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Amaya Taneka from Kyoto, Japan, is a violinist with the London Symphony Orchestra until photos of her entering a BDSM club in Amsterdam surface and she is fired. With her world imploding, Amaya flees to Pleasure Island for some much-needed R&R, and to avoid the circus her life has become. She’s not interested in starting a relationship. In fact, she’s not even certain she is going to play in the club. She just wants to lie on the beach and not think. When she thinks, she feels – and that hurts.
Alpha Dom Jax Holiday, bassist for the world famous band The Harbingers, and his partner, Lachlin O’Toole, have just finished a hellish world tour. They are taking a long overdue break before they head back into the studio to record their next album. Jax is jazzed about spending the next two weeks on Pleasure Island and playing with all the pretty subs he and Lachlin can convince to join their love play.
Lachlin O’Toole has always been in love with his best friend, Jax. They have been a duo for what feels like forever. Lachlin doesn’t have any complaints about their life or their lifestyle. He loves topping a woman with Jax – or letting Jax top them both. He’s always followed whatever direction Jax wanted, willing to submit to his partner out of love. But lately, Lachlin has also wanted to evolve their relationship and include a sweet submissive woman, making their twosome a threesome.
When the duo spy the lovely Amaya on the island, they both realize she was the one who got away. The three had spent a passionate night together at the Dungeon Fantasy Club almost a year previously and neither Dom had forgotten her sweet cries of submission.
Amaya is surprised to run into Jax and Lachlin. When they try to draw her into another tempting threesome, she falls apart, as both her heart and her soul are broken. At Amaya’s downward spiral, Jax and Lachlin set out on a campaign to convince the beautiful submissive to emerge from her depression, to lean on them for love and support, and to allow them to help her rebuild her world.
Will Lachlin be able to convince Jax that adding a submissive to their relationship is for the best? And can Amaya be brave enough to surrender and fully submit her heart to two Doms who want to become Her Music Masters?
Publisher’s Note: This is the second book in Anya’s bestselling Pleasure Island series; however, it can also be enjoyed as a standalone. It contains explicit adult themes, including ménage and strong elements of BDSM.
“You are no daughter of mine.”
Those words were emblazoned upon Amaya’s soul. Two weeks. It had taken a mere two weeks for her entire world to collapse. When Amaya contemplated the full scope of the ramifications, she sank into a depression so dark as to be an antithesis to light.
She was drowning in a quagmire of her own making. Amaya had been foolish, she’d been careless with who knew about her lifestyle, and because of that utter lack of restraint, her world no longer existed.
Every time she glanced at her violin case, she felt sick to her stomach. Every time she thought about the images that had been emailed to every member of the London Symphony Orchestra, despair threatened to choke her. Every time she remembered the bleak disappointment on her mother’s face, and her father’s dispassionate grimace, she caved in on herself.
The boat swayed as it moved with the ocean swells. Amaya stared out across the endless deep blue waves, searching for peace, searching for a passion to continue putting one foot in front of the other, searching for a way to survive the destruction and ruin her life had become. Her large sunglasses shielded her eyes from the bright midday glare and gave her the appearance, she hoped, of an aloof tourist. They were a ruse, for when she glimpsed herself in a mirror, her eyes looked haunted even to her.
The ivory ship, a large catamaran style vessel, with sleek lines that shimmered in the sun and was dubbed Goddess of the Sea, moved through the water like a hungry sea creature after its prey. At the helm was Deke. He was every inch a Dom and this was obvious in all he did, from the way he carried himself, to the way he steered his ship, as if he would make the ocean bend to his will alone. Amaya could spot a Dom from a hundred yards away. As a lifelong submissive, she respected and acknowledged Deke’s dominance. But that was all. She would not submit to him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive. With his tall, lanky body that was more muscle than bone, and dark hair tinged with sunlight and windblown, he was an attractive man who should make her want to beg for his touch.
But she wasn’t interested. In anyone. Or anything, if she was honest.
The island speared up out of the ocean like a defiant warrior against the tide. Pristine white sand glimmered in the noonday sun. A single mountain peak ascended toward the heavens, adorned in green foliage. The ivory dome of the hotel was like a beacon for weary travelers.
Deke steered them into the tiny inlet bay to the docks. Unlike at Nassau, the docks here were nearly vacant. Oh, there were people here, for sure. Amaya had spied a few couples on the beach and noticed workers milling about, but the hustle and bustle of Nassau was thankfully absent. Amaya didn’t want to deal with people. She didn’t want to face the betrayal. She didn’t want to feel anything. All she wanted was to escape the shattered remnants of her life and to be left in peace.
