REPLAY BOOK 7: WING MEN

by

Nia Farrell

REPLAY BOOK 7: WING MEN by Nia Farrell

Copyright 2017 by Nia Farrell

Edited by Anita Quick

Cover Design by Crystal Visions

Stock Photography from pixabay.com

Interior Layout by Anita Quick

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or used without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

First Edition August 1, 2017

Length 20,312 words

ASIN: B073SFW94N

Long Branch Books

Shattuc, Illinois

Disclaimers

This book is a work of fiction.  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The use of any real company, organization, and/or product names is for literary effect only.  All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

Titles

by Nia Farrell

SOMETHING ELSE

(The Three Graces Book One)

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

(The Three Graces Book Two)

SOMETHING MORE

(The Three Graces Book Three)

THE THREE GRACES TRILOGY

(BOOKS 1-3)

SOMETHING SPECIAL

(The Three Graces Book Six—

sequel to SOMETHING ELSE)

DARK MOONS RISING

REPLAY BOOK 1: VIKING RAID

AS WICKED AS YOU WANT

(FOREVER OURS BOOK 1)

REPLAY BOOK 2: TRIPLE PLAY

REPLAY BOOK 3: HONOUR BOUND

REPLAY SET 1 (BOOKS 1-3)

REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

REPLAY BOOK 5: NIGHT MUSIC

REPLAY BOOK 6: HIGHLAND FLING

KEEPER—THE AVENGING ANGELS MC INTRODUCTION

FIND HER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 1

WICKED LADY

Titles

by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen

PRIDE AND PUNISHMENT

An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic

and by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn

RIDE THE WIND

TOUCH THE WIND

REAP THE WIND

DARE THE WIND

Audiobooks by Nia Farrell

SOMETHING SPECIAL

(THE THREE GRACES BOOK 6)

Narrated by La Petite Mort and Ruby Rivers

REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

Narrated by La Petite Mort

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Replay Series Cast of Characters

Author Biography and Links

Previous Releases

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my many reenactor friends who help bring the past to life.  One of these years, I’ll get to Rockford.

~ Nia

Introduction

Welcome to Replay, the ocean-side BDSM theme resort where patrons play in the past.  The settings are museum-quality, the handcrafted garments look like originals brought forward in time, and the staff members are selected for their unique talents and abilities.  Each scene that they bring to life is drawn from a page in history, but no one has to suffer through it—

Unless that’s what they want.

Chapter One

Alexander Boulton was late—something that didn’t sit well with him, especially since Replay resort’s owner had cleared his schedule for him.  Thankfully, Piers St. Leger would understand.  His favorite cousin had flown with him often enough.

The love of flying was not the only thing that he and Piers had in common.  While they shared similar tastes in other, more intimate pursuits, most of their family members remained blissfully unaware of their natures.

But then, most of them weren’t into historic roleplay.

Fewer yet were in the lifestyle.

He was met at the lobby door and ushered to Piers’s office.  His cousin’s assistant, a submissive named Kitten, announced him and opened the door.

“Alex!”  Piers stepped from behind his massive wooden desk and strode toward him.  Dressed in Regency clothing, he could easily have stepped out of a Jane Austen novel.  “Let me look at you!  How have you been?  It’s been—what?—three years?  It has, hasn’t it?  Three years since I moved here.  Tell me.  Honestly.  What do you think?”

Piers shook his hand, then pulled him in for an unexpected hug.  It must be marriage, thought Alex.  Or the baby.  He never used to be a hugger.

“Impressive,” said Alex.  “Quite so.  Excellent job on the new runway.  And the hangar is large enough to fit most of the planes coming in.  Of course, the wingspans were smaller in 1917.”

“Good.  Good.  I am delighted that you could make it.  World War I weekend wouldn’t have been the same without you and your fellows.  You’re the last to arrive.  All save one have been safely seen to their lodgings.  The other who opted to stay on site is the Russian that you told me about.  Dmitry Chezhekov.  He’s already seen Sir Josef and given me the paperwork required for playing at the resort.  I know that you are staying with us, but I shall need yours as well, should you wish to make the most of your visit here.”

“Certainly.”  Alex opened the front of his leather aviator’s jacket, removed the documents he’d been told to complete, and handed them to his cousin.  “You should already have clearance from your psychiatrist. Not knowing if the weather would cooperate, I opted to do our interview online.”

“Yes, yes,” Piers hummed.  Motioning for him to take a seat in one of the high-backed wing chairs across from the desk, Piers went to sit behind it.

Alex fell silent, not speaking until his paperwork was approved and the non-disclosure agreement had been signed.

“Would you like the grand tour now,” Piers asked him, “or would you like to get settled in first?  Freshen up?  We have the guest suite ready for you, at the far end of the house from the nursery.  Our little Valentine can be quite vocal when she needs attention.  Adrienne cannot stand wet diapers and still wakes several times a night to nurse.  Eleanor delayed returning to work as long as she could, but the client load is such that she felt compelled to do so.  Nanny can work magic, as you know, but a bottle will never replace a mother’s breast.”

Alex shifted uncomfortably.  “I suppose not,” he said.  “I was surprised that you managed to tempt Mrs. Hammersmith across the pond, with your sister still at home.”

“Bird in the hand,” Piers said, grinning.  “We had a definite need.  With Tory, it’s anyone’s guess when she will settle down.  Many a lesser man has tried and failed to win her favor.”

Ah, but therein lay the problem.  Victoria tended to attract shallow college boys with her looks, or calculating ones with an eye on her family’s fortune.  What she needed was a man who could take her firmly in hand and give her the discipline that she craved.

She was a born submissive, if he’d ever seen one.

Alex started to stroke his jaw but stopped himself.  Occasionally a flying creature made it past the windscreen of his Sopwith Camel and met its end upon impact with his face.  At times, his goggles were speckled with them.

“I believe that I would like to get cleaned up first, if you don’t mind.  It was an early morning and a long flight in.”

“Yes.  Well.”  Piers rose from his desk chair.  “Let’s get you settled, then.”

The St. Leger estate was adjacent to Replay, the BDSM theme resort that Piers had built from a dream and continued to expand.  At his cousin’s manor house, Alex was as delighted to see Nanny—the implacable Mrs. Beatrice Hammersmith—as she was to see him.  He declined the offer to look in on the sleeping baby, born six-and-a-half weeks earlier on February the fourteenth, until he’d had a shower.

In a departure from the period-inspired guest rooms, his suite was contemporary in design, boasting a California king-size bed.  The sitting area had modern leather furniture, built in a style that would lend itself well to kink.  The en-suite was spa-like, with a large, jetted tub.  The steam shower was constructed of the finest marble and sized to easily accommodate a foursome, with two long teak benches, body jets, and rain showerheads, in addition to the steam bath setting.

Rather than make Piers wait, he opted for a quick shower, scrubbing the grime from his face and the dried sweat from his body.  The above-average temperatures today and tomorrow were noticeably hotter than what he’d left behind in Ohio.

Piers assured him that there was time enough before dinner for a tour of the resort.  From the passenger seat of Piers’s Range Rover, Alex was treated to views of thatched-roof cottages, pioneer log cabins, a Sioux Indian village, a small cluster of wooden-framed buildings that looked like the American Wild West, an antebellum plantation house, and a stately brick Georgian home that would have fit perfectly in Colonial Williamsburg.  The latest feature under construction was a Roman villa, with an arena where gladiators would vie for dominance.

“I suspect that you’ll be most impressed with the ship anchored in Pirates’ Cove,” Piers told him.  “But that needs must wait.  Eleanor is due back any time, and I must see how she fares.  She may require a nap before our dinner guests arrive.”

Alex cocked a brow and shot his cousin a look.  The man loved to play matchmaker.  God knew whom he would be paired with tonight.

As if sensing his unease, Piers smiled reassuringly.  “You know Sir Josef, of course.  He will be there with his partners, Luc Vashon and Aubrey Wolfe.  Just so you know, Aubrey is visually challenged, not totally blind but very close to it.  She’s a gifted classical pianist who does a first-person impression of Mozart.  Also joining us will be Jannet MacDonald and her Dominant, Ian McGregor, the architect who built our home.  Jannet and Aubrey were schoolmates at Juilliard.  Jannet studied dance.  Aubrey had a scholarship for piano.  Rounding out the party is a surprise guest.  Lara Eastman is one of the vocalists who will be performing this weekend.  She is a former schoolmate of Aubrey and Jannet’s, neither of whom have seen her since their days at Juilliard.  Neither one knows that she is coming, and vice versa.  Judging from my interview with Miss Eastman, I believe that it will be a pleasant reunion.  I sincerely hope so.  Eleanor will be disappointed if it is not.  When she learned that the three women went to school together, she insisted on reconnecting them, outside of the scenes this weekend.”

Upon hearing that it was Eleanor’s doing, not Piers’s, Alex released the breath that he’d been holding.  “I hope so, too,” he said sincerely.  “I’m afraid I’m not much at making table talk.  I prefer to listen.”

And watch, but that was a kink better suited for Piers’s playroom than the dining room…unless dessert included food play and willing partners.

His cousin knew him well enough to add, “Another note.  Although I am certain that you will recognize her as such, Miss Eastman is naturally submissive, clearly untrained and possibly unaware of her nature.  She has no intention of joining the scenes after her performances and has not been vetted for play at the resort, beyond the standard security screening.  Here, of course, she will be on private property and not subject to the stringent safeguards we would use, even if they were not required for insurance purposes.”

“I have no designs upon your special guest,” Alex assured him.  “I plan to enjoy dinner and retire early.  Tomorrow is a big day.”

“Indeed.  Three rounds of mock aerial combat and the canteen scene tomorrow night, on the eve of the one-hundredth anniversary of President Wilson’s appearance before Congress, extolling them to enter the war.  We are also commemorating “bloody April,” when British squadrons suffered four times the losses at the hands of the Germans.  It is our first centennial event—a rare opportunity to visit the recent past.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed.  “I started out doing World War II events.  Reenactments of the Great War are just now being added to our schedule, including one next weekend at Rockford, Illinois.  We’ve done their World War II reenactments in the fall.  I trust that their April World War I events—and yours—are as successful.”

“I can only assure you that here, no expense has been spared,” Piers told him, “from building the airfield to booking the entertainment.  The only thing beyond our control is the weather, but according to the forecast, it should cooperate both days and allow you and your fellows to execute your aerial choreography?  Man and machine, locked in a deadly dance.  Tell me, do you win or lose tomorrow?”

Alex knew his schedule as well as his battle plans.  “I win in the morning.  Lose late afternoon.  The Lafayette Escadrille will fly against the Germans at 1 pm.  I’ll sit that one out and remain on the ground as an observer.”

Which is exactly what he planned to be tonight.  Listening to three women catch up on the years they’ve been apart would either prove boring as hell or extraordinarily fascinating.

He hoped it was the latter.

Chapter Two

Alex was in the nursery with Mrs. Hammersmith and little Adrienne Elizabeth St. Leger when Piers’s guests began to arrive.  The darling of her father’s eye looked just like her mother, from the thin wisps of copper hair to quicksilver gray eyes that seemed far too old for one so young.

Gently extricating his finger from the baby’s grip, he carefully handed her back to Mrs. Hammersmith and excused himself to join the rest of the adults for dinner.

Downstairs, Sir Josef introduced his partners.  Luc Vashon was French Canadian, a beautiful man with café au lait skin and of mixed black, white, and Native American ancestry.  Aubrey Wolfe was a tiny thing, barely five feet tall with misbehaving hair and two very protective Doms who were devoted to her.

Next to arrive were Ian McGregor and Jannet MacDonald.  From the exchange with Eleanor, Alex understood that Jannet and Ian would be trying for a baby at some point.  Everyone was ushered into the den for drinks and conversation whilst they waited for the last guest to come.  It was nearly seven o’clock when the doorbell rang, announcing her arrival.

Curious, Alex followed Piers and his lovely wife to the entrance.  Standing at the back of the three-story foyer, he watched as the door swung open wide.  A puff of wind seemed to blow Miss Eastman in like a dandelion seed, ethereally lovely and a wonder to behold.

She was perfection, from the top of her red head to the black high heels that added another four inches to her five-feet-four-inch height, bringing her closer to his seventy-inch frame.  Her black sheath dress hugged the swell of her breasts, the neat dip of her waist, and the tempting curve of her hips.  She pushed the long, loose ginger curls away from her face and stepped further inside, exchanging greetings with their hosts, her brilliant green eyes darting nervously until they met his.

She paused, midsentence, stunned into silence.  He knew what she was thinking.  It wasn’t the first time someone had noted his resemblance to a younger Jude Law, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Caught staring, she quickly diverted her gaze back to Eleanor.  But her curiosity was aroused, and she couldn’t resist sneaking another glance his way.

Encouraged, he came forward and waited for Piers to perform the introductions.

“Miss Eastman, may I present my cousin, Alexander Boulton?  Alex is one of the pilots who will be demonstrating aerial combat this weekend,” Piers added.

She looked at him, then, tentative, relaxing only when he offered her a half smile and a nod of approval.

“Alex, this is Miss Lara Eastman, whose lilting voice shall entertain the troops tomorrow evening.  She is a music historian and does a number of first person impressions, do you not?

“Yes,” she said, brightening.  “I do Nora Bayes for World War I, Vera Lynn for World War II, Lillie Langtry at Wild West events, and Jenny Lind at Civil War venues.”

“Impressive,” Alex observed.  And it was.  That was quite a range of musical eras and styles.  He couldn’t imagine performing that many songs from memory.  “Your repertoire must be extensive.”

“It is,” she agreed, blushing becomingly.  “And still, I keep looking, hoping to find that one piece that history has forgotten.”

“Please, pardon my intrusion,” said Piers, “but the clock has struck seven.  Let us adjourn to the dining room, where you may continue your discussion over dinner, hmm?”

It wasn’t a request.  Recognizing a command, however civilly he’d phrased it, Alex grinned unrepentantly at Miss Eastman.  “Shall we?”

She took the arm that he proffered and walked with him to the dining room, matching her stride to his, which he’d shortened to allow for her heels.  Eleanor slipped away, headed for the other guests.

Entering the formal dining room, Miss Eastman was brought up short at the sight of extra place settings.  She pressed a hand to her stomach, caught her lower lip between her teeth, and worried it.  She wore the barest amount of makeup on her porcelain skin, the merest brush of mascara and a sheer gloss on her lips that was quickly disappearing.

“Only friends here,” he assured her.  “Good food, good wine, and good company—or I try to be.”

Someone had set elegantly lettered place cards on the table.  Alex found Miss Eastman’s between his and Sir Josef’s.  Across the table would be her former schoolmate Aubrey Wolfe, Luc Vashon (who had taught at Juilliard), Jannet MacDonald, and architect Ian McGregor, Jannet’s Dominant and significant other.

