The Mistress (The Original Sinners 4)

“Heads,” she said without even looking at the coin. She tossed it over her shoulder and dropped to her knees in front of Kingsley. He opened his pants and Eleanor took him deep into her mouth.

Now she knew exactly what she wanted to do to those two beautiful condescending, infuriating men....

She wanted to f**k their brains out. Both of them.

“Mon Dieu,” she heard Kingsley saying from above her.

“I told you so,” was Søren’s only reply.

Eleanor had only ever done this to Søren but he’d called her a natural. More than a natural, he’d even once joked she was something of a siren—the things she could do with her mouth would blow any man off course. The soft gasps escaping Kingsley’s lips and his hand clinging to the bedpost for support seemed to reinforce that assessment of her skills and her enthusiasm for the task.

It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She had always been attracted to Kingsley, fascinated by him, feared and desired him. And he tasted amazing in her mouth. It was strange, though, going down on someone other than Søren. When she did this to him, he always held her so hard she’d have a bruise on her back at the nape of her neck the next morning. She thought of those bruises as her souvenirs, a little black-and-blue reminder of the previous evening’s pleasures. But Kingsley had threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her head, giving only the gentlest of encouragements. Strange, definitely. Not what she was used to. But definitely not bad. Not bad at all.

After a few minutes, Kingsley snapped his fingers in her ear and Eleanor pulled away and rested back on her hands.

“Now do you understand?” Søren asked over Kingsley’s shoulder as they both looked down at her waiting on the floor.

“If I didn’t before, I do now.” Kingsley gave her his hand and helped her to her feet. But the chivalry ended there. Kingsley pushed her over the end of the bed and yanked her skirt to her hips. Per Søren’s instructions, she’d worn no underwear. With her face buried in the red silk sheets, she couldn’t tell whose fingers entered her from behind. “She’s wet.”

“Of course she is,” Søren said.

“Of course I am,” Eleanor said from the bed. “Monsieur.”

“She’s rather...what is the word I’m looking for? Enthusiastic? Ardent?”

“Horny,” Eleanor supplied.

“And talkative, too.” Kingsley sounded annoyed but annoyed in that way only a Frenchman could be annoyed. Annoyed and aroused at the same time. “We’ll have to gag her if she keeps this up.”

Eleanor fell silent immediately. She hated being gagged, hated being blindfolded. When gagged she couldn’t crack jokes to annoy Søren like she loved to do. And what woman spending the night with two such beautiful men would ever want to be blindfolded?

“That’s better. Good girl,” Søren said as he ran his hand over her bare thighs. “Less talking. More moaning.”

“Moaning...I like that sound of that.” Kingsley dug his fingers deeper into her. “Let’s see how much we can make her moan, shall we?”

“After you.”

Something hit her hard across the backs of her thighs. Long and thin—a crop or a cane. Didn’t matter, they both hurt like f**k. Again and again it came down and set the back of her body on fire.

Finally it stopped and she sagged in relief against the bed.

“You were right,” Kingsley said, running his hand over her burning skin. “She can take pain.”

“I’ve only known one person who could take more.”

Kingsley laughed then, a warm intimate laugh that told her Søren hadn’t merely told a joke, he’d told an inside joke, one only Kingsley understood.

She wasn’t given much time to recover. Kingsley gripped her by her white leather collar and yanked her to her feet. He grasped her by the back of her neck and brought his mouth down onto hers for a bruising kiss.

She kissed back just as hard, feeling her hunger rising with each liberty Kingsley took with her. She’d never dreamed it would be so erotic to be used by another man while her own lover watched and helped. But Søren knew...he knew she would love this. That’s why he’d ordered it, why he had ignored her protests and her objections. The man knew her better than she knew herself. One of these days she’d learn to trust him.

As they kissed, Kingsley unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it out of her tight white skirt. He unhooked her bra and dragged it down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. He cupped her br**sts, caressed them and toyed with her ni**les. He pinched one hard and she retaliated by biting down onto his bottom lip.

“Merde,” he cried, pulling back. He wiped his bottom lip and blood came off on his hand. Eleanor braced herself for his anger, but anger wasn’t what she saw in his eyes...not at all.

“I knew you two would get along,” Søren said.

Kingsley looked at Søren as Eleanor waited, half-naked and nervous. Something seemed to pass between them as Søren studied the blood on Kingsley’s bottom lip.

“I told you that’s no submissive you found for yourself,” Kingsley said. “Your little kitten is going to grow up to be a tiger.”

“Even more reason to tame her now.” Søren winked at Kingsley and Eleanor saw something in that wink she didn’t quite understand, but whatever it was, the way Kingsley and Søren looked at each other made her body temperature shoot up about ten degrees.