©Nora Quick 2013
Chapter Six
I couldn't write anything more of the dark Borgia biography and I'd given up on Googling my aunt Alessandra. It had to be an assumed name. In fact, I found no record of anyone named Joeson anywhere. So instead of writing or searching, I thought. I sat on the couch of my office with a book in my lap, pretending to read, petting Diego at my feet absentmindedly as I thought long and hard.
I loved Julian, wild, free, shy, and yet so confident. Shameless was the best word for him.
Free was the best word for Pierre. He laughed easily, always had a positive outlook. He encouraged this "innocent" side to me more than either of the other men. With Pierre I felt like I was revisiting a familiar world with new eyes. With Julian I felt I was visiting a world I'd only glimpsed.
With Andre I felt overwhelmed. He seemed to be leashed strength. He wasn't quite as tall as Julian, nor was he as broad as Pierre, but the combination of height and strength made me feel deeply feminine around him. He was smart, brilliant actually, and when we spoke I always felt I was learning, but never condescended to.
Still I didn't know what drove him. For Pierre it was figuring things out, tinkering, taking them apart and putting them back together better than ever, a master builder. Julian lived to create, reveled in the sensual, a creature of seductive comfort.
Andre made money with the same ease most people breathed, dressed like he was always ready to either head up a gentleman's motorcycle gang or guide a corporate takeover. Whenever the men had to accomplish any task together all three or in a pair that Andre was part of, he was the clear leader.
And yet he smiled easily and cuddled with me as if we'd been doing it for years. I didn't know what he did for fun. Hell, I didn't even know what he did around the house. Julian cooked and Pierre tinkered and chauffeured. I guess Andre cleaned, but I couldn't quite imagine it.
I'd just have to find out more that night. Andre had always treated me tenderly for all his strength, but whereas I had a firm grasp of just who Julian and Pierre were, I was lost with Andre. I wanted to love him, but I needed to know more.
A knock came at the door. I leapt up, dropping the book which scared Diego. A knock could mean one of the men, and possible temporary relief from the arousal plaguing me. I'd been wet all day.
"Yes?"
The door opened and Diego streaked out, making Andre step back with a small smile. "How's writing going?"
I crouched and picked up the book with a sigh. "It's not. I was attempting reading but I can't concentrate."
"Why's that?"
I remembered the promise he'd exacted, that I always had to be honest. "I am so damn...horny. Frankly I'd masturbate, but for some reason it feels wrong."
His eyes glittered as he closed the door behind him. "Oh? You've become quite a good girl."
Setting the book down on a shelf I folded my arms beneath my breasts. "What does that mean?" I wanted to be sure, even though I knew I had once played this game from the other side.
He looked me up and down, noting the simple blue sweater dress I'd put on that morning. "Your pleasure is our responsibility, and our privilege. You'd have to be quite a naughty girl to interfere with our duty."
He approached me slowly, his face serious but his eyes unusually playful. I backed up, warily, though I felt my nipples harden as my mouth went dry. Licking my lips I saw his gaze dart there, sinking lower to my breasts, and I shivered.
"Funny, Julian tells me he feels like my slave and yet you make it sound..."
"Yes?" He raised a single auburn eyebrow.
"Like I'm your slave."
He backed me to the wall, trapped between the window and my desk. Still Andre kept coming until his delicious body pressed into mine. "Anna, would that be such a bad thing?"
In the past if I'd ever thought of being submissive to a lover I'd always felt a sliver of shame. But with Andre, hell with them all now it was a different matter...a new me, I'd promised myself. And the new me was insanely aroused by the thought.
"No," I breathed at last. "It just...makes me nervous."
One hand landed on my hip and the other reached between us to drag its knuckles over my nipple. "Thank you for being honest. Yes, submission scares you, but it excites you as well. And it makes you blush. You're so fetching when you blush."
I couldn't make any reply other than a whimper as I remembered the fantasy he'd confessed our first night together. I tipped my face up to meet him as he bent his head and took my mouth. Clutching at his shirt I rubbed my body against Andre like a cat. I felt his erection and it thrilled me. I wondered if he would make me kneel, take his cock into my mouth, lick him nice and slow, or suck fast and hard.
The thought of his pleasure under my hands was heady. Even if he ordered me, called the shots, pleasuring him and watching it was the real treat, and I loved the feeling of power that act would give me.
Andre pulled back, his look knowing and not quite smiling, but definitely amused. "Strip for me, nice and slow."
He pulled back and sat on the loveseat, looking imperious.
I remained at the wall, shivering and unsure.
"I know what you need," he said with a smile and found the remote on the side table. All week long Pierre had wired the entire house to a central server. The remote was basically a smart phone that connected to it and within seconds he had the list of music pulled up, copied mostly from playlists on my computer.
Seconds later Rob Zombie's "Foxy Foxy" began.
"Strip," he said again, tossing the remote carelessly to the desk.
