Holding The Cards (Nature of Desire #1)

Holding The Cards (Nature of Desire #1) Page 10

Lisette believed in top quality mattresses fitted with cotton sheets and smothered in layers of quilts. It gave a guest the sense that she was burrowing into a nest, made all the stronger in a room decorated with so many soft textures and hues of nature.

Lauren did not give any specific instructions. It was simply assumed she wished to be in the middle. She had donned an oversized T-shirt and a silk pair of panties and now lay in the center of the bed, on her side, watching Marcus.

He turned the torchlights off, which left the room lit by the soft glow from several bowls of floating candles he had placed, strewn with flower petals, on the vanity and night tables. He casually shucked off his jeans and the silk boxers beneath and laid both over the chair. She wondered at his daring, but then realized that, from her surreptitious examination of him throughout the afternoon and evening, Josh wasn't wearing underwear under his jeans. Marcus was not going to let his friend be embarrassed by being the only one in the buff, and Lauren had no complaints with his generosity.

Marcus was equally beautiful beneath his clothes. Sleek lines of flank and thigh muscle suggested a home gym and daily Central Park jogging regimen. Her attention drifted low center and she concluded that those "rebellious boys" he chose to bestow with his attentions were amply rewarded.

She raised her eyes to his. Marcus gave her a wicked grin. "No drooling, love."

Lauren chuckled. Behind her she heard the rustlings as Josh stripped. She could have turned and given him the same perusal, but after the kiss, she was feeling a strange shyness about looking at him. Besides, there was a pleasant torture in hearing the metallic noise of a zipper, the sound of denim being pushed down bare skin.

He slid under the covers behind her and his heated body drew close to her back.

If she had been told she would be ending this day tucked into bed between two obscenely attractive naked men, she would have asked the informant if she could also book the space shuttle for a moon tour while she was at it.

Josh laid his arm about her waist. He did not fit his body to hers, but the invitation was there if she should choose to accept it. Marcus crawled in facing her. She felt his hand slide over Josh's arm so they were woven protectively around her. Josh did not draw back from his friend's touch, though the only place Marcus's hand could be resting would be on Josh's waist or the point of his hip.

Marcus had the faint smell of expensive cologne. It brought to her mind a chic night in a New York gallery, and an image of him dressed in a suit custom made in Hong Kong, finished with a silk tie and elegant cuff links. Josh was all musky male, earth and trees, evoking the vision of a native slipping through the forest, a shadow as lithe and intriguing as a passing wolf.

It was an unsettling contrast, and an altogether attractive one. Lauren slid one arm over Marcus's bare ribs, touching the light down across his abdomen with the tips of her fingers as she did so. She slid her other arm up to Josh's hand at her waist and tugged him closer. He obliged, sliding in and cupping her silk clad backside in the hot cradle of his thighs. He tightened the coil of his arm so his arm circled most of her waist, his fingers curved between it and the mattress. Her shoulder blades pressed against his chest.

His head was just behind hers, his breath brushing the nape and side of her neck. If she tilted her head just a bit, she would brush her jugular against his lips. Her fingers trailed Marcus's bare spine, an idle stroking gesture, just indulging the pleasure of contact. Her forehead rested against his muscular bicep as he lay his angel's head on his crooked arm and smiled into her near face.

Their legs were a delightful tangle; Josh's couched up behind hers, one calf insinuated between her calves, his toes idly stroking her curled ones. Marcus's leg lay over both of theirs.

Lauren giggled. "This is like a pile of puppies," she said.

Marcus chuckled in the dim light. "You're a bit less fuzzy, love, and Josh... Well, he has practically no chest hair. I've often wondered, does he even have hair  - "

Lauren squealed as the blanket above her kicked up in violent disturbance as Josh fended off Marcus's playful grabs over her hips.

"You've seen it often enough to know," Josh said evenly. "The only reason you come here is to see me naked when I swim."

"Yes, there are no good looking men in New York," Marcus said dryly. "I have to go a thousand miles to the middle of nowhere to get a look at a fine piece of ass. And a straight piece of ass at that."

