Nature Of Desire: Mirror Of The Soul Read online

“I’m going to go change,” she said, caressing the back of one thigh. Reaching up, she fondled the free-hanging testicles, easing a hand between his buttocks and earning a slight shift, a further hardening of his cock. “And I’ll find the appropriate plug to keep you struggling not to come while I take my tea. While I’m gone, I want you to practice holding my table steady.” She picked up a flower basket arrangement from the side table and put it in the center of his back. Watched him get still, focused.

  She moved her attention to Tyler, decided to grab the awkward bull by the horns. “May I make use of your slave, Master Tyler?”

  Tyler looked startled. The sound of footsteps approaching made Marguerite look away from him to see a handsome man of Latino descent with dark eyes and sleek hair enter the pool area from the garden. When his attention went immediately to Leila, the woman lowered her gaze, cheeks pinkening at the attention.

  “You think I’d…” Tyler shook his head, stopped what he’d been about to say, turned toward the other man. “Master Joseph, Mistress Marguerite would like to make use of your slave for her purposes. I believe she wants Leila to help Roland practice keeping her table steady under stimulation. Would you consent?”

  Marguerite remembered now that the dining room table was being set for seven, not six. The relief that flooded her chest was as surprisingly intense as the jealousy had been.

  Before Joseph could respond, Tyler stepped up to her, drew her to him with his hand caressing her neck, immediately catching her attention, of course. His calf was pressed to Roland’s forearm, so there was no way he would miss their conversation.

  “Marguerite.” Tyler brushed his lips over hers, her cheek, her ear, dwelled there. “Despite the different twist that BDSM brings to our relationship, when I set my heart on someone I’m monogamous. And I damn well expect her to be as well.” He glanced down at Roland. “I know your heart, what you enjoy. And what you need. I’m not confused. And I don’t want you to be, either. For your sake. Or Roland’s well-being.”

  It was the arrogance that brought back her confidence. “I didn’t bring high enough heels for that level of testosterone.”

  “Then strip off your clothes and you can swim in a vat of it.” He pressed his cheek to hers, whispered in her ear. “You remember the night I spilled my come all over your back and you begged me to leave it, to mark my claim on you?”

  Stepping back, she tossed her head with irritated petulance. He gave her a satisfied look, moving away. She decided she would try integrating the feelings he stirred up with her normal inspiration with a willing sub and see where it took her. There was an excitement low in her vitals roused by the unique situation, spurred by the changes that had happened over the past week. With a shock, she realized some part of her confidence came from the fact that she trusted Tyler to guide her, that she could do as she wished and he would set the boundaries, as a Master would. Boundaries that would likely only heighten the spiraling sense of arousal she felt with Roland’s breath on her calf, waiting. Waiting for her Will.

  “Master Joseph.” She courteously nodded her head to him.

  The man sketched her a bow in return, appraising her with a warm look. “It would be my pleasure for you to enjoy the talents of my Leila. Leila, please follow Mistress Marguerite’s direction as you would my own. You may advise her of your boundaries as necessary.”

  Leila stepped to Marguerite’s side at her beckoning, keeping her eyes down as a sub would, but Marguerite could feel her tension.

  She raised Leila’s chin so she would look at her. “You are very fortunate, Master Joseph,” she said. “And I thank you for the gift.”

  This was a woman who had brought light to Tyler’s life when he desperately needed it, who had offered him friendship and physical comfort. Though they’d released their claim on each other, Marguerite could not deny lingering jealousy. But at this moment, Mistress to sub, she was able to move beyond that and convey respect in her touch. Leila relaxed slightly, acknowledging it.

  “Leila, while I go change and pick out some things I’ll need for my tea, I want you to lie on your back, here.” She guided Leila down to the floor, enabling her to slide her head between Roland’s spread legs until her head was propped on another small pillow under his lower abdomen, his stiff cock at a perfect angle to be taken by her lips. “I want you to take your pleasure.” Marguerite’s finger whispered down his back. “But you’re not allowed to come, Roland. No matter how long I take. If you think you’re going to lose control, you will tell her so she can ease off, but only until you regain control. Then she should start again.”

