“Not here,” Zane said. “We need to take a walk.”
He caught her fingers in his, surprising her. She’d thought Trey was the big hand-holder.
The walk took them to a vintage elevator with a folding gate. Rebecca half expected to be shoved against its wall and screwed . . . and maybe more than half wished for it. When Zane smiled at her knowingly, she snapped her head away. They got out at a sub-level, one she had the impression was under the basement. From there, they strode along a shadowy corridor, stopping at what looked like a bank vault door. Constructed of metal, its hardcore lock required a key and a thumbprint.
Rebecca bit back a tart remark about showing off their stash of gold bars. Just because she was nervous, she didn’t have to be snarky.
Trey finished swinging the heavy door open. With a humorous little bow, he waved her ahead of them.
The corridor she’d entered was lined with old brick and arched. Cool and smelling of earth, the passageway bent left, then right, and then opened into a huge round room. A columned arcade circled it, each pair of arched supports dividing off a niche. High above their heads, a crude wooden wheel of a chandelier provided illumination, but not enough to make out the contents of the recesses.
“What is this place?” Rebecca asked, automatically speaking in hushed tones.
“During Prohibition,” Trey said, “it was a gin mill and speakeasy. Now it’s Zane and my playroom. We’re completely private here. No one has the key but us.”
A shiver she couldn’t suppress ran through her. She realized she wasn’t afraid to be alone with them. With the sense that she’d stepped to the edge of a deep canyon, she turned to look at the men. They were watching her closely. “The stories are true then. You throw orgies.”
“Maybe not as wild as you’re thinking,” Trey answered. “We invite trusted friends here. And we all play responsibly.”
“Responsibly.” Rebecca wet her lips, gaze straying to the nearest shadowed niche. Was that a metal rack inside it? The sort a person could be attached to? She didn’t want to think about how hard her pussy was quivering. “Why show this to me?”
“Because we believe you’ll enjoy trying out our toys. We know you’re thinking of leaving us today. We’d like to present the strongest possible argument that you should stay for a while.”
“And you think this is it?” Rebecca didn’t have to fake her surprise. “Guys, I promise neither of you needs anything like this to turn me on.”
Trey’s smile was crooked and gentle. He hid it well, but she sensed she’d touched a nerve. This place was important to him. “It’s not about needing this to turn you on. It’s about getting past the walls people build around their passions. I think you’ll admit you have a few of those.”
“Give us one game,” Zane said, the consummate bargainer. “If you like it, we play another. We want a whole week with you, but we’re prepared to earn it a day at a time.”
She couldn’t just say
yes
. That wasn’t how bargaining worked. “If I play one of your games, do I get to choose one to play on you?”
If Trey’s smile had been gentle, Zane’s was devilish. “You have no idea how much Trey would like that.”
“How much
Trey
would.”
Zane laughed throatily. “Trey’s tastes are flexible. You can play games with him or me, and he’ll enjoy both.”
And what if I want you to play with each other?
She didn’t say the thought aloud. She hadn’t forgotten Trey’s comment about Zane being embarrassed by his “gay” side. Trey was breathing more deeply than he’d been when they first walked in, like he was aroused and working to hide it. When he talked about walls, did he realize he had them? Meeting his eyes gave her the same rocked sensation as the night they met. The floor wasn’t solid. She was falling into him.
“Nobody does anything to me if his clothes are on,” she said.
“Deal,” Zane agreed, and just like that, they seemed to have one.
Trey pulled his T-shirt over his head, then shoved his shorts and briefs down his legs. As he stepped out of them, he had a half-mast erection. From what she could see, the flag was running up the pole posthaste.
“Hey,” she said breathlessly. Did they have to rush into this? But maybe they did. Zane was undressing too.
“You wanted us naked,” he said. “We’re obliging you.”
His erection was beefing up just like Trey’s.
“You
didn’t
have sex in the shower,” she exclaimed without thinking.
Zane tossed his last shoe into the pile of clothes Trey had started. “We made a rule for this week. We don’t get off without you.”
Boy, she wished that knowledge didn’t wind her up so well. She was vulnerable enough to their attraction. Her heart pumped in her throat as Trey stepped closer.
