Mirror of My Soul Joey Hill (best books to read for women txt) 📖

bindings which were psychological only. He was not resisting the raging need to be with his Mistress, however. His silver eyes were focused only on Violet as she met that intimidating gaze with one of her own, one that challenged him, that told Marguerite clearly that Violet had been aware of every degree of frustration she’d been causing her husband.

“I can smell you from here, sugar,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You value his life, you better come here.”

Violet was wearing stilettos with her brief bikini and she used the combination to good effect now, swinging her hips, untying the top as she came toward him, dropping it without self-consciousness in front of her audience. It dropped to the concrete, exposed her small perfect breasts to her husband’s avid gaze. In a graceful move she 151

Joey W. Hill

straddled his face, clamping her hand down on his throat to hold his head as she slowly, slowly lowered her hips until her crotch was right over his mouth. “Can you eat me out better than that young stud over there, Mackenzie?”

“He should take notes.”

Violet smiled then, a softer expression. Resigned humor entered Mac’s gaze as well, tempered with a mutual heat and energy that made Marguerite feel they were no longer aware of anyone else. “You’re making me fucking crazy, Mistress.”

“Can you serve your Mistress so she desires no others?”

“I’ll do my best.” There was a raw quality to his voice now. Violet’s touch on his neck eased, became a caress.

“Make me come with your mouth. You know I love that.”

Marguerite found herself riveted by them, the slide of Violet’s body over that strong jaw, his body still stretched out and bound as he served her, made her body sinuously dance upon him. She threw her head back, the auburn curls tumbling, her hands rising to caress her breasts before his gaze. She moaned at the first touch of his lips, a sound of coming home as much as it was of sexual pleasure. Roland’s body quivered and

Marguerite had a sudden urge, an urge so strong she couldn’t deny the image in her head. She wondered if she could trust as Violet had suggested she could trust, to explore the many things that love could be, ways it could be expressed.

She removed the teacup and pot, set them aside. “Roll to your back, Roland.” He obeyed, adjusting himself on his back on the row of cushions. His green eyes were sparkling jade with anticipation for what he obviously hoped she was about to demand of him. When he moistened his lips, she was riveted by that soft, clever mouth.

Bending, she reached under him and made sure the plug was turned back up to its highest setting, made more potent since the pool deck floor beneath his pillow pressed it deep and steady into him now. His eyes widened and his body quivered, his cock jumping in response.

“Not until you make me come,” she told him. “Only then.”

“Yes, Mistress. Oh…Jesus…” Roland strangled on a moan as her fingers caressed

his cock before she straightened.

Marguerite rose, as aware of Tyler’s attention as Violet had been of Mac’s. As such, she took her time, teasing both the man across the pool and the man at her feet as she loosened the lacings on either side of the pants, easing their hold on her sufficiently.

Picking up a large navy blue towel, she brought the pants even lower on her hips, knotted the towel around her waist and slid the garment off her legs with only a brief glimpse of her upper thighs, the crease of thigh and hip, curve of buttock. She moved the knotted side of the towel to her hip, keeping that side bare so her flank was exposed, but nothing else was. Then she stepped deliberately over Roland’s face and sank down onto the young man’s eagerly waiting mouth, as Violet had done with Mac.

She kept her eyes on Tyler as she did so, even as the sub’s clever lips and tongue immediately went to skillful work on her beneath the dark concealment of the

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terrycloth, making her rock, reach behind her to brace herself on his flat abdomen for balance. Because of the towel, her sinuous, seductive dance of pleasure did not reveal what was being done beneath the skirt, the way her cunt was shoving against his mouth, surging sensitive skin against the rasp of his jaw, spreading her moisture over his lips, chin, cheeks. But her upper body shuddered at the sounds of his pleasure, at the hardness of his cock when she manacled it with her fingers, held tightly onto it, letting him feel the power in her grip, the command she still held of the situation.

But when she looked into Tyler’s eyes she was lost in the pleasure of performing for him, a pleasure that had heightened her tea during the past hour, just as Violet’s teasing of Mac had heightened it for her.

Whereas Violet had been teasing her slave, Marguerite had been teasing her Master, feeling his eyes on her throughout. His increasing heat as she brought Roland and Leila to climax together, talked to Violet, stroked Roland to fever pitch. She was rocking, so close, but even as she reached that pinnacle, she knew she wouldn’t go over. She’d never been able to do it this way, always hitting that wall, the slammed door, only able to push through it with the destructive restraint of a scarf and belt on her throat.

But she had another way now, the consent of her Master. That reassurance that his restraint was upon her, ironically giving her the safety, the freedom, to take that leap.

She looked toward him, the realization in her eyes, communicating her desperate need to him.

“Come for me, angel.” He understood, was ready with the harsh command, his face alive with a hunger as if he had ordered her to sit on Roland’s mouth himself. Her body exploded,