  She turned her gaze to Joseph who was apparently absorbed by the sight of Leila’s smooth pussy, the clit jewelry she wore in the piercing there, her body stretched out beneath Roland’s. “And while I change, I expect your Master might devise ways to make you come, Leila, to reward your service to me.” For they all knew that her cries and arousal would further torture Roland, prohibited from releasing his own desire even when Leila sucked him harder. Caught in the throes of her own passion, she would scream against his hardened flesh as she came at her Master’s touch.

  Joseph nodded, his dark eyes wickedly gleaming in anticipation.

  Marguerite turned to address the only two members of the party that she had not yet. She found Violet watching her closely while Mac massaged the calf resting on his shoulder, pressing his mouth along her skin. Her lips had parted, showing her distraction, but her gaze stayed on Marguerite nonetheless.

  “Mistress Violet, would you be willing to join me for a cup of tea when I return?”

  Violet’s Caribbean blue eyes were alert, cool. “Yes I would.”

  They still had a score to settle, obviously. Marguerite inclined her head in just as reserved a fashion. On that challenging note, she let Tyler show her out of the pool house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He followed her up to the second level and took her hand, guiding her to his room. From the shirt casually thrown over a chair and the hairbrush and cufflinks sitting out on the dresser, Marguerite was certain it was his room this time. She also noted that her overnight bag had been brought here.

  “I’d like to choose a plug for him, after I change clothes. I assume you have some that are sterile?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He drew her to him, began to unbutton the front of the dress, peel it off her shoulders.

  “Tyler.” Her breath escaped her as he bit her neck, took the dress off. “What are you doing?”

  “Exercising a Master’s right to dress and undress his slave. I’ve gotten you another gift.”

  “Your most recent one was more than I could ask. I don’t need to be spoiled.”

  “On that, we’ll have to disagree.” He dropped her dress over his shirt on the chair, a curiously domestic, intimate picture that absorbed her attention for a moment. “Take off the rest of your clothes. I want you to stand before me naked.”

  Leaning against the closet, he crossed his arms, his attention focused solely on her in a way that made her body grow even more full and heavy with need. His command of her while a willing, beautiful slave awaited her on his hands and knees downstairs released a dichotomy of reaction in Marguerite that was as overwhelming for a moment as a physical climax. She savored it, wondering at the way it spread heat over her skin, drew her nipples to hard points and made moisture gather at the gateway between her thighs.

  She put her hands back to unfasten the bra he’d readjusted before she met Roland. His gaze dropped as it came free and she eased the straps down her arms, entranced by how he watched her. She employed the same deceptively passive methods she employed to rouse a sub, only this time she did it to tantalize the man she chose to call her Master.

  She’d worn thong panties. For him. Enjoyed putting them on, easily imagining his hands as sensuous a touch as the light nylon. Pivoting on her toe, she reached back, hooked her hands in the side straps and took the panties down slowly, bending fully as her yoga practice allowed her to do. O
nce she had her head to her knees, she came up halfway, just enough to step out of them and loosen her hair. She straightened, tossing it back so it spilled down her bare back. Turning, she dropped the panties and stood before him naked, her clothes littering the floor, discarded with the casual indifference a Mistress would show.

  His expression was one of complete absorption, his body tense, erection visible. He might very well decide to fuck her here and now before she went to Roland so the scent of his come would be on her. Primitive and direct, the leader of the pack making it clear to other males his claim on the alpha female. When more response trickled down her thigh, he moved, coming to her. Removing a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, he widened her stance with a nudge which caused her to grip his shoulder for balance. He put the cloth full against her, making her hold tighten, her lips part as she stared into his face, not wanting to look anywhere else.

  “You’re ready to come already, aren’t you, angel?”

