug, he squeezed her fingers. “I’m glad you haven’t given up on love. That you got past the asshole stalker.”

  “Finally.” Her lips tightened. “I’m doing my best to forget he ever existed.”

  “Atta-girl.” Dimples showed in his cheeks when he smiled.

  “Bro, you really are too good-looking for words.”

  His laugh was like the smoky whisky Alastair liked so much. One Shadowlands submissive said she could come just from hearing him laugh. “Tell me, did you fall for one of the Drago cousins or both of them?”

  “Both.” Uzuri shook her
head. “Which is strange considering how different they are.” Max with his cop sternness, more openly friendly, yet far less trusting than Alastair who, despite that British reserve, still believed in the basic goodness in people. Max had a huge heart, especially for anyone weaker. Alastair’s heart was as big, but…the doc edged disconcertingly close to sadism with how he loved pushing her right to the boundary between pain and pleasure.

  Complicated guys. She truly did love them both.

  “You tell them how you feel?”

  “Are you a crazy-pants?”

  He busted out laughing. “Want me to share how you feel with your Masters? Seems like something a friend should do.”

  Could she slaughter her so-called best friend and stuff his body in the closet? No, that would be rude. She settled for a dirty look.

  “Yeah, I’m scared now.” He pretended to shiver.

  Forget politeness. Which closet should she use?

  Then again, killing him would leave her carpets blood-stained, and his body would be awfully heavy to drag around. Instead, she tried out the puppy-dog look that Hunter managed so well. “You wouldn’t tell…would you?”

  “No, sweetie.” A glint in his eyes said he knew she was playing him. Then his expression turned grave. “However, I want to know why you aren’t sharing how you feel with them.”

  She sighed. “They signed on to help me—for a set time period—not to get some wimpy subbie thinking their help means hearts and flowers and forever.”

  “Yeah?” Holt shook his head. “I figured the time period was more to reassure you than to put limits on them. Nonetheless, I doubt you’ll stay uncertain for long. Not with those two.”

  Hope leapt up and…crashed down again. After his experience with bitch Hayley, Max wouldn’t want to get involved with another woman for a long time. She made her lips curve up. “I need to get my stuff and get moving. It’s my turn to cook tonight.”

  As she headed out of the kitchen, Holt gave a pitiful sigh. “I could use some homemade meals.”

  “Oh, please. You could get any woman you wanted over here to cook for you.” After packing her nail polish and mani-pedi kit, she gathered clothing. Opening a dresser drawer, she stared at the underwear that wasn’t hers. “You’re a cross-dresser, now, dude?”

 
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