He felt her tension ease when she recognized the two young women.

“Miss Eastman.  Lara,” Piers said.  “I believe that you have met everyone here, with the exception of Ian McGregor.  Ian is the architect responsible for our home and most of Replay’s structures.  You know, of course, Jannet MacDonald, Aubrey Wolfe, Mr. Luc Vashon, and Sir Josef.”

“Yes.  What a surprise,” Lara managed.  “I’m here to sing,” she blurted.  “I had no idea I’d see anyone that I knew.”

“I came to perform, too,” Aubrey said, allowing Luc to guide her to the table.  Sir Josef pulled out two chairs.  Luc helped her into one of them, before taking the other.  “I played Young Mozart when they were filming Cade Madden and Ashley Slade’s new movie in the resort’s Versailles Room.  Sir Josef gave us a reason to stay.  This is our home now, when Luc and I aren’t touring.”

Luc nodded.  “We’re keeping our schedule lighter these days.  We don’t like to leave Sir alone any more than we have to.”  The look he gave Sir Josef was the same one he’d given Aubrey.

Luc was in love with them both.

Alex watched Lara, bemused by her reaction as realization dawned.  Sir Josef, Luc, and Aubrey were a threesome.  A kinky threesome.  Pink flared in her cheeks.  She found a sudden interest in her antique filigree silver napkin ring.

Seeing Lara’s discomfiture, Jannet MacDonald chimed in, “I was already here.  I’d left the ballet corps when my niece was badly injured in the accident that killed her mother.  My brother Micheil moved us all down when he remarried.  Ian built their home, too.”  She lifted her chin and looked at Piers.  “Sorry, but no one’s outdoor kitchen compares to ours.”

“She’s a grilling fiend,” Ian chuckled.  Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he bit the back of Jannet’s neck and made her squeal.  “She’s already started a garden.  Herbs and vegetables.  Guaranteed organic.  Word of warning, Elly.  Lock your door when zucchini season gets here.”

The tension broke.  The rest of the dinner party took their seats, and uniformed servers began ferrying in the courses.  Individual salads of endive, arugula, pears, Gorgonzola cheese, and walnuts were tossed in a sherry wine vinegar-and-oil dressing.  Next came bowls of boeuf bourguignon, chosen because of Aubrey’s visual impairment and served with warm, crusty bread and a fine, red wine.  Dessert was a chocolate almond cake and a special chocolate-flavored coffee shipped from Seattle that had three of the women in raptures.

Eleanor sighed wistfully.  “I gave up caffeine when I learned that I was pregnant,” she told Lara.  “I’m waiting until Adrienne is weaned to add it back.  The most I allow myself these days is a glass of wine in the evening.”

Lara paused from cutting her next forkful of cake.  “How much longer before you can indulge yourself?” she asked.

Eleanor laughed.  “A long time, I’m afraid.  She’s not quite seven weeks old, and she’s already wrapping men around her little fingers.  Sorry, Alex.  You’re just the latest.”

Lara slid a glance his direction.  There was no mistaking the gleam of interest, which more than matched his own.  Lara was intelligent, witty, confident in her abilities, passionate about her work, and eager to learn.  Her conversation revealed a kind heart but guarded.  The man to woo and win her would first have to gain her trust.  That kind of thing just didn’t happen in a weekend.

If Piers had hoped to play matchmaker, Alex suspected that they were both going to be disappointed.

Chapter Three

Upon leaving Sir Piers’s home, Lara drove her rental car back to the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying.  She talked to herself the entire way, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.  The offer to sing at a World War I event had been a welcome one, easily fitting into a much-too-large blank space on her calendar that had left her wondering how she was going to pay her bills.  She’d worked with this big band before.  Considering what the resort was paying her, she figured she could put up with their lead singer’s sexist remarks for a night.

And if Michael Holliday got handsy again, she could sic one of the resort’s Doms on his ass.  Yell out red or whatever passed for a safeword.

Eleanor St. Leger’s had been tofu.

It turned out that her resort-owner husband was a master of kinbaku, Japanese erotic bondage.  Sir Piers had offered to do a demonstration in their basement Dungeon after dinner.  Using his wife as his bondage model, he’d laced her in elaborately knotted ropes and suspended her from a beam overhead.  A myriad of emotions had played across her face.  Anticipation, arousal, need, and eventually bliss, once he’d worked a particular rope and allowed her to orgasm.

It was the sexiest thing that Lara had ever seen.  Now she was regretting her choice to not be vetted and approved for play.  She had a feeling that Alex knew his way around a Dungeon as well as his cousin.  She was kind of hoping that she’d get a chance to find out, before they parted ways.

It had been far too long since a man like Alex had crossed her path.  She was more than a little fascinated with the aerobatic pilot who loved the challenge of flying vintage aircraft and the thrill of mock aerial combat.  It didn’t hurt a thing that he was as handsome as sin, and had that dreamy British accent on top of his good looks and come-hither smile.

And he was very likely a Dom.

He had the hallmarks for it.  Attentive.  Respectful.  An intuitive listener who noted her responses to what was said, and done.  He might not have admitted to being in the lifestyle, but he hadn’t blinked at anything that happened at his cousin’s home.  He’d stood in the Dungeon beside her, silent, watching with the others as Sir Piers worked his magic.  Even if she knew nothing about it, she could tell that the Dom was a master of his craft.

What kinky fuckery was Alex Boulton into? she wondered.  Just the possibilities made her wet.  As soon as she reached the privacy of her bedroom, she locked the door and went straight for her magic wand.  No battery-operated boyfriends for her.  She traveled with an extension cord.

Turning down the covers, she stripped off her clothes, tossed the pillows on the far side of the bed, slid to the center, and stretched out flat on her back.  She warmed up first, running her hands up and down her body, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples, rolling the pebbled tips between her fingers and pulling on them, imagining Alex’s mouth suckling her.

Lara reached for her wand and turned it on her favorite setting.  Parting her swollen folds, she applied it to her clit and hung on for the ride, climaxing the first time in a matter of seconds.  Wetting her lips, she thrust out her tongue and imagined taking another man in her mouth while Alex owned her pussy.

She’d been with two men, once—cowboys at a Wild West weekend who had wanted the singer with the golden throat.  Normally, she didn’t hook up at events, but there was something about those twins that had worn down her resistance until she’d said yes, praying that it wasn’t the biggest mistake of her life.

What she’d gotten was the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had.  Everything, before or since, paled in comparison.

Three orgasms later, Lara turned off the wand and laid it aside.  She’d clean it in the morning.  Right now, all she wanted to do was go to sleep and dream of Alex Boulton, sharing her bed…and her body….

The next morning, Lara showered, breakfasted, and dressed for the day.  Pulling the clothes that she would need this evening, she set out for Replay in the rental car that the resort had agreed to provide for her use.

The wardrobe mistress, Jewell Fraser, had tentatively approved her dresses.  She was withholding final approval until she had seen them in person.

Lara understood.  When you were doing a first-person impression, a lot of time was spent combing through primary source documentation, researching not only whom you were portraying but vernacular, current events, and period clothing.  Knowing what something looked like was one thing.  Knowing exactly how it was constructed was something else.

After music, her second love was sewing.  Her mother didn’t know how to do anything beyond a running stitch and tacking on buttons.  Her favorite aunt had taught her how to lay out a pattern and turn a piece of fabric into something that she could wear.  Their first project was a simple, sleeveless jumper.  The next was an A-line dress with a wide, boat neckline and short, cap sleeves.  Then came a dress with a fitted waist, flared skirt, and a zipper.  With each project, she would learn a new technique or skill, until it seemed that she had mastered them all.

All the modern ones, that is.

With period sewing, she had to work with boning, hoops, hand-stitched linen buttonholes, and eyelets.  To do an accurate portrayal, she needed to be dressed in period-correct clothing from outerwear down to her skin.  She knew that she’d won Jewell Fraser’s approval the minute that she’d shown her the bra that she’d made of two silk handkerchiefs, tied with silk ribbons.

She left the clothes for her evening performance with the wardrobe mistress.  Folding her sweater and lightweight coat over her arm, she plucked up her purse and went to the building’s entrance, where a limousine was waiting to take her to the site of this morning’s dogfight.

The driver, Geoffrey, introduced himself and opened the rear door for her.  Ducking her head to enter, she was surprised to see that she would be sharing the ride.

Not that she had any objections.

The man was magnificent.  Dark hair, dark eyes, with facial bones that hinted at what was Nordic, Slavic…possibly Rus-Viking ancestry.  Dressed as an aviator, he nearly vibrated with coiled intensity, as if he were gearing himself up for a real combat mission.  He was so focused, she didn’t want to do anything to break his concentration.  Sliding silently into place on the opposite seat, she hugged the door and looked at her reflection in the darkened glass.

Geoffrey put the car in gear and slowly pulled away from Replay’s main building, headed for the event site.

“I do not bite.”

Those four small words were all the permission she needed to look at him and indulge her curiosity.  With that accent, he was either from Russia or from one of the countries that had comprised the former Soviet Union.

Whatever he was, he was mesmerizing.

“That’s disappointing.”  She sighed theatrically.  “But probably for the best.  I’m here as part of the entertainment.  I didn’t get vetted to play.”

The merest hint of a smile ghosted his lips.  “Nyet?”  He angled his head and ran his gaze over her, from her stylish hat to the silk stockings that disappeared into her chunky-heeled buckled shoes.  “What you say…is disappointing me.  Now I must finds way to…to… console myself.  Yes?”

She offered a smiled and nodded.  “Yes.  I’m afraid so.  But you can always come and hear me sing tonight, if you’re not tied up.  Replay’s Nightclub Room has World War I décor this weekend.”

He pinned her with his gaze.  “In scene, I tie rope.”  The Dominant spoke softly but succinctly.  He arched an imperious brow.  “You understand?”

She did.  Perfectly.  His delivery left no doubt as to who would be directing things, given an opportunity to play.  “Yes.  Sir.”

“No ‘Sir,’” he rumbled.  “For now.  Later?  We see.”

She felt the blush rise in her cheeks.  “I’m sorry.  Please.  No.  I didn’t mean it like that.  I lived in the South when I was a little girl.  You were taught to address men and women as ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’ if you didn’t know their name.”

He nodded slowly and relaxed back in his seat.  She did the same.

“I am Dmitry Chezhekov.  And you?”

“Lara Eastman.  I’m a singer.  Are you a pilot?”

“Da.  Rússkij here.”  He tapped a fist on his chest, then pointed a finger at the roof.  “Ich bin Deutsche—I am German—up there.”

His Russian accent oozed sex appeal, and his German was flawless.  Lara had discovered her own talent for languages when learning music to perform, including Italian and German opera.

He would be flying against Alex and the other British planes this morning.

“You should have good weather this weekend.  At least there’s no rain in the forecast.”

She’d made certain to look at the hourly predictions so that she would know how to dress.  There would be a nip in the early morning air until the sun warmed things up.  By mid-afternoon, it would be nearly ninety degrees.

“Tomorrow is better,” he said.  “Cooler.  More lift.  Is better to fly.  Better to fight.”

He smiled, then.  Truly smiled.  Pure Alpha male.  Master of the air and Master in the bedroom.  Just the thought of it made her mouth go dry.  She wet her lips and swallowed hard, pressing her legs together to ease the sudden ache between them.

Watching her, his smile faded and his eyes grew smoky.  Hooded.  He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as if he were capturing her scent and memorizing it.

She didn’t know what the day would bring, or how tonight would unfold, but she knew one thing.

Last night, she’d imagined Alex sharing her with another man.  If by some miracle that happened, she wanted it to be with Dmitry.

Chapter Four

The airstrip wasn’t what she expected.  The smell of fresh-cut grass rose from the dew-kissed earth.  There were patches of wildflowers where the tarmac should be.  Instead of a paved runway, a wide swath of cut grass bisected a huge green field of it.  Near the closest end of the runway, a bright orange windsock hung, flaccid and empty in the still morning air.

A corrugated metal hangar sat to one side, with a vintage fuel truck parked close by.  Near each corner and further out, sandbags were stacked in defensive positions. 

The viewing area had been recently mowed.  Two antique automobiles and a vintage motorcycle with a side car were parked on the edge of it, adding an air of authenticity to the scene.

For this morning’s battle, the German airbase would come under attack.  There was a flurry of activity as planes were hauled outside and pilots performed their preflight checks.  The British planes were moved to the far side of the hangar.  The German planes were lined up in a row in front of it.  Once the hangar doors were closed, hiding the French planes still inside, a group of German soldiers with spiked helmets raised their country’s flag on the pole.

In a slight departure from a period military airfield’s appearance, two large wall tents and a massive, blue striped, open-sided tent had been erected.  A breakfast buffet was set up beneath the striped tent.  A handful of people in vintage clothing were milling around, most of them with plates in hand.  Lara recognized Sir Piers’s towering form among them.

Exiting the limo, she donned her coat with Dmitry’s help and walked with him until they reached the others.  “Danke,” she said, acutely aware that he’d been watching her, ready to catch her, should she stumble on the slightly rough ground.  “And good luck today.  I look forward to watching you.”

Dmitry lifted his chin and tugged on the white silk scarf that was draped around his neck.  “And tonight, I watch you.  Da?” he rumbled.  “Later?  We see.”

There was a world of promise in those two words.

Watching him walk away, she smiled at the swagger in his step and admired the perfection of his form.  His loose-fitting pants were likely held up by suspenders, but there was no hiding that bubble butt of his, shaped by hours of exercise.

Lara declined Sir Piers’s offer of breakfast but welcomed a cup of English tea.  She stood at the edge of the awning, watching the hangar, airplanes, and men.  In the line of German fighters, Dmitry hovered by a bright red Fokker DR-1, the triplane favored by the infamous Red Baron.  In the row of British planes, Alex Boulton readied his Sopwith Camel biplane.

The British took off first, each plane gathering speed as it taxied down the runway, lifting off, one by one.  There were five British fighters, four with two wings and one with three wings.  One biplane had a machine gunner in a second seat behind the pilot, facing the rear of the plane.  But Lara was focused on Alex’s plane.  The engine sounded hit-and-miss, like it was cutting out.  She worried that it was even safe to fly.  Looking around, no one else seemed concerned.

“Miss Eastman, Alex assures me that there is little need to fear.”  Sir Piers came to stand beside her and watch his cousin take off.  “The sound of the Sopwith Camel is unique, and one that the Germans dreaded hearing.  No, his aeroplane is fine.  Earlier, he was more concerned with the humidity, the dew point temperature, and the possibility of carburetor icing.”