  She nodded, lowered her gaze, her lashes fanning her cheeks as she reached forward, stroked her knuckles over the hard length of him. “But I would go to my knees and give you pleasure first.” She wanted to, her mouth watering for it.

  “You will, but not now. I want to watch you with Roland. Watch you handle him, bring him to screaming climax, begging to serve you.”

  “So you know you can make me do the same?” A smile curved her lips. “That stereotypical alpha male need to Dom the Domme?”

  “Perhaps.” His lips were firm with sensual intent. “I want to watch that magic you do. That place you go and take a sub with you, bringing him a Nirvana he never knew was possible. And know that what’s getting you hotter and hotter is feeling me watching, that later tonight all that excitement and arousal you have will explode around my cock, my mouth, my hands. And when you do suck on my cock, I’m going to put a vibrator in you. Each time you rock forward it will drive into you so you’ll climax again as my come explodes in your mouth, over your breasts.”

  She swallowed and wondered if he knew what power he could wield over her with only words. Her fingers itched to touch him, but she curled them into her palms, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

  “Let me show you my gift. You can decide if it’s what you want to wear to dominate Roland.”

  At her curious look, he shook his head. “I won’t command your actions as a Mistress. I told you, I love watching you. I love your sheer artistry.” He picked up a blindfold from the bed and came to her, fixing it around her eyes, bringing his body close so he was pressed against her bare skin, his fingers whispering down over her hair, her shoulder blades. “I want to put my gift on you now for your own pleasure, to get the full effect. But if it doesn’t suit your purpose with Roland you can change.”

  A moment later, he directed her to hold his shoulder and had her step into what felt like a pair of loose pants. He drew them up just to her hipbones and asked her to hold the edge of the waistband so they would not tumble back down her thighs.

  “Either you’re a poor judge of sizes or I’ve lost a lot of weight since you last saw me.”

  His chuckle came from below, as he had apparently knelt to her left. “I’ve been around long enough to know there is no safe conversation for a man to have with a woman about her weight, good or bad. I’m not that gullible.”

  His hand was at her hip. Feeling the pants tighten their hold on her there, she realized the pants laced all the way up the leg. He made a similar adjustment on the other side, getting the seams set where he wished before he began to draw the laces snug from hip to ankle. The seams for the back molded into the crease of her buttocks tightly enough that the cheeks would be clearly separated and defined as if she wore no clothes at all. The fabric felt like a wet latex. Her breath got a little shallow, not from the constriction but because of how it felt to have him dressing her, on one knee to her left, then her right, then behind her. He didn’t prohibit her from touching him, so she kept her fingers grazing over his shoulders, his hair, feeling his shoulders move under her touch as he worked the laces to adjust the pants.

  He was dressing her as she might command a sub to do, though she’d never commanded one to do something so intimate to her person. Yet he was also dressing her as was a Master’s right. She was already shaking as she did when he touched her this way, compelling her submission. It made her realize how much overlap there was in serving and being served, the needs that were met not so far distant from each other. The important element apparently being the focus, the absolute attention and devotion demonstrated by either Master or slave. The way his hands arranged the clothing, cared for her appearance, the comfort of the fit, the way he knew she needed to touch him as he did it. So much he’d given her in a short time. Though her mind was still fairly certain that he could be gone from her life tomorrow, he was so strongly insisting the opposite that some part of her was beginning to hear him, to believe.