Lauren shrieked as the blankets kicked up again. Josh punched at his friend and Marcus retaliated, launching a brief tussle. Lauren struggled to get her own blows in and succeeded in swatting them both.

"Hey! Innocent civilian caught in the middle here."

Marcus grinned over her head. "Saved from an ass kicking by Mom."

"I know you were."

Lauren choked on a laugh at the suitably childish retort and seized Josh's arm, clamping it around her waist. She used the same hand to shove Marcus's head back down on the pillow beside hers. "Are you sure you two aren't brothers?"

"No, thank God. I wouldn't want to endanger my soul with the kind of thoughts I have concerning Josh's straight ass." Marcus's teeth flashed at Josh's snort, but he settled back in, laying his arm once again over his friend's on Lauren's hip.

There was a moment of silence, then Marcus's voice murmured just above the crown of her head. "We are brothers." Lauren felt him squeeze Josh's arm. "Family formed by circumstance rather than blood."

"Sometimes it's stronger that way," she said, and then they all were still, aware of one another, and not needing to say more.

The silence was a peaceful one, but as it settled over them like drifts of warm sand into hollows between rocks, Lauren's mind turned to the immediate physical sensations, and the input there was far from serene. The silk of the panties she wore with her oversized T-shirt was a transparent conductor of the heat of Josh's groin. The way they were nested against each other, his aroused member fit intimately into the silken channel of her labia and the crease of her backside, giving her a screaming urge to rub. His occasional slight shifts, which pressed him more firmly into that channel, were not easing that desire.

There was moisture dampening the cloth between them, the perspiration created by flesh pressed against flesh, and her body's response, oiling itself for penetration.

She could part her thighs, slide her finger along the fragile line of elastic, pull the undergarment aside and let him pull her down on him. She had asked him to be here, to sleep with her, for the intimacy. She had enjoyed her power over him. Now that had opened a door deeper within her, as such play always did.

She wanted to go beyond that, link her desire with his and let it overpower them, wrap them in its cocoon and let them sate themselves until the experience transformed them.

How could the emotional need vibrating from her in waves not be pounding against his senses? Her body was trembling with it. The men had to feel it. Josh had to know how close she was to giving in and letting him have her body to plunder at will.

His hand touched her hair, stroked, soothing her as she had soothed him. "Sleep," he murmured. "Just sleep."

The warm, non-sexual touch was a sweet, searing contrast to what was happening below their waists, and it gradually balanced the scale in her mind, bringing her back to a more level perspective. He could not give her what she sought in one fell swoop, like sitting down to one meal to nourish the body for a lifetime. It didn't work that way, though many people, including herself, had often made that mistake, thinking one gigantic fuck would answer all the needs hungering inside. He knew it, she knew it, but it was him who took the reins at this moment and slowed the wagon down. He knew how to be strong.

His perception of her needs was unnerving, considering less than twelve hours ago they had been strangers.

She took a firm hold of Marcus's arm at her waist, like the safety bar on a roller coaster, and focused on Josh's hand instead of his tempting cock. It took some time, but beneath his gentle touch, the dangerous intensity building within her eased, and at length she expelled it in a soft sigh. She rooted her cheek deeper into the support of Marcus's bicep and Lisette's pillows. With Josh's hand caressing her hair, she slid into sensual dreams with the two men intertwined around her.

Her dreams were a languid swim through warm liquid, populated by underwater plants of vivid colors, with fleshy smooth stalks that stroked her body like long, silken fingers. She swam through them and rolled lazily, feeling their touch all along her skin, naked in the substance of the womb.

A shadow fell upon her. She looked up. A man was just above her, outlined by the shafts of sunlight piercing the water's surface, far above them. No, not a man, not exactly. Her eyes traveled over his familiar face with gray eyes and floating hair. The water etched out every feature, from his bare chest and shoulders, and blatant arousal, to the long, powerful scaled tail that marked him as a merman and kept him vertical above her as she lay on her back, floating.

