Replay Reunion_Naughty New Year Page 2

  Piers had built the entire Steamroom complex just for her, inspired by the books that she enjoyed as an adult and the game that she had loved when she was younger.

  It was the first time that she had been included in a project from the initial concept to the completed design. She’d thought that cutting back her hours of counseling at the community resource center would allow more time with Adrienne. Instead, she’d found herself working with Piers and loving every minute of it.

  The man was a visionary. A genius, really. And so very humble, considering his gifts. He’d taken a dream and turned it into reality. Every weekend, he made fantasies come true.

  If she could be certain that she wouldn’t add to any guilt or embarrassment that Ashley might be feeling, she’d slide from her chair, crawl over to her husband, and show her appreciation. Later, she promised herself. Their first obligation was to others. And denying herself now would only heighten her pleasure later.

  She finished her snails and sipped at her wine, watching Piers eat. For so large a man, he was incredibly graceful. He had nearly finished when the orchestra began playing the song that they’d first danced to, dressed as the White Queen and King in Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland.

  “I am sorry.” He sighed. “I expected us to be finished inside and ready to dance, if we were not already.”

  “Oh, no! Don’t be sorry. It’s fine, Piers. Really. This whole night. This place. The food. The wine. The music. Everything is perfect—or will be, if we can get Ashley’s stomach settled. Maybe some clear soda, or crackers. I went through boxes of saltines and graham crackers with Adrienne.”

  “Indeed.” At least he was able to smile about it now. At the time, he’d been extremely concerned, and rightly so. “Hopefully, next time will be better.”

  “Hopefully,” she agreed. “With Adrienne, the only thing easy was the delivery. Two hours, and there she was.”

  Piers dropped his gaze. “The doctor said that your hips were made for birthing babies.”

  He put his napkin on the table. Rose. Stalked over to her like a large jungle cat, took hold of her chair, and turned it to face him. Kneeling, he slid his hands down her thighs and spread her legs, opening her, letting him smell the musk of her arousal.

  “So responsive,” he crooned, cupping her sex and feeling how wet he’d made her. “But these are in the way of enjoying my dessert. Knickers off, princess.”

  Reaching, Elly unfastened her shorts and slid them down, past her hips to her knees. Piers took over, pulling them down to her ankles, then tossing them to one side.

  He hooked his arms beneath her legs and lifted them over his shoulders, his heated gaze fastened on her pussy. Dipping his head, he licked her seam from back to front, again and again, each stroke feeding her arousal, making her labia thicken and her opening grow wetter. He circled her most sensitive point with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, tasting it, teasing it. Coaxing her clit from its hood, he lavished it with attention until it felt as engorged as it had ever been.

  She clutched the arms of her chair and held on for the ride.

  Wherever they were going, he seemed in no hurry to get there. He took his time, stimulating her outside before making his way inside. He fucked her with his tongue, occasionally lashing her clit. Only when she was on the brink of an endless orgasm did he fasten his mouth over her and bind them together.

  The sweet, searing suction ripped a climax from her. She gushed on his face. He lapped at her juices, drinking them up and savoring them like the finest wine.

  When her body’s contractions had quieted, he kissed her mons and slid her legs off his shoulders. “Until later,” he rumbled, a world of promise in his voice.

  While Piers arranged for their play space to be cleaned and their makeshift table bussed, Elly visited the bar and returned to their table in the Grand Hall. Looking better, Ashley was visibly relieved to see that the only thing she carried was a goblet.

  “Sparkling grape juice,” she told her. “With Adrienne still nursing, one glass of wine is my limit. The red is richer, but the white is very nice. Early in my pregnancy, I could drink it if I mixed it with clear soda.”

  Ashley slid a look at Master Sorin. “Would you mind?” she asked him. “Maybe try the mix? Thank you.”

  Master Sorin stroked her cheek and headed for the bar, a Dominant on a mission. Watching his commanding walk, Ashley sighed dreamily. “If you haven’t already guessed, I came home from Cinema Classics weekend with a bit more than research material. According to the internet calculator, we’re due the third of August.”

