by Taryn Quinn
“Why?” she whispered, and that word sounded as if it had been wrested from her soul. “Why would you do this?”
“Will you come with me?” he asked, knowing he was on the thinnest ice ever.
“Where?”
Matt lifted his fingers to stroke her cheekbone. Her expression had already shifted from scared to speculative. Though she was still wary, her body relaxed against his.
Small progress.
“Do you trust me, Cait?”
“I don’t know.”
Her quick reply made a rumble of laughter rise up in his chest. She wasn’t the only one dealing with the aftereffects of a serious spike of emotion. “My plan was to grab you, throw you in the SUV, and tie you up,” he said in a low voice. “Gag you, maybe even blindfold you. And it was a good plan, until I had you in my arms and you damn near killed me.”
She didn’t smile. “Do you have any idea how frightened I was? That’s every woman’s worst nightmare to be grabbed off the street.”
“I thought you’d get off on it. Eventually. The complete loss of power, being under a man’s total control—”
“We aren’t in a bedroom, Matt! We’re on a city street, and I had no clue it was you. I thought I was going to die,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, cradling her face in his hands as he had since college whenever she was upset. They’d been friends forever, and he’d comforted her so many times when she cried. But he’d never been the cause of her tears before. “You know I love you.” Fear fisted his throat. “That I’d never intentionally hurt you.”
“So why do you keep doing it?”
“Because I’m an idiot. Completely.” Only having her shaking in his arms had driven that point home. He’d been thinking with his overeager dick, not his head.
Tristan never would’ve let him get away with this stunt. And for good reason.
“He’s in on it too?” she asked, almost as if she could read his mind.
“No.” Matt shook his head. "He didn’t know my plans. You know how he is with you. You’re his precious Caity Bait.”
He’d hoped to make her smile, but she didn’t. Good job, asshole.
“This was all me,” he continued into the silence. “You kept telling me about those pirate dreams, and I thought you’d be a little scared, yeah, but turned on more.”
“Turned on by being kidnapped? In a dark alley? Have you been reading bodice rippers or something?” She punched him in the shoulder, eliciting a wince. But he didn't deflect the blow. He deserved it and more. “I was terrified. And I can tell you in all honesty, I was not aroused.”
“How about now?”
Her eyes narrowed, but he saw the beginnings of a smile twitch on her lips. “There is something very wrong with me that I love you.”
He brushed his mouth over her temple and just breathed in her scents. Her erotically chaste peach blossom lotion combined with the ripe scent of her skin, seducing him effortlessly. “Agreed. But I’m beyond grateful that you do. And I want to repay you, with interest. Let me create the fantasy for you I should’ve given you a choice in to start with.”
“What kind of fantasy? First you kidnap me. Then you tie me up. What comes next? Raping and pillaging?”
“Depends. That can be arranged. Well, not the raping part. I insist on consent.”
Taking a chance, he stepped away to open the passenger door of his SUV. He reached inside and withdrew the length of black silk bondage rope he’d left coiled on the seat. Pulling it through his hands, he turned back and cocked his head. From her quick inhalation, she wasn’t totally against the idea.
“Just your hands,” he said. “Unless you want ankles too.”
“So, what, then you can carry me around?”
“Sure. Works for me.” He moved closer and drew the end of the rope along her jaw, studying the way her lips parted as she took in more air.
This past week had been horrible. The chasm between the two of them had grown until he’d been certain his impromptu plan wasn’t just one possible solution, it was the only one. If he didn’t get her away from the so-called real world and force her to confront her true feelings for them, it would never happen. She’d never come to them on her own.
He’d hoped that kiss with Tristan might’ve been a start to something. Instead she’d thrown herself into work with a vengeance. Hell, she’d barely even helped him decorate the tree he’d gotten for the office, and Christmas was her favorite holiday.