She didn’t know anything about carburetor icing, but if Alex was worried about it, it must be dangerous.  She kept her gaze on Alex’s plane, watching it get smaller and smaller, until it was a dot, then a speck, then gone.

Lara waited until he was out of sight to speak.  “Sir Piers, I want to thank you for last night…for everything.  Seeing Jannet and Aubrey again.  The food.  The wine.  The kinbaku demonstration.  It was fascinating to watch.  It makes me wish now that I’d done the whole vetting thing.”

The Dom smiled.  “I am glad that you enjoyed yourself.  Eleanor was delighted with how well things went.  She would have come this morning, but Adrienne was running a slight fever, and no one would suit but her mother.  She hopes to join us for the early afternoon fight when the French take the field.”

Lara had come this morning, eager to see the action.  Now she realized how little she knew about how the day would progress.  “I hate to ask,” she said, “but will lunch be served here, or will there be rides back to the resort?”

“Both are arranged, depending on your wishes.  We have transport readily available—” he motioned to the two vintage cars “—should anyone need to leave, at any time.  A phone call will bring one of the limos.”

Sir Piers nodded towards the two canvas wall tents, similar to the ones used by officers at Civil War reenactments.  “The catering tent is to the right.  Facilities may be found in the tent on the left.  Eventually, we shall have permanent facilities here, but time did not allow for adding a water cistern, let alone installing a certified septic system.  Once the idea presented itself, no weekend was more appropriate than this one.  Thus, we are ‘making do,’ as they say.”

Any further conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of the British squadron, flying in formation, poised for attack.

An air raid signal sounded.  German soldiers grabbed their guns and took their places behind the sandbag barriers.  The planes came in low, strafing the field.  Bursts of blank rounds sounded from the German rifles.  Puffs of dirt flew into the air from charges that had been laid earlier.  The way that they detonated, it looked like bullets from the planes were hitting the ground.

Meanwhile, the German pilots were scrambling, climbing in their fighters, strapping on goggles, and preparing to start their engines.  Five ground crew members each took hold of a propeller and gave it a spin.  The radial engines roared to life.  Freed of their wheel chocks, the planes headed for the runway.

Dmitry was the last to take off, but his Fokker’s superb climbing ability allowed him to quickly join the others.  They flew only far enough to turn and meet the British head on.

From her vantage point, Dmitry and Alex’s planes seemed to be on a collision course.  She held her breath and fisted her gloved hands, watching, hoping, trusting that nothing went wrong.  At the last minute, the Sopwith Camel pulled up, barely missing the Fokker.

More passes were made.  Planes were “disabled.”  Billowing trails of blue smoke, the downed German planes landed here.  The “crippled” British planes returned to their imaginary base.

Finally, only three were left.  Dmitry, Alex, and another British pilot engaged in a stunning display of aerial combat, with all the climbs, rolls, and maneuvers that you’d expect in a big-budget motion picture.  Eventually, Dmitry simulated being shot, leaving a trail of smoke as he landed.  The two British planes flew off, victorious after their successful raid.

Cheers broke out from the crowd.  When the applause had quieted, Sir Piers addressed the spectators who’d come out for the morning battle.

“Thank you,” he said.  “What an amazing display!  The pilots shall all return shortly and will be joining us.  Lunch will be served at eleven thirty, to our reenactors, patrons, staff members, and guests.  The next reenactment, scheduled this afternoon at one, will be a German attack on a French airfield.  The final battle today at five pm will be a different version of this scenario.  Meanwhile, the bar will soon be open in the casino tent, where games of chance, conversation, and play partners may be found for vetted guests who wish to stay the day.”

While they had been watching the combat demonstration, a crew of workers had erected yet another tent, yellow striped with two massive center posts and a roof that would cover a one-ring circus.  She guessed that tables, chairs, and equipment were being carried in through a back opening.  The casino’s front door flaps were closed.

“I’m afraid that it is off limits to you, my dear,” Sir Piers said, “where you are not approved.  Pity, but rules are rules where scenes are concerned.”

“I understand,” she assured him.  “But the day is lovely.  You’ve provided food, and shelter from the sun.  A place to sit and things to see.  I’m hoping to get a closer look at the planes, if they’ll let me.”

“I’m certain that can be arranged.”  He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper.  “I know people.”

Lara laughed.  “I’m sure that you do.  Hopefully, he’ll be back soon.”

Sir Piers strained his ear, listening.  “I do believe that I hear a familiar stutter headed this way.  Alex should be here shortly.  I must leave soon to check on the situation at home.  With luck, I will not return alone.  We shall see.”

The German soldiers were already headed for the food tent.  The ground crews and pilots followed.  Lara sat in one of four folding chairs at a small round table in a shady corner of the space. With tea to drink and a scone to nibble on, she settled in to people watch.  It always fascinated her when costumed civilians and military reenactors intermingled.  And she loved listening to the reenactors who regaled each other with stories.  It truly was like stepping back in time.

Being a single female, sitting alone and therefore perceived as available, she halfway expected to be approached by the men, and possibly some of the women.  Introducing herself as a non-vetted performer worked like a charm.  Most of these people were here to play.

The only one who seemed to not mind that she couldn’t was Dmitry.  But then, she suspected that he looked upon her as a special challenge.  He took his time coming over, accepting accolades from the other reenactors and chatting with a few other guests.  Helping himself to a plate of late breakfast and a cup of coffee, he headed straight for her.

“I sit here, da?”

Lara managed to not smile.  “If that’s a question—May you sit here?—the answer is yes.  Yes, you may sit with me.”

Dmitry took the chair to her right.  His plate was heavy on protein and lower on carbs.  The Russian spiked his coffee with a dash of whatever he was carrying in an antique silver flask.  Slipping it back inside his brown leather aviator’s jacket, he flashed an unrepentant grin.  “A touch,” he said.  “Safe to fly later.  Safe to sit now.  Tonight, I listen to you.  When done, maybe you listen to me.  We see.”

“Lara.”

Alex’s voice dashed the flame that Dmitry’s smoldering delivery had ignited inside her, but only for a moment.  Alex and Dmitry were rivals in the air, but were they willing to share?  She didn’t want to choose between them.  She wanted them both, if only for the weekend.

Which brought her to all of the obstacles that must be overcome.  She wasn’t vetted.  If the men could be talked into a threesome, it would be vanilla sex in Dmitry’s room at the resort, quiet kink at her bed and breakfast, or permission to use the St. Legers’ Dungeon for a full-blown session of kinky fuckery.

She knew what she wanted.

Lara wanted it all.

Chapter Five

“Alex,” Lara chirped, hoping that she managed to sound relatively innocent.  So many naughty thoughts were in her head right now, her mind was doing a spin that would have earned her a nine point five at the Winter Olympics.  “Won’t you join us?”

Dmitry bristled, but she ignored it.  Better to find out now if there was hope for both men tonight.  They would have to agree on a number of things—first and foremost, could they play with her together, or would she need to keep them apart?

Alex looked at his plate, at Dmitry, at her.  “I believe that I shall.  Thank you.”  He took the chair to her left, sandwiching her between them.

Delicious.

Alex’s plate was a balance of protein and carbs.  He and Dmitry had both taken sausage links and scrambled eggs, but Alex had added hash browns, a biscuit with butter and jelly, and several pieces of fresh fruit.  Dmitry had opted for half a biscuit smothered in sausage gravy and no potatoes.

Dmitry seemed to be enjoying the Russian equivalent of Irish coffee.  Alex drank milk and nodded approvingly at her tea.

“So, tell me,” she said, looking at Alex.  “This morning’s combat.  From down here, it looked like you two were going to take each other out.  When you’re sharing airspace, how close do you get before you pull away?”

He sliced an apologetic glance at Dmitry.  “Today, closer than I like.  The controls were slow to respond.  I’ll check it out before I take her up again.”

Lara took a breath and looked at Dmitry, too.  “You didn’t try to avoid him.  No evasive action that I saw, anyway.”

Dmitry shrugged as if it were no big deal.  “He was close.  I wait.  He move.”

“Well,” she said, glancing at each man, connecting them with her gaze, “I’ve seen you share airspace.  I was wondering if—hoping that?—I might tempt you to share more.  Just so you know, I’m not a trained submissive.  I’ve never done anything much beyond having my wrists tied, wearing a blindfold, and getting spanked.  Pretty vanilla, I know.  But I’m willing, if you don’t mind that I’m not vetted.  I’m sorry.  That limits what we can do on Replay property.  I’m going to leave you two to figure it out.  Come tonight and hear me sing.  After the concert, you can tell me what you want to do.”

She left them sitting, speechless.  It was a temporary state, she was certain.  While she went to look at the airplanes, they were probably stabbing at their breakfasts and dueling with each other for supremacy.

There can be only one…

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Could two Doms be in control?  She thought so.  She hoped so.  One thing was certain.  If they wanted her, they’d have to learn to share.

Lara loved looking at the vintage planes, the cars, even the fuel truck.  With everyone in period clothing, they could have been filming a movie.  After breakfast, the German ground troops changed into French uniforms.  The French planes were taken from the hangar.  The British planes were parked inside.  The hangar doors would be left open until after lunch, just before the next battle.  Meanwhile, the men were checking out their machines, making certain that they were safe, fueled, and ready to fly.

The temperature had raised enough, she now carried her coat and sweater.  Alex had stripped off his jacket and was working in rolled-up shirt sleeves that revealed hair-dusted, corded forearms.  Beige suspenders banded his chest in front and crossed in the back, holding up his pants.  He had a wrench in his hand, a smudge of oil near his chin, and a scowl on his face that didn’t improve when he noticed her watching him.

She respected that he was working, and hoped that the scowl was for his plane, not her.  Rather than hover on the fringes and possibly distract him, she moved on to look at the other planes.  Chatting with the pilots and ground crews, she encouraged them to attend the musical performance tonight.

Lara had just seen the two-seater Bristol Fighter when she felt a presence at her back.  Turning, she saw that Alex had cleaned his hands but still had the smudge on his jaw.

She pulled off her gloves and stroked her face, mirroring where his needed attention.  “You still have some on you.  May I, Sir?”

The honorific made heat flare in his eyes.  He took a half step closer, closing the distance between them.  “You may,” he rumbled.  “But not here.  Come.”

Alex held out his hand, and she took it.  Sparks flew at his touch, racing up her arm and down her body to ignite a fire in her core.  He led her to the furthest of the two antique automobiles, a seven-passenger Pierce Arrow touring car.  Built in 1917, it lacked the iconic archer hood ornament that would come later.

Opening the door, he helped her into the back seat and climbed in beside her, closing the door behind them.  There was so much more going on here than cleaning a smudge.  Her whole body pulsed with promise.

But first things first.

Setting her coat, gloves, and sweater on the seat’s far left side, Lara pulled a linen handkerchief from her purse.  Glancing at Alex, she slipped her entire thumb in her mouth to wet it, rubbed it over the dark streak on his face, then wiped it clean with her hankie.

When she went to put the used linen back in her purse, he stopped her.  “Leave it out.  We’re not through here.”

She did as she was told, wordless in the wake of his command.

He hadn’t given her permission to talk.

“You surprised me,” said Alex.  “You surprised both of us.  We are still discussing specifics, but one thing has been decided.  I go first.  Remove your knickers, Miss Eastman.”

Setting her purse and handkerchief on top of her coat, she reached beneath the hem of her skirt, found the waistband of her panties, and lifted her hips enough to pull them to her knees.  Reseated, she took them the rest of the way off and held them out in a silent offering.

Alex buried his nose in the crotch and inhale deeply.  His visual inspection confirmed that they were wet with her juices.

They had been since before breakfast.

He stuffed them in his pants pocket, all the while keeping his gaze locked on her, his blue eyes assessing, deciding what to do with her, now that he had her.

“I have questions,” he said.  “Before anything happens, I need to know some things.  Are you a virgin…anywhere?” he added meaningfully.

“No, Sir.”  Not that she had a lot of experience with anal, but she’d done it before.

“Have you ever been with a Dominant, someone who controlled everything sexually that happened between you?”

“There were two of them,” she said.  “Brothers.  It was the most amazing night of my life.”

“Ah.”  He angled his head.  “Was there double penetration?”

Lara felt her cheeks warm.  “Yes, Sir.”

“And you find yourself wishing to repeat the experience.”

“No,” she said softly.  “I want to be with you and with Dmitry.  You know, the idea of having you both has taken me by surprise, too.  I’m pretty particular about my partners.  I’d rather do it alone than put myself at risk by having mindless sex with a stranger.  I don’t rush into relationships, and I tend to stay friends with my exes.  Except for the cowboys, I’ve only ever been with one man at a time.  With both of you being in the lifestyle, I was guessing that you might be more open to the idea of sharing me.  Sex doesn’t have to include double penetration, but to be honest, I was kind of hoping for it.”

Alex’s nostrils flared.  He rubbed his jaw, then reached for the buttons on his fly.  She watched, mesmerized, as the fabric parted, and the length of throbbing flesh strained against the fabric of his shirt.

“Show me,” he growled.  “Lift that skirt and show me how you do it.”

Oh, dear.  He wanted to watch her get off.  Without her magic wand, this might take a while.

She caught her hem and raised it, exposing the neatly trimmed copper curls to his view.  Sliding her fingers south, she parted her folds, found her clit, and coaxed it from its hood.  Circling and teasing it, she pushed one, then two fingers into her pussy and started fucking herself.

Alex grabbed his shirt, shoved it out of the way, pushed down the top of his boxers, and freed his cock.  Eight glorious inches of turgid flesh rose thick and straight as a strut.  Wrapping his fingers around it, he cupped his testes and began stroking his length.

Lara licked her lips and bit the bottom one.  She moaned, frustrated that he wasn’t going to share his cock with her.  Two fingers were a piss poor substitute for man meat.

She pumped harder, her brow furrowed with effort.  He stroked longer, twisting his wrist and swirling his fingers around his crown, squeezing out precum until it was ready to drip.

“What do you need?” he rasped.  His labored breaths signaled that he was close.

“I don’t know,” she keened, panting with effort.  “With my wand, I’d have come five times and squirted by now.”

Still stroking himself with his left hand, he reached with his other and added one of his fingers to hers.  The extra fullness was incredible, but still not enough.

“Remove your hand and let me,” he grated.

Thank God.

Without her fingers in the way, he pushed in a second finger, pumping fiercely, then curled them to hit her G-spot.  Two more strokes and she orgasmed, her juices drenching his hand.

“Your kerchief,” he said.  Lara snatched it from the seat and thrust it at him.  Sliding his fingers free of her box, he grabbed the square of linen and wrapped it around the head of his cock, just in time.

