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Lacy appeared out of nowhere like a phantom and pressed a glass of scotch into Quill’s hand. Then she retreated back into the main house as quietly as she’d come out.
Quill took a sip of his drink. His eyes were dark, focused, and intense as he watched the two of them in the water as if they were animals expected to breed in captivity. Nolan seemed to have no real problem with this, and it struck Saskia that he’d probably done this sort of thing with a girl of Quill’s before—one of the ones “on probation” that had never reached any full status with him. There was a certain choreography to the night.
Saskia touched the edge of her collar as if making sure it was still fastened in place. She was only the second woman he’d put a collar on. At least he’d committed to having her in his life, unlike the ones on probation, but if he wouldn’t really let her in, what difference did it make?
“So,” Quill said. “I’ve seen you play the cello. Now I want to watch you play Saskia.”
Nolan laughed. “You’ve waited a while to use that line haven’t you?”
“Maybe. I wasn’t aware of your musical talents the last time we did this.”
Nolan shook his head but obliged. He pulled Saskia back against him, stroking her throat as if she were his instrument.
“What kind of sounds do you think I can get out of her?” he asked.
“You’re the expert,” Quill said. “You tell me.”
Nolan stroked every inch of her, while Quill sat there, drinking in both the scotch and the scene before him. Nolan’s fingers played across her collar bone, down her arms, lingering for several minutes on her breasts. He removed her bikini top and pinched and twisted her nipples until she writhed on his lap and moaned. With one quick flourish, he ripped the bikini bottoms off her and let them float on the surface of the water.
“That was Lacy’s swimsuit you just ruined,” Quill commented.
“I’ll buy her another one.” He gripped Saskia’s waist, raised her up, and then pushed her down hard on his cock. She let out something between a whimper and a gasp as she fought to regain her breath.
“Good girl, just ride me,” he said, stroking her back as she raised and lowered herself over him.
When she looked up, Quill was riveted. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him quite like that, and once again the hope renewed in her that he’d somehow open up and let her in, that he wouldn’t forever hold her at this distance.
It only took Nolan a few minutes to come with the way she grinded on him. He held her firmly in place as he emptied inside her. Quill rose to his feet, kicked off his shoes, and unbuttoned and dropped his pants on the terrace. He unbuttoned his shirt and laid it across the chair, then he sat on the edge, with his legs in the water.
“Come here, Saskia,” he said again.
She waded over to him and found herself standing directly in front of one of the jets. If she moved just a few inches, the water would pulse against her clit. From the look in his eyes, Quill knew this. He nodded at her, and she moved those few inches, then he scooted closer.
Her mound pressed against the pulsating jets. Her mouth was mere inches from his erect cock. She didn’t have to ask what he wanted her to do next. Saskia ground against the jets while she licked and sucked him. Nolan came up behind her, kissing and biting the side of her neck. His pressed a finger against her ass and she jumped in surprise at the contact.
He chuckled from behind her.
Saskia clenched around his finger as she came from the jets, having nearly forgotten about the cock in her mouth.
“Miss Roth? Don’t disappoint me.”
Such a statement from Quill carried with it the promise of the most dire consequences. She turned her attention back to her master’s cock and didn’t disappoint him.
And yet, she slept in the gallery.
“Get dressed, we’re going out,”Quill said as he breezed into the gallery dressed in all black. Marcus had left her hours ago to go back to the main house to sleep, but Quill hadn’t been in yet.
Saskia searched his face for any sign of weirdness from the previous night with Nolan. Quill’s friend had fucked her a few more times before he’d retired to the study with Quill for some brandy and cigars, leaving her sore and wrung out from the demands of the two men. She’d wondered if they’d compare notes. Marcus had come out to the pool for her and taken her back to the gallery. Then he’d had his turn with her, albeit a tamer version, given Quill’s parameters and rules.
“Where are we going?” Saskia asked.
“Out.”
She didn’t know why she bothered asking. His answer was always the same.
“Where’s that thing you wore to the club that first time?” Quill asked.
“It’s in the house.” In the room that had become her storage locker because she’d long given up hope that it could ever be her actual room. Even if she never made it into Quill’s bed in a permanent way, she’d held out hope for a time that at least she might earn her way into sharing space with her own things. But no.