“Don’t I need a . . . a safe word?” she asked nervously.
Trey knelt beside her to pull down her yoga pants, a service Rebecca forestalled by grabbing their waistband. Trey tilted his head to look up her body. “Zane and I prefer to let ‘no’ mean ‘no,’ but we can give you one if you like.”
“I’ve never done this before. How would I know my preference?”
Smiling, he kissed her hip and tugged the pants free of her fingers. “Trust us then. We’ll pay attention to what pleases you.”
She guessed she did trust them, because she let Zane peel off her top. She was naked then. They all were. Standing tall as a tree before her, Zane steadied her head between his hands. His hold was more than a reassurance or a caress. The strength of his hands kept her from looking away from him. Her breathing sped up at his control, a reaction she couldn’t stop.
“I’m going to give you instructions,” he said, his bright blue eyes holding hers. “Unless you tell me you don’t want to obey, I’ll expect you to follow them. If you want to struggle, feel free. We won’t let you hurt yourself. Other than that, your words are all you need to stop this train in its tracks.”
“You won’t gag me?”
Zane’s chuckle was sexy. “Not to be cliché, but we have better uses for a mouth as sweet as yours.”
It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out that implication. Rebecca’s nipples beaded like he’d pinched them.
“Okay,” she said, striving to sound steady. “I can go along with that.”
Zane stepped back and considered her as if he were an artist and she his clay. Trey remained where he was next to her. Was Zane his boss for this as well?
“Trap her arms against her sides,” he said to his friend. “Carry her to the niche behind you. I saw that one catch her eye.”
When Trey lifted her as instructed, his stiffened cock pressed against her back. Rebecca squirmed but held her tongue against making noises that might be construed as
stop
. His task fulfilled, Trey set her down in the recess Zane specified, facing the shadowy apparatus she couldn’t make out yet.
“Stay,” he said and struck a fireplace match.
Rebecca stayed, her normally independent nature caught in the spell the men were weaving. The flame Trey held revealed two gas sconces on the brick columns to either side of her. He lit them, after which Rebecca sucked in a breath. In the dancing light, she saw what the shadows hid. The recess was about six feet wide and deep. An elaborate rack stood within it, fashioned of dull black metal in a complex arrangement. Bars supported padded rests and rings, some of which were adjustable with gears. Buckled leather restraints provided still more security. A floor length black curtain, also velvet, lined the wall to the rear, concealing who knew what additional instruments.
Rebecca had to appreciate the imagination at work here.
“Kneel on the first set of rests,” Zane instructed behind her.
Trey helped her onto them. Their positioning spread her knees, and air tickled her wetness. Liking this a bit too much, she clenched her jaw.
Maybe Trey knew. “These lock,” he said. He slammed a curved metal piece around her calf and into an aperture. The noise jolted through her, sounding like a jail door closing. Cream welled from her, but at least she wasn’t alone in being affected. As she twisted around to watch him shut the second one, she noticed the tip of Trey’s erection was stretched and shiny with arousal. A pulse beat hard in his upright shaft.
It bounced as he came around to her front again. “Left hand,” he ordered.
Unable to speak, she gave him her hand. He pulled it gently along a padded rest until her wrist was stuck through a ring. Her right arm was treated to the same procedure.
“Tighten the cuffs,” Zane said.
Trey turned a crank and the rings clanked smaller. He didn’t stop until the segmented metal fit her wrists perfectly. She was certain there were easier means of securing her, but the noises the mechanism created were fabulously theatrical. A million shivers of excitement swept her skin. The rack was like some crazy steampunk device—custom made, she was sure. Once the cuffs were snug, Trey strapped her elbows to the padded rest with leather. Nothing pinched, but neither was she able to get away.
The arm bars were extendable. Trey pulled them toward him and locked them down with more clanking. The shift forced her to lean forward. The combination of being slightly off balance and restrained was weirdly arousing.
“Your torso needs supporting,” he said gruffly.
For this he supplied a leather harness. He wrapped it around her middle like a corset. Like the historical version of that garment, it lifted but didn’t cover her breasts. Unlike it, it attached by a system of straps and rings to hooks on the rack. The harness took the weight of her forward lean, holding her perfectly.