Lauren felt the whisper touch of the ocean garden again. The sea fronds wound themselves around her wrists and ankles, an inarguable pressure that drew her thighs far apart and spread-eagled her helpless before the watching sea creature. His eyes darkened further at the site of her exposed sex and, as she struggled, part alarm and part quivering excitement, he began to descend toward her. His tail propelled him with the casual ease of a shark, but there was nothing casual about his expression. It was the comfort of moving in one's own element. In that way one often did in a dream, for a moment Laurel stood apart from her dream self and recognized what was familiar about it. It was the way she often moved when in the clubs at night.

Her struggles only served to increase the intensity of his gaze, which roamed appreciatively over her jutting breasts and the flexing of her thighs. Lauren stopped, panting, as he came to rest between her legs, his aroused, impressive member at eye level. Instinctively, Lauren licked her lips and raised a hungry gaze to him. A smile touched his mouth.

He spoke, a soft crooning noise, almost like a dolphin or whale, and her bindings obeyed, wrapping high on her thighs and lifting her up, so her hips were elevated to his lips as the rest of her stayed lower, increasing her sense of helplessness.

His nose brushed her swollen clitoris and she screamed into the water. His tongue pushed in between the tight folds and she moaned. Though she was panting, the water was like air to her starving lungs.

His large hands, callused as if from carpentry work, came beneath her bottom and cupped the individual cheeks, separating them so his fingertips as well as the cool water and waving tips of sea life brushed the sensitive opening. More vines wrapped around her waist and thighs. Still more wrapped under and above her breasts, lifting them and binding them tightly, trapping the blood in them. She could no longer even writhe, only shudder with convulsions and tremble at what he was doing to her. She wanted to come, but she could not come as long as she could not move.

His eyes spoke eloquently, and she knew that his possession of her was not the toying of a shark with prey. It was a possession born not of a predator's hunger, but that of a lifetime mate laying a claim to her whole being.

He rose over her, hovering, and his lips closed over one tight nipple, unbearably sensitive because of the seaweed's constriction around her breast. She quivered and made soft cries. Spasms rolled through her body, small almost-climaxes that made her pleas incoherent, at least the words. Her need was as clear as the water around them.

The fronds drew her hips down, and he sank with them, descending so he was between her thighs. With his eyes on her face, his fingers slid to her hips and he thrust into her in one fluid stroke.

She came instantly, the intense sensation of being held still during his penetration equal to a bomb exploding in a contained space. The seaweed held her as she cried out, a long, low moan that rocked up to helpless screams. He continued to thrust with slow, tortuous strokes that prolonged her own orgasm until even in the breathable water she could no longer draw in enough for her lungs. Only then did he buck, unable to contain his own seed any longer, and she heard his voice, a haunting cry that reminded her of whales and other mysterious creatures.

He covered her mouth with his and gave her air, the ability to breathe and live above the water's surface.

He filled her with oxygen and all the substances that made life worth living.

Exquisite. An elegant, passionate word, reserved for an untouched box of Godiva chocolates, the sparkle of a diamond in sunlight, and this moment.

She called his name, begging to touch him. She would have torn her soul from its shell and offered it to him for the opportunity. As if she had made a wish, the seaweed was abruptly gone and she lunged, wrapping her arms and legs upon him. She groaned in joy as she felt his arms come around her and cried out in renewed passion. The lazy movement of the powerful tail continued his thrusts within her, stroking her trembling tissues and heating them again.

She pressed her cheek and her heart against his. "Never let me go. Promise you'll never go," she begged, and her tears joined the ocean.

He held her with relentless strength, but took her lips in a gentle kiss, so different from his fierce possession of her body that it unbalanced her. The trembling of her body made the ocean floor vibrate, a shifting of plates signifying a change in the earth's surface, the alteration of the landscape of her mind, a wavering, and awakening.

Lauren's eyes opened. Her arms were wrapped around Josh, her nails dug into his back. The wet saltiness against her face had moistened his bare chest, and he was stroking her hair, murmuring to her, gentle crooning, like a lullaby, or a chant. It was early morning, according to the clock on the dresser.

Marcus was gone, but he had put fresh candles on the night table to throw a dim light in the room that had no windows to let in the soft shades of dawn.

