Authors: Abby Blake
The one on the left stepped closer, crowding her against the kitchen bench. “Why are you here, Mikayla?”
She swallowed nervously, wishing that any of the guys were here to introduce her to their brothers. The man—Brock or
Lachlan
, she didn’t know which—came even closer, touching a rough fingertip to her face. She closed her eyes against the strangely sensual touch and tried to find the backbone she knew she had.
“I’m here to…”
Cook dinner? File your paperwork? Follow your every command?
A dozen different answers ran through her head until a naughty impulse took hold. Something, she didn’t know what, was telling her that these men already knew who she was and why she was here. She smiled impishly, looked the man in front of her in the eyes, and said, hopefully the last words he expected, “I’m here to be spanked.”
The surprised look was quickly hidden, and the very serious man smiled. God, all the brothers were devastatingly handsome when they smiled. The hand caressing her cheek slid down and over her shoulder and cuffed the back of her neck. She felt trapped by that simple hold, desire melting through her as he stared intently into her eyes.
He was silent for so long that she was about to blurt out something in a nervous response. But he bent and captured her lips with his own. The soft touch combined with his hold on her neck was amazingly erotic, and she found herself opening her mouth wide, silently begging him for a more complete possession.
After too brief a moment, he pulled back and stared into her eyes again.
“Sorry, little one,” he said in a tone that suggested he wasn’t sorry at all, “but you don’t get to make demands.” She whimpered quietly as his hand massaged the back of her neck, still holding her immobile and forcing her to look into his eyes. “Although, I do find myself agreeing with the spanking part. Turn and bend over the counter.”
She could already feel her juices coating her pussy and wetting her panties. Breathing hard with excitement, she turned slowly and bent over the counter. The other man walked around the bench to stand in front of her. He grabbed her hands, pulling her forward so that she was off balance, her feet only just touching the ground.
A large, callused hand smoothed her dress up to her waist and pulled her panties down to her knees. She panted even harder as the warm touch smoothed over the soft skin of her ass. Just a little bit afraid, she began to wiggle, but the man holding her hands soothed her, running his fingertips over her face and through her hair.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” he said in a reassuring voice. “I promise you will enjoy this.”
She wanted to talk, wanted to explain her moment of fear, but all she managed was a low moan when the hand on her ass rubbed harder, chafing the skin, warming her bottom.
Her clit throbbed. Her heart pounded. Her breath stalled.
And then the first smack landed. God, she would’ve scrambled off the counter if they hadn’t held her so tightly.
“Hey,” she cried as the sting radiated down her thighs.
A second slap followed the first, and tears sprang to her eyes. Was it supposed to hurt this much?
She closed her eyes, and tried to hide her distress, but tears still leaked past her lashes. She swallowed, preparing herself for a third blow, but cried out when it hit the top of her thighs. Her lower body felt both numb and on fire at the same time, and she screamed as the next blow hit even harder.
She was fighting their hold, ready to scream for reprieve when something strange happened. Her clit started to tingle, the sensation spread across her abdomen and down her thighs. The next blow landed, but instead of pain, it just intensified the incredible feeling. She stopped trying to struggle and lay quietly, waiting in awe.
The slaps came faster now, each pushing her closer to something incredible. She gasped as two thick fingers pushed into her pussy and finger-fucked her in time with the slaps. Harder, faster, deeper, more incredible, more intense, each sensation doubled the last.
Shaking all over, her body no longer hers to control, she groaned as heat exploded through her. Being held down so tightly seemed to intensify everything. Over and over, she felt doused in molten lava, the incredible burn pulsing through her blood in waves.
She breathed hard as both men soothed her with soft touches and quiet words. She felt her skirt pulled carefully over her tender ass, but the panties were dragged off her legs. “You won’t be needing these anymore, little one.”
Oh, thank goodness.
The mere thought of the soft material pressed against her sore ass sent more shivers pounding through her.
Still limp and exhausted, she was wondering how to get her legs stable enough to hold her up when she was gathered in a warm embrace and carried from the room. She startled when she remembered the casserole, but he must’ve anticipated her worry.
“Shh…Brock will take care of dinner. Just relax and let me look after you.”
She did as
Lachlan
told her, very happy to know which brother was which. After such an incredible experience, it seemed strange not knowing. She sighed as he stepped into a room she’d hadn’t yet seen.
He carried her into the bathroom, set her on top of the bench, and turned to the tub. The cool surface of the countertop felt wonderful against her heated bottom. She watched as he added some sort of salt to the water and then moved back to gather her in his arms once more. He sat on the edge of the bath with her in his lap.
She relaxed into his embrace, feeling cared for and protected in a way that she’d never really felt before.
Lachlan
simply held her, rocking slightly as they waited for the bath to fill.
“
Lachlan
,” she said quietly, not actually moving in his embrace, “did you know who I was before you came into the kitchen?”
It probably sounded like a silly question, considering the way she’d reacted to both him and Brock, but a small, insecure part of her worried that they’d mistaken her for a paid whore.
“Yes, little one,” he said in a deep, comforting voice. “Even when we’re off base, we report in every couple of days. John has kept us up-to-date with everything that happens around here.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she felt certain he was smiling.
“Everything?” she asked mildly embarrassed.
“Everything,” he repeated with a quiet chuckle. But then he stilled and she felt a strange tension overtake him. “What was his name? The man who dumped you here?”
