Sex Retreat(30)
“Mitch, please,” she wailed, her tears falling now. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he said, drawing her tighter.
Trixie braced for the kiss. Perhaps her lips had already parted.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “I will talk to them. I’ll make them understand. We all belong together, but first, I have to know. Do you want me, Trixie?”
“You know I do,” she whispered, her eyes fixated on that sinful mouth. Those lips were capable of performing the unimaginable in very public places. And the private pleasures of an oral assault were often what kept her daydreams filled with explicit fantasies.
“Then I’ll handle the rest, baby. I promise I’ll take care of everything else.”
“But—”
“No buts. Kiss me, sub,” Mitch said, wetting his lips. “Kiss me and welcome me home.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Son of a bitch.” Brock stumbled down the hallway in a disoriented state. He rubbed his left eye, focusing on Trixie as she jumped a few feet away from Mitch.
“It’s not how it looks.” Trixie immediately defended herself.
“How does it look, baby?” Brock said, eyeing the liquor glass on the counter. “Trying to get her drunk, Mitch?”
“I don’t need her drunk,” he replied, a quick smile settling on his lips. “She still wants me. She knows she can have me.”
“I’m sure neither of you will put up much of a fight,” Brock said, grabbing Trixie around the waist and pulling her against him.
Mitch’s grin immediately disappeared. “You really think she would do something without your permission?”
“We don’t live the lifestyle, Mitch. Ask her.”
Mitch crossed his arms and stared down the bridge of his nose. “That’s interesting considering your past.” He glanced at Trixie and back at Brock. “And you’re happy with that?”
“Trixie is more woman than I’ve ever had. I don’t need to train her for submission. I don’t need role play, though we have indulged at times. Our lives are very different than what they once were or perhaps even what they were once destined to become.”
“Bullshit, Sheldon,” Mitch grumbled, leaving them in the kitchen. He walked into the living room and sat on an oversized chair. Kicking up his feet, he rested his legs on the ottoman. “You can tell me whatever you want. You can say what you think Trixie needs to hear. The truth still lives within you. You were a Dom through and through. And role play?” He snickered. “Hear me laugh.”
Rory entered the room then wearing an open plaid robe. “What’s going on?”
“We have company,” Brock announced.
“As if I couldn’t see that for myself.”
Mitch snorted. “I have company. You’re my guests and let me just add, I’m thrilled to find you here.”
“How’d you know where we were?”
“I left Asheville like you asked, Brock. Just arrived here about three hours ago and was all ready to settle in for the night over at the house when a buddy of mine informed me of an explicit show he saw earlier, down by the water.”
“What buddy?” Rory took a seat across from him.
“An inmate from the prison. We were cellmates for a while. He’s a good guy, but I doubt you’ll think so.” His gaze held Trixie’s. “He’s pretty impressed with our girl after watching a nice afternoon romp.”
“Fuck you, Mitch,” Brock said, pulling Trixie tighter against him. His palm cupped her ass and she flinched as if she were trying to break his grip.
Mitch waved his hand at the furniture around him. “Come on over here and have a seat, friend.” He paused. “We are still friends. Aren’t we, Brock?”
“That depends,” Brock said, dragging Trixie alongside him as he entered the living room.
“On?”
“Your intentions.” Brock shot him a sarcastic grin before he sat on another leather sofa. Pulling Trixie to his lap, he quickly added, “Are your intentions honorable, Mitch?”
“Fuck no,” Mitch growled, his response so guttural it all but summoned the thick sexual tension in the air.
“So you’re expecting us to play house with you again? Because you see, while you were married to Jordie, while you were paying for your sins and trying to stand by your responsibilities, we were standing by ours.
“We’ve built a life with Trixie. We’ve loved her. We’ve been with her through the good times and bad. She mothered our children. She sleeps in our bed. She is our wife. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you would think after all these years we would want anything more than what we have.”