Bound to Them

by Lorna Jean Roberts

  “Well, speak of the devil. What is she doing here?” Quinn growled.

  Nash turned, his gaze narrowing in on the woman entering the bar. And she was all woman. No baggy t-shirt and ill-fitting pants hid her body now. The little black dress she wore displayed her beautiful hourglass figure perfectly. The material hugged her chest, floating out around her thighs.

  As she turned toward them, his breath caught in his throat.

  Lord, just look at those breasts. Two beautiful mounds he wanted to kiss, lick, caress. Part of him wanted to demand she never hide them again. The possessive part of him wanted to cover them up, insist that they were for his and Quinn’s eyes only.

  Short red heels added a splash of color to the outfit. If she were his, he’d dress her in bright colors. Not black. She was too vibrant for black. She glanced around apprehensively. Nash clenched his fists. Crista had no business being here alone. He could already see the wolves circling.

  “Christ, they’re already making their move.” Quinn nodded over at a couple of idiots who’d zeroed in on her, obviously taking her for an easy mark.

  Nash stood as Quinn did. They quickly strode over to Crista. All thoughts of taking things slow fled. Now it was time to show everyone, including Crista, that she was very much taken.

  “Hey, baby,” Quinn greeted her. Stepping between the two men, he pulled Crista against his side. She glanced up at Nash, who smiled at her darkly, satisfied as she gulped nervously.

  “Umm, hi,” she said quietly.

  “You know these guys, babe?” The smaller of the other two men asked.

  “Ahh, yes, I work with them.”

  “Oh, so they’re just colleagues,” the other guy said, grinning slyly. Nash could smell the alcohol on his breath from where he stood. “How about you come dance with us, baby? We’ll show you a good time.”

  Crista looked from him to Quinn nervously. “No. Thank you. I’d rather not.”

  Nash shook his head. Now was not the time for her to be polite.

  The two drunk men ignored her rejection, the larger guy reaching out to snatch her hand.

  Nash grabbed the man by the arm before he could touch her. “Back off. She’s with us. I suggest you go looking elsewhere. Got me?”

  “She didn’t come in with you. How do we know you ain’t bothering her?” the smaller one asked.

  “Crista, tell our Good Samaritans here that we’re not bothering you,” Nash ordered.

  “I’m fine. I know these guys and they would never hurt me,” she said firmly.

  The smaller one continued to glare at them. Small man’s syndrome for sure. But the other guy grabbed his shoulder. “Come on, man, she’s not worth it. There’s plenty of pickings tonight.”

  The little guy finally bought a clue and backed off with a sneer.

  Nash faced Crista. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

  Chapter Three

  Crista lowered her gaze, feeling as if she were a naughty child caught with her fingers in the cookie jar. Reminding herself she was an adult who answered to no one, particularly not two of her employees, she straightened her shoulders. “That is none of your business. You can go back to whatever you were doing.”

  “Now that’s not very nice. Not when we just saved you,” Nash said.

  She frowned. “Saved me from what?”

  “Those jerks.”

  Crista placed her hands on her hips. “Look, I could’ve handled that myself. I’m not some helpless child who needs supervision.”

  “No, a child you’re definitely not,” Quinn agreed with a hot look. Her breath caught in her throat. “But you are out of your league here, sweetheart. You come in here looking like sin on two legs and you’re just asking for trouble. No way are we leaving you here alone. Now why don’t you tell us why you’re here so we can help?”

  With an impatient sigh, Crista folded her arms over her chest. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve come to find my brother.”

  Quinn frowned. He cuddled her close, surrounding her with his scent, making her feel almost petite. Where her skin met his, there was tingling, warmth. She shivered.

  Nash stared down at her with knowing eyes. Surely he couldn’t realize how turned-on she was, could he?

  His gaze dropped to her chest. She looked down, blushing wildly as she realized her nipples were pressing against her dress. How mortifying. Crossing her arms over her chest, she attempted to hide the evidence of her arousal.

  “Have you seen Doug anywhere?” she squeaked nervously, trying to move away from Quinn. He simply held her tighter.

