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“You can count on it, Mistress Margaux.”
There was a rumble in his voice that popped and sparked in my bloodstream, igniting something foreign feeling in my blood. Like a spark in tinder, its heat kindled, pushing long fingers of desire snaking up and down my spine.
“Just an observation, Margaux?”
Like a fish on a hook, with a snap of his wrist, he pulled my focus back to him.
“The men accompanying your friend? Well, the man—the one who kept getting your hackles up all night. My guess is he’s used to taking charge with his soon to be wife and husband, so it is second nature for him to do so. I don’t think he intended to challenge you. Not everything is a battle to be on top, sweetheart. Sometimes, men just want to be gentleman. Even for a woman who prefers to call the shots.”
I never responded. The valet brought up another car behind mine and impatiently honked to move along. When my attention went back to where he stood, he’d already slipped between the glass doors back inside.
6
Dax
Our nights with our Mistress always left Lazlo and me buzzing with unspent energy. However, when Mistress Margaux agreed to a date—we both rode an even higher high. It had perplexed us for months that she continued to keep us at an arm’s distance despite the heady connection I was sure all three of us felt every time we met in Room 20.
We’d been playing with her for over a year. Yet when our developing intimacy should expand, the more it felt like she held something back. At the beginning, our weekly sessions did what they should—provided sexual satisfaction in the safety of a club that catered to my needs. But, especially since meeting Lazlo and Margaux, I wanted more.
As a demisexual, Lazloneededthat connection to feel satisfied. Recently, as our friendship morphed into somethingmore,I thought his restless spirit would finally feel settled. However, we were a group of three. He needed to feel connected to both of us, his lover and his leader.
“You look disappointed.”
The ride home from the restaurant wasn’t long. It took less than twenty minutes. Lazlo remained in his car, idling in front of our townhouse, lost in thought.
“She looked so surprised by my car.” He said. “It just really drove home how little she knows about us.”
Between us, I was the pragmatist. I understood Lazlo’s yearning for more. However, the pair of us—whenever we each signed on the dotted line at Club Sin—went in with eyes wide open. When we’d met Margaux and started playing, there were never any discussions of anything outside of the club. Club Sin wasn’t a dating service. It was a sex club.
Did that mean I wasn’t falling hard for both of them? I was. I ached with how much I cared for them. When Lazlo offered his house and asked me to move in, our relationship quickly rocketed to “serious.” But we needed Margaux to feel complete.
“Hopefully she was serious about coming for dinner.”
I offered with a smile I didn’t feel. Lazlo nodded and cut the engine. The quiet purr of his engine disappearing into the ambient sounds of a summer night in Chicago.
“Hey,” I ran the back of my fingers down Lazlo’s jaw, “baby steps, remember? She’ll come around. But what do they say is the most important part of a D/s relationship?”
With a heavy sigh, he replied, “Communication.”
“That’s right, baby. On Wednesday, we’ll continue the conversation with Margaux and see where it goes.”
We both got out of the car and headed toward the house.
“Margaux’s friends are a lot of fun, huh?” Lazlo asked as changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch to watch some tv.
“I didn’t even know there were sex resorts.” I replied.
“It must have a been a hell of a week for them to come home and six months later they’re getting hitched.”
To be honest, I didn’t see it as some huge stretch of the imagination. I was nearing forty. I didn’t want to play the game anymore. I wanted to know I had someone to come home to every day. I wanted to look down the expanse of the next run of years and know I had would always have people I loved in my corner.
“I would love to visit with you and Margaux.” I slid from the couch and positioned myself between Lazlo’s legs. “Be able to fuck you whenever and wherever? In the club, on the beach, or in the pool.”
My hands rest on each of his knees, fingers extending as far as I could stretch them along the width of his thighs. I felt his skin rise with gooseflesh as I tickled his soft skin. He sunk further into the sofa, rising his hips in suggestion.
“I’ve been told I have impressive lung capacity.”
I cupped his cock through his shorts, pumping his hard flesh that quicklyroseto the occasion. He caressed the back of my head. He said so much in that one simple act. It was tender but quiet and commanding concurrently. I relished in the feel of Lazlo’s smooth skin. He kept himself waxed—everywhere. Satiny skin that smelled of sandalwood.