Once the ship was safely docked, Amaya gathered her things and couldn’t prevent her sneer as she glanced at her violin case. The damn thing had brought her nothing but agony. If it weren’t for the rather hefty sum she’d paid for it, she would be rid of it. Maybe she should contact one of the instrument dealers she knew well and have them sell it. It wasn’t like she had a job to go to where she needed to play. And in her world, word spread like a flaming match tossed onto nitroglycerin. Everyone who was anyone in her circle knew about her fall from grace. Which meant that no one in her field would hire her.
Amaya had not played a single note since her life had imploded. And she didn’t know if she would ever play again. Music that had always been a comfort and a catharsis for her was now tainted and stained. Instead of joy, there was a well of sorrow that was deeper than any ocean.
A young bellhop took her luggage and pointed her in the direction of a slight, dark-haired woman standing at the path to the hotel. She was perhaps as short as Amaya was herself, topping out at only five feet. She had black hair that fell to the middle of her back but that was where any similarity ended. Amaya wasn’t necessarily flat chested. She did fill a B cup, but in no way was she as well endowed. Whereas the other woman was trim, but voluptuous where it counted. She wore a form-fitting blouse and pencil skirt showcasing her body. Amaya was instantly jealous. She’d always wished her body had more va-va-voom to it. She had curves, but they were slight, and depending on what she wore, they could look nonexistent. If she put her hair up in a ball cap she could be mistaken for a man—and had been, a time or two.
“Welcome to Pleasure Island. I’m Yvette, and if you will all follow me in to the registration desk, we will get you folks situated in your rooms,” the woman said.
Amaya waited, allowing the couples to file in first, and then she followed in the rear of the group. This was so she wouldn’t have to converse with anyone. Their excitement over the island was palpable. It just made her stomach roil. There was a beach. There was water. There was a blue sky. But none of it touched her.
It was like the music in her soul, in her heart, had died two weeks ago and she didn’t know if she would get it back.
Yvette was in the process of describing the different features of the island; the pool, beach chaises, marina with ski boat rentals, the newly added deep sea fishing tours, the restaurant, the new pizza parlor, the club. On and on she prattled, and Amaya was so tired. She just wanted her key and a bed. Inside, her sandals clicked against the marble flooring. She glanced around at the understated opulence. They had spared no expense on this place. And if she didn’t feel dead inside, she’d be oohing and aahing with the rest of the new guests.
“Amaya. It’s a pleasure to see you, lass,” a deep, cultured baritone with a hint of a Scottish accent said while she was waiting in line at the registration desk.
Amaya turned, plastering a smile on her face, and spied the owner and operator of Pleasure Island, Jared McTavish. He had an easy smile and was what her friend Delilah would call ‘downright fuckable.’ The two of them had never dallied with each other—not that she would have turned the towering hunk down—they had both been with other people when they did cross paths. She bowed her head in respect. “Master Jared. It’s good to see you.”
He enveloped her in a warm hug. And she just stood there, awkwardly, sort of hugging him back. She tried to loosen up a bit so that she wasn’t so stiff. But she was holding herself together by a thread here. If she felt comfort of any kind, she couldn’t be responsible for her actions. Like bawling all over his dark pinstripe dress shirt.
He released her from his friendly embrace and nodded toward the second registration agent helping Yvette get all the newcomers situated. Her bouncy red curls swayed every time she moved her head. “I see Miriam is getting you settled.”
“Yes, she is. This place is wonderful, Master J. I’m looking forward to staying here.” And likely burrowing in my hotel room like a deranged sociopath , but on the scale of worrisome activities, it could be worse—like, say, a game of Russian Roulette.
“Thank you kindly. I do hope you will enjoy your stay with us. Be sure to read through the sub packet that is included with your reservation,” Jared said.
“I will. Delilah told me that you are no longer living the bachelor life.” Not that it would matter. Amaya wasn’t here for a relationship or hot sweaty bouts of sex, although that might be one way to work through her malaise.
A smile spread over his face. “And you heard right. Why don’t you have dinner with my sub Naomi and me sometime this week? We can catch up. I will have my secretary contact you to set it up. I’m late for a meeting now or I would stay.”
“I understand you’re working. It was good seeing you. I look forward to it.” Amaya nodded, her stomach tied in knots.
“Maybe we will see you in the club tonight, too.”