She loved watching his face—hooded eyes, jaw clenching, nostrils flared, harsh breaths soughing from between his teeth while he jacked into the cloth.  And he didn’t come just a little bit.  His load was so big, her hankie was hard-pressed to hold it.

In the afterglow of her own climax, the sight of his left her speechless.  “Thank you,” she finally managed.

Alex folded the linen to help contain the mess and licked her juices from his fingers.  “Thank you,” he returned, crooking a grin.  “Pity that you’re not vetted.  Perhaps tonight, somewhere offsite, we can see about making you squirt.”

Tonight.  Tonight.  Tonight…

The promise in his voice would echo the rest of the day.

Chapter Six

Lara ate lunch with Alex and Dmitry, who seemed to enjoy baiting each other as much as teasing her.  But at least they were getting along.  She’d been afraid that she was asking too much from them.

Alex narrated the early afternoon battle for her, watching from the ground when Dmitry and the Germans flew against the French planes recreating the Escadrille de Lafayette.

He had been at one event where they’d actually brought in lion cubs to portray Whiskey and Soda, the original squadron’s mascots.  Piers had wanted to, despite the objections raised by his wife and her friends.  The question was ultimately decided by Replay’s attorney and its insurance agent.  The risk of having the animals wasn’t worth padding the already-hefty expense of the added coverage required for the event.

When the one o’clock reenactment was finished, Lara was ready for a cold drink in the shade.  Alex took her arm and headed for the casino.

“Wait,” she said when she saw where they were going.  “I’m not vetted.”

Alex cocked a brow.  “You’re cleared to enter, as long as you stay with me and remain an observer.  No engaging in play, however innocent.  Otherwise, Piers will have both of our hides.  My plans do not include being caned.”

Lara trusted that he knew what he was doing.  She followed him into the casino unchallenged, past a Replay staff member manning the door.  Alex headed for the bar, where he ordered them drinks and spoke privately to the bartender.  From beneath the counter, the barkeep pulled a display box of collars, from simple to fancy.

“By wearing a collar, others will know that you are off limits,” Alex explained.  “It is your choice, but I would feel better, were you to agree to wear one.”

She could see the sense of it.  And he hadn’t actually called it his collar.  “Whatever pleases you, Sir.  Perhaps there is one that would work better for tonight…?”

He picked a wide band of black leather.  The O-ring set in front was large enough to easily hook a finger through.

Alex added it to his tab.  Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her so that her back was to him and murmured in her ear.  “Lift your hair.”

Lara set everything down on the closest barstool, gathered the length of her hair, and used one hand to hold it out of his way.  He slipped the collar around her throat, slid the end through the buckle, and pulled it to a comfortable fit.

“Turn around.”

She pivoted to face him.

Alex angled his head.  His blue eyes gleamed with approval.  “Perfect.  Now, Ray, here, will hold your coat and sweater for you until you need to leave, so that you don’t have to carry them around.  You can trust him with your purse, or keep it with you, pet.”

Her purse, with one badly soiled hankie inside.  “I’d prefer to keep it with us, Sir.”

Alex handed her coat and sweater to Ray.  “Take your drink,” he said.  She draped her purse straps over her right arm and picked up the virgin strawberry Daiquiri in her left hand.  Alex caught the O-ring of her collar on his finger, picked up his glass of Macallan, and pulled her after him to a table in the quietest corner.

He put down his drink, took hers, and set it down, too.  Looking at the point where they were joined, he sighed and broke the connection, freeing his hands to pull out her chair.  Once they were both seated, he pushed her drink in front of her and sat back to enjoy his own.

Replay’s casino tent held surprises for Lara, but nothing that she shouldn’t have expected at a BDSM resort.  This clearly wasn’t Vegas.  More than one Dominant had a submissive kneeling by his feet, in various stages of undress.  A couple of subs were doing more than that, providing oral pleasure while their masters played cards or other games of chance.

Sipping her Daiquiri, she welcomed the biting chill and savored the sweet, ripe strawberries that clung to the rim.  Alex nursed his Macallan single malt, making it last.  He had to fly again at five o’clock.

When Lara was done with her drink, Alex offered to get her another.  “Virgin,” she reminded him.  “I have to sing tonight.”

“Amongst other things,” he said blithely, pushing back his chair to rise.  “I shall return.”

She watched him go, then let her gaze drift to the roulette wheel, spun by a very busty, completely nude assistant.  She was counting bounces when Dmitry found her.

Looking at Lara, he immediately noticed the collar.  Never taking his eyes from it, he pulled out the chair from the empty spot next to her and sat down.

Dmitry reached for the white silk scarf around his neck and slipped it free.  Leaning close, he threaded one end through the ring on her collar and pulled a third of it through.  He wrapped the longer end around the short one, took it behind and through the O-ring, tucked the end through the loop he’d made, and snugged it up like a man’s tie.

“There,” he rumbled.  “Looks good.  Better on you than me.”

The scarf smelled of him.  The collar’s leather masked it, but layered underneath was Dmitry’s primal scent—slightly musky, with a hint of soap, a remnant of aftershave, and clean, male sweat.

Any errant thoughts were stopped when Alex slid her drink in front of her.  Feeling a twinge of guilt for letting another man adorn his collar, Lara thanked him and took a sip.

“The bar’s open, Chezhekov,” Alex said smoothly.  “Better go get yourself something now, while there’s time to get it out of your system.”

Dmitry narrowed his eyes, weighing ulterior motives with immediate need.  Need won.  Pushing himself up from his seat, he went to the bar and returned carrying what looked like a tall glass of lemonade, with added ice and slices of lemons.

“Hard,” he said.  Leaning closer, he murmured in her ear, “Like me.  Tonight, I show how should be done, Лисичка (lisička).”

A promise and a pet name.  She liked the sound of both.  “Lisichka?  What does that mean?”

He caught a section of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.  “Little fox,” he said.  “Where I lived, it is special name for special woman with fire in her hair…and passion in her soul.”

Thus far, Alex had been a gentleman.  And quiet, despite the tick in his jaw when he saw Dmitry’s scarf.  He’d sipped his drink rather than disparage their play partner, but the bit with the fox proved too much.

“You can try to show her, once we’re done.”  He leaned close to her other ear.  “I’m going to tease you.  Please you.  However long it takes to make you squirt.  I’m going to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.  Then, while he watches, I’m going to finish in that gorgeous arse of yours.”

The thought made her shiver, but his competitive spirit had her concerned.  “Jesus!  You two sound ready to rip me apart!”

“Nyet!”

“No, we won’t,” Alex assured her.  “As our submissive, your needs come before ours.  We shall find your limits and help you to push past some of them.  If there is anything you cannot handle, you will use your safeword.”

Lara looked at Dmitry, then at Alex.  “What I want to handle,” she said, “is the both of you. We’ll do it separately if we have to, but I’d prefer to take you at the same time.  Three orifices, in every combination that doesn’t involve sharing space.  From the size of things, I’ll need lube and luck to handle just one of you.  I’m really, really tight to start.”

“I know,” Alex crooned.  “Even after you’d been at it for a while, I had to push my way in.  Fingers,” he added, slashing a glance at Dmitry.  “I haven’t had her.  Yet.”

The naughty minx in her nature made her turn back to Dmitry, who’d been the odd man out so far.  “Would you like to see for yourself?” she asked him, thinking it was only fair.

She didn’t have to ask twice.

Dmitry’s nostrils flared.  The lids over his dark eyes dropped to bedroom mode.  Moving his seat so that his body blocked her view of the room, and vice versa, he reached under her skirt.  Smiling when he found no underwear to impede his touch, he cupped her sex and winnowed his fingers through her curls.  He used his middle one to trace her seam, back and forth, teasing her with the promise of more.  Parting her folds, he found her slit and worked his way inside it.

“Тесный (Tesnyy),” he rasped.  “Tight.  Very tight.”  He kept his eyes on her but spoke over her shoulder.  “Alexei, we must bring lube tonight.  After you sing, we go where we can have you, the ways we want.  Be good little fox, and maybe Alexei will say yes to this.”

“I’ll be good,” she swore.  “Please, Dmitry….”

He started fingerfucking her, just barely, making teasing forays that ended almost as quickly as they’d begun, and using strokes with one finger that were far too short and not nearly hard enough.

He looked at Alex.  “Hold her, please.  No falls.”

Alex turned his chair so that its front edge abutted the side of hers.  Straddling his seat, he grasped Lara’s waist, pulled her hips towards him, and bracketed her bottom with his thighs.  He slid his hands up to cup her breasts.  Leaning back in his chair, he took her with him, until she was halfway reclining against the wall of his chest.

Dmitry worked in a second finger and started pumping in earnest then, his arm moving like the piston of a well-oiled machine, coaxing her juices and bringing her to the precipice in record time.  Alex had been playing with her breasts.  Now he tormented them, plucking at the tips and pinching them into points that he tugged and twisted hard enough to make her body arch away from his.  The exquisite blend of pleasure and pain was enough to send her soaring.

Her body bucked.  She shoved against Dmitry’s hand and came, bathing him with her juices as one orgasm ended and another began.  Shuddering to a stop, she relaxed against Alex’s chest and watched Dmitry suck his fingers clean.

The realization of what they’d just done hit her full-force.  She was supposed to stay an observer, and here she was, luxuriating in post-orgasmic bliss.  “Oh, dear,” she whispered.  “I didn’t just get us in trouble, did I?”

“If we are in trouble, Dmitry and I are the ones to blame,” Alex assured her.  “But I suggest that anything else wait until tonight.  We have to fly.  You have to sing.  Each of us needs to focus on work before play, hmm?”

She swore that she heard Sir Piers’s words coming from Alex’s mouth.  But he was right.  She didn’t need the distraction, and they certainly couldn’t afford it.  If she flubbed a line, it was shame on her.  If they made a mistake, it could be deadly.

“Yes, Sir.  Except…what about Dmitry?”  He was still hard as a fence post.  His erection strained the buttons on his fly.

Alex reached into his pocket, pulled out her panties, hooked them on a finger, and dangled them in front of her.  “Chezhekov, here is a receptacle for your lust.  If you need to take the edge off, it’s her hand or yours.  I know which I would choose.”

Chapter Seven

Dmitry was hung like a horse.

She could only stare, in rapt fascination, when he reached into his underwear and pulled out his length.  He was uncircumcised, ramrod straight, and at least ten inches, with a girth to match.

Not for the first time, she wondered how she was going to handle them both.

He took her panties from Alex and draped them on his thigh.  Reaching, he caught the end of the tie that he’d made.  Hand over fist, Dmitry pulled her to him.  Taking her wrist, he turned her hand, palm up, and brought it up to her face.

“Spit,” he ordered.

Hard to do, when he’d made her mouth go dry.  She thought about sucking him off while Alex pounded her pussy and had no problem gathering a mouthful of saliva.  Releasing it into her palm, she let Dmitry guide her hand to his cock, wrap her fingers around his shaft, and lubricate it with her spittle.

She stroked his length, using one hand, then two, milking precum from the slit, and pleasuring him with her touch.  She found a rhythm that he seemed to enjoy and maintained it.  His breaths grew harsher, his pelvic thrusts sharper.  His balls drew up, and she swore that she could feel the molten tide in him, ready to erupt.

Dmitry grabbed her panties.  “Now,” he grated.  Lara slid her hands to the base of his cock, while he covered the rest.  His body seized.  A litany of Russian escaped his lips when he ejaculated, emptying himself into her panties.

He used the clean hem of one leg to wipe himself, folded her underwear to contain the mess, and jokingly offered them back to Alex.

“Purse,” Alex told Lara.

She tucked them beside her soiled handkerchief.  Looping it on the back of her chair, she waited until Alex and Dmitry had arranged their seats, then placed one hand on each man’s muscled thigh.  “Thank you.  That was amazing.  I’ve never done anything like that in public.  Then again, I’ve never seen anything like this.

She swept the room with her gaze, before returning her attention to her partners.  “I need you to behave tonight while I’m singing.  One bad performance can kill a career, and you guys are so distracting, I’ll be lucky to remember my lyrics.  If you could save the good stuff for when I’m done, I would appreciate it.”

Alex arched a brow.  “Topping from the bottom?”

She bit her lip and gave him a sheepish look.  “Just being honest.  I know me.  I’ll start watching how your eyes are smiling despite your scowl, and how Dmitry’s hands hold and stroke his glass.  I’ll start imagining them on my body while you watch, and then I’ll be good and lost.  I’d never be Nora Bayes again, and that would be too sad.  She’s got such a great body of work.”

“You have great body,” Dmitry rumbled.  “Nice ass.”  He lowered his head and gave her that look.  “No shake while you sing, or we make little fox’s tail red, too.”

“If I don’t shake it, will you spank me anyway?”  She’d only been spanked once, the night she’d been ridden by the two cowboys.

“Alexei?  She does not know?”

“Know what?”  Lara turned towards Alex.  He was frowning, but the devil was in his eyes.

“That you can expect to be spanked by me,” he said smoothly.  “If you’ve researched your roles to the depth that I suspect you have, you have likely heard of the English vice.  Something in the British blood that calls for corporal punishment and domestic discipline.”

“And anal sex?” she asked.  She’d always associated British men with it, regardless of their partner’s gender.

The corner of Alex’s mouth tipped upward.  “I believe that Dmitry may enjoy taking you there almost as much as I will.  Something in the psyche about dark, forbidden fruit and a primal need for complete possession.  It gives him another option if he’s too much for that tight cunny of yours.  Although, I confess, the voyeur in me wants to see just how much of his erection you can fit down your throat first.”

“You might be surprised,” she said, glancing at Dmitry.  He was looking at her mouth, possibly imagining her lips around that massive cock of his.  “If it wasn’t ahead of a performance, I’d be tempted to offer.  But I can’t risk traumatizing the throat muscles,” she sighed.  “Your blow job will have to wait.”

“When you perform fellatio, do you swallow?” Alex asked, his voice like a lion’s purr.

Lara didn’t blink.  “I will, with you and Dmitry.  You’re both vetted.  You’ve been tested and cleared for play.  You’re the ones who’ll be trusting that I’m clean, too.  Which I am, by the way.  I’ll understand if you choose to wear condoms, but I’m an old-fashioned girl.  I prefer skin to skin.”

“Skin is good,” Dmitry said.  “The better to feel for you.”

Lara had to wonder.  Did he mean, the better to feel her, or the better for her to feel?  In the end, it didn’t matter how he worded it.  The sensations would be the same, better for her, better for them.

They passed the afternoon in the casino.  Neither men had an interest in gambling.  They focused all of their attention on her, learning everything about her, from childhood on.  Family.  School.  Interests.  Education.  Her sexual experiences—what she liked, what she didn’t, what she hadn’t done but wanted to try.