  “Congratulations!” Elly exclaimed. “I love it! One more baby to add to our increasing numbers. The oldest is seven today. Her parents and aunts will join us when they can. Do you remember Sir Micheil and Regina Wright? She was the dragon for Bringing Up Baby.”

  Ashley smiled. “Who could forget the most exotic creature at pet play? And his accent—not that I’d trade, mind you, but a Scottish burr and a man in a kilt is a close second to a Romanian vampire Dom. I’ll never tell him that, though. He’s a bit territorial.”

  “A bit,” Elly agreed. “But he’ll never hear it from me. My psychologist’s lips are sealed.”

  “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means, to come to a place and not have to worry about tomorrow’s tabloid headlines. Of course, nondisclosure agreements are only as good as the people who sign them. I’m assuming that breaches of contracts are rare at Replay.”

  “Indeed. They have never been an issue.” Sir Piers set a basket of mixed crackers on the table, pulled out his chair, and seated himself between Elly and Gini. “People value what they pay for. Their membership would be terminated immediately, and no refunds would be given. Thus far, the threat of loss has proven detriment enough. For people in the lifestyle, Replay offers a play space like nowhere else in the world.”

  “And it just gets better,” Ashley said, her eyes taking in the room. “This is amazing.”

  Master Sorin returned with what appeared to be two identical glasses and set them on the table.

  “Here, dragă. Remember, small sips. If it stays down, in a little while, you can try a cracker.”

  “Thank you, Master.” Ashley tipped her goblet and held her breath, releasing it only when she realized that her stomach wasn’t going to reject it. “Well, that’s something. I’ll try again in a bit. Thanks for the tip, Elly.”

  The next song started. A tango. Marcus Vos looked at his submissive Gini. “Dance with me.” It was less a request and more of a command, one that she seemed happy to obey. Helping her from her seat, he ordered his PTSD service dog, Rex, to stay and led Gini onto the dance floor.

  “We shall dance in time, my dear,” Sir Piers murmured in her ear. “Might I have the next waltz?”

  Elly smiled demurely. “You may, Sir.”

  The song had ended and Marcus and Gini were reseating themselves when Rowena MacDonald’s alter ego, erotic blogger Regina Wright, found them. “We’re here, Gini! We finally got Alexis in bed, so we could leave the sitter and bring the rest of the party with us!”

  Piers performed the introductions, using the names the couples went by when they played at the resort. “Miss Slade, this is Sir Micheil and his wife, Regina; Regina’s sister Sabrina and her husband, Sir Gunnar; and Sir Micheil’s sister Jannet and her Dominant, Sir Ian. Sir Ian is the architect responsible for virtually all of Replay, including this latest expansion. He has a gift for bringing visions to life.”

  Master Sorin and Ashley exchanged a telling look. Elly would bet that they were already shopping for homes nearby. With a new construction, they’d still need somewhere to live until it was completed. Rowena’s old cottage would be too small, even if she agreed to rent it. Right now, the MacDonalds kept it for guests.

  “There are a few tables still open,” Gini told Rowena. “Seating for six. Three couples or two ménages. Sir Piers thinks of everything.”

  “Aye, that he does,” Sir Micheil agreed. “We
el, lass. Let us find seats, then we can take a turn aboot the dance floor and show Ian and Jannet how it’s done.”

  “As if.” Sir Ian shook his dark head. “Be careful, or you’ll find yourself in a dance-off, and there can be only one winner.”

  “And that would be Jannet,” Sir Micheil said. “There’s none here better.”

  Sir Piers cocked his head, listening to the opening strains of the next piece. He turned his gaze full-force on Elly. “I beg to differ,” he said. “Come, princess. I’m claiming my waltz.”

  Chapter Three

  Piers took her by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. Opening his arms, he created the frame that she stepped into.

  A perfect fit.

  The others might excel at other dance forms, but Piers was the master of the waltz. Elly followed where he led, first on the floor, then away from it, not stopping until they reached their favorite chaise longue in the conservatory.

  “Sir, what are we doing?”