She had never had a dream of submission; her sexual dreams often had the same flavor of her real life, the drive to tenderly dominate. It left her unsettled, not so much the dream itself, but the underlying sense of drowning, the willingness to go under and submerge herself in sensual exploration. She had carried it with her, out of the dream into a natural extension of thinking about Josh.

She chided herself for her initial uneasy response to the dream. A Dominant needed a sub's devotion as much as the sub desired the focused attention of her dominance over him. When it came down to it, they were willing captives of each other, the lines of control and possession ever shifting because of it. But the dream, being the voice of her unconscious and subconscious self, underscored how much she wanted to establish that level of intimacy and trust, where safe rules and strictures were not needed, everything intuitive between her and a lover, whether in play or in reality. She wanted love and a forever with someone. Simple, natural, and unbearably painful, because of how complicated it was to find it. But dreams did not care about torturing the soul.

Sensing that she was awake, Josh moved his lips against her temple. He stole a kiss over her eyebrow, nibbling a bit at it, sucking it into his mouth. Lauren sighed and nestled closer, pressing soft cotton and swollen breasts into his chest. His hand wandered down her hip to the flank and she shuddered as his fingers curled around one cheek. He ran his touch along the satin leg band of the French cut bikinis and then slid his long fingers under them, using his knuckles to push the fabric back, and into the cleft of her bottom, like a thong. He gripped the top edge of the bunched panties and tugged at the rolled fabric, increasing the pressure on her clitoris.

Lauren lifted her eyes to his. He withdrew his touch, resting his hand on her hip. "It's your card still, Lauren," he murmured. His eyes promised her anything, a dangerous gift she could unleash or bridle at will, and the knowledge of it soaked her flimsy panties in a warm gush of response. She pushed the disturbing dream into her subconscious and took hold of the reins again.

"I want you to grab the headboard," she commanded. "And don't let go of it."

He obeyed, shifting to his back, the long muscular arms threading through the slats and then gripping the wrought iron spindles from behind. Lauren rose to her knees and pulled the covers back, exposing him to her gaze. His arms tensed as if he might move to cover himself, but he controlled the urge and merely flushed, a rush of blood to his cheeks. Lauren ignored his discomfort and took her time looking him over, the graceful hips and long thighs, the light dusting of hair, the thicker thatch at his groin, the sectioned abdomen and soft tufts of hair beneath his arms. The longer she looked, the more his limbs trembled, the more turgid his cock became, until it was all she could do to maintain her indifferent look and not drool.

"God, you are beautiful," she said softly.

He groaned, and the fire in his eyes became infused with something else, something that spoke of yearning, and regret. It was so similar a reflection of how she felt when she came out of the dream, shattered and aroused, it almost broke her now. It would have, if he had chosen that very moment to ignore her command, release the headboard and seize her to him. In the light of day, the game should probably be over anyway. He and Marcus should be going back to work on whatever they had to do.

She would hobble around to see if there were the makings of a pimento cheese sandwich in Lisette's kitchen and savor a few of Josh's chocolate chip cookies while mulling over the events of the previous evening.

But it wasn't over. Josh himself had set the parameters, reminding her the card was still hers. It occurred to her that, for some reason, he needed her to hold the cards, as if he was afraid to interact with her if she wasn't in charge.

Not that she could possibly object. The male torso stretched out before her in mute, powerful submission was a perfect creation. He had no spare flesh. His thighs, arms and stomach were roped with wiry, lean muscle. The buttocks flexing with his slight, agitated shifts were tight as she could wish, and she had a sudden, amusing desire.

"Roll to your side," she commanded. "Away from me."

He obeyed, giving her a lingering look, a look of wild desire she recognized as the hungry stare she had fixed on the merman in her dreams. When it came from Josh, it made her want to suckle him at her breast, protect and care for him, and yet keep him at her mercy forever. It was an interesting thought, since he stood half a foot taller than she was and could probably bend steel between those luscious ass cheeks. She desired him. Lord, she wanted him like she'd never wanted anything in her whole life, but something held her back. This game, for lack of a better word, had to be played out. She did not know if experience or intuition was telling her that, or just her raging hormones, but for the first time since Jonathan, she was going to try to trust herself again.