“Maybe,” she said, as noncommittally as possible. She wasn’t going anywhere near the club. She wasn’t here to sate her submissive appetite. She was here to hide away from the rest of the world until the dust from the nuclear explosion of her life settled.
“Good. Enjoy the island. I will see you later, lass.”
“Okay. Bye.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit as he strode away. She didn’t want to be analyzed by a Dom or comforted by one. One of the reasons Jared was such a good Dom was because he took the time to investigate and uncover a sub’s hurts. Amaya didn’t want that, and had just had one hell of a time pretending her heart wasn’t in a million pieces. What she wanted was to be left alone. Once she was safely ensconced within her hotel room, she didn’t have to come out for any reason and could order all her meals to her room. Easy, simple, no stress.
She had paid in full for the next three weeks. She had three weeks to decide what to do with the rest of her life. Without music, she had no clue. It wasn’t like there was a handbook, ‘What to Do When You Ruin Your Life for Dummies,’ that would help her steer a new course. The problem was that if she were a ship, her rudder was broken, her navigation equipment had quit working, and the hull was sinking.
“And here is the submissive packet of materials that Master J mentioned. Please be sure to read it fully before entering the club or any of the facilities. Your cuffs, should you choose to wear them, are in your room. Now yours as a guest are red, with the white island logo on them. We color code here to make it easier. If I could have you sign on the line here? And then here is your keypad code for you to use to access your room, charge meals in the restaurant, enter the pool area, marina rentals, and such,” Miriam said.
“It’s my pleasure. Sean has already delivered your luggage to your room. Do you have any questions?” Miriam’s curls bounced. Amaya felt like she was on a tilt-a-whirl, where the bright flashing lights and multitude of sounds were pressing in on her. It was all too much and she needed to get to the safety of her room, pronto.
“No, thank you.” She took everything from Miriam’s hands, clutching the key to her room like a lifeline. She just had to go a little bit farther and then she could burrow.
“Enjoy your stay with us.” Miriam’s bright red curls bounced even more as she nodded her head.
Amaya escaped the front desk chaos, gripping the papers. Feeling the edges of a panic attack, she used every reserve of strength she possessed to keep going. Once she was in her room, then she could fall apart. She rode the elevator to the sixth floor and exited into the airy hall with sky blue walls and white paneling. Her feet clicked over the ivory marble floors. At any other time in her life, she would be charmed by the luxurious décor, but as it was, it was too bright, too cheerful, and it was making her dizzy.
Her room number, six-zero-nine, was one of the corner suites that overlooked the bay.
She entered the room, barely registering the beautiful fixtures, from the wooden floor to the canopy bed and the small kitchen. She slid the bolt home in the door after she spied her luggage in the corner as promised. She dropped the stack of paperwork on the coffee table and headed toward the bed.
Amaya stripped as she walked, letting her clothing lie where it fell, and then climbed into bed. She wasn’t hungry, or curious about the island. All she was, was past the point of exhaustion. She pulled the covers up over her head.
And, for the next seventy-two hours, that was where Amaya stayed.
On the morning of her fourth day on the island, Amaya knew instinctively she had to leave her room. As much as it pained her to do it, if she stayed, Jared would be knocking down her door and trying to dissect her feelings. She didn’t want that. All she wanted to do was to lick her wounds in peace.
So, after a brief breakfast, she left her room, avoiding the club, pool, marina, and restaurant—anywhere there might actually be people—and hiked around the island until she came upon a small, enclosed section of beach that was far away from everyone. It was separated from the rest of the beach on the southernmost point of the island by giant rock formations that were part of an ancient lava bed before the island volcano went dormant. It was off the inlaid path by about a mile, which meant the likelihood of anyone traveling in this direction was minimal at best.
It gave her a little peace of mind, knowing she wouldn’t be disturbed. Every day, she would sit in the sand, her toes touching the tide as it swelled and ebbed along the shore, and watch the ocean as it moved.
She still couldn’t seem to cry over everything. Amaya wondered whether she should be concerned that she couldn’t seem to feel anything but then the thought would leave as she watched a seagull cry as it dove into the surf and emerged with a fish clamped within its beak.
Amaya developed a pattern. Every morning after she had breakfast delivered, she headed to what she had begun to consider her spot on the island, and there she would stay until the sun began to set. She would then hike back to the hotel, have dinner in her room, and go to bed. She avoided the club. She avoided people in general. But she was surviving, she was alive, and if she couldn’t seem to feel anything about any subject, well, that was easier than delving into the vast wasteland of her emotions.