  He cocked an aristocratic brow. “I don’t know if you realize it, but you have a slight problem, my dear.”

  His gaze fastened on her breasts. Above her leather corset, the thin lawn cloth of her blouse was wet with breast milk.

  “I thought that I would offer my services. A temporary fix, until you get home. Tell me, do you ache, princess? Your breasts are swollen. I daresay, if I touch them, they would be hard, they’re so full.”

  She did ache. She’d been trying to ignore it, but the problem was only getting worse, not better.

  “I do hurt, Sir. Will you help me, please?”

  He took off his frock coat, his vest, his gators, shoes, and pants. Untying his cravat, he slipped it free of his collar, then unbuttoned his shirt.

  It landed on top of the rest.

  His erection pushed out the front of his drawers. Shucking them, he sat on the chaise and leaned back. “Knickers off, princess. I want you to ride me.”

  Elly stripped off her shorts, put one knee on the seat, and swung her other leg over to straddle his legs. At six feet, five inches, his feet would have hung over the end of any other chaise, but he’d had this one built long enough for them to lie upon.

  Bending forward, she kissed his sac and tongued his cock, licking the precum from its tip, swirling her tongue around the velvety head, tracing the rim, and teasing the sensitive point underneath it.

  “Yesss,” he rasped. “Yes, that’s it, princess. Get me wet. Good girl.”

  She licked his shaft, then took as much of him as she could in her mouth. He was the largest man she’d ever been with, in more ways than one. It had taken weeks of practice to control her gag reflex and open her throat for him.

  “Enough,” he growled. “Come here, princess, and claim your kiss.”

  The man kissed like he fucked. Absolute possession. Fisting her hair, he pulled her to him, slamming his mouth against hers, with parted lips and ravenous tongue. Hungry for his taste, she opened wider for him, parrying each thrust that he made until their dueling tongues twined like serpents.

  She measured the width of his shoulders and spread her fingers as she slid her hands south, over crisp black curls and slabs of muscle. Palming his breasts, she teased his pebbled nipples, rubbing, circling, catching them between her fingers, rolling, tugging, twisting.

  “Fuck me,” he ordered, then kissed her again.

  Reaching with one hand, she wrapped her fingers around his erection, guided him into her opening, and eased herself down, taking him in, inch by glorious inch, until she was full beyond measure.

  Forsaking her hair, he slid his hands to her ass, spread his fingers, and claimed that, too. His grip was strong enough, she knew that she would have bruises in the morning.

  Lucky girl.

  He started to move, slowly at first, increasing his strength and speed like a great iron steam-driven beast. Her aching breasts were painful now. The thrust of his hips only made it worse.

  “I’m sorry! I can’t!” she cried. Fighting tears, she abandoned his chest to hold her breasts and keep them from bouncing. “It hurts too much.”

  “Poor lamb,” he crooned. “Let me help you.”

  He pulled down her blouse, exposing her leaking breasts. Bending his dark head, he brushed his lips across her right nipple, opened his mouth, and drew it inside. His facial muscles worked. Hollowing his cheeks, he sealed them together and triggered her let-down. Her breast milk flowed, from her to him. In sharing it, he consumed her fully—body, mind, and spirit.

  The feel of his cock in her pussy and his mouth on her breast started a chain reaction, hurtling her into multiple orgasms, each one just as strong as the last one. She rode wave after wave of contractions, her body grasping his length and pulling him in ever deeper.

  “The other side,” she begged him. “Please….”

  She orgasmed even harder when he took her other nipple in his mouth, offering the same service as before. She took it, gladly, thanking the stars above that Piers was not like most men. Some husbands would have found what they were doing repulsive. Most men would never have agreed—let alone offered—to do it. But Piers was her Dominant, pledged to give her what she needed, and she needed this. Needed him.

  “Yes,” she said, breath hissing between her clenched teeth. “Yes. Suck me. Fuck me.”

  He drank from her, just enough to give her the relief that she so desperately needed, then it was his turn.

  “Clothes off, princess,” he ordered gruffly. That delicious British accent of his still thrilled her to the core. “I want you on your hands and knees.”