She reached out and scraped a fingernail down the curve of a buttock, watching it flex at the faint pain.

Then she splayed her fingers out like a spider across his buttock, leaned down and bit him.

Josh jumped, and the muscle quivered beneath her touch, but he did not pull away, even as she tightened her grip and the pressure of her bite. He kept his fists locked on the headboard; those glorious back muscles rippling with tension against the pain. When she lifted her head, she saw it had not diminished the impressive erection in the slightest. In fact, it was brushing his belly, so filled it was with blood.

His ass now bore the imprint of her teeth. She bent back down to it, running her tongue over the marks, soothing the pain like a wolf's mate. He made a noise, somewhere between groan and growl, and his hands flexed on the board like he might let go, roll to his back and seize her up, thrust her onto his shaft and then pump his seed into her while she clung helpless to his powerful forearms.

But he did not. He closed his eyes and swallowed, controlling his need. Watching him do so flooded her vitals with the sweet sensation of power, power made even more potent by the fact he was submitting to it by his own choice, if not entirely of his own volition.

She knew he was damaged, and eventually, they would have to get to the bottom of that. Her glance strayed over the marks she had left on him. No pun intended.

"Roll on your back again," she said. "But keep holding the headboard."

He obeyed and stared at her, his gray eyes steel that heated her skin with a flush of prickling desire.

Lauren slid forward, rose up onto her knees again and straddled his neck, putting her thighs along either side of his tense jaw. His nostrils flared, taking in her scent, and she nodded.

"Would you like some of that for breakfast, Josh?" she murmured. "Unh uh," she moved back as his mouth opened. "You have to ask for it. What do you want?"

"I want you," he rasped.

She shook her head. "More specific, Josh. And you have to ask. You can't demand it. Or maybe I'll go sit in that chair way over there in the corner and take care of it myself." She passed her finger lightly over the damp impression of her panties, which revealed the arousal beneath.

"No," he jerked his head off the pillow and fastened his mouth over her swollen clit, plunging his tongue into her, through the soaked silk. Lauren jerked back with a gasp as her body vibrated in the clutch of a near orgasm. For a moment, she fought her own will, which screamed at her to put herself back in proximity of that clever tongue and finish it.

Then she looked at Josh's face, the way he glared up at her, smug satisfaction in his eyes. She was making him feel vulnerable, and he was reacting as a new or damaged sub sometimes did, shielding himself. He didn't want to feel vulnerable. She had to make him understand that he was required to be open and exposed to her in all ways. She wasn't going to permit him to withdraw from her and make this into nothing more than a kinky fuck between two strangers.

Lauren grasped his hair in her hand and jerked his head back, wrapping her fingers into the thick mane and tightening her grasp, intending to cause him pain.

"You do that again, and I will go over to that chair, lick my fingers and fuck myself with them while you watch." She did not permit any kindness in her voice now, nothing but cruel denial. "I'll spread open my thighs over the chair arms, so you can see everything, and when I come, you'll see the way it sucks at my hand, instead of your tongue. I won't rub my scent over your face and make you mine. Now," she eased forward again, her throbbing center only a breath away from his panting mouth. "Ask for it, and be specific. And you look at me when you ask."

You won't hide from me, Josh.

"Please let me eat..." it was fascinating to watch his thoughts chase each other, look for the words he thought she might like best. She revealed nothing, keeping her expression aloof and stern, though her tissues quivered from his rasping breaths, less than an inch away.

"Please let me lick your pussy," he said, stumbling over the awkward word, his eyes pleading. "Please. I want to make you come."

"You don't make me do anything, Josh, but you will eat me until I come, because I won't let you stop until you do."

His body jerked as it trembled, and she recognized the nerves overtaking passion. The uncontrollable shaking came when a sub felt his true vulnerability to a Mistress's will for the first time, an anxiety that came with relinquishing control to someone by some compulsion that defied issues of logic, strength or bindings. It puzzled her, because she knew he knew the game. But overriding the confusion was a more unsettling emotion.