“Test it,” Trey said.
She assumed he meant to pull against it so she did. The leather creaked, but nothing broke or snapped. The rack itself didn’t budge, no matter how she swung her weight. Its structure must have been sunk into the floor. She guessed Trey liked the look of her moving. His right hand fisted at his sternum.
“Anything hurt?” he asked.
“No,” she answered huskily.
His eyes slid down her bound body, over her breasts, down the corset, locking on the now wet spikes of hair at her sex. He let out an aroused sound, one she’d heard from him before, one he was unable to hold in. His cock stood up like a horn, his erection thicker and more brutal than any she’d seen in person. At the thought of pleasuring it in some fashion, goose bumps broke out across her thighs.
“Are you cold?” he asked immediately.
She smiled, waiting for his gaze to rise to her face again. He seemed concerned, and not entirely for her wellbeing. She thought she understood his real question. “This may be the oddest foreplay I’ve ever had used on me, but I confess it’s working. You can stop worrying.”
“But if you’re cold—”
“If she’s cold, we’ll warm her,” Zane said. His tone was authoritative as he stepped closer behind her. He’d let Trey indulge his fetish—or maybe genius—for bondage. Now he was taking charge again.
Trey didn’t seem to mind.
“Draw the curtain,” Zane said softly.
Trey turning to obey gave her an unobstructed view of his hindquarters. That was a lovely show, what with his wedge-shaped back and his muscular rear. She took a moment to shake off her admiration and notice what he’d uncovered.
The curtain had concealed a mirror as tall as him, framed in ornately carved dark wood. With round and startled eyes, Rebecca stared at her trussed-up reflection. Her hair was mussed, her mouth stretched into an O. The redness of her nipples above the harness was pornographic, but this wasn’t all that was. In the blue-tinged gaslight, moisture glistened on her inner thighs. Her clit was so swollen it peeped out. Blood rushed into her cheeks with arousal and embarrassment.
“Good Lord,” was all she could say.
Zane moved in while she gaped. His reflection was nearly as flushed as hers. “See how beautiful you are?” he murmured in her ear. “How enticing?”
He stood between the shin rests that spread her thighs. He was close enough that filling his lungs with air caused his chest to brush her back, close enough that head of his erection bumped the top of her ass. He reached through the various bars and straps to stroke the pebbled skin around her right nipple. The feathery touch drew more hot fluid from her.
Trey’s intake of breath was harsh as he spotted this. Forcing his gaze upward, he looked at Zane instead of her. “Is the height all right?”
“Perfect,” Zane said. “I can slide my cock right into her from here.”
A shiver crossed Trey’s shoulders. Did he want Zane to slide his cock into him? “I’ll shift the mirror,” he said, his voice gone thick. “I don’t want to block Rebecca’s view when she’s going down on me.”
“Good,” Zane said. “I’ll want to watch that too.”
The mirror hung on a wheeled track. Trey pushed it to a new position, gauged the angles, and then returned to her. He was breathing harder, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on his bronzed skin.
“Here are the rules,” he said, not quite evenly. “You make me come, and then Zane lets you. As long as I hold back, he doesn’t bring you off. Obviously, you can only use your mouth.”
Was it rude to point out this could be short game, given how wound up Trey was?
“My mouth can’t reach you from here,” she said instead.
Trey climbed onto the frame with her.
There were places to put his feet she hadn’t noticed before, and also a subway style strap for one hand to hang onto. Once he’d gripped it, Trey’s cock was level with her mouth. This close, his erection filled her field of vision, rock hard and juddering. All she saw of his tattoo was the dragon’s tail.
Trey cupped the side of her head with his free hand. “I can pull out if you push me too close to the edge. Because you’re bound, you won’t be able to stop me. As you might have guessed, I’ll need the advantage.”
His self-deprecating tone caused her to crane to see his face. Did he think she judged him for liking this? How could she, when her body had been creaming since her first sight of the contraption? She’d told him this bondage worked on her. Hadn’t her words gotten through?
Words didn’t always, of course. Sometimes convincing someone required action.
Behind her, Zane ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms, across the leather that secured her elbows to the metal cuffs on her wrists. He caressed both her and what held her captive.