She almost blurted out Jet’s name but thought better of it when
Lachlan
rearranged her in his lap so he could see her more clearly. The look on his face suggested Jet would learn a lesson he would never forget just as soon
Lachlan
located him. As much as the thought appealed to her, she didn’t want
Lachlan
, or any of the brothers, fighting her battles for her. As far as she was concerned, Jet was ancient history.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly then quickly added when it looked like he’d argue, “I’ll never see that asshole again. And I’d rather not stir up old wounds.”
It was probably a little unfair to phrase it that way because
Lachlan
pulled her back into his embrace like she was as fragile as spun glass. Jet’s actions had bought her here, so in some ways, she couldn’t really regret the whole experience—even if it had been the most frightening of her life.
A few moments later,
Lachlan
twisted the taps off, lifted her dress over her head, and helped her into the bath. The warm water felt wonderful on her tired muscles, and she forgot to protest when
Lachlan
began washing her down. His touch felt wonderful.
* * * *
Lachlan
watched her eyes close as exhaustion claimed her. She was beautiful, even more so than John’s descriptions had suggested. He continued to rub the washcloth over her smooth skin as he admired Mikayla's delicious body and remembered her feistiness. She’d sassed them both in the kitchen. Even knowing who they were and what they liked, she’d dared them both to follow through. Her reaction to the spanking suggested that she’d never actually had one before, and he couldn’t help but respect her courage. She truly was the perfect mix of confident woman and submissive lover he and Brock preferred. When John had described her, she’d sounded too good to be true, but the reality was so much more.
He touched her face lightly, and her eyes fluttered open. She gave him the most adorable sleepy smile, and he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss those beautiful lips.
“How long did dinner have to go?” he asked as he pulled back.
Her eyes flew open, and she looked ready to leap out of the bath. He placed a hand on her shoulder to still her movement. He gazed at her, waiting for a response.
“Uhm, the casserole had about an hour to go when you and Brock invaded my kitchen.” She said it with that impish smile, and he wanted nothing more than to lock her in his room and spend the next month exploring every inch of her. But feeding her was probably important, too. He smiled as all the ways he could feed her in bed flashed through his mind. His cock swelled painfully against his pants as he thought of feeding her his erection while Brock fucked her pretty ass.
Shit.
He stood quickly, trying to think about anything but the delectable, naked beauty in his bath and grabbed a towel.
“Come on, little one. Let’s go have some dinner.”
* * * *
Peter watched as
Lachlan
entered the dining room with Mikayla tucked tightly against his side. She looked happy and relaxed, and for a brief moment, Peter wondered what had happened after the couple had left the kitchen. Knowing his brother, they hadn’t been gone long enough for much more than a soothing bath. When
Lachlan
took a sub, he spent just as much time pampering her as he did fucking her.
Peter tried to ignore the erection swelling in his pants as he helped Brock place bowls of hot casserole on the table and then turned back to the kitchen to get Mikayla’s freshly-baked bread. The delicious smell had been teasing him for almost an hour, and he couldn’t wait to taste it. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had something as familiar as homemade bread. It seemed they’d bounced from one ugly planet to the next for so long that the idea of going home to Earth permanently suddenly held great appeal.
He shook his head with a soft laugh. One smell of home-baked bread and he was dreaming of home and family. Visions of a woman pregnant with his child invaded his imagination, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge that she wore Mikayla’s face.
Fuck.
Trying to distract himself, he asked the one question he probably shouldn’t have. “You okay, Mik?”
He had to hold back the smile that threatened when his brother glanced at him, clearly irritated by the impulsive question.
Lachlan
looked upset, pissed, and intrigued all in one expression. He even looked like he was going to answer for her until Mikayla placed a hand on his arm and answered Peter herself.
Interesting. She might have been submissive in some ways, but she wouldn’t let any of them take over her life.
“Just tired,” she said as she snuggled just a little closer to his brother.
Unfortunately for Peter, he knew exactly why she was tired, having walked into the kitchen just as her spanking had begun. He’d sworn at himself, his mind demanding retreat, but his legs had held him solidly in the doorway. He’d watched as Brock and
Lachlan
quickly bought her to an intense orgasm. He’d never understood the appeal of BDSM practices, but after seeing that, he was starting to understand.
He’d suffered a moment of pure terror when she’d gasped in pain. He’d almost gone as far as to demand his brothers leave her alone, but thankfully, sense had kicked in before he’d voiced his disapproval. He knew Brock and
Lachlan
well enough to know that they would never hurt a woman, and both would’ve been deeply wounded if he’d seemed to think otherwise. Judging by the sweet, tired smile on Mikayla’s face she’d found the experience quite enlightening also.
Peter couldn’t quite hide his laugh—though he tried with a discreet cough—when
Lachlan
attempted to feed her. She gave him a warning look, pushed his hand away, sat straighter, and grabbed her own spoon. After a moment of startled silence,
Lachlan
smiled, kissed the top of her head, and then started eating his own dinner.
In an attempt to hide his reaction, Peter grabbed his spoon and shoveled in a big mouthful of too-hot casserole.
Shit.
He’d been trying to overcome the urge to laugh, not burn his bloody throat, and he grabbed his water glass. By the time he’d doused the heat, he glanced over to see Mikayla watching him with a worried expression on her beautiful face. He smiled and winked at her across the table, and she seemed to relax slightly.