  Elly shivered with anticipation. Dismounting, she slid to her feet beside the chaise longue and gave her husband room to do the same. He towered over her, his erection shiny with her juices. His lips were still reddened from their kiss.

  Climbing onto the chaise, Elly planted her hands by the armrest and her knees in the center of the seat. Piers stroked her back, from the bottom of her neck to the base of her spine. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Such exquisite skin. Do you know how lovely you are? I wish that we had rope and time enough for bondage. As it is, I’m going to fuck your cunny and finish in your arse.”

  Piers spanked her hard enough to leave a handprint and moved into place behind her. He stroked her with his fingertips, down the inner curve of one cheek and up the inside of her thigh. “So wet,” he hummed. “So responsive. What are your safewords?”

  What? They’d been together long enough, they didn’t need safewords. He knew her body. Knew exactly how much she could handle. He was making her wait, and she wanted him now.

  “Kale to slow,” she grated, frustration lacing her voice. “Tofu to stop.”

  “Very good. Now open for me. I’m afraid this won’t be gentle.”

  Thank you, Jesus.

  Guiding his head into her opening, he clutched her hips and rammed himself inside her. He bottomed out on the next stroke, eliciting a gasp of pleasure and pain. He fucked her, driving inside her again and again, relentless, almost ruthless, claiming her body like he had claimed her heart.

  Inside her, the tension began to build. Every thrust pushed her towards the shattering climax she felt approaching. He felt it, too, and drove her onward. Forcing her to the tipping point, he hit her G-spot and sent her hurtling over the edge.

  Elly’s body seized, caught in a giant contraction that made her gush, releasing a tide that drenched them both. But Piers wasn’t done. He kept pounding into her, his heavy balls slapping her clit with each meaty, turgid thrust. When he’d wrung another climax from her, he wet her other portal with her juices and claimed that hole as well.

  Piers sank into her, pushing past rings of muscle and into her dark passage, not stopping until he had buried himself to the root. He held himself, suspended, giving her body time to fully accept him in her most intimate place. “Yesss,” he hissed, relishing the feel of her walls surrounding him, embracing him. He pulled back and dove in, again and again. Finally, she felt the telltale shift.
His breaths grew staccato. His rhythm became erratic, his hips snapping, short, hard strokes that propelled him towards his finish.

  “I’m coming!” He pushed in deep and finished inside her, spurting streams of ejaculate and flooding her with his seed. He shuddered and shook himself, harsh breaths sloughing between clenched teeth. Bending over her like a blooded stallion covering a mare, he bit the base of her neck and nearly made her come again.

  He pulled her with him, still joined, until they were lying on the chaise. Piers was against the upholstered back, and she was facing away from it, completely exposed to anyone who might happen upon their tryst.

  Once, she would have been too embarrassed to stay this way. Now, she could relax, aware of the risk but unconcerned about it.

  It’s nothing they hadn’t seen before.

  Elly snuggled against him, relishing the feel of his cock in her ass and cherishing the two strong arms that supported her head and held her tight against him.

  “Was it too much?” he murmured, nuzzling her ear. “I gave you no quarter.”

  Sweet man. No one judging him by looks would guess that he could be such a gentle giant.

  She bent her head and kissed his hand. “If I’d needed it, I would have asked. Surely you know that by now.”

  He sighed softly, his breath ruffling her hair. “I feared that I was challenging your limits. I expected you to speak at any time, to let me know that I’d crossed a line and was giving you more than you could handle.”

  It was a rarity, a departure from their norm that hadn’t happened in a very long time—not since they’d been cleared to have sex after Adrienne’s birth.

  She smiled, remembering the extended foreplay and the sweet aftermath.

  “What are you thinking, darling girl? I can feel your smile from here.”

  She didn’t doubt it. He was that attuned to her.

  “I was thinking about the first time that we made love after having Adrienne. You ran us a bath. You washed every inch of my body and washed my hair, massaging my scalp until I was practically purring. You drained some of the water, then sat me backward on your lap, lathered me up, and shaved me. By the time you were finished, I was begging you to take me.”