The rest of the week, she’d avoided them as much as possible. She hadn’t teased him and Tris about what they were buying her for her birthday as she did every year. Nor had she discussed spending her birthday with them, which was standing tradition.
If tonight didn’t go the way he’d planned, he didn’t know how they’d survive it. All he knew was they couldn’t lose her. Tris was just as miserable as he was, sterling proof of what he’d always known deep down.
If there was no Cait, there could be no them. She was the glue that held them together. Without her, the pieces simply didn’t fit.
She took the rope from him and pulled it through her fingers. “Where’d you get this? The hardware store?”
“No,” he said, lips curving. Showing her everything she’d missed would be amazing. If she ever decided to trust him. “It’s real bondage rope. From a sex shop,” he added when she gawked.
“You buy supplies at a sex shop?”
“There are two I use, actually. Not all the time. But when I have a reason to, yeah.”
“You’re into bondage.” A tremor shook her voice. Whether it was from the cold or excitement, he didn’t know.
“I experiment,” he said lightly. “Now and then.”
“In the apartment?”
“Of course not. With you and Tris a couple of feet away? No, thanks.”
“Especially now that he’s your…lover.”
“As I said, we still sleep with other people. Women,” he clarified.
He heard her swallow. “Do you share other women?”
Other women. As if she’d finally consented to maybe, possibly thinking of them sharing her.
Matt’s cock hardened so fast he had to brace a hand on his truck to keep from reaching for her. Easy. He couldn’t fuck this up. Not again.
“No. You’re the only one we want.”
She turned her head away, her long hair blowing in the wind. A strand caught against her mouth, and she tugged it free as she faced him once more. “I don’t know much. Sexually, I mean. Standard stuff, sure. I’m good at blowjobs.”
Laughing, he placed a finger over her lips. “This isn’t an audition. We’d want you even if you only wanted straight sex, nothing kinky required. Or even no sex. That’d be harder to handle, granted, but it’s true. If all you did was let us make you feel good without giving us anything in return, we’d die happy. Seriously.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” she said, again stroking the rope. “Where you’re taking me,” she said after a moment. “Tristan will be there too?”
“Of course.”
“I’m just not sure, Matt.”
“So let us give you the fantasy. And if it gets to be too much, tell us. We’ll stop. You know that.” He closed his fingers around hers on the rope. “Trust us, Cait.”
She looked up into his eyes, her bravery and innocence an unbeatable combination. Silently, she held out her wrists.
“Cait?” he asked, afraid to hope. Unable to breathe.
“I trust you,” she murmured.
Cait pressed her cheek against the freezing car window. Maybe she’d cool off if she didn’t move from this position.
Ha, fat chance.
They’d been driving what felt like forever. Nine Inch Nails was playing on satellite radio, and every now and then, she’d hear the tires spinning on ice, along with Matt’s soft curses. Then he’d fall into silence again, and she’d find herself sitting straighter, her ears pricked for any sound. Any movement
. Even a deep breath, similar to the kind she’d taken often over the last hour.
In just over twenty-four hours, she would turn twenty-five. She’d be spending her birthday weekend with her best friends, as she had since college.
Only difference? She’d be spending this one bound, blindfolded, and naked.
She’d skipped the gag. God, she couldn’t believe Matt had all that stuff. Even if he’d bought things specially for tonight, it blew her mind.
Jeez, she’d lived and worked with the guys for years. How well did she really know them? For that matter, how well did she know herself? She had layers she’d never guessed before this week. Obviously Matt and Tris did too.
Clearly, she was naive. Matt had been participating in things like this for years, even going so far as to initiate Tristan into sex with another guy, for God’s sake. And she didn’t think she’d be much more able to hold out against Matt than he had—in just a week, she’d almost broken a dozen times.
Yesterday she’d spent half the night pacing between her bed and the wall, trying to talk herself out of going to Tristan’s bedroom, after she’d taken a detour to Matt’s first.