Life wasn’t perfect. She received funny looks from the Doms she passed, concern dotting their gazes, but she quickly and soundly dismissed it—and them. She wasn’t interested in connecting and having the heart to heart talks that Doms were so fond of as they tried to fix what was wrong. This was something not one of them could fix. She had to do it, only she had no idea how, or even the inclination to try.
Amaya didn’t want to need anyone. On the tenth day of her stay, she exited the elevator and ran smack dab into a muscular male body.
“Whoa, steady there,” said the familiar baritone; one that had visited her in her dreams.
Amaya lifted her glance, up and up, and found herself staring into cerulean blue eyes that reminded her of the ocean on her beach. Lachlin O’Toole stood there, his blond hair a bit longer than the last time they had crossed paths, and at his side, his partner Jax Holiday, his black hair artfully arranged in a rakish fashion. These two Doms could melt the panties off any sub, as they had done with hers almost a year ago at the McDougal wedding. Lachlin, with his towering six-foot frame, gave her a warm smile bursting with remembrance.
“Amaya, we didn’t realize you would be here, lovely,” Jax murmured, and she shifted her gaze, taking in his scruffy, dark, five o’clock shadow, a devil-may-care smile shrouding his succulent lips. He was a few inches shorter than his partner, but next to her they were both behemoths.
She plastered a fake smile on her face, wanting to curse the heavens that of all the places for her to run into them, it had to be here, and it had to be now. She answered, fluttering her lashes and casting her gaze down in respect, “I’m taking some time away from work. How are you?”
That was her story and she was sticking to it. The less people knew about her imploded life, the less likely it was that she would have to field questions.
“Same. Bastian and Delilah are moving in together now that our tour has finished. If you haven’t heard, Bastian proposed and Delilah said yes,” Jax said.
Amayah had heard. And she was so happy for Delilah after all the crud she’d been through. She and Bastian were perfect for one another. It did Amaya’s heart good to know that happiness could be found, even through the darkest times. It was what kept her going; that hope that it would work out, like it had with Delilah.
She said, “Delilah told me that. I think it’s wonderful that they are engaged.”
“Not to change the subject, but will you be at the club this evening?” Lachlin asked, stroking his hand down her arm.
Deflect, deflect, deflect . “Maybe. I’m not sure,” she said, not committing but not letting them think she was blowing them off. She was blowing everyone off, she just didn’t want them to feel bad about it.
Lachlin said, “You should come. It would be great to get re-acquainted with you.”
“Um, sure. That would be nice. I need to go.” Amaya excused herself and walked away, feeling their gazes boring holes in her back as she escaped their sexy invitation. What were they doing here? Why did they have to be here?
Had she pissed off some demi-god who was now making it his mission to see that everything from her past was dragged up from perdition to torture her with? The three of them had experienced a scorching night of passion at Declan and Zoey McDougal’s wedding the previous year. Since then, that night had been in the back of her mind and the two Doms had played starring roles in her dreams on more than one occasion.
It was one the reasons why she had visited the club in Amsterdam a month ago in the first place. She was normally so careful with her desires and keeping her lifestyle separate from her work that she rarely headed to a BDSM club while on tour with the orchestra. But she had woken up achy and needy because she had dreamed about that glorious night and had needed relief that no vibrator in the world could provide. Once you have had two men take you beyond the edge of passion, nothing else ever quite satisfies you the way that did.
It was during that outing that Amaya had been followed—unbeknownst to her—and it had tanked her career and her life. How could she get over the past and move on if her wildest fantasies appeared on the island looking like two rock ’n’ roll sex gods, and made the emotions she would rather keep under lock and key rattle their damn chains?
Amaya worried that she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation if presented with another opportunity to sleep with them. It had been far and away the best sex of her life. There was no comparison. Even with her battered and bruised heart, her body was still susceptible to the erotic thrall they presented. Her panties were wet and her nipples ached to feel their mouths. What did that say about her as a person, not just a submissive, that she was so easily tempted by them?
And why oh why had her island escape become her prison?
Lachlin O’Toole watched the slight swish of Amaya Tenaka’s jean-clad hips as she exited the hotel. The wounded expression in her midnight eyes cut through the heart of him. Where was the vivacious, seductive enchantress they had met in Scotland last year? He had never forgotten that one night with her, try as he might. As much as he loved his partner, Jax Holiday, having Amaya join them had been one of the hottest, most mind-bending experiences of his life and it had ignited a dream he continued to hold that he hadn’t even hoped was possible.