Alex was particularly keen to know what had gotten her interested in music history in general and in the specific singers that she portrayed.  For this era, it was exploring the sensual side of Nora Bayes.  She found it fascinating that the same singer/songwriter who gave us “Shine On, Harvest Moon” had also written “I Work Eight Hours, I Sleep Eight Hours, That Leaves Eight Hours for Love.”

All too soon, it was time for the men to do their preflight checks.  They made Lara keep on her collar with Dmitry’s scarf still knotted to it when they left her in the viewing area and went to their planes.

Looking around, she saw that Sir Piers was back, with his wife, this time.  She waited until his duties called him away, then went to talk to Eleanor.

“How’s the baby?” she asked.  Sir Piers might seem implacable, but Lara had sensed his concern for little Adrienne.

Eleanor smiled.  “Better.  Her fever’s down.  Her appetite’s still off, though.  I’ve had to pump extra today.”

It amazed Lara how any woman could work and breastfeed.

“It’s not easy,” Eleanor admitted.  “If we could hire another psychologist to cover my clients, I’d take a leave indefinitely.  Having to stay in bed that last month of my pregnancy, I’ve gotten spoiled.  I miss my husband.  I miss our daughter.  I miss Nanny, too, truth be told.”  Eleanor smiled and lowered her voice to a whisper.  “She has stories and doesn’t hesitate to tell them.  Every day that she’s with us, I seem to learn a little more about the man I married.”

Eleanor’s confession made Lara acutely aware of how little she knew about Alex and Dmitry.  Eleanor would be no help with the one, but Alex….

“I really enjoyed your dinner party last night.”  Although Lara was still wrapping her head around Jannet and Aubrey as submissives, Mr. Vashon as bisexual, and Aubrey in a threesome with him and Sir Josef.  “And I enjoyed meeting Alex.  Very much.”

Eleanor smiled broadly, as if she knew more but wasn’t about to offer it.  “That makes two of us.  I’d only met him a little before you did, but Alex impressed the heck out of me when he brought the baby this stuffed aviator bear and toy wooden planes like he flies.  He had everything in this little suitcase, with a child-size vintage flyer’s hat, goggles, and a white silk scarf for when she’s older.  From the sounds of it, he and Sir Piers are hoping to make this an annual event.”

“That would be wonderful!  Even better if I can come back and entertain the troops again.”  If tonight went well, she’d try to learn Alex’s reenactment schedule in case they could hook up before that.

“I’m very much looking forward to the music tonight,” Eleanor told her.  “It will be another first for the resort—a concert without any BDSM scene taking place until it’s done.  Once the pilots and reenactors who aren’t vetted have left, the Doms and subs can play.”

Where would that leave her?

Alex and Dmitry had had their heads together as they walked away.  From their intensity, they were either talking about their upcoming combat, or they were discussing options for tonight.  Whatever they decided, they weren’t going to tell her anything until after her performance.

Five hours.  She had to wait five more hours.  Thankfully, there were things to occupy her.  This last flight at five pm, dinner at six thirty, and the concert at eight.  The band’s set would last until nine-thirty.  And after that, a night spent somewhere, submitting to Alex and Dmitry.

Chapter Eight

For the five o’clock reenactment, the Germans would finally be allowed to win.  In the last scenario of the day, the hangar’s flagpole flew the Union Jack, and British pilots scrambled to defend their base from attack.

One by one, the British riflemen played dead.  British planes pretended to be “shot down.”  Finally, it was Alex and three German planes in an aerial ballet that seemed so real, by the time it was over, her fingernails had dug crescents into her palms.  The outcome was inevitable.  Alex’s Sopwith Camel landed and sputtered to a halt on the far side of the hangar.  The German planes flew off, triumphant.

The men had told her to stay under the dining tent until they came for her.  With temperatures near ninety, they wanted her to keep cool and protect her skin.  She’d applied SPF50 sunscreen this morning, but carrying her purse on her arm had worn it off.  Now she had a band of sun-pinked skin on her forearm.

She sighed softly.  She knew better.  She’d brought the tube in her purse to reapply it.  But Alex and Dmitry were proving exceptionally distracting, to the point of making her forget essentials like putting on more sunscreen and drinking more water.  God help her tonight, when she’d have to share the stage with Michael “God’s Gift to Women” Holliday.  She needed to stay out of his reach, but having Alex and Dmitry in the audience, watching her, waiting to whisk her away for a night of delicious debauchery, was bound to distract her.

The men returned, elated with how well the battle had gone and hungry for more than just her.  Replay’s caterers had done an exceptional job, keeping something on the buffet line throughout the day for people to graze on.  Dinner choices were chicken marsala, flank steak Bordelaise with duck confit, bourbon-glazed grilled salmon, or portabella mushroom and cheese ravioli with thickened chicken broth rather than the typical alfredo or red sauce.  Lara avoided dairy products ahead of a performance, which eliminated the ravioli, however tempting it might be.  Instead, she chose the glazed salmon with grilled asparagus, and fresh fruit for dessert.

As soon as dinner was done, the three of them fetched Lara’s outerwear from the casino and shared a ride back to Replay.  Dmitry went to his room to shower and change.  Alex stayed in the limo, which would take him to Sir Piers’s home to do the same.  Lara returned to wardrobe and readied herself for the evening, cleaning up in the women’s changing room shower and applying makeup before slipping into the evening dress that she would wear.

Done, she followed resort staff member Samael to the room where the band was assembling and warming up.  Finding a corner, she did the same, going through the vocal exercises that she used religiously.  The playlist had already been shared.  At seven thirty, the band carried their instruments to the Nightclub Room, stage dressed as a World War I canteen.  Michael Holliday was already there, strutting like a peacock among the period music stands.

Lara needed to avoid him.  Neither Alex nor Dmitry had arrived.  Looking around and recognizing a familiar face, Lara decided that the safest place was at the bar, where Ray stood ready to pour the two-drink limit for attendees.  He mixed her a glass of tonic water and pineapple juice that she nursed while she waited to take the stage.

Just ahead of eight, Alex and Dmitry came in, looking handsome as sin in their period suits.  Alex wore a bowtie with his.  When Dmitry looked at her and adjusted the knot of his tie, she realized that she hadn’t put their collar back on.  It was still in wardrobe, in a locker with her purse and other clothes.

Oh, dear.

Dmitry started to head her direction.  Alex stopped him.  Putting a hand on Dmitry’s shoulder, he guided him to the table they would share.  Front row, center, it was directly in front of the vintage microphones that she and Michael would use.

The tables filled up rapidly after that.  The pilots who’d flown today, their ground crews, and the soldiers who’d “galvanized” to portray three nationalities during the reenactments were seated at the closest tables.  She assumed that the others who’d come were Dominants and submissives who would stay and play, once the concert was done.

Sharing one table were Jannet MacDonald, Ian McGregor, Aubrey Wolfe, Mr. Vashon, and Sir Josef.  With a few minutes left to spare, Lara went over and greeted the group, then made her way to the front, welcoming the other guests as she went.  By the time she reached the front of the room, Sir Piers and Eleanor had joined Alex and Dmitry.

The VIP table.

Keeping her gaze on the St. Legers, she welcomed them to the club, then took her place on stage.  Michael joined her, flashed his perfectly capped smile at the crowd, and leaned away from the microphones to whisper to her.

“Ready to knock ‘em dead?”

Instinctively, she stepped away, putting more space between them as the lights dimmed.  “Sure thing.”

Michael was the big band’s official vocalist.  Technically, she was a guest artist, only appearing with them on occasion.  Her regular band was much smaller than this one, but talented beyond belief and just the nicest people to work with.  This group was too cliquish for her.  Polite but chilly—far from the warm, friendly musicians that she was used to working with.  But there was no arguing that they were the biggest and the best band on the circuit that she’d heard.

She sang backup for Michael’s solos, then did two songs of her own near the halfway point, just before the band took a ten-minute break.  When the last note of her torch song fell, the lights came up.  She automatically sought out Alex and Dmitry, who were applauding with the rest of the room, pride shining in the depths of their eyes.

“I never would have guessed.”

She’d been so focused on the two Dominants, she was unaware that Michael had come up behind her.

“Rumor has it that you got kinky with some flyboys.  Next time we work together, I’ll be sure to bring toys.  Ol’ Michael here can make you sing like you’ve never sung before.”

She shuddered with revulsion.

“Giving you goosebumps?”  Mistaking her reaction, he stroked the exposed skin of her arms and touched the sides of her breasts.  Reflexively, she jerked away from him.  A heartbeat later, Dmitry had his hands fisted in Michael’s lapels, and Sir Piers was pushing his way past Alex.

“Mr. Chezhekov, put Mr. Holliday down.  Now,” Sir Piers commanded.

Dmitry did.  Curling his lip in disgust, he came to where Lara stood and flanked her with Alex.  The two Doms were clearly ready to protect and defend her.

Sir Piers focused his attention on Michael.  “Mr. Holliday, you will apologize to Miss Eastman for touching her without permission.  Replay is all about consent.  If you were focused on her instead of yourself, you would clearly see that you do not have it.  If you wish to continue to perform tonight, you will respect her wishes and maintain a courteous, professional demeanor.  Touch her again without permission, and you will be immediately escorted to a limousine and returned to your hotel.  Is that understood?”

Michael gave her a look so full of venom, it should have killed her on the spot.  “This isn’t over, bitch.”

“Holliday, that’s enough.”  Sir Piers took out a cell phone and punched a number.  “Geoffrey, Mr. Holliday needs a ride back to his hotel.  Samael will see him to the door.  Make certain that he arrives safely, hmm?”

The orchestra conductor stepped forward, intending to intervene.  Sir Piers stopped him with the flat of his palm.  “It’s done,” he said firmly.  “And in case you need it explained further, I suggest that you speak to my attorney.  You were here, right beside them, and did nothing to stop your employee from his assault on Miss Eastman’s person.  Ms. Bryan can tell you what it could cost to defend yourself and your man in court against sexual harassment and assault charges, particularly in a case that you will most certainly lose, given the number of witnesses.  Now.  Think very carefully about how you wish to proceed.  You still have your band.  You still have Miss Eastman.  I suggest that you find a way to make that work and avoid a breach of contract suit as well.”

Crap.

Not that Michael didn’t deserve it.  Not that Mr. Zelznick hadn’t turned a blind eye when he knew damn well what went on every other time that they’d worked together.  But Zelznick was a man.  A lifetime member of the Good Old Boys Club.  He would make excuses for Michael and put the blame on her.

They always did.

Except at Replay.  Two days ago, she would have least expected it in a place where men commanded and women obeyed.  But now she knew better.  Submission was a gift.  The relationship between a Dominant and submissive was rooted in trust and built with utmost care.  Needs were met and boundaries explored.  As a result, both the Dom and the sub grew, as partners and as individuals.

And she had two men, ready to help her spread her wings and fly.  She just had to get through the rest of tonight’s set.

Mr. Zelznick had never had the chance to see what she could do.  Lara’s four-octave range allowed her to sing every song that remained.  She was brilliant.  She knew it.  It was one of those rare performances where you could feel the energy shifting in the crowd as you sang for them.  You gave, and they gave back.  Whispers of conversation ceased.  Attention was totally focused on the music, and on her.  Each piece received enthusiastic applause.  She did three encores before Sir Piers decided that she’d done enough.

When the last ovation ended, she went up to the conductor while he was still free.  “Mr. Zelznick, I want to thank you for letting me finish the concert.”

He blinked like an owl.  “Thank me?  I should be thanking you!  The evening is done, the contract fulfilled.  The boys and I will be celebrating in the hotel lounge, if you would care to join us.”

It was Lara’s turn to look stunned.  “Thank you,” she stuttered, almost beyond words.  “Really.  Thank you very much.  I’m sorry.  I would love to join you, but I already have other plans.  Maybe another time?”

He smiled.  Actually smiled.  “Soon, I hope.  I have your email.  I’ll be in touch.”

He was already in motion to help his band pack up and leave.  Samael was doing the same with the reenactors who had come only for the concert.  The sooner they cleared everyone out, the sooner the vetted members’ scene could begin.

Sir Piers and Eleanor met Lara as she stepped off the stage.  “Just wonderful, my dear!  Wonderful!  I hope that you can save room on your calendar for next year’s event.  The first full weekend in April is what Alex and I have been discussing.”

Jannet and Aubrey were next in line, with their Doms.  Lara shook hands and spoke to everyone who came forward to meet her, until only Alex and Dmitry were left.  “I have things in wardrobe that I need to get,” she told them.  “After that, I’m free to do whatever.  Go wherever, since I can’t stay here.  That is, if you still want to.”

Dmitry’s eyes fairly smoldered.  “We want many things,” he said.  “But first comes spanking.  Alexei’s hand.  My belt.  Then we fuck.”

Alex stepped up and put his hand on her throat where his collar had been and echoed her words.  “That is, if you still want to.”

She shivered with anticipation and felt her knees grow weak.  “Yes, Sir,” she croaked.

Alex smiled darkly “Is your rental car here?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And will it hold the three of us for a short trip?”

“I think so.  You tall men will need to sit up front.  I’ll fit better in the back.”

Alex looked at Dmitry.  “Have them call for the limo, please.”

Chapter Nine

When they left wardrobe, each man had an overnight bag, Lara had her clothes, and Dmitry carried a suitcase of what were probably toys.  Out front, Alex helped Lara into the limo, then slid into place beside her.  Dmitry followed, sitting on the opposite seat.

“We have twenty minutes, more or less,” Alex said, turning up the lights as the limo pulled away, headed for wherever they were going.  “Time enough for the spanking that you have coming, minx.  What did we tell you before the last battle?”

Lara balled her hands in her lap.  “To leave the collar on.”

Alex lifted a brow.

Crap.

“Sir.  To leave the collar on, Sir.  I took it off to wash and put on makeup.”

“I understand,” he said smoothly.  “And that, I can dismiss. But you chose to not wear it.  You disobeyed our order, and that we cannot have.  Punishment will reinforce the lesson learned.  The next time that you are told to do something—especially when it is for your own good, to keep you safe, you will remember this.  Are you wearing knickers?”

“No, Sir,” she answered meekly.

“Come, then.  I need you to pull up the hem of your dress, kneel on the seat, and lie across my lap.”

Lara obeyed.  Stretching out to lie on his thighs, she braced herself on her knees and forearms and forced herself to relax.  Tightening her muscles would only make this worse.  And she still had Dmitry and his belt to go.

Alex reached for her hem and pulled it to her waist, exposing her bare ass.  He fondled it for a minute, then smack!  The first blow hit her left cheek.  The second struck her right.  He kept going, increasing the strength of them, varying the angle of his hand and where it landed, until her whole bottom felt like it was on fire.

