Really? Sally straightened. She’d thought her time with the Feds would be only short-term, just for the month or so until she snagged a job. But now…her heart quivered as if it had caught a chill.
Would the guys ever consider something long-term? And would she want that? With two men? Was she totally insane?
She scowled at the floor and then realized Nolan and Beth were leaving. After scrambling to her feet, she hugged Beth and whispered, “Let me know how it goes with the adoption stuff.”
Beth’s smile was far brighter than when she’d arrived. “I will.”
Nolan nodded at Sally, shook hands with Vance, and Galen walked them out.
After grabbing the bowl of snack mix off the table, Sally set it on the floor beside her and popped a cashew in her mouth. “Do you suppose they’ll try for a newborn or adopt an older child?”
Vance sat down beside her and picked up the bowl, earning himself a frown. “I could see Nolan wanting to give an older kid a chance.”
“Do you think it would bother him that the child wouldn’t be his own?”
As Nolan had with Beth, Vance fed her a pretzel.
A fuzzy, contented feeling invaded her chest.
“Most parents don’t think of their adopted children as anything but their own,” Vance said. “My mother tends to forget she didn’t carry me or my sisters in her belly.”
“You—you’re adopted?” Sally stared at him.
“Um-hmm. Chew before you choke, sweetheart.”
Adopted? He tapped her lips, and she chewed obediently.
He picked out a couple of cashews and fed them to her. “Mom couldn’t have children.” His eyes darkened. “My birth mother was only thirteen when she was pregnant with me. She was a cousin of my father’s.”
Christ in the flowers, thirteen? “Have you ever met her?”
“Once I understood what adopted meant, I asked to meet her. Turned out that she’d died having me.” He stared out the window, where an egret was wading, stork-like, in the shallows. “For years, I felt so damned guilty. Like her death was my fault—that I’d killed her.”
“No.” Sally wrapped her arms around Vance’s legs and hugged them. “No, you didn’t. You were a baby.”
“Yeah. Once my parents realized how screwed up I was about it, they got through to me.” Vance stroked her hair. “Kids can feel guilty for the stupidest things.”
She looked up. His eyes were understanding but held the determination that she’d work past her own guilt.
Maybe, someday, she’d stop feeling so guilty for causing her mother’s death.
Hearing a noise, she turned her head.
Galen had been watching from the doorway.
He walked in, pushed the clutter on the coffee table to one side, and took a seat facing her. “In my case, I decided my crappy behavior was the reason my father divorced my mother.” Galen gave her a wry smile. “Soon after college, I ran into him in a restaurant, and we talked. He didn’t remember any of what I’d always thought was so bad. He hadn’t asked for visiting rights because he didn’t want any contact—at all—with my mother.”
“Oh God.” She wiggled her way between his legs until she could put her arms around his waist. “Your father sounds like a complete douche bag.”
“You’re a vicious little sub.” Galen laughed, and the darkness cleared from his voice. He hugged her back.
Happiness filled her. Staying between his legs, she settled herself with her back to him so she could lean forward and grab a handful of snack mix from the bowl beside Vance. And like a dutiful submissive, she twisted around and offered it up on her open palms to Galen.
Rather than taking it, he laughed at her and ran his finger down her cheek. “Don’t try to warp yourself into something you’re not, imp. Vance and I are happy with you as you are. We don’t want a full-time submissive. If I decide to take control at an unusual time, you’ll know it; you won’t be confused.”
Well, that was true enough. She remembered how on her first day with them, he’d tossed a cushion on the floor and pointed to it. “But—”
“You’re adorable when you try to be a slave, but that’s not who you are.”
“But don’t you like—”
“Makes me nervous to be waited on hand and foot,” Vance said.
“Oh.” She frowned. “But…I don’t feel as if I’m giving enough.”
“Works for me to share the chores. In the bedroom, I expect a submissive.” Vance grinned. “You don’t seem to have a problem with that.”
She flushed, remembering the early morning fucking that he liked so well. Galen liked to get up before dawn, but she and Vance would sleep until the alarm went off. And Vance would definitely take charge. The headboard probably had her fingernail marks on it.
Behind her, Galen tugged the scrunchie from her ponytail, and to her shock, he picked up her hairbrush from the table and started to brush her hair.
Long, smooth strokes. He even worked the tangles out with his fingers if he hit a snarl.
With a moan, Sally fell into the pleasure. “God, Galen.”
Galen laughed under his breath, his voice husky. “I used to do this for my mother.”
“Seriously?” Vance asked. “I can’t imagine your mother letting anyone touch her.”
“She got worse with the divorce. Totally retreated into the arctic zone.”
“Ah.” From the lack of expression on Vance’s face, Sally had to guess he didn’t like the woman at all. Which made Sally figure she must be a royal bitch.
And Galen had thought he’d caused that divorce, and afterward his mother pulled away into a cold shell. How would that affect a kid?
Sally frowned. Galen seemed like a gaming computer. Sensitive and responsive and always functioning at high speed. Far too easy to break. She wrapped her arm around his calf, holding him close as if she could make up for all the affection he’d missed as a child.
“Are you sure you don’t need more from me?” she asked, wanting just to…give.