Ever since their little escapade, he had endeavored to convince Jax that they needed a submissive to complement and enhance their relationship. Jax wanted nothing to do with adding a woman to the mix. He enjoyed topping a woman with Lachlin at a club but he didn’t want one thrown into their daily lives. Lachlin, on the other hand, yearned for a woman to make their duo a triad. He and Jax had been partners for going on thirteen years. At thirty-five, Lachlin was feeling the need for continuance and he just wanted more. It didn’t mean he loved Jax any less.
And there had been something about Amaya’s sweet surrender that night which had touched the very heart of him. Jax tossed an arm about his shoulders.
“Maybe we can have another go with the pretty violinist tonight, yeah?” Jax said as they made their way to one of the golf carts and headed to their private villa.
It was a beautiful place, Pleasure Island. Jared had invested not just in the big picture of the place, but every minute detail. The main hotel was gorgeous. But the Master stations along the paths to the villas and around the island were inspired. Lachlin could tell by the wicked gleam in Jax’s eyes that he was making plans to utilize every facility on the island until their cocks shriveled up and fell off from over use. Lachlin was all for it, as long as those plans included the delectable Amaya.
Their villa was secluded and off the beaten path. The ivory dome rose out of a profusion of palm trees and flowing bushes. Lachlin really wasn’t much of a gardener and couldn’t name a single flower, but the effect it created in its totality was stunning. Lachlin wanted to check his keyboard and ensure that nothing had happened to it during their travels. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jared’s staff, but he needed his keyboard for when the mood to play struck. Jax was the same way about his bass guitar, so Lachlin knew he wasn’t a complete head case.
Inside their villa, the hardwood floors stretched throughout the place. The eat-in kitchen was modern, with white cabinets and dark gray marble countertops. Lachlin went directly to his keyboard case which had been propped against a wall in the living room, winding his way around the chocolate leather couch and loveseat. He noted the innocuous hideaway loops on the ends of the coffee table. Jared was a bloody brilliant Master, he had to give him that. Lachlin would never have thought about adding that extra touch. He wondered who Jared’s furniture dealer was. He and Jax had been needing some upgrades in the furniture department.
Once he was sure his baby was in perfect working order, Lachlin set it up in the living room. He needed it in case he awoke in the middle of the night with a melody he had to get down. It had happened on too many occasions to count. He turned and spotted Jax in the dungeon. He liked the open air format of the place. The California king size four-poster bed with its fluffy white bedding was sure to get a workout while they were here. In the miniature dungeon area, which was roughly the size of a walk-in closet, stood a single bondage horse. Granted, it looked like there was a station against the wall with hooks for a Dom to attach a sub’s cuffs to. Jax stood there, stroking the padded leather. This villa had been dubbed ‘Blow Job Heaven’ due to the bondage horse in the private dungeon. If there was one thing Jax loved receiving, it was a good blow job. Lachlin’s mouth watered at the thought. He loved giving them, so it worked out well.
“Take a piss if you need to, then I want your ass up on that horse,” Jax ordered him, and Lachlin felt knots form in his gut. As much as Lachlin loved and needed to dominate, Jax made him willing to submit to anything he had in mind. Jax’s demeanor sharpened into his ‘don’t mess with me’ Dom mode. Lachlin groaned deep in his chest when he noticed the bulge in Jax’s pants. Jax had quite the package. He wasn’t long, but his cock was almost as thick as a baseball bat.
“And if I don’t?” Lachlin teased. It was a long-standing game between them that ensured Jax drew out the torture a wee bit, and in the end fucked Lachlin until his legs gave out. It was incredible.
“Then I won’t let you come and you will have to attend the club, blue balls and all,” Jax seethed. Jax was the hot head in the relationship, with Lachlin being the one to bring him back when he went into one of his zero-to-pissed-off modes. Jax lived for the control and order, and when it wasn’t obeyed, there was very little he wouldn’t try to punish a naughty sub.
With no further urging needed, Lachlin did as he was bid and shucked his clothes during the walk from the living room to the dungeon, not minding where the clothes fell as he prowled. His cock bobbed and strained for Jax’s deft touch as he padded toward the horse.
Jax had wasted no time in disrobing and joined him. Before Lachlin could mount the horse, Jax yanked him into his arms for a torrid kiss. It was a blistering mingle of tongue and teeth. Lachlin’s lips burned as Jax’s stubble grazed the sensitive flesh. Jax palmed Lachlin’s cock, sliding his deft fingers around the base and squeezing. Lachlin growled into Jax’s mouth.