His quivering brought tears to her eyes. Lauren bent, pressed the softest of kisses to his damp forehead, swept back his hair with gentle fingers. Then she straightened, took the head board in both hands, and slid over his mouth.

He did not lick. He devoured. With the noise of an animal, he plunged his face into her musky wetness, tongue stabbing into her flooded passage, lips and teeth pulling her aching labia and clit into the hot cavern of his mouth, the soft growls bringing extra vibration to the sensitive nerve endings.

Usually, her orgasms began as a lazy spiral that built with the rhythmic rocking of her body. His mouth was on her three shuddering breaths, and her spine snapped back, her head falling onto her shoulders, as a climax harder and more intense than the peak of the best orgasm she had ever experienced seized her body. She rocketed over a crest that she had never imagined could be so high. It occurred to her, a flash of a thought, that she might not survive the fall. She could have cared less.

He released the headboard and held her fast by the forearms when she would have toppled. His desire to protect made her forgive his disobedience, even though he took advantage of the moment to shove her harder against his mouth, his teeth scraping her shuddering, slick skin.

She screamed, too overcome to be self-conscious. She didn't even remember who Marcus was as she ground herself against Josh's face and felt each spasm jerk through her.

There was no finesse to it, just raw, fast response. She came down like an ejected pilot of an exploded plane, adrenaline still roiling through her veins, her heart pounding, fingers clenching and unclenching against her palms. She made soft, keening noises, her reaction to his mouth, tongue still busy with gentle lavings, soothing and stimulating all at once.

It was quite awhile before Lauren had the strength, or will, to slide back. She collapsed into his embrace, and her gaze fell on the imprints his fingers had left on her forearms. She noticed with puzzlement that her limbs were shaking, though she felt only muzzy languor.

The earth was shaking, not her. She tried to clear her hazy mind and realized that Lisette's house was rumbling on its foundations in sporadic bursts. Each tremor was preceded by a thud that sounded as if it were directly beneath them.

Passion cleared from Josh's eyes and he swore, amusing her by giving her a hard squeeze on the ass and an apologetic, desperate look before he rolled away. He snatched up his jeans and leaped out of the room, not a bad view all the way around. Lauren turned over, snagged her robe and followed him, more slowly, since the room was still tilting in a pleasant way. She was pleased to discover she could walk better this morning, though her slight limp and wobbling progress were no match for Josh's athletic strides.

The orchestrator of the morning's events, in an indirect way, was standing out on the deck, staring down.

Lauren approached the living area just as Josh stepped out of the open sliding glass door, zipping up his jeans and buttoning them.

"She won't listen to me," Marcus informed him.

Marcus's gaze passed to Lauren as she came out. "You've got healthy lungs," he commented.

"Leave her be," Josh said, leaning over the rail. "Isabel? I'm right here. Look...look up - Isabel!"

Lauren blinked as an earsplitting trumpet sound vibrated along the boards beneath her feet. It sounded like an elephant. It couldn't be an elephant. She approached the edge of the deck. Marcus smiled at her, easing her discomfiture, and curled an arm about her waist to draw her forward.

She blinked. She was looking down at an elephant. A small, white elephant, but most definitely an elephant.

The elephant's crinkled dark eyes shifted to her and the creature made a curious crooning noise.

Apparently she was much happier now that she could see Josh. With some alarm, Lauren realized the earthquake had been caused by his devotee pushing her head and considerable weight against the pilings of the house.

The bright sun and the reminder that he had other responsibilities, albeit in a form she would not have expected, returned her to reality. She needed to push off the effects of the mind-boggling orgasm and not make too much of it. She wouldn't push him. It had been a night of fun, was all, and now they all had things to do. His words this morning about continuing the game were probably just a case of male morning horniness.

"So," she propped her elbows on the wood and ignored the peculiar sinking feeling the idea gave her,

"Are white elephants native to this island?"

Josh chuckled. "Here," he said, "You shouldn't be standing."

Lauren caught hold of his shoulders as he lifted her up to sit her on the wide railing. He kept his hand braced against her back, his fingers splayed over the curve of her hip, an automatic gesture to keep her safe that made her stomach flutter in emotional reaction. So much for casual. His posture put his body close to hers, so close she could still smell the scent of herself on his mouth.