  “Yes, he’s over there.” Nash pointed to the far corner of the room. “But you don’t want to talk to him right now.”

  “Why not?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

  “Because you won’t get a sensible answer. He’s had a few.”

  Crista snorted. “If I waited for Doug to be sober I’d never talk to him. Excuse me, please.”

  Surprisingly, Quinn let her go. Feeling foolishly bereft at the loss of his touch, Crista turned away and walked over to the dark corner Nash had indicated. The back of her neck itched and she glanced over her shoulder. Drat. They were right behind her.

  She took a deep, steadying breath when she reached Doug. He sat at a table with three men she didn’t know.

  “Doug,” she said. He didn’t even look up. “Doug,” she said louder, very aware of Nash and Quinn standing behind her.

  “Crista.” Doug spoke cheerfully, smiling goofily up at her.

  Great, he was in a good mood. He wasn’t always a happy drunk. Sometimes he’d sink into a depression while other times he’d become downright nasty.

  “What you doing here, honey? Do you want a drink?”

  “You know I don’t drink, Doug,” she said impatiently.

  His mouth immediately drooped. She had to be nicer about this. Hard as that was.

  “Doug, can I talk to you in private?”

  “Sure. Guys, give me a minute with my sister, will ya?” he asked the men sitting with him. With a grumble, they left. Crista took a seat and then frowned at Nash and Quinn, who sat on either side of her.

  “I want to talk to my brother alone,” she insisted.

  “Not while he’s like this,” Quinn replied, frowning at Doug. Her clueless brother smiled back, completely unaware of the anger in Quinn’s gaze.

  Crista didn’t understand his anger. Folding her arms over her chest, she glowered at them. They might be able to keep her off-center and shaken when it came to her reaction to them, but she was no pushover.

  Nash leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and winked. Quinn slouched back, sending her a lazy smile that was disturbingly sharklike. Great, these two took stubborn and arrogant to a whole new level.

  Giving them one more disgruntled look, she decided to ignore them as she turned back to Doug.

  “Doug, Sam turned up at the site today. Did you really tell him that he could come by and get some money he thought he was owed?” Part of her hoped Sam had lied, even knowing he probably hadn’t.

  Her brother looked at her from under droopy eyelids. “Yeah, he said we did.”

  “Doug, you can’t do things like that without checking with me,” she said, exasperated. “We didn’t owe him anything.”

  “Oh.” Doug frowned. “Well, Sam’s a good guy. I’m sure he’ll give us the money back.”

  “Doug, I fired Sam. He is not a good guy. He stole from us.”

  Nash turned to her, grabbing her chin in his hand. She peered up into his angry gaze. “He stole from you? Why didn’t you call the cops on him?”

  She shifted nervously, turning her face. He let her go. “I don’t trust the police.”

  “Wow, I didn’t realize,” Doug said, clearly surprised. Then he shrugged. “Oh well, no harm no foul, right?”

  Doug raised his glass to take another sip. Quinn grabbed her brother’s wrist, forcing his hand down.

  “What the hell?”
Doug muttered.

  “No harm?” Quinn said in a low, dark voice. “No foul? The bastard hit your sister. Are you too drunk to notice the bruise on her cheek? You made that happen.”

  Doug gaped at her. “I hit you?”

  “No, Doug,” she said gently, feeling sorry for him. “Sam did.”

  “It might as well have been you,” Quinn insisted. “Instead of protecting your baby sister, you sent some asshole around who hurt her. What kind of man are you?”

  “Quinn,” Crista scolded. “Doug, I know you didn’t mean for me to get hurt…” Her voice trailed off at the misery in her brother’s eyes.

  Doug simply stared at Quinn, shocked. He turned to look at Crista, his gaze caught on her cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Crista. You know I’d never hurt you for the world.”

  “I know, I know, Doug.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. She couldn’t tell him about all the times he’d gotten nasty when drunk. Even then though he’d never touched her physically. But words could hurt.

  He rose, weaving unsteadily. “I’ve got to go, I don’t feel well.”

  “Doug, wait.”