The little freak wanted to come out and play. In a very real way, she needed to. Between the situation with Val and all the tension with the guys, she felt ready to explode.
And heaven help her, when she exploded, she wanted it to be at their hands.
“Almost there,” Matt murmured, reaching back to rub her knee.
She couldn’t see him, of course. Since she’d opted for the blindfold to go with the restraints—in for a penny, right?—he’d situated her in the backseat to avoid being seen by passing motorists. Without her vision, she had only her hearing and sense of touch. The silk rope around her wrists didn’t hurt. It actually felt kind of good. He’d explained it was designed for sex play, meant to rub the skin in a pleasurable way. When coated with oil, it would feel even better.
Which he just happened to have. What a surprise.
Cait released a shaky breath as he removed his warm palm from her leg. God, she’d jumped at just that simple touch. With the loss of some senses, others had become more acute. Every smell seemed magnified. She cataloged the fake pine from the little tree air freshener hanging from his rearview mirror, the faint chemical aroma from her highlights. His mountain-crisp aftershave, as wintry as the night outside. Wintergreen from the gum he was chewing.
There was one more scent. One more aroma. She might’ve been imagining it, but she didn’t think so. She’d worn a short skirt today with leggings, and she could feel the slight chafe from the soaked fabric between her thighs. Hard to deny that sort of proof.
As soon as they touched her, they’d know. She wouldn’t be able to hide anything from them.
A few minutes later, the SUV shuddered to a stop. When her door opened with a gush of cold air, she shivered.
“Just a couple of feet.” His voice sounded rough. Delicious. “Here, let me guide you.”
“Thought you were going to carry me.” She’d only been teasing, but a moment later he held her securely in his arms.
“You didn’t want your ankles done, so I figured you wanted to walk.” He brushed a quick kiss over her ear. “Believe me, I don’t mind.”
He jostled her to get the truck door closed, and then he started walking. With every step, she bounced in his hold. She couldn’t cling to him in her dark, visionless prison. All she could do was remain motionless and hope for the best.
“I don’t like this, Matt. I can’t hold on. Can’t see.”
“That’s the whole point of trust. You have to believe I can keep you safe. That we can.”
“So if you fall on the snow and break your leg, I’ll trust the universe likes me too?”
He chuckled, shifting her as he stepped up. With a few more bumps, she heard the creak of a door being opened. The cold at her back disappeared as warmth suffused her front. “We’re here. Home sweet home.” He kissed her again, on her jaw this time. His lips were soft and gentle. Enticing. “Nothing’s broken. You’re all in one piece.”
“Small favors.” She finally relaxed as he set her down on what she assumed was a padded chair near the source of the warmth. Crackling confirmed her suspicions. “A fireplace! Oh God, I just had an orgasm.”
“Not yet, you didn’t. Soon, my pretty.” His slightly sinister voice made her giggle in spite of being trussed up like a Christmas goose. “Along those lines, I’m going to undress you.”
She immediately stiffened. Why, she didn’t know. She’d known where this was going.
“Where’s Tristan?” she asked, mainly to stall. If Matt said he’d be there, she knew he would be.
“He’s here somewhere. He got the fire and the tree going. So he’s around. Don’t you want to be ready for him?”
“If it involves an apple in my mouth, then no.”
“You’re not a pig. The gag I had in mind was soft, just a way to take away another of your senses.” Tense fingers cupped her cheek. “Unless you’d like another kind of gag entirely.”
Her heartbeat kicked into triple time at the implication. “Can we…ease into that?”
Matt stroked her hair, threading through the windblown strands with patented patience. “Of course.”
Matt didn’t mind working on TD’s books or their computers for hours, content to take his time to do things right. Tristan was the quick-tempered, impulsive one who wanted everything now, now, now. He even hated waiting through commercials.
But when it came to making big decisions, Matt often gave the appearance of acting without much forethought while Tristan waited until he was sure before leaping. Matt claimed he never did anything without considering all the angles; he just thought faster than most people.