"Isabel was in a movie," Josh said, looking down at the elephant, now stripping a six-foot sapling of leaves. "They injected dye into her skin to turn her white."

"I remember that movie," Lauren recalled. "That fantasy thing, like a Conan type...what was the name of it?"

Josh shrugged. "I don't see many movies. Regardless, when the movie was over, they didn't need her anymore." A shadow crossed his face. "The dye poisoned her blood."

Lauren, dismayed, looked back down at the elephant. Even while eating, Isabel kept one eye on Josh.

The eye, clear and bright, nevertheless possessed that ancient look of wisdom and mystery that pachyderms have, a reminder of their existence on the planet significantly earlier than humans.

"They think she has a couple years before organs start shutting down and she'll be in pain. They were going to go ahead and put her down. I was in a position to take her, and so I brought her here, on a barge."

He shrugged. "She likes to know where I am. I forgot to tell her I wouldn't be in the usual places. Of course," he smiled at Lauren in an open, affectionate way that erased some of her tensions, "I didn't know I was going to end up staying here at the command of a beautiful woman."

Lauren looked over the edge, pleased to feel his grip on her tighten. "Seems to me," she observed, "That you're at the command of two women. And one of us just decided Lisette's banana plants are fair game."

"Hey!" Josh called out sharply. "Isabel, no! Ah...son of a - " with another apologetic look, he scooped Lauren off her seat on the rail and set her down on the bench in a move so effortless it caught her breath.

He took the rail himself, swung out to the tree she had used for her descent the day before, and shimmied down the trunk.

Marcus chuckled and set down his coffee cup. "So, beautiful lady, what's your pleasure today? We can leave you to your own devices, to hobble around the house as best you may, or we can take you on our adventures."

The idea of being stranded in Lisette's house held little appeal. Lauren overlooked the fact that she had intended to do just that, nurse her hurts and wallow in dejected solitude for the weekend. Of course, she had put a more positive spin on it than that when she got in the boat yesterday.

Still, she hesitated to answer. Where did the events of the past half hour leave them? Did they just shrug it off, resume their separate schedules, or was there something happening other than a night of sex games?

Stop being a moron. She had never been a woman to doubt her own appeal to the opposite sex. She knew when attraction was there and when it wasn't. A D/s relationship did not evolve this quickly unless strong desire was driving it. She put a hand on her fluttering stomach. Strong might be an understatement for what she was feeling for Josh. She was shielding herself precisely because she sensed there was far more than the physical involved. She was being a coward.

"I'd love to go with you," she admitted. "But you're not here to entertain me. I don't want to impose.

After all, you took care of me all afternoon and evening." Her cheeks flushed at the double meaning of that remark.

"True," Marcus quirked a brow at her expression, and laid his hand over where Josh's had been on her waist, increasing the heat that lingered there. "This morning Josh planned a swim for eight a.m. You've put him behind schedule already."

Lauren chuckled. "I intended to take a nap on the beach about one o'clock," Marcus continued, "after we checked in to see how the Salerno's hot water heater is doing. We installed it earlier this week. After that, we usually go sit up on the Knoll, the highest part of the island. Josh brings a book and I do some wishful amateur sketches. We go through a six-pack of Heineken while we watch the sun go down over the waves. And that would be the end of one of our busier days. So you see," he ran his knuckles down the side of her face in an easy, affectionate gesture, "we asked because we like playing with you, and we don't want playtime to be over. I would have expected Josh to tell you that, first thing this morning," he lifted a brow, "but perhaps his mouth was otherwise occupied."

Lauren punched his stomach. "Worm."

"Regardless," he caught her fist, raised it to his lips, "We're three children on a deserted island, and we've designated you queen. Josh wants you to keep holding the High Card as long as you wish to play."

"It doesn't feel like a game to me, Marcus," Lauren said, loosing her hand from his grasp and hooking her fingers under her legs. The rough wood of the bench rasped against her skin. "Sometimes it is just playing, and that's okay. But this doesn't feel that way." She drew a deep breath, let it out. "And I don't want it to be just a game. That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I just met him what, less than twenty-four hours ago."