  When the pants were in place, they were low on her hips and she felt the light brush of the tied strings at her ankles, the tiny chatter of beads decorating the ends. She felt him stand and she turned, finding his chest with her hands. He stilled at her unexpected move and she took a step back from him, her hand flat on his chest. Slowly, gracefully, she went to her knees, bent and touched her forehead to his feet, then straightened enough to offer the same homage with her lips to his knees, his groin, his stomach, upper abdomen. Rose to touch her mouth to his heart, throat, brow. At last, rising on her toes, her hands on his head to bring it down to her, she kissed the crown chakra. Then she sank to her knees again, her hands drifting back down his body.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  Tyler looked down at the woman kneeling before him and could not speak. He knew the spiritual significance of what she had just done, knew she would never do such a thing lightly. But even more than the spiritual impact was the emotional one, the fact she’d just offered him an act of love, of respect and honor. Of trust. Lifting her to her feet with hands that were not quite steady, he laid his lips over hers. Not moving, not taking, simply connecting, trying to feel and give everything at once in that light touch. Her hands came up again, framed his face. When her lips parted he groaned and dove in, feeling consumed by the shape of her lips, her teeth, her tongue, the brush of her cheek. He’d missed having a woman in his soul. He found himself wondering if Nina had ever fully gotten in, for with Marguerite he felt there were so many chambers in himself he’d never noticed before. Somehow she was in them all. Perhaps a part of him had known Nina couldn’t take all of what lay in those chambers, that she was only so strong. The woman before him needed his protection and love, but… He remembered yesterday by the pond, how she’d turned him toward her, would not permit him to hide his pain. Her face caring, supportive. Not afraid or uncertain because of his moment of weakness. She’d offered compassion. Strength.

  “Hold still, angel. One more piece, the top. You’ll find you can sit and stand in the pants relatively easily. They have enough stretch built into them so they fit like a second skin, but give you freedom of movement. Raise your arms for me.”

  Marguerite complied. Something like slender chains drifted down her arms, fell lightly against her breasts and back. He had her lower her arms and moved around her, again making the garment fit to her upper torso. Only it didn’t feel like fabric. It felt like…jewelry. Jewelry that snugged under her breasts, crisscrossed between them, lapped around her neck erotically to dangle down her back like the ends of a scarf. He pulled her hair back in gentle hands, secured it up, surprising her. Small beads brushed the rounded part of her shoulders.

  Then his hands moved to her eyes and he took the blindfold off, letting her open her eyes to see herself in the full-length mirror toward which he turned her.

  The pants did fit her like a second skin. They rode low on her hips and laced down either side, showing an inch of her bare body from waist to ankle. The garment he placed on her upper body was a creation of sapphires, pearls an
d onyx that fastened around her upper body beneath her breasts, then crossed between them and doubled around her throat. The two ends, ropes of the precious gems, made a delicate double strand down the column of her spine, explaining why he’d deviated from his usual preference of leaving her hair down. There was a separate scalloped piece that he’d draped from the points of her shoulders so the crescents of the sparkling gems hung low along the top of the breasts and fastened in the back.

  She looked like a primitive tribal queen, her breasts bare but adorned opulently. A Mistress who would make a sub froth at the mouth to touch her. And yet it was more than that. It was a harness, a collar of sorts he’d given her, the snug fastening of it reminding her when she moved that she belonged to another.

  Tyler stood behind her, and his hands came up, cupped her breasts, teased her nipples as she arched, rubbing her snugly held backside against his crotch. He suppressed a groan, dipped his head and nuzzled her bare shoulder, biting. “They had another pair of pants. Instead of opening at the legs, it laced up over the ass, and you leave the lacings loose enough so you can see the crease between the buttocks, can reach your fingers through the crisscross of the ties to play, bury them deep. Rip them open and fuck your lover’s ass when she needs it. But I thought these would do for a Mistress.”

  “So you didn’t get the other pair?”

  “One in white and one in pale blue. You got a better discount if you bought three.”

  She almost smiled, but looking in the mirror, she lifted her hand, fingered the scar at her collarbone, a frown crossing her face as she thought about how the beautiful garment bared her upper body.

  “Hey.” Tyler bent his head, kissed the top of her hand, nudged it aside and laid his lip on the scar itself. “Don’t worry about that. They’re not going to ask. All right? I already took care of that.”

  Before she could respond, he caught her nipple, pinched as she gasped. “I need to get you out of this room,” he rasped. “I’m going to explode if I can’t have you. My plan to torment you all night will be for naught.”