Tristan, on the other hand, usually refused to be budged from his initial assessment. He took steadfast to a whole new level.
What a contrast the two men were. And soon they would be her lovers.
She quivered and hated herself for it. Buck up, dammit. You want this. Here’s your chance to explore. For a night. A weekend. And then you can go back to the way things were before.
Could she? Was that even an option on the table? Or by doing this, did they think she’d agreed to be the filling in their sandwich permanently?
And this wasn’t even close to any kind of a typical situation. Who lived in a permanent threesome? Threesomes were for wild weekends in Cabo.
Or, apparently, Eastlake, Wisconsin.
But this was only temporary. She had goals. Plans. A full and busy life.
And Tristan and Matthew are the cornerstones of it.
“I’m going to undress you now,” he said softly. “But it’s warm enough in here you won’t be cold. We’ll keep the fire going.”
She dug her nails into her palms and gritted her teeth. Her wild weekend was about to begin. She’d be damned if she’d be anything but a full participant.
“Here, let me help.” She pushed at the back of her boot with the opposite foot. “I can’t wait to be naked. See? I’m really excited about that.”
He laughed and helped ease off her boot. “You will be. You’re just nervous.”
“Nah. First-time jitters coupled with first-time bondage and first-time threesome. Piece of cake.”
“We’re not going to do anything you don’t want. Unless you want us to play it that way. And even so, one look into your big, beautiful blue eyes and Tristan will do whatever you want.”
“Can we tie him up?”
“Sure.” His voice took on a wicked edge as he drew off her other boot. “Think I’d like that, actually.”
She bit her lower lip. “I…want to watch you two. Together. I mean, when you know I’m there.”
“I know.” He whistled under his breath as he nudged up her skirt and saw her thigh-high leggings. They weren’t overtly sexy, just patterned tights topped with lace. But he obviously liked what he saw. “God, that’s hot.”
She wet her lips an
d stifled her tremors at his closeness to her saturated slit. In a minute, he’d see the evidence of her excitement. “It doesn’t bother you? That I want to watch you together?”
“Hell no. I intend to be doing plenty of watching myself when it comes to you and Tris. Speaking of…” He paused in the act of rolling down her tights, then hurried up and pulled her legs free. “Think I hear him outside. All hell’s about to break loose, so prepare yourself.”
“Huh?”
The door creaked open, and she stilled, picturing herself as Tristan must. Bound wrists in her lap, blindfolded, bare legs, pushed-up skirt. Probably very large, distinct wet spot on panties under that skirt.
At first there was no sound. Then the world exploded with it.
“What the fuck is this? Why is she tied up? Caity—”
But it wasn’t Matt that spoke. Cait’s clear, strong voice was the one that rose above the rest. “I wanted it, Tristan. I asked him to tie me up. To blindfold me. To…”
She faltered. What would wanton women demand from their men first?
“To eat my pussy,” she said, hoping she sounded sexy and not scared. A near thing, that. “Now he’s undressing me, as you can see. You’re welcome to help.”
“Caitlyn,” Tristan said, the rage in his tone subsiding as his footsteps approached. Something heavy hit the floor next to her chair, and then he was kneeling in front of her, his big hands dwarfing her bare thighs. “You don’t have to do this.” When Tristan used that voice, everything inside her went soft and liquid. As always. “We don’t expect this of you, sweetheart.”
All at once, she was sixteen again, wearing a push-up bra and a dress designed to make men’s tongues hang out. Tristan had come upon her drunk and half-passed out at a frat party. She wouldn’t have been able to stop any guy who tried something. Actually, in that state, she might have encouraged it and not remembered a damn thing later.
Trusting Tristan in that situation hadn’t been a choice so much as a nondecision.
Within a month, he’d been her best friend. When Tristan’s little sister, Connie, died of complications from cystic fibrosis several months later, she’d practically moved into his dorm room.