"No. I'm glad to hear it." All teasing left Marcus's emerald eyes. "It's not a game to him, either. You're the first thing that's gotten a rise out of him, physically or emotionally, for months."

"You're putting a lot on me," she said, staring down at the subject of the discussion.

"I'm putting nothing on you," Marcus responded; with a trace of flint that jerked her attention back to him. "I'm trying to tell you as subtly as possible without abusing Josh's trust that you're dealing with someone who has locked himself in a cage, as if he's afraid he's a danger to others."

"So you won't tell me what happened to him?" she said.

He shook his head. "It's not my story to tell. And," he admitted, frustration tensing his angelic features,

"he hasn't told me all of it. I know about his divorce, but something happened, something more. He was always very private about his life with Winona, everything, even sex, but I sensed something was wrong in that department, in a lot of departments. There was an unhealthy energy between them and..." Marcus stopped himself. "Regardless. Whatever happened, he's got it jammed up his ass like a railroad spike."

Lauren winced. "Visual."

Marcus lifted a shoulder. "I've got good intuition about people, Lauren. I have to know when a talented artist has more temperament than commitment. I have to know when one is close to the breaking point and needs breathing room, and when one needs stroking versus goading. I like you, very much. You're strong."

"We're all Sampson," she murmured. "Find our weakness and we'll shatter."

"Only if you happen to hook yourself up with Delilah, instead of the faithful and loving Ruth. On the other hand," the corner of his mouth tugged up, "Sometimes shattering is the best excuse to rebuild yourself on a better foundation."

He shrugged at the surprise on her face. "I think you and Josh have a gift to give to each other. It may be a small gift, just a step in the right direction, a couple days of simple pleasures and reminding each other what that feels like. Or, it may be a gift of life altering size. Either way, if you lose courage for it or the pleasure to pursue it, know what you're dealing with and don't crush him with your pain. I love Josh, very much. He is my friend, he is a brother, and he has a beautiful, intelligent spirit that is struggling to heal itself despite his best efforts keep the wounds open."

She nodded. Marcus's love for Josh as a friend, combined with his nature as a Master, would make him automatically protective. Hence, the frequent trips to the island to check on his well-being. She felt her regard for Marcus grow. Not all Masters were like that. But it was also the kind of Mistress she was.

"Marcus!" Josh called, holding onto Isabel's trunk like a harried parent trying to keep hold of a child on the verge of a tantrum. "Stop trying to impress Lauren with your jaded New Yorker routine and toss out a handful of peanuts."

"I'm actually trying to convince her that you would like her to spend the day with us, despite your dark, brooding personality. Perhaps you could take some pains to reassure her." Marcus shot her a look that seemed to say, "Ball's in your court, darling," and stepped back through the sliding glass door.

Lauren peered down as Isabel jerked Josh several feet sideways and he grunted, a sound of discomfort.

"Everything okay down there?"

"Nothing that a 2x4 wouldn't cure," he muttered as she wrapped her trunk around his waist and whuffled at his palm, trying to get past him to the banana plants.

Lauren chuckled. "Doesn't she realize she could just stomp over you?"

Josh looked pained. "Now that you've told her."

Lauren giggled and a smile crossed his face, so shy and hopeful it wrenched her heart. "You will spend the day with us, won't you? I mean," he grimaced, "I'm sorry, Lauren. I'm sure you have your reasons for being here, and they don't necessarily include company. We shouldn't be - "

"Why don't you let me decide what you should and shouldn't do for me, Josh?" she said, her decision made in that moment.

She pitched her tone low, but her direct, imperious gaze made the implication clear. She felt the air between them heat and her lips curved. "Didn't we get that straight, earlier this morning?"

He gazed up at her. The shy smile was gone, but what replaced it was no less potent. "Yes, you did," he murmured.

She nodded, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, then," he played with Isabel's trunk and slanted a look up at her, the expression of a mischievous boy. "If it pleases you, I'd very much like it if you joined us today."

"It pleases me," she said, and let it be at that.