His eyes damn near crossed as Jax stroked him. He couldn’t help his involuntary thrust, nor the way he quaked under Jax’s touch. Lachlin gripped Jax’s bulging member, hungering for the feel of him pumping his thick length in his ass. The only thing that would make it even better would be the sweet fist of Amaya’s cunt wrapped around his cock.
Lachlin swore right then and there that he would make it happen.
Jax ripped his mouth from Lachlin’s and said, “Get on the bench.”
Lachlin didn’t need to be told twice. He had barely mounted the black leather, when Jax began restraining his arms and feet. Then Jax caressed the globes of Lachlin’s ass, making him squirm and his gut quiver in anticipation. At this rate, he was going to blow his load before Jax even penetrated him. And then Jax was slathering lubricant over Lachlin’s puckered hole, inserting two fingers to stretch his ass. Lachlin could tell that Jax was in a hurry after their long travel day to get here. He and Jax weren’t public about their relationship—not that they were ashamed of it in the least, but the record company had wanted it kept quiet. The couple did end up coming out, as it were, two, maybe three years previously, but they had spent so long keeping their bedroom activities behind locked doors or in clubs that they still tended to have a no touching policy when they traveled.
Jax needed sex constantly. Not that Lachlin was complaining, and he moaned as Jax pressed a third finger into his ass. His hands fisted in the cuffs at the beautiful pressure building up.
Then Lachlin felt the bulbous head of a plug as Jax inserted it in his ass. It was cone shaped, and widened to the base. Lachlin’s tissues stretched to accommodate the girth and then his lover switched the vibrations on. Lachlin grunted at the exquisite torture. Jax put it on a low setting, just enough to set his teeth on edge, but not enough to put him over the top.
And then Lachlin was staring at the glorious sight that was Jax’s cock. It was thick, so much so that Lachlin had a hard time even with his piano player hands, wrapping them around Jax’s girth when they were free. The crest already had a pearlescent drop of Jax’s cream glistening on it and Lachlin licked his lips.
“Oh yeah, and if you suck me real well, I may just give you what you want,” Jax said.
Lachlin needed no further urging. He opened his mouth as Jax fit the wide crown inside. He swished his tongue around the underside as Jax thrust, hitting the back of his throat. Lachlin was unable to move as Jax drove his hips and plunged in pistoning thrusts into his mouth. Restrained as he was, all Lachlin could do was accept Jax’s shaft. He greedily sucked on his lover’s member, just the way he knew would drive Jax crazy. He reveled in the feel of him as Jax shuttled his length in and out.
The buzzing hum of the butt plug sent continual sparks of pleasure straight to Lachlin’s cock. It was making him so hard he could likely cut rocks with his dick. Jax gripped his head as he thrust, and Lachlin could imagine the heated look on his face, which only made him work his mouth harder over his cock.
Jax’s cock jerked, spewing cum into Lachlin’s mouth. He slurped at Jax’s spunk, enjoying the salty flavor of his lover. Then Jax withdrew his cock and walked around the horse until he was precisely where Lachlin wanted him to be. Lachlin was unable to prevent the sudden, unbidden image of when he and Jax had fucked Amaya in tandem, her face awash with pleasure, with Jax’s beautiful face next to hers with his hunger present for all to witness. He groaned as the plug was turned off and removed.
He almost whimpered when he felt the head of Jax’s cock against his ass. And then Jax thrust forward, seating himself to the hilt in Lachlin’s tight channel. Every nerve ending was set on fire at the delicious, almost violent feel of Jax’s thrusts as he pounded inside him. Jax’s fingers dug into Lachlin’s hips. The slap of flesh mingled with Jax’s moans, which he was no longer holding back.
One of Jax’s hands gripped Lachlin’s cock and squeezed as he hammered his channel ferociously. Lachlin’s dick strained, enjoying the feel of Jax stroking and claiming him with his mastering.
“Come,” Jax ordered.
Lachlin felt the orgasm start at the base of his spine. “Ahhh,” he roared as hot streams jettisoned from his cock over the black leather of the horse.
Jax slammed inside him again, went rigid, and then Lachlin felt hot liquid fill his ass as Jax came. Jax thrust until every last drop had spilled into Lachlin’s channel. Lachlin laid his face against the black leather as his own trembling subsided.
Jax unbound his hands and feet, helping him off the horse before they both collapsed in bed, not even caring about turning the sheets down. They lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.
Lachlin knew he had to broach the topic with him. It was only fair.