  She shifted, ready to follow him. Nash grabbed her hand. “Let him be.”

  “But—”

  “He’s ashamed of himself,” Quinn said. “He wants to be alone.”

  She glared at Quinn. “You didn’t have to be so hard on him,” she snapped.

  Quinn stared back at her, his gaze thoughtful. Crista struggled not to look away. What was wrong with her? She fought to hold on to her irritation.

  “He needed to be told. Now let it go.”

  The firm instruction did something weird to her insides. The power he radiated made her stomach drop and set her clit dancing.

  “He’s my brother. Butt out.” They continued to glare at each other, the heat between them making it nearly impossible to breathe.

  “Come on.” Nash grabbed her hand as he stood, squeezing gently. “I think we’ve all had enough excitement for the night.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment smothered her arousal. What did she think this was? A date? Yeah right. She should be pleased to get away from them and their domineering attitudes. “Okay then,” she agreed.

  Crista stared longingly at the people dancing to a Trace Adkins country tune. What would it be like to have the confidence to walk out onto that dance floor and start rolling her hips? Crista loved to dance, but other than a few weddings and school functions, she’d never actually danced in public. Or with a man. Family didn’t count.

  Quinn watched Crista as she gazed hungrily at the dance floor.

  Shit.

  “Would you like to dance, darlin’?” Nash asked her, but his gaze held Quinn’s, pure devil swimming in his eyes.

  Bastard, Quinn thought ruefully.

  Crista bit her bottom lip, making Quinn groan. She stared up at him innocently. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Nash said as he pulled her toward the dance floor. “He’s just got hip problems.”

  “Hip problems?” she asked as Quinn followed them. “Arthritis?”

  “No, darlin’. No rhythm.”

  “Oh,” she said, giggling as Nash twirled her under his arm. He drew her close to his chest, swaying.

  Suddenly Quinn wished he danced. Then it would be him holding her close, feeling that decadent body in his arms. Nash dropped his hand, resting it just above her shapely butt. Crista jerked then settled down when he didn’t move his hand any lower.

  Ahh, stuff it.

  Quinn stepped in behind her, trying to move his hips in time with theirs. Worry about his skill flew straight out of his head as her body grinded against his, pressing against his cock, writhing against him intimately.

  Sweet ecstasy and nasty torture all wrapped into one. Each brush of her butt had his dick begging for attention. He fought to gain some control over his arousal—otherwise he was at risk of coming in his pants as though he were some randy teenager on his first date. The pained pleasure on Nash’s face told Quinn he was feeling the same way.

  Crista jiggled her hips, innocently teasing them. Their groans made her glance up with concern.

  “Oh no, I didn’t stand on your toes, did I?” she asked, slowing down her movement. “I’m sorry, I haven’t really done this much. Perhaps I should go home now.”

  “What? Wait.” Nash grabbed for her as she attempted to escape. “You didn’t stand on our toes, darlin’. Quinn stood on mine. No rhythm, remember?”

  “He did not.” She smiled up at Quinn. “He’s a very good dancer.” She patted his chest as if to soothe his feelings. Quinn wondered how she’d react if he asked her to pat him lower. Actually, he’d best cut this short now. Having them both so close wreaked havoc with his control.

  “I’m kind of tired,” Crista said a few minutes later, trying to hold back a yawn unsuccessfully.

  “Okay, darlin’, we’ll leave,” Nash told her, looking over at Quinn, who nodded in agreement. Crista looked dead on her feet. Time to get her home and tuck her into bed.

  She gazed up at them, surprise evident in her wide eyes. “You guys don’t have to leave with me,” she protested.

  “We’re tired too,” Quinn lied.

  Crista eyed them. “No, you’re not. I’m a big girl, you know. I can walk myself home.”

  “You walked here?” Nash asked loudly.

  “Yes, why?” she asked, her voice filled with innocent surprise. Anger surged through Quinn as he thought of everything that could’ve happened to her, wandering around the streets in the dark.

  Quinn grabbed one hand while Nash latched on to the other and they steered her out to the parking lot.