“No, baby girl. What you bring us is more valuable than labor. The house is happier with you in it. More fun.” Galen’s hand stroked down her head after the pull of the brush, a double hit of tenderness. “Imp, wherever you go, the air practically sparkles.”
Her eyes blurred with the rush of tears.
And for one second—one second only—she could see herself staying. Long-term.
Chapter Fourteen
Nice to be home. In the short hallway to their home office, Galen stretched. His shoulders and neck ached as if he’d taken Vance on in a weight-lifting competition rather than spending a day doing paperwork at the field office. Being an agent wasn’t all car chases and gun battles as he’d dreamed as a child.
The older he got, the more grateful for that he was—no matter how many reports he had to fill out.
In the office, Glock was stretched out on the center table. Galen walked over to stroke him. The rumbling purr merged with the country-western crap that Vance loved. Least it was a female vocalist this time.
Vance looked up from his desk. “Hey.”
“Where’s Sally?”
“Just left. Her job hunting must not be going well, since she looked pretty miserable. Shut her laptop down and went out to swim.”
Galen set his briefcase down on his desk. The thought of the imp moving away didn’t sit well on his chest. Nonetheless… “She’ll find something pretty soon, I’m sure.”
“Right.”
Galen frowned at the gruff answer. He knew damned well Vance didn’t want her to leave. “You two have a fight?”
“Not with her. Figure I’ll be having one with you.” Vance sounded tired. Discouraged. “I got an e-mail.”
“Go on.”
“The safe house holding the Harvest Association manager burned last night. The manager didn’t survive; the marshals are dead as well.”
“Fuck.” Galen slammed his hand on the desk, welcoming the flare of pain.
&nb
sp; Glock gave him an offended stare for his behavior and stalked out of the room.
“God fucking dammit to hell.” Arson. What a fucked-up way to die. A coldness grew in his belly as he took the logical next step. How soon before the Harvest Association extended their targets to those in the FBI—or their loved ones? “We need to let her go.”
Vance didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. In fact, he looked almost resigned to the argument. “You think she’d do better without us? What about the next asshole who uses her for a punching bag?”
The memory of her bloody face made Galen scowl. “We can’t keep her safe.”
“Since the other quadrants shut down, the Association’s hits have all been in New York.” Vance shook his head. “Our residence isn’t listed; phones are unlisted. No one knows she’s here except the Shadowlands members.”
“True.” The tightness in his chest receded. Maybe he was being hasty. After all, Sally’s desire to be needed could lead her into more danger than the remote chance the Association would notice her. He thrummed his fingertips on the desk as he thought. “No outings. Let’s keep her out of the public eye until this is over.”
Relief filled his partner’s face. “You’re going to be reasonable?”
“Sure wasn’t your logic that swayed me.” It was because he liked having her here as much as Vance did. It was because hearing about her job applications had sent his mood spiraling downward. It was because he wanted her.
Real soon he and Vance needed to think about the future. Before it was too late. But for now… “It’s been over a month since we had our first scene with Sally. I’ve been thinking about taking things to the next level.” He smiled suddenly. “It might be a way to coax out what she’s been hiding.”
* * * *
Sally dived into the pool behind G and V’s house, hammered out a lap, another, and another. Breathless, she stopped at one end and tossed her tangled hair back. Despite the late afternoon sun, the rising wind cooled her wet shoulders.
Redolent with the fragrance of the lush green vegetation around the lake, the breeze this far inland held only a trace of the ocean. The slight scent of chlorine came from the water.
Chlorine was supposed to make a person feel clean, but she had a feeling she’d never feel clean again.
Three men had died. The Association manager…she didn’t know anything about him, but he’d chosen his destiny by dealing in human trafficking. His death was of his own making. But—God, those other men. Marshals, trying to protect the manager. Dead. A sob shook her chest, and she dived for the bottom of the pool.
Her fault.
And yet… If I hadn’t sent the New York cops information about the three managers, more women might have been enslaved. Might have died. I did the right thing. She’d been telling herself that since she’d checked on the manager they’d caught and found out about the fire. How long before she stopped feeling guilty?
To make it worse, she knew Galen or Vance could have been in that house. They’d talked about flying up to question that manager. And they’d be dead. She kicked to the surface and treaded water.
How could she bear it if they died? To be without them, never touch them again. Never hear Galen’s rare open laugh, feel him stroke her hair, reading her soul with his dark eyes. Never feel Vance’s hands as he rolled her over in the early morning and pushed inside her, taking her so slow, murmuring what he expected her to do.
How could she live without them?
Dammit, you weren’t supposed to fall in love with them, you stupid, stupid girl. Talk about a pitiful cliché. Silly submissive falls in love with the Dominant she’s working with.
And in Sally’s case? Oh yeah, I fell for two of them.
She turned over, lying in the water facedown in a dead man’s float. On the bottom of the pool, the shadows of the nearby trees wavered and danced. The dying rays of the sun brushed over her back—although she didn’t think she’d ever be warm again.
“Sally.” Despite being muffled by water, the word still summoned her attention. Of course, it would. Hell, even laughing, Galen radiated