"You deserved it," Lyda said. Her gaze slid over Gen, lingered. "I like having a naked servant. I may keep you like this more often." She ran a finger down the inside of Gen's thigh. "It turns you on as well, doesn't it?"
"Yes ma'am." Breathlessness returned as Lyda's finger slid higher, teased her pussy, just a tantalizing touch before she drew away.
"All right. Get me settled in the living room so I can take a little predinner rest while you make yourself pretty for me."
Once she had Lyda on the couch, Gen found the waist cincher, slipped on a robe and went to find Noah. He'd dried his hair and brushed it to silk, catching it on his shoulders with a bronze clip. Slacks and a dress shirt were an appealing look on him. When she sidled up to him, he was tying a thin silk black tie. His light spice cologne teased her senses, along with the rest of the package.
Lyda obviously wanted to heighten sexual tension between them, so teasing touches and lots of innuendo should be okay. At least that was Gen's logic as she cupped him through the slacks, earning a startled look that became heated as she stroked her way up a cock that was immediately attentive to her. "I need help with the waist cincher."
"I'm here to help." His tone promised some very unhelpful distraction.
She'd said beneath Gen's clothes, so Gen took off the robe and stood in front of the guestroom bed, her back to him. As he approached, the currents of air he disturbed sent a shiver through her. His hands landed on her shoulders, caressing. Did he recognize the proprietary message he sent through that grip? She wasn't going to point it out, not wanting to break the sensual hope it created.
"Watching you serve her naked made me crazy as it made her."
"I think that was her plan. I didn't mind it either." When he pressed a kiss to her nape, she drew a shuddering breath. "Waist cincher."
"So you said." He took it from her, turned her to hook the front. He started from the bottom and worked up, the heel of his hand brushing her lower abdomen. When he reached the top, his knuckles were grazing the lower curve of her breasts.
"She wants to drive us insane tonight," he said conversationally.
"It's working."
"Hell, yeah." His lips curved. "But I'm concerned she's not up for it."
"We'll take it easy. Follow her lead. And our own."
When she met his gaze, he nodded. They would care for their Mistress however she needed care. They'd make it work.
He turned her then, started making his adjustments. "Hold onto the bedpost," he said. "How tight do you want it?"
"As tight as you want it."
A muffled chuckle, and a muttered, "Yep, completely crazy," had Gen smiling. But she noticed he also hadn't done what he usually did, deferred to her or Lyda, refusing to acknowledge his own wants.
Then all thought disappeared as she experienced firsthand what Lyda had. Oh...my. Their Mistress might be a Domme, but no woman in her right mind could be unaffected by that smooth flow of motion that gave her both the sense of instant restraint at a strong man's hands and a heightened awareness of all her curves. Then there was how tempting the resulting display would be to a man's appreciative gaze. Noah settled his hands on her waist, smoothing over it, checking the fit. She rotated her ass against the front of his slacks and purred, finding his cock straining beneath the fabric.
"Hope you're wearing a jacket. Or you're going to scare women and children. Well, maybe just the children."
"Your ass really needs a handprint to go with that pinch Lyda gave you."
"I'll tell Mom."
He snorted, then his mouth brushed her throat again. Cupping her bare breasts, he pushed his cock against her ass. "God," she whispered. "I want you both so much. I was so afraid...I'd never have that again."
When he pressed his face hard into her hair, she had the impression he'd closed his eyes, caught up in the same emotions she was. Gen had come to his bedside in the hospital as often as needed, touching base with him until he was discharged. Then they'd worked together to care for Lyda. When Gen faltered in worries about their Mistress, he'd been right by her side, helping, letting her lean on him, saying the right things at the right time. There was nothing weak about this man. Just broken in a few places, and they all had that, didn't they?
"Go get dressed," he said roughly, pushing her toward the door.
She was surprised, but when she turned to look at him, he was back at the mirror, working on the tie. As she watched him, he slanted her a glance, and the gaze that slid over her body, naked except for the form-fitting waist cincher, was molten steel.
"If you don't, I'm going to fuck you on all fours like a damn animal, and we're both going to be in a lot of trouble."
She fled.
She chose a cute little black dress whose lined bodice didn't require a bra, and thong panties with a cotton crotch that didn't have a prayer of absorbing her arousal.
When they emerged to take Lyda to dinner, her expression told them she was pleased. As she reached out with both hands, they came to her, forming a circle. Lyda gazed at them. "Mine," she murmured. "My beautiful pets."