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“It’s already gone too fucking far, Ash. There’s something about her. I won’t be able to let her go, even if she’s too young. This is so fucked. FUBAR’ed.” His eyes are wild as they jump past me, straining to see her around Beck before returning to me.
“You’re freaking her out, brother. Come on, where’s my laid-back buddy? The funny one? Life of the party? Can that guy come out to play?” I’ve known this man since we were in diapers, and I’ve never seen this intensity before. He’s nearly rabid just from the sight of a woman. It’s strange and unexpectedly hot.
I shove down the thought and jam a lid on it. Now is not the time for me to undergo yet another life-altering kink awakening. Especially not the bi-for-this-guy moment my dick seems to be having.
“I knew this was too good to be true. Shoulda listened to Darius when he tried to warn me.” She’s mumbling quietly to herself, but whatever moxie pushed her to stand her ground has kept her in place, so we all hear when she mentions another man.
Judging by the growls coming from Beck and Hudson, they’re not any happier with another man’s name in her mouth. I can’t believe how shockingly terrible things are going.
Tonight was meant to be a fun one-off we’d try out and probably laugh over when we reminisced about in the future. Instead, all three of us have damn near gone feral for a woman who, though stunningly hot, looks to be way too young. Oh yeah, and my dick’s magically decided it wants to see more of my best friend’s predatorial intensity. Tonight’s gone pear shaped in minutes.
“Can we please get a redo on the last five minutes?” I choke out. And if it sounds as if my balls are strangling me, it’s because they are. If she refuses, I think they might mutiny and poison me with toxic spunk in my sleep. I squeeze shut my eyes and brace myself for rejection.
“Do you want a do over, too?”
I crack open one eyelid and see her leaning around Beck to peek at Hud.
“Dammit. I’m such a bastard. Yes. Please. Allow me to prove I’m not a complete asshole,” he groans, and the relief pouring from him floods mine out alongside it.
“I mean, I’m not opposed to a bit of assholery, given the right circumstances,” she teases him, flirting as though the last few minutes of angsty tension never happened.
“What’s your name, precious girl?” Beck asks.
“I’m Talissa,” she says, and my brain immediately practices how it would sound with one of ours. Talissa Craft. Talissa Henning. Best of all, Talissa Banks. Mine.
Chapter Five
Talissa
“Beck Henning,” the tall one with a jaw that could cut glass and eyes staring at me like a hopeful puppy says.
“That’s Asher Banks,” he says as he gestures to the one with a dark-brown high and tight fade that’s so sharp I idly wonder if he visits a barbershop every morning.
“The snarly one behind me, who’s very sorry for being a prick, is Hudson Craft. And I promise you, he’s normally very friendly and funny to be around.”
The one he calls Hudson steps from behind him, and it’s funny to think Beck could have blocked him because Hudson’s just as big and imposing as the other two.
They may say he’s friendly and funny, but he’s giving off nothing but intense Dom vibes that even the other two don’t eclipse with their matching alpha-male energy. In all, the trio makes up the most impressive and oddly comfortable dynamic of leashed power I think I’ve ever experienced.
I’m no stranger to the D/s scene, though I’ve never had a Dom for more than a handful or so of scenes. Always within the parameters of a lifestyle club, where such give and take is negotiated, orchestrated, and comes with an end date.
Beck, Hudson, and Asher all give off the kind of dominant energy that can be overwhelming one-on-one. Watching the interplay between the three of them has the observer in me wondering how things organize and flow when they’re all being Dommy at the same time.
At the idea of allowing them to pour out their Dom energy all over me, my long-repressed libido stretches like a cat woken from slumber on a sunny windowsill. The spike of arousal shimmering through me has the predictable effect that any strong emotion has over the last year. My breasts start to prickle, and my nipples contract while my milk lets down.
Tonight, I deliberately chose to wear a nursing tank with no bra, though it’s one of my fancier silky feeling ones, in anticipation of being with men specifically hoping to be with a milkmaid like me. The cold breeze from the high-powered aircon only the ritziest buildings in Seattle bother with hardens my nipples to sharp points as the sodden fabric turns frigid.
Social convention urges me to cross my arms over the growing circles of leaking milk, announcing to the room that my milk has released, but I fight it. These men are in room 110 because they want to spend the night with a woman who will let them suckle the fresh milk from her body. Let them see what they’re getting.
In the past, when I’ve played with Doms, I’ve enjoyed playing the role of brat in need of taming. It’s been too long since I’ve felt a man’s hands on me to play the coy tease. I want. Probably more than they do. These men are gorgeous, and though I don’t stay up on local who’s who gossip, even I recognize those last names. There’s no way they’re as touch starved as I am.
“Does it hurt?” Asher asks, his eyes glued to my chest and his hands clenching tight into fists before relaxing at his sides. I get the feeling he’s fighting not to grab me.
“Not anymore.” I shrug. “At first, it felt weird. But I’m used to it now.”
“We should fill out the papers.” Hudson’s deep growl is enough my milk would be gushing if the cold fabric wasn’t slowing the flow. There’s something about commands spoken in such a low register that vibrates along my nerve endings and never fails to soak my panties.
The guys stride across the room to a table with a chairs placed at each side. Asher and Beck stand behind seats next to one another while Hudson pulls out a chair and waits for me to settle in it. He slides the cushioned seat under me as I sit, then all three of them follow. I’m used to the protocol of manners and behavioral codes of conduct in lifestyle clubs, but something tells me these guys behave as gentlemen in their daily lives, as well.