“Jax?” he asked, not looking at him. If the answer was no, Lachlin didn’t want him to see his disappointment because then Jax would create all manner of insecure scenarios and Lachlin couldn’t do that to him. He knew Jax’s background, the desolate adolescence, and pain of growing up without a family. Jax rarely allowed anyone new into his life. Lachlin didn’t blame him; he could understand his lover’s reticence as Lachlin’s upbringing mirrored Jax’s.
“You know what I would like?” Lachlin asked, his gut clenching.
“To challenge my recuperative powers and fuck again?”
“Well, that, and I want to entice Amaya to join us,” he said. If Jax agreed, they could build from there. Once Lachlin could prove to him how amazing it would be to have a sub with them not just for the night, but for the long haul, Jax would allow it.
“Really? She was a hot piece, I will give you that. I wouldn’t be averse to having her to fuck again for a night or two.”
“I need this,” Lachlin said.
Jax shot him a look. “If that’s the case then bring her into our bed. Besides, it’s only temporary. Pleasure Island is all about doing what you would never do elsewhere. If you want her to be our little plaything while we are here, I say let’s do it. She did have a particularly juicy cunt if my memory serves correctly.”
At Jax’s easy acquiescence, Lachlin showed Jax just how appreciative he was and it was quite some time before they emerged from the villa.
They headed to the restaurant, Master’s Pleasure, for some dinner before the club. While there was also a new pizza joint that was being run by the chef’s youngest son, Michael, they had more than their fair share of pizza on the road. From what Lachlin had heard of Mrs. Davos’ cooking, he was salivating at the thought of trying her fare.
The thirty or so tables in the restaurant were packed, putting the sound level at a dull roar. The main difference between Master’s Pleasure and any other restaurant was that there was a good chance a Master could end up fucking his sub or disciplining them right at the table. At the thought of discipline, Lachlin felt a twinge in his ass. He still hadn’t fully recovered from Jax’s paddling and it would feel like he was sitting on hot coals for a day or so.
The restaurant reminded Lachlin of a gentlemen’s pub in London. It was a bit sleeker but the dark, glossy woods and style made him wonder if they served brandy and cigars—after one had fucked their sub, of course. And bugger it all, there wasn’t a single table available. The island had been in business now going into its second month. In the high end BDSM community, Doms and subs were flocking to the island getaway. Since Jared had officially started allowing guests from other high end clubs like the Dungeon Fantasy Club, he was apparently booked solid through Christmas. Luckily for them, Jared spied them as they were waiting near the hostess stand and waved them over.
“Why don’t you join us?” Jared rose from his seat and shook their hands. “This is my Naomi,” he went on, his voice laced with possession as he held his hand out to the pretty submissive wearing a skin tight, blue dress with a riot of dark curls framing her exotic face. She stood with Jared’s assistance and gave Lachlin and Jax a once over before casting her gaze down.
“Pleasure to meet you, Naomi,” Jax said, taking her hand, and giving her a buss on the back of her hand. Just call him the Don Juan of flirtation.
Lachlin did the same but with less flair. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Jared off by being too informal with his sub. “Pleasure, Naomi.”
“Little one, these are Lachlin O’Toole and Jax Holiday, members of my club who tend to travel the world and never stay in one place.”
“Hello, sirs. It’s very nice to meet some of Jared’s friends. You never told me that you had such good-looking friends. Maybe I’ve chosen the wrong Dom?” She shot a teasing gaze filled with merriment toward Jared, who in turn gave her a warning glance with enough heat behind it to start a forest fire.
“Careful, little one,” Jared warned.
She rolled her eyes but then a blush spread over her cheeks. Lachlin almost laughed. Jared would make her pay for the eye-roll, and more, but he didn’t think little Naomi would mind one bit.
They all sat, with Jax and Lachlin occupying the two empty chairs, and a knockout gorgeous waitress approached their table. “Master J, would your guests be interested in anything to eat tonight?”
“I know what I want to eat,” Jax purred, laying it on thick. The blonde waitress was attractive if one liked big-breasted blondes. Lachlin preferred his little Japanese flower, Amaya, with her midnight hair that fell like a sheet to her mid-back and her luminous dark eyes. Jax’s flirting didn’t have the intended effect on the waitress; he might as well have been propositioning a newel post. Instead, she ignored the innuendo-laced comment, barely batting an eye, and listed the day’s specials. Both he and Jax selected the flank steak with red wine burgundy sauce, steamed asparagus, and new potatoes. Lachlin didn’t care for the waitress, Jenna. She was cold and detached.
“This place is great, J. Really, you have outdone yourself,” Lachlin said, taking a sip of wine. The red was full-bodied and potent.