  “Hey, guys, slow down,” she exclaimed, pulling at their hold on her.

  Both of them stopped. Quinn glanced down into her disgruntled face.

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself,” she insisted, although she avoided eye contact.

  Quinn tucked a finger under her chin, raising her face. “Crista, you can’t walk around in the dark by yourself. It’s too dangerous.” She would give him a heart attack. She really would. The thought of her being assaulted made him ill.

  “Why didn’t you drive?” Nash asked with frustration as they steered her toward Quinn’s Jeep. They’d ridden over together, united in a common cause—to beat on Doug. Well, okay, Quinn had wanted to beat on him. “Not that your car is all that safe. It’s a rust bucket. I’m surprised it passed its last inspection.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my car,” she protested.

  Quinn unlocked his Jeep, climbing in the driver’s side as Nash helped her into the passenger seat. Nash got into the back.

  “You know, you two are very bossy. Especially considering that I’m your boss!”

  Crista’s shy side was retreating. This new Crista was mouthy, obstinate and bratty. Quinn really liked her.

  Not that shy Crista didn’t stir both his heart and his dick. When she bit her lip or lowered her gaze in submission, she could make him hard instantly. But this bratty side… Well, all the more reason to spank her, right? Her scent filled his car as he pulled out of the parking lot. Clean, pure arousal. Damn, he knew it. She was wet. She had to be.

  “No way could we just drive home, knowing you were walking around in the dark. You have to take better care of yourself,” Quinn told her.

  “And you’re only the boss at work, darlin’. Outside of work hours, you’re ours.”

  She turned a panicked gaze on him. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means we want you, Crista Grayson,” Nash threw down the gauntlet. “And we intend to have you.”

  * * * * *

  It means we want you, Crista Grayson.

  Surely they didn’t mean it? Crista rolled over, thumping her pillow as sleep eluded her. Looking over at the bedside clock, she groaned—2:21 a.m.

  She sat up. No way she’d be getting any sleep tonight. Not with arousal riding her. S
he wanted them, couldn’t stop thinking about them and, try as she might, she simply could not bring herself off.

  Goddamn it.

  What would it be like, having the two of them touch her, taste her? One driving deep into her mouth while the other penetrated her pussy. Taking her together.

  Her hottest fantasy. Two men. Two mouths. Two cocks. What wasn’t to like? A threesome might not be everyone’s dream but just the idea drove Crista wild.

  Urgh. Why torture herself this way? They must have had more to drink than she’d thought. That was it. They were drunk and she’d been the closest female around.

  They couldn’t seriously want her.

  She bet neither of them was losing sleep over that statement. Right now they were probably sleeping peacefully, not a worry in their heads.

  * * * * *

  Nash bit Quinn’s nipple, knowing he enjoyed the mix of pleasure and pain. Quinn had an amazing body, wide and thick with muscle. Hard. Hot. Heaven. Nash licked down his firm stomach.

  Quinn gasped as Nash swallowed around the head of his dick. Sharp, salty pre-cum touched Nash’s tongue, stirring him on. He sucked, moving up and down Quinn’s cock with long, slow movements. Teasing, driving the other man wild.

  “Shit, Nash. Finish it, Goddamn you,” Quinn groaned. “Don’t tease me.”

  But Nash didn’t relent, continuing his erotic torture. He loved having Quinn at his mercy. He licked his way up Quinn’s dick and kissed the tip before withdrawing.

  “Fuck,” Quinn swore. “I was so close.”

  Ignoring Quinn’s protest, Nash reached over for some lube and thoroughly wet his forefinger. As he took Quinn’s shaft into his mouth again, he pushed his damp finger against the tight rosebud of Quinn’s ass.

  “Stop playing around and do it,” Quinn demanded, attempting to thrust his ass down onto Nash’s finger.

  Nash licked the head of Quinn’s cock, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit.

  “You know you’re a bastard, right?”

  Nash chuckled and, clasping Quinn’s dick, pumped his hand up and down. Swirling his tongue over Quinn’s smooth balls, he listened as the other man’s breathing quickened, coming in short gasps.