Tears welled.  Pooling in her eyes, they spilled to track down her cheek.  She wiped them with her fingers, determined to be strong, to show them that she could handle this.

Handle them.

Lara turned her head.  Dmitry was staring at her, lust burning in his dark eyes.  His hard-on challenged the fit of his pants.  Reaching for his belt, he undid the buckle.  The next thing she heard was the erotically-charged, unmistakable sound of leather sliding through the loops.

He doubled his belt in his right hand and tapped his thigh.  “Five,” he rumbled.  “Do not move.”

Kneeling on the floor, he put one hand on the small of her back, keeping them connected between blows.  The first one made her buck and gasp.  The white-hot stripe burned, and the sound it made resonated deep within, echoing in her pelvis, radiating outward, traveling down her legs and up her spine.  The second vibrated her anus and her pussy, making her acutely aware of her empty, aching need.  The third blow literally took her breath away.  The fourth made her gush.  There was no mistaking the scent of her arousal when the last stroke fell.

She cried, of course.  Ugly tears that the men seemed to find beautiful.  Or maybe it was her submission, watching her do penance for her sin against them.  Either way, they were as turned on as she was, but she hadn’t been given permission to move, let alone do anything more.

“Good girl,” Alex crooned, stroking her hair, rubbing her shoulders and her back.  “You should thank Dmitry for his belt.  It’s a rare treat for his play partners, and he chose to share it with you.  Dmitry, take your seat, and I’ll send her over.”  He waited until Dmitry was back in place.  “Now, hands and knees, Miss Eastman.  Crawl to him.  Dmitry and I have a bet on just how much of him you can swallow.”

Lara straightened her arms, pushed herself off Alex’s lap, and sat up.  Scooting to the edge of the seat, she looked at Dmitry, slid to the floor, and watched him watching her as she crawled between his feet.  He opened his fly and freed his erection.  That magnificent cock of his stood straight in the air.  Precum welled on the tip, glistening in the interior light.

She wet her lips.  He inhaled sharply.

“Suck me, lisička,” he growled, stroking himself.  “Show Alexei how this is done.”

“May I use my hands—how do you say Sir in Russian?”

Dmitry’s eyes gleamed with appreciation.  “Cэρ.  Ser.  Close.  Very close.  And da.  Yes.  Use hands, lips, tongue.  But I warn you.  I feel teeth, you feel belt.”

Her ass was already on fire, but she wasn’t complaining.  She imagined each stroke being delivered with love.  Imagined the marks that they’d left as proof of their ownership.  They hadn’t even kissed her, and she was already wondering if there was any way to make their threesome work in the real world.  She’d been looking for a sign, but so far, nothing had come.

She took Dmitry in her hands and stroked his shaft, milking more precum from his slit.  Opening her mouth, she took him in far enough to cover his crown, swirling her tongue over the velvet skin, tasting his essence and finding him delicious.  She traced the rim with her tongue, sucked in his glans, and rubbed the point underneath that made him groan.

Lara circled the base of his penis with one hand and cupped his sac with her other.  Fondling his balls and cinching her fingers around the bottom of his shaft, she took in more of him, and more, a little at a time until she’d taken half of his length.  Shifting her body and changing the angle of her head let her swallow him to the root.

“I win,” said Alex.

“We both win, do you not think?”  Dmitry tunneled his fingers in her hair and gripped her scalp.  “Is good, mischka.  So good.  Smell how ripe she is, Alexei.  Juicy, like a peach, da?  You should join us.  Why wait?”

Hearing Dmitry’s sexy baritone suggestion, all she could think was, Please, please, please, please, please….

Dmitry took control, holding her head and fucking her face in earnest.  Behind her, she heard Alex shifting.  She recognized the rustle of fabric as he took off his coat and vest.  He would need those gone, if he was going to slide down his suspenders and drop his pants.

Yes!

Kneeling behind her, Alex wet his hand on her slickened folds and worked one finger inside, incrementally, until he was knuckle-deep.  He fucked her with it, getting her wetter, stretching her out, making room for a second finger, and a third.  When she was ready, he lubed his cock with her juices, notched his head, and pressed forward, gaining entry and forging deeper, stretching her out as her body adjusted to his possession.

Having Dmitry in her mouth and Alex in her pussy, the sensations were almost overwhelming.  Every thrust from behind changed her position and made it a challenge for Dmitry to remain in control.  Eventually, a rhythm developed that let her arch back to meet Alex and take Dmitry deep in her throat.

“We’re nearly at the resort,” Alex grated.  “For Christ’s sake, Chezhekov, finish up and let me have that mouth of hers.”

“You hear Alexei?  Finish me, lisička.  Da.”  Dmitry jacked his hips, pumping in earnest, using her mouth while a litany of Russian escaped his own.  Breath hissed from between his clenched teeth.  His cock swelled and his balls tightened, signaling his imminent release.  With a guttural cry, he thrust into her mouth, shooting streams of cum across her tongue, against her palate, and down her throat.  She struggled to swallow it all.

Alex grasped her biceps and pulled her off of Dmitry, releasing his cock with an audible pop.  Rather than dragging her back to the other side, he took an empty spot down from the Russian, crooked his finger, and started stroking his slickened length.

Lara crawled to where he sat, waiting for her to finish him.  It didn’t take long.  She gave him a taste of her deep-throat technique, then let him ravage her face, moaning when he achieved his release and poured himself into her hungry mouth.  When she had drained him dry, she sat back on her heels and put a hand on each man’s closest thigh.

“Jesus.”  Alex coughed and exhaled a deep, cleansing breath.  “Come here, woman.”

They pulled her up to sit between them.  Alex cupped her cheek, turned her face to meet his, and pressed a tender kiss upon her lips.  Not to be left out, Dmitry fisted her hair and pulled her to him, claiming her mouth in a ravishing kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth, and tasting the three of them together.

The limo pulled to a halt just then, hitting the pause button on their play.  “Dmitry, keep our girl warm whilst I see to our accommodations, hmm?”

Dmitry nodded, never breaking the kiss.  Lara clung to the lapels of his suitcoat and reveled in his mastery.

A discreet knock on the window alerted them to Alex’s return.  Sighing, Dmitry rebuttoned his pants and smoothed Lara’s hair for her.  She straightened her gown, hoping that she didn’t look like she’d taken on two Doms in the back of a limo.

Lara let the two men help her from the car and into a waiting golf cart.  Emblazoned with the Paradiso Luxury Resort logo and loaded with their luggage, it was driven by one of Paradiso’s staff members.  Raphael smiled politely and welcomed them to the resort.  He didn’t blink at their threesome.  If he had any objections, he was too well trained to voice them.

There was no trace of censure in Raphael’s eyes.  She wished that her family would be as accepting, but she knew them too well.  As much as she loved her parents, she couldn’t deny that they were conservative to a fault, judgmental, slow to change, and slower to forgive.

What would they think of Alex and Dmitry?

Lara had never introduced her family to one lover, let alone two.  Long ago, she had learned to keep her private life just that and to practice what Shakespeare preached.

To thine own self be true.

That’s exactly what she planned to do tonight.

Chapter Ten

They were taken to a secluded beach-front luxury cottage with an eat-in kitchen, a living room with a wet bar, and a California king-sized bed.  The en-suite featured a huge jetted tub and a steam shower that would easily accommodate the three of them.

Patio doors led to an outdoor deck with a hot tub.  An infinity pool seemed to merge with the salt water below.  The men couldn’t have chosen a more perfect place to express their desires and explore their passions.

Alex tipped their driver and locked the door, enclosing the three of them inside their private sanctuary.  The only sound were the ocean waves, their breaths, and the quickened beat of her heart.

They ordered Lara to strip and kneel by the sofa on the small pillow that they allowed to spare her knees.  The Doms wasted no time in transforming the space into a dungeon.  A portable St. Andrew’s cross was mounted over the now-closed bathroom door.  A coffee table held a small catalog’s worth of toys—four leather cuffs, a blindfold, bondage tape, hanks of colored rope, vibrators, dildos, anal plugs (one with a fox tail), chain-linked clamps, paddles, floggers, crops, canes, condoms, and lube.  Lots of lube.

When they were done, both men sat on the sofa.

Alex spoke first.  “We talked about your limits earlier today.  What we need from you now are your safewords—one to slow down, one to stop the play.  What are your words, Lara?”

Knowing that they’d be needed, she had given it some thought.  “Tennyson to slow.  Tolstoy to stop.”  If nothing else, the men would remember the British and Russian authors by their nationalities.  Alex was a slow burn to Dmitry’s explosive chemistry.

“Those will work,” Alex agreed.  “Repeat them, please.”

“Tennyson to slow.  Tolstoy to stop.”

It was Dmitry’s turn to speak.  He motioned to the table beside her.  “Pick,” he said.  “What you wish to start?”

“Is there a limit, Ser?”

“Nyet.”

“Well, then.  Can we start with the flogger, the nipple clamps, the leather cuffs, and the St. Andrew’s cross?  Maybe add a vibrator, rope, the lube, and whatever else pleases you when we move to the bed?”

If she only had one night with them, she intended to make it memorable.

Alex nodded his approval.  “Do you need to void before we get started?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then rise.  Go.  We shall call you forth in five minutes’ time.”

Lara didn’t have a watch, but there was a clock in the bathroom.  She voided first, then washed her face and hands.  A quick search, and she was able to brush her teeth, too.  When Alex called for her to come out, the men were both shirtless and wearing black leather pants.

She swallowed, hard.

Alex’s chest hair was thinner, and trimmed to reveal the sculpted planes of his chest.  He was built like a tennis player, all lean muscle and wiry strength.  There was no manscaping for Dmitry.  He was bigger, everywhere, not just his cock.  His chest was wider.  His arms looked stronger.  His body hair was thicker, darker, longer.  She wanted to thread her fingers through it—or better yet, rub her nipples on it—and see if his thatch was crisp, wiry, and deliciously abrasive or a softer, kinder cushion.

Dmitry approached her, dangling the nipple clamps.  Alex carried the four leather cuffs.  Dmitry cupped her breasts and licked her nipples, using his teeth and tongue to bring them erect.  Rolling them between his fingers, he fastened the clamp on her right side.  The bite of pleasure and pain sent an electric charge to connect with her core and made her soaking wet.

He pinched her left nipple, twisted it, and clamped it.  He continued playing with her breasts while Alex put the cuffs on her ankles and wrists.  Done, Alex pulled the bathroom door shut, the strongest position for hanging her, should they choose to.

Dmitry caught the chain connecting her nipple clamps and stretched it out in front of her.  Breath hissed between her teeth when he tugged on the chain and pulled her to the bathroom door.  Alex guided her into place facing the St. Andrew’s cross, positioned her feet, and fastened them to it.

“Raise your arms,” he said, and secured those, too.  “Tell me, have you ever been flogged?”

“No, but I’ve wanted to,” she confessed.  “One of my girlfriends goes to private parties.  It’s what she enjoys the most.  Well, that and the sex with different Doms.”

Alex stepped closer and whispered in her ear.  “You’re in for a treat.  Chezhekov is a master of floggers and whips.  You look beautiful, by the way.  Your arse is the loveliest shade of red.  I can’t wait to fuck it.  Dmitry and I are adding one more thing to the scene.  An anal plug to stretch you out a bit and heighten your pleasure while you’re being flogged.”

Alex took it from Dmitry and showed it to her.  It was the pretty one, crowned with a faceted purple jewel.  He lubricated her hole with coconut oil, spread more on the plug, and carefully inserted it.

“Perfect,” he purred in her ear, sending shivers along her arms and down her spine.

Dmitry stroked her body with the flogger, then stepped back to begin.  His first strikes were light, the leather falls slapping gently against her skin.  Avoiding her kidneys and spine, he worked both sides of her body, varying the placement and increasing the strength of his blows.  It hurt, and yet her body began to crave it.  Tears streaked her cheeks as she arched to meet him.  The pain morphed into pleasure when endorphins were released.  At some point, she entered an alternate state, like she was out of body, back in ten.

She returned to awareness, lying on the bed between the two men.  Both of them were stroking her arms, shoulders, neck, and cheeks.

Alex smoothed her hair away from her face and crooked a smile.  “Welcome back,” he murmured.  “We lost you there for a time.”

Looking down, she saw that the nipple clamps were gone.  “Because you let me off my chain.  Did you try kissing me?” she asked, only half-joking.

“No.”

“Then there’s your problem.  Holding back the good stuff when you should have been giving me sugar.”

He cocked his head.  “Sugar?”

Nodding, she glanced at Dmitry.  “And spice. And everything nice.  Dear Lord.  Listen to me.  I sound like I’ve been drinking tequila.  I’m not drunk.  At least, I don’t think I’m drunk.  Am I?”

“It’s the subspace,” Alex chuckled.  “You’re still coming out of it.”

“Mmm.  Whatever it is, I like it.  Feels good.  Like warm fuzzies.  Speaking of which…”

Lara rolled on her side and buried her face in Dmitry’s chest.  “Ooh.  You’re soft.  My Russian bear.”  Threading her fingers through his chest hair, she found his pierced nipple.  A quick check verified that his other one matched.  “You have barbells,” she gushed.  “I think barbells are sexy as fuck.  How the hell did I miss those?  Do you have any tattoos?  If not, you need—”

Dmitry shut her up with a soul-stealing kiss.  “I need to fuck,” he rumbled.  “No condom.  Skin to skin.  Say yes.”

“Say yes, Ser,” she giggled, then gasped as Dmitry hooked her leg over his arm, found her opening, and started to push his way inside.  Given the disparity in their sizes, he had to work for every inch, stretching her out and barely giving her body time to adjust before forging in deeper.

Hitting bottom brought her painfully back to full awareness.  “God, you’re too big!” she grated between clenched teeth.  “It’s too much.  I can’t—”

The next thing she knew, Dmitry had turned her with him, so that he was lying on his back, with her on top of him, still joined.  “Ride,” he ordered.  His calloused hands let go of her hips, freeing her to move.  They slid up her body and lay claim to her breasts.

She moaned at the sensations.  Dmitry’s meaty girth, his bruising grip, the way he tormented her nipples.  After she’d managed to take more of him in, he grasped her hips and took control, driving into her while her juices flowed.  Changing his angle, he hit her G-spot and ripped an orgasm from her, then another.

Alex stood by the bed, fisting himself and watching them fuck.  Lara locked her gaze on his erection and licked her lips in silent invitation.

Alex accepted.

Chapter Eleven

Alex climbed onto the bed and knelt near Lara’s head.

Parting her lips, she leaned towards him, trying to hold her head still while he guided his erection into her mouth.  Alex fisted her hair to take what control he could, but Dmitry’s primal claiming made finding his rhythm a challenge.