“Thank you. There are some further additions I would like to make but it’s a start. How’s the rest of the band?” Jared asked, leaning back in his seat, a hand resting on Naomi’s exposed thigh.
“Well, you know that Bastian and Delilah are engaged.”
“I’d heard that through the grapevine. I’ve been meaning to call and congratulate them. Declan mentioned that they are setting up shop together in Australia. I know Tyler and Elise are there with them, helping Bastian build a house on all the land he purchased a few years back. What are Collum and Eric up to? I’m surprised they didn’t come with you.”
Lachlin said, “Well, Collum headed home to Australia, too. He prefers spending his free time out in the Outback. Not what Bastian and Delilah have, on the very edges of civilization, but a bit more off the grid.”
“Not that we have any clue as to why he prefers it. We grew up there. There’s really not much to see,” Jax interjected with a wave of his fork.
“And Eric?” Jared asked with a grin hovering on his face.
“He hooked up with this Swiss ski instructor at our last concert and they are currently in the Alps, skiing, among other things,” Lachlin replied. He wasn’t too concerned about his other band members. They always came back together when it was needed, but they did tend to scatter across the globe as soon as a tour finished. His curiosity was piqued regarding what Amaya was doing on the island, and he knew that Jared might have the inside scoop. The man seemed to know everyone’s business.
“What’s going on with the little violinist, Amaya? Know anything? She looked like someone had just kicked her puppy,” Lachlin said.
Jared grimaced with a visible wince, then gave Lachlin an imperceptible glance. “I do know. Delilah called me. Someone was gunning for her seat with the London Symphony Orchestra, followed her to Castle Den in Amsterdam while the orchestra was touring there, and took pictures of her inside the club, which ended up getting her canned. She apparently had no idea she was being followed. Declan contacted The Dungeon to let the owner know that if they didn’t improve their screening process, the DFC would pull their VIP Membership. So hopefully, any leaks in that club have been taken to task or fixed altogether.”
Jax gave a low whistle.
Instantly sorry for what Amaya must be experiencing, Lachlin shook his head and said, “That’s harsh. Bad deal all around.”
“Yeah, well, Delilah mentioned that Amaya had some sort of fall-out with her family as well. She didn’t know what because Amaya clammed up on that subject and, to be honest, I worry about saying the wrong thing. If I knew her better… Anyway, I’m going to have to intervene. During her first week here, she barely left her room. She hasn’t set one foot in the club or used any of the facilities. All I know is that she leaves in the morning after breakfast and then comes back as the sun is setting. It’s like she’s become the island ghost. Why are you two so interested?”
Lachlin’s heart ached for her. He knew now that he and Jax had to help her. “We met the sweet sub in Scotland and it’s like she’s had a personality change.”
“Or a lobotomy,” Jax muttered around a bite of steak.
“Jax,” Lachlin said with an edge to his voice. The man at times was more dense than the Amazon rainforest.
Jax gave him a miffed glare and said, “What?”
Lachlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”
Jax’s gaze hardened and judging by the fire blazing in his hazel eyes, he was incensed about Lachlin’s words. Good. He needed to light a fire under his partner’s ass. Lachlin needed this, even if he didn’t understand the need fully. It wasn’t like he wanted for companionship or felt neglected in the slightest by Jax, who was always ready. But Jax had been distracted of late as well. Maybe their road was coming to an end if Jax wouldn’t cooperate, but Lachlin knew he had to help Amaya. That they had to rescue the poor girl.
“If you want some help, Jax and I have got this sub covered. We know her well enough that she might respond to us,” Lachlin said, his heart aching for Amaya. He wanted to go stand sentinel outside her door and ensure that nothing harmed her further.
“In more ways than one,” Jax interjected.
“Jax, there are days…” Lachlin shot him a glance.
“But you love me anyway.”
“Be glad I do because no one else can handle you,” Lachlin said with a derisive snort. How Jax could be so droll sometimes? A sub was in some serious trouble and all he did was make snarky comments.
Jared gave them both a relieved glance. “I’d be grateful. Normally, I would do something myself, but with Naomi’s advent into my life I haven’t found a replacement DM who isn’t currently involved who could even attempt to breach her walls.”
“We will see what we can do. We will try a soft attempt first, and if that fails…”
Jared reclined back in his seat. “If that fails, I will issue the command that to stay on the island, she must submit to you.”
“Yeah, but I want to try my way first.” Something told Lachlin that if they attempted to force a response from Amaya, she would lock her defenses up tighter than the crown jewels.