He set her on the breakfast bar and took a step back. A heated look of desire washed across her expression. God, he loved that.
“Tell me, sub. Tell me what you like to hear.” He eyed those pretty nipples hardening under her shirt and his cock twitched in his slacks.
She glanced down at his pants. “I saw that.”
“Look at my eyes, Trixie,” he said carefully.
Brock and Rory took their respective seats on barstools behind her. Brock pinched her ass and she flinched but she didn’t turn. Instead, that hazy gaze became desire filled, her eyes drooping, lowering almost instinctively once again.
“Lift your head, sub,” Mitch said, moistening his lips. “Tell me about those compliments.”
“I like it when you tell me I’m tight,” she admitted.
“And you are,” Mitch assured her. “Go on.”
“I love it when you tell me my nipples look like diamonds.”
“Hmm,” he said, reaching beyond his waistband and tugging at his cock. “Damn right they do.”
She placed her palms on either side of her hips and scooted further back on the counter. “I enjoy fingering myself for you.”
“Why is that?” he asked, jerking his cock with a firm hand.
“It’s the way you watch me. It’s the way each of you watch me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and shooting Rory a wink.
“Hmm hmm,” he muttered, leaving his cock to twitch and stretch without further manual stimulation.
“What else, sub?” Brock encouraged her this time. “What other praise do you like to receive?”
She turned halfway and said, “I love it when you tell me I’m beautiful.”
“And sexy?” Mitch suggested, deliberately drawing her focus back to him.
“Yes, definitely.”
Mitch stepped forward. “If I gave you one reward right now, what would it be?”
Trixie visibly trembled. Chill bumps peppered her arms. “I’d like to pleasure myself in front of you.”
“You can,” he said, watching as she wasted no time in spreading her legs.
He stepped between them and brushed his knuckles against the underside of her jaw. “But first I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” she whispered, gaping at his mouth.
“I need you to tell me what Cash said to you that upset you so. We need to know, Trixie.”
She bowed her head. “It’s not important.”
“Sub, you will tell us.” Mitch pushed her hair over her shoulders. “We have to know.”
“He’s right, Trix,” Rory said. “We’re willing to wait you out on this one. Considering the day we’ve had, wouldn’t it be more enjoyable if we shared rewards rather than dished out punishments?”
When she didn’t respond, Mitch pushed her legs together and held her knees firmly in place. “This isn’t open for negotiation.”
Then he turned to the stove area and opened the oven. Placing the casserole inside, he set the timer and returned to stand in front of her. “Trust is important in every Domination-submission relationship. Cash recognizes what I am. He knows how much I value trust, Trixie. If he said something to you that he thinks you will keep buried inside, he wins. Don’t you see that?”
She released a ragged breath. “Can we go over to the den and sit?”
“Are you prepared to tell us everything?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I promise.”
Brock gathered her in his arms and carried her to the large square ottoman. He took a seat on the leather sofa across from it and Mitch saw the setup clearly from where he stood.
He had to give Brock credit. He was always thinking ahead. Rory sat next to him and Mitch took his place on the other side of him.
Trixie’s gaze slowly worked over each of them. She acted as if she were taking a moment to appreciate the men before her and Mitch couldn’t help but use the time to contemplate the forthcoming minutes, the delicious show she would soon allow them.
“He wanted me to fear him. He explained what he would’ve done to me had he been given the chance.”
“What did he say?” Brock asked.
“He talked about fucking me, about how he would make sure I’d never want another man again after he brutalized me.” She sat taller. “I believe you when you said he thought I wouldn’t tell you. I also believe if he is ever released—and he will be soon as we all know—he will come for me.”
“Do you have any idea why he targeted Trixie?” Brock asked.
Mitch stroked his chin. “I don’t know.”
“Aspen McKay said he was more dangerous than Pratchert.”