After a time, he pulled out of her mouth and forced her face up to meet his.  He kissed her, tongues tangling as he slid his one hand south.  His tap on the anal plug sent shock waves through her system.

She whimpered, wanting more.

“Please,” she begged him.  “Oh, please…”

One more kiss, and he left them briefly, returning with everything that he would need.  He set the towels, wet washcloths, and lube to the side and palmed her reddened ass, feeling its flex and play as Dmitry jackhammered into her.  Grasping the base of the anal plug, he fucked her with it, then pulled it free, tossing it on a fingertip towel.  He added more lube to her hole, slickened himself, and set the lube aside.

Alex bracketed Dmitry’s thighs with his knees.  Pressing on her low back, he urged her to lie flatter against Dmitry, who had gentled his strokes when he saw that Alex was joining them.  The next thing she felt was Alex’s glans, pressing against her anus, seeking entry and gaining it.

Yes!

Pushing past the rings of muscle, he forged his way inside, until he was buried in her ass to the base of his cock.  “Fuck,” he grated, grasping the flare of her waist.  He started to move, short strokes at first, then longer, harder, deeper.  “Look at her, Dmitry,” he growled.  “She’s able to take us both.  Perfect.  Fucking perfect.”

Dmitry agreed, squeezing her breasts and tormenting her nipples.  The feel of their dual possession had her on the constant edge of orgasm.  Dmitry pushed himself up and sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth.  His love bite sent her flying, waves crashing below, bathing them in her juices.

Dmitry was close behind her, exploding in her pussy and filling it to overflowing.  Alex ended quickly after that, blanketing her back with his front, driving in deep, and flooding her dark passage.

They lay there for a long moment, locked at the hips.  Being between them, possessed by them, was the most incredible experience of her life.  She wanted to savor each moment of it and memorize every detail, so that once she’d returned home, she could relive it again and again.

The three of them showered together, then made use of the hot tub outside.  The crescent moon provided little light, but the stars made a brilliant canopy over their heads.  Sex in the hot tub was followed by more sex in bed.  Finally, Alex insisted that they get some sleep.  They needed to be sharp for their last dogfight tomorrow afternoon.

They awakened to a world made mystical by fog.  Room service delivered a gourmet breakfast that they enjoyed while lounging in the pool, watching the mist slowly burn off in the sun.  Dmitry talked about growing up in Russia and how different things were here.  He’d lived through the dissolution of the Soviet Union, knew victims of the atrocities in Chechnya, and barely escaped fighting the war in Georgia.  Putin’s reelection in 2012 had sealed his decision to emigrate.

“I come to America.  Meet Alexei.  Now we have planes,” he said, ignoring how Alex had stiffened at the last.

“Yes, we do,” Alex agreed.  “And we have an event to get back to.  Given the hour, I suggest going inside and calling Geoffrey.  It will take him at least twenty minutes to get here.  Longer than that, if he is not yet on duty.  Either gives us time enough to dress and check out.  Lara, we shall stop by your lodgings first, so that you can change for the day.  We were so eager to bring you here last night, I fear we failed you in that regard.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said, smiling softly.  “This has been the most incredible night of my life.  Thank you.  Both of you.  Oh, my rental car is still at Replay.  I was going to return it this morning and catch the limo out to the resort.  They’re giving some of us a ride back to the airport late this afternoon, once the reenactment is done.  It won’t take long to change, but if the two of you need to get back, they can pick me up on the next trip in.”

Alex exchanged another look with Dmitry and answered for them both.  “We can stay, even if Geoffrey cannot.  The battle isn’t until two pm, well after the buffet lunch has been served.  We must do the preflight checks, of course, but there’s no point in rushing.”

There was no sense in delaying either.  The three of them got out of the pool, wrapped up in resort robes, and headed back to the shower.  Dmitry and Alex took turns washing her, and she returned the favor, stroking them both to completion.  She put on yesterday’s day dress for the ride to her third-floor room at the bed-and-breakfast and added her folded evening gown to her purse, coat, and sweater.

The men repacked all of the BDSM toys and equipment in the suitcase.  They changed into what they needed to wear today—a German aviator’s outfit for Dmitry and a British flying ace’s issue for Alex.

A call to the front desk summoned their ride to the lobby, where Geoffrey would pick them up.  While they waited, Lara enjoyed listening to the indoor waterfall and watching the colorful koi that swam beneath it.  Alex and Dmitry remained in sight but excused themselves to use their phones.  They spent the rest of the time, checking messages and texting.

Dmitry silenced his phone on the way back to town.  Alex was dealing with a work-related problem and spent the entire time texting on his phone.

Lara spent it snuggling with her Russian bear and wondering if it was possible to fall in love this fast.  She’d only had one serious relationship.  They’d gone from friends to lovers over the course of a year.  But she hadn’t felt half as connected to him as she did to either of these men.  Multiply that times two, and she feared that she was lost.

Thoughts of what waited for her at home were depressing.  Too little work.  Too many bills.  But worst of all, a far-too-empty bed.  Sharing theirs last night was incredible.  Between them is where she longed to be, even if she had to settle for stolen moments like these.

Lara held her breath and hoped for the best when both men accompanied her into the bed-and-breakfast.  She had feared a conservative’s wrath-of-God look.  Instead, there was curiosity about the three of them, a knowing look at her collar, and a twinge of envy when her hostess heard the men’s accents.

Aware of appearances, Alex and Dmitry remained downstairs in the parlor with her hostess when Lara returned to her room.  She changed clothes and repacked her suitcases to check out.  She’d take everything with her to the resort, so that she was ready to leave when the day was done.

Geoffrey ran one load of reenactors to Replay and picked up Alex, Dmitry, and Lara on his return trip.  They shared their ride with some of the French pilots who had come to last night’s concert.  Learning that they all flew World War II mock battles as well, she treated them to a few songs of that era, ending with Vera Lynn’s “We’ll Meet Again” just as they were pulling up to the resort.

The French pilots climbed out first.  Alex caught her hand, pulled her to him, and kissed her with all of passion’s promise.  “We will, you know.  We’ll meet again.  I cannot tell you how or when, but I swear, somehow, we will make it happen.  For now, I need you to look to the sky, and watch for us.  There now.  Don’t cry, love.”

She couldn’t help it.  Looking into his eyes, seeing the unspoken promises they held, for the first time in months…in years…she dared to dream of what might be.

“Sorry.”  She rubbed at her eyes.  “I will.  I promise.  It’s just…I hate goodbyes.”

Alex cleared his throat.  “I am afraid that we shall have to say ours before the battle.  You’ll be leaving at its end, and Dmitry and I have a duty that requires us to depart as well.  Until then, let us enjoy each other and the day.”

They were required to leave their cellphones with their luggage.  When Lara took her android from its case to turn it off, Dmitry took it from her and punched in a number.  His device rang once before he ended the call.  He did the same thing, connecting hers to Alex’s.  “Now we have you,” he said firmly, handing back her phone.

The possessiveness in his voice made her smile.  “Yes, you do,” she agreed.  Her wingmen did have her, for however long they wanted her, and for whatever they might need.

Chapter Twelve

Their shuttle to the airfield was the antique Pierce Arrow that she and Alex had used yesterday.  This time, Dmitry joined them in the backseat.  Because they shared the ride with other reenactors, they had to behave themselves.

The men left her with orders to stay in the shade of the large dining tent.  She wore their collar and found herself touching it often, a tangible reminder of the night that they’d spent and the way they had claimed her body, her heart, and her soul.

Alex and Dmitry returned after their preflight inspections were done.  The caterers were just setting up the buffet lunch.  The St. Legers invited the three of them to share their table.  Lara loved listening to the two cousins swap stories from childhoods with nannies, boys’ schools, wealth, and rank.  What a contrast to Dmitry’s family’s struggles!  And yet you’d never know from Alex’s demeanor that he’d come from such privilege.  He was amazingly unpretentious, conducting himself as an equal with the other pilots, even though his and Dmitry’s flying skills were clearly superior.

Instead of taking a table in the casino, Lara, Alex and Dmitry visited with Sir Piers and Eleanor until just ahead of the battle.  For today’s scenario, the Union Jack flew at the hangar, and the airbase again came under attack from the Germans.  But this time, the British fought back successfully.  The riflemen kept shooting.  The British planes launched their defense.  One by one, the German planes were “shot down,” until only two were left.  A pair of British biplanes pursued the one German fighter.  Alex alone engaged Dmitry.  Their planes’ renowned climbing ability was put to the test as they dueled in the sky.  After some amazing aerobatic maneuvers, Dmitry’s plane began streaming blue smoke.  Seeking escape, he headed for the far horizon, with Alex hot on his tail.

Lara watched until they were out of sight.  After long minutes, it was clear that they wouldn’t be coming back here.  Evidently, they’d flown straight from the reenactment to whatever duty they had been called to perform.

Geoffrey picked Lara up at the airfield. 

“Your phone, Miss Eastman,” he said, handing it to her.

Lara tucked it in her purse.

“Everything else is in the trunk.  If you are done here, I’m to take you to the airport.”

She was done, for now.  The realization was bittersweet.  But Alex had promised that they’d meet again, and tomorrow was another day….

Geoffrey helped her into the back of the limo.  She scooted to the far side, thinking that she’d be sharing the ride to the airport, but the door closed behind her, and Geoffrey took off.

She settled in for the hour-long drive, already missing Dmitry and Alex.  Remembering their time together, she was so lost in thought, it took her a moment to realize that the limo had stopped and the engine was silent.

Fishing in her purse, she made sure that her return ticket was readily available for when she checked in.

The door opened, and Lara stepped out…onto the tarmac of a different, smaller airport.

“There’s been some mistake,” she told Geoffrey, struggling with her rising panic.  She’d be lucky to not miss her flight, and God knew, she couldn’t afford to buy another ticket.

Geoffrey crooked a smile and pulled out his cell phone.  “Miss Eastman,” he said, already punching numbers, “I suggest that you turn yours on and check your missed messages.”

“What?”

He pointed to her purse and turned away, walking to the front of the limo for a private conversation.

Lara turned on her phone and found three missed calls, one from Alex and two from Dmitry.

Crap.

There was one text message, as well.  When she opened it, Alex’s text read:  Look for us in the sky.  Watch, wait, and see.

She was about to delete it…until she saw that it was from five minutes ago.

Looking up, she scanned the horizon, listening for the drone of their planes.  Soon, she heard the now-familiar stutter of Alex’s Sopwith Camel and saw the bright red wings of Dmitry’s Fokker.  The two planes maneuvered overhead in a vertical climb.  Blue smoke began streaming from the tails, and the planes veered away from each other, forming twin arcs before diving down.  They angled their flightpaths, and she held her breath, watching, praying that they didn’t collide.  When they reached the bottom point, and she realized what they’d done, Lara burst into tears.

She’d been praying for a sign, and now she had it.

High in the sky was a perfect heart.

The planes landed and rolled to a stop.  Lara stayed where she was.  She’d been told to watch, wait, and see, and so she did.

Alex and Dmitry came towards her like a pair of lions.  Alex nodded his approval.  “You waited.”

“You said to.  But, Sir, I’m supposed to be at the airport.  I’ll miss my flight.”

“Nyet.”  Dmitry shook his head.  “We take.”

He pointed to a private jet that was rolling their direction.  The corporate logo on the side read ABDC Air.

ABDC, the aviation industry’s hottest new competitor.

ABDC.  Alex Boulton and Dmitry Chezhekov.

Oh, God.  She’d heard about them.  Kind of.  The news media called them “the billionaire and the brain.”

Alex caught her before her knees buckled.  “In case there is any question as to how we feel about you, might I remind you of our recent display of affection and point out that we have arranged for our private jet to take you wherever you wish to go.  We were rather hoping for Ohio, but you must tell us, Miss Eastman.  We need your consent before we proceed.”

Geoffrey was already ferrying luggage to the jet, hers and theirs.

“Ohio,” she repeated, resisting the urge to pinch herself.  “What’s in Ohio?”

“Us,” Dmitry rumbled.  “Work.  For now.”

Alex shook his head.  “What he means is, we’ll be scouting out locations here, with thoughts of moving our corporate headquarters closer to family and friends.  It won’t be soon.  We’ll need to build.  Chances are, the three of us have different tastes in houses.  It will take a miracle to agree on one.  However, we went so far as to speak with Ian McGregor this morning.  He has tentatively agreed to do the work, when we are ready to proceed.”

“Plane waits,” Dmitry reminded her.  “Delay take off, and I take off belt.  Now.  Ohio.  Us.  Say yes.”

“Wait.  Ohio.  Do you two live together?  I mean, where am I going if I say yes?”

“My place,” they both answered at once.

Alex shook his head.  “Word of warning, Miss Eastman. Chezhekov here is stubborn to a fault.  He’ll insist that we move in with him, when my home is clearly better situated for the three of us.”

“Mine is closer,” Dmitry said.  “We have more time to fuck.”

“Mine is larger, and my Dungeon is superior.”

Dmitry said nothing.

Alex sighed.  “See how he is?”

Lara angled her head and tapped her chin.  “You both have valid points.  And there’s nothing to stop us from staying at both places.  I think that each of you should kiss me.  Convince me to come to Ohio.  The most persuasive kisser names where we go first.”

She was already in Alex’s arms.  He thrust five fingers in her hair, wrapped his other hand around her waist, and gave her a breath-stealing, toe-curling kiss.

“Mmm.  That was good.  Very good.  Dmitry?”

Her Russian bear grabbed her biceps and pulled her to him.  A low growl sounded at the back of his throat.  He fisted her hair and angled her face to meet his.  Mouths clashed.  Tongues dueled.  His massive erection prodded her belly.  When he reached between them and twisted her nipple, she orgasmed then and there.

His kiss—and Alex’s—spoke as clearly as the message that her wingmen had written in the sky.  They wanted her, enough to keep her with them rather than let her go, even for a little while.  They’d done the most romantic thing that two pilots could do.  They’d given her their heart, as she had given them hers.  Earlier today, she had dreaded returning home.  Now, she was being offered two new ones, to share with the Doms who had collared her, accepted her submission, and introduced her to BDSM.  And sometime, in the months to come, they would return here, to share a home and live among like-minded people, family, and friends.

There were bound to be challenges, beyond getting her family to accept her decision.  They were adults used to living alone.  To mesh as a threesome, there was going to be a learning curve, especially when one of them was so very, very stubborn.

Her Russian bear smirked, certain that he was the winner, but Lara had a little devil in her, too.  “I’ll have to think about it,” she hedged.  “On the way to Ohio.  And while I don’t think I delayed our take off too much...”

She bit her lip and asked Dmitry, “Can I have your belt anyway?”

REPLAY SERIES

CAST OF CHARACTERS

with main book appearances

Adriana – Sir Josef’s ex-lover; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Adrienne Elizabeth St. Leger, daughter of Piers and Eleanor (Dubois) St. Leger; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Alexander Patrick Boulton – British WWI flying ace reenactor, co-owner of ABDC Air, Piers St. Leger’s cousin, in a relationship with Lara Eastman and Dmitry Chezhekov; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Alexis MacDonald – daughter of widower Micheil MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Ashley Slade – actress portraying Marie Antoinette during filming at Replay; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Aubrey Wolfe – gifted pianist, legally blind, submissive, in a MMF ménage with Dr. Josef Brandt and her mentor Luc Vashon; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Beatrice Hammersmith – Nanny to Piers and Victoria St. Leger, Nanny to Piers’s daughter Adrienne; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Breanna Campbell Falk – Replay resort musical director, married to Gunnar Falk; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Cade Madden – actor portraying Louis XVI during filming at Replay; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Dmitry Gregori Chezhekov – Russian aerobatic pilot, German WWI flying ace reenactor, co-owner of ABDC Air, in a relationship with Lara Eastman and Alex Boulton; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Don – period musician who plays the lute, in a relationship with Jon; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Eleanor (Elly) Benoit St. Leger – psychologist, friend of Rowena Campbell MacDonald and Marcus Vos, married to Replay resort owner Piers St. Leger; Replay Book 3: Honour Bound

Geoffrey – chauffeur for Replay resort; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Ginger Owens – children’s author, pen name of Rowena Campbell MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Gini (Virginia) Shelton – librarian and 5K runner, in a relationship with Marcus Vos; Replay Book 4: Hooked

Gunnar Falk – Viking Dom at Replay, married to Breanna Campbell Falk; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Henry – Sir Josef’s ex-lover; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Ian McGregor – architect, Highland dancer, Dominant, in a relationship with Jannet MacDonald; Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Jannet MacDonald - sister to Micheil and Xander MacDonald, former ballerina, homeschools her niece Alexis, in a relationship with Ian McGregor; Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Jewell Fraser – Domme wardrobe mistress at Replay; Replay series

Jody “Savage Joe” Greene – Native American Dom, personal coach, and former MMA cage fighter; Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six), that introduced Replay BDSM theme resort

Jon – period musician who plays the bass viola da gamba, in a relationship with Don; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Jorge – Josef Brandt’s groundskeeper, married to Nadine; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Dr. Josef Brandt (Sir Josef) – Replay resort psychiatrist; Replay series/Replay Book 5: Night Music

Kitten – Sir Piers’s secretary at Replay; Replay series

Lara Eastman – singer, songwriter, music historian who does first person impressions (Lillie Langtry, Nora Bayes, etc.), in a relationship with Alex Boulton and Dmitry Chezhekov; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Leda – wardrobe assistant at Replay; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Lenore – Replay chauffeur; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Luc Vashon – French-Canadian piano instructor/professional musician, aide to Aubrey Wolfe, a switch in a MMF ménage with Dr. Josef Brandt and Aubrey; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Madeleine – Chez Cuisine’s owner’s wife; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Marcus Vos – private investigator who vets members for Replay resort and provides personal protection on occasion, an amputee veteran with PTSD, in a relationship with Gini Shelton; Replay Book 4: Hooked

Melody – bookstore owner; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Michael Holliday – singer with WWI band; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Micheil MacDonald – Scottish billionaire software designer, widower, now married to Rowena Campbell MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Michelle – Aubrey’s friend who helps her shop for women’s things; Replay Book 5: Night Music.

Mr. Zelznick – Big Band conductor (WWI); Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Ms. Bryan – Replay attorney; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Nadine – Josef Brandt’s housekeeper, married to Jorge; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Nanny (Mrs. Beatrice Hammersmith) – Nanny to Piers and Victoria St. Leger, Nanny to Piers’s daughter Adrienne; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Nathan Roth – literary agent to Regina Wright and Ginger Owens (aka Rowena Campbell MacDonald); Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Piers St. Leger – British Replay resort owner, kinbaku master, and husband of Eleanor Benoit St. Leger; Replay Book 3: Honour Bound

Raphael – Driver at the Paradiso Luxury Resort; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Ray – Replay bartender; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Regina Wright – erotic blogger, alter ego of Rowena Campbell; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Rex – Marcus Vos’s PTSD service dog; Replay Book 4: Hooked

Rich/Richard Benjamin Franklin – Replay Dom; Replay Book 4: Hooked, Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Rowena Campbell MacDonald – Replay musician, author, artist, married to Micheil MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Sabrina Wright – stage name of Breanna Campbell Falk; Replay Books 1 & 2: Viking Raid and Triple Play

Samael – Replay personal assistant; Replay series

Stephen Howard – talent agent for Regina Wright, bisexual Dom; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Trent Blackwell – assistant to talent agent Stephen Howard, a switch; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Victoria (Tory) Elizabeth St. Leger – sister of Piers St. Leger; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Xander MacDonald – software designer, brother of Micheil and Jannet MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Author’s Biography

Nia Farrell is the author of one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, a 2016 Golden Flogger Finalist, and a founding member of the Wicked Pens.  A multi-genre writer published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt, she’s an old soul and a period reenactor who’s been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days.

Nia has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years.  She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes.  In her book Something More, BDSM and submission are tools for healing post-rape PTSD, earning a nomination for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, in the 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.

Her debut books from The Three Graces series, Something Else, Something Different, and Something More, are kink with a paranormal twist.  Soul mates, reincarnation, karmic fallout, shamanism, and psychic abilities come into play.  Personal experience and extensive research go into crafting her characters, but it’s her sense of whimsy that has made fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the United States, with a Monty-Python-inspired diner that’s central to the plotlines.

Nia was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on.  She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband’s suggestion.  She has been published in erotic romance since 2015.

AUTHOR LINKS

Nia Farrell & Erinn Ellender Quinn’s webpage

http://bit.ly/NiaErinnWP

Nia Farrell’s Facebook author page

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellFB

Farrell’s Foxes, Nia Farrell’s Street Team page

https://www.facebook.com/farrellsfoxes

Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page

http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell

Nia Farrell’s Goodreads author page

http://goodreads.com/Nia_Farrell

Nia Farrell’s author page at Kinky Literature

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellKL

Nia Farrell’s Wicked Pens author page

http://bit.ly/WPenNia

Nia Farrell on Tumblr

http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com/

Nia Farrell on Twitter

https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell

Nia Farrell on Pinterest

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellPins

Nia Farrell on Google+

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellGplus

Nia Farrell on YouTube

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellYouTube

WRITING AS ERINN ELLENDER QUINN

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Amazon author page

http://viewAuthor.at/EEQuinn

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Goodreads author page

http://bit.ly/EEQuinnGoodreads

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Facebook author page

http://bit.ly/EEQuinnFacebook

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Wicked Pens author page

http://bit.ly/WPenEEQ

Erinn Ellender Quinn on Twitter

https://twitter.com/ErinnEQuinn

NIA FARRELL TITLES

Something Else (The Three Graces Book One).  Three soulmates forge a future from the flames of their pasts in an interracial New Age New Adult MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance.  “It’s part paranormal, part BDSM, part love story, but all good.”  Released August 25, 2015.  Length 17,872 words.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/SomethingElseWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG1

Something Different (The Three Graces Book Two).  Starving artist Anna James has sworn off men.  Rock gods Jackson and Jacob Thomason just promised her the best sex of her life.  Does Anna dare submit to the part-Comanche twins who perform as No Mercy?  Released September 29, 2015.  Length 17,235 words.

Teasers and except at http://bit.ly/SomethingDifferentWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG2

Something More (The Three Graces Book Three) Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.  Rachel Givens is supposed to be dead.  She has post-rape PTSD and a three-year-old autistic daughter, father unknown.  When her former lovers—a biker and a porn star—walk into the restaurant where she works, this single mother learns just how much more she can handle.  Released October 15, 2015.  Length 18,613 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/SomethingMoreWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG3

The Three Graces Trilogy (paperback) includes Something Else, Something Different, and Something More.  Welcome to fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the USA and home of the Three Graces—young women whose names all mean “Grace.”  Three women.  Six men.  Things are about to get interesting.  Released April 2, 2016.  Length 230 6x9 pages.

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TGr

Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six—the sequel to Something Else).  When morning sickness hits the house, a Dominant veteran with PTSD and an American Indian musician propose to give their psychic submissive a very special honeymoon.  They’re giving Grace the capture fantasy of her dreams at Replay, a BDSM theme resort where patrons role play in the past.  Released May 5, 2016.  Length 21,578 words/105 5x8 pages. 

Nominated Best Erotica and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards. Winner, Favorite Audiobook, EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards, 2016.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/TG6WP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/TG6

Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/TG6p

Audiobook buy link http://mybook.to/TG6a

Dark Moons Rising.  On the most dangerous night of the year, a daughter of light finds unexpected sanctuary with two dark lords, handsome as men, stunning as centaurs.  An otherworldly sword-and-sorcery paranormal shifter ménage erotic romance novelette.  Released March 10, 2016.  Length 9,210 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/DMRWP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/DMR

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/DMRp

As Wicked as You Want (Forever Ours Book One).  It’s a past life for The Three Grace’s Nico, J.T., and Grace, a Victorian erotic romance BDSM MMF ménage with a bisexual British history professor, his American stepsister who’s been living as a man since serving in the Civil War, and her Irish messmate who is an apprentice in her art studio and who has been fighting his attraction to “Lane.”  Released August 1, 2016.  Length 155,467 words / 609 pages.

Voted #1 Erotica and #10 overall, The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016. Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

Teasers and excerpt  http://bit.ly/AWAYWWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/FO1

Paperback http://mybook.to/FO1p

Audio excerpt, read by the author

http://bit.ly/WickedAuthorReadsYT

“Pride and Punishment meets 50 Shades of Grey” in Pride and Punishment – An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen. A Dominant Mr. Darcy must find a way to win the submissive heart of a woman who abhors him.

Released June 1, 2016.  Length 91,133 words/344 pages.

Voted Best Historical Romance, 2017 Ménage Romance Readers Favorites.  Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book awards.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/PunishWP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/Punish

Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/Punishp

Amazon Large Print buy link http://mybook.to/Punishlg

Gift shop http://www.cafepress.com/prideandpunishment

Replay Book 1: VIKING RAID.  A curious virgin makes Replay resort’s Viking Dom an offer he can’t refuse.  Released July 1, 2016.  Length 20,051 words/99 pages.

Nominated Best Erotica, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/RB1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB1

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB1p

Replay Book 2: TRIPLE PLAY.  A celibate sex addict meets a Scottish Dominant who’s determined to be the exception to her rules.  Released September 1, 2016.  Length 20,232 words / 100 pages.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/RB2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB2

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB2p

Replay Book 3: HONOUR BOUND.  A psychologist interested in BDSM experiences it first-hand with the owner of Replay resort.  Released November 1, 2016.  Length 19,946 words / 97 pages.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/Replay3WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB3

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB3p

Replay Book 4: HOOKED.  During pirate weekend, a curious librarian explores BDSM with a Dominant veteran amputee.  Released January 1, 2017.  Length 21,950 words/ 121 pages. 

Winner, Favorite Leading Lady, 2017 Our Book Stars Awards.

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/Replay4WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB4

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB4p

Audiobook http://mybook.to/RB4a

Replay Book 5: NIGHT MUSIC.  In an updated version of Cyrano de Bergerac, bisexual Replay resort psychiatrist Sir Josef plays matchmaker with a blind concert pianist and her mentor and falls for them both.  A MMF ménage.  Released March 1, 2017.  Length 19,438 words / 104 pages.

Teasers and Excerpts at http://bit.ly/RB5WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB5

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB5p

Replay Book 6: HIGHLAND FLING.  During a special music weekend at Replay resort, a former ballerina must choose between two Dominants.  Released May 1, 2017.  Length 20,081 words.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/RB6HighlandFling

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB6

Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction.  Isabella Castellari is rescued from a roadside breakdown by Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan, Vice President of the Avenging Angels MC.  He takes her to the clubhouse, but it’s his rules, his way, if she chooses to stay.  Released June 1, 2017.  Length 2,724 words.  Includes a free sneak peek at Find Her—Avenging Angels Book 1.

Trailer http://bit.ly/AAMCKeeperTrailer

Teasers and Excerpt: http://bit.ly/AAMCintroWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMCintro

Find Her (Avenging Angels MC Book 1).  Rose McLanahan is the daughter of the Avenging Angels MC president and younger sister to four of its members. When she’s rescued from a rival gang, her oldest brother’s best friend is entrusted to take her where the Blackwater Demons MC won’t find her.  Michael O’Flaherty has known the Angels’ princess since she was born, but alone in the Angels’ safehouse, Dominant Michael and submissive Rose will finally discover each other.  Released June 8, 2017.  Length 40,627 words.  Reached #9 on Amazon’s BDSM Erotica Best Seller list.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.lu/AAMC1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMC1

Wicked Lady.  In Restoration England, a lady highwayman demands more than money from her victim and now must pay for her crimes.  It’s a tale of dubious consent, first his, then hers, with a degenerate lord, one desperate woman, and two nights that will change their lives.  Reached #37 on Amazon’s Best Seller list, Historical Erotica Mystery.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/WLadyWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/WLady

Touch the Wind (Touch the Wind Book One) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Christiana Delacorte has loved Justin Vallé since her misspent youth, sailing disguised as a boy.  When she hires the French privateer to rescue her father, she’s delighted that his price includes her presence in his bed.  The first of a swashbuckling series set in the 1720s Caribbean.  Released December 1, 2016.  Length 91,354 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/TW1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW1

Ride the Wind (Touch the Wind Book Two) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Set in the same year the last witch burned in Scotland, indentured servant and Wiccan healer Beth Gordon risks her life to save her master, Irish sea captain Ian O’Malley, a man with dark secrets of his own.  A paranormal historical erotic romance.  Released October 1, 2016.  Length 70,059 words / 244 pages.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/TW2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW2

Paperback http://mybook.to/TW2p

Reap the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 3) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  A vicar’s unconventional daughter meets her match in the son of a Spanish spy.  Release Date February 1, 2017.  Length 67,087 words.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/TW3ReapWP

Amazon e-book link http://mybook.to/TW3

Dare the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 4) Dare the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 4) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Release Date April 1, 2017.  Length 67,703 words / 245 pages.  Irish Captain Tristan O’Dea finds passion on the high seas with his commander’s widowed half-sister, free-thinking musician and composer Jessenia Bougeureau.

Winners, Favorite Historical Hero (Tristan O’Dea) and Favorite Historical Heroine (Jessenia Bougeureau), EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt at http://bit.ly/TW4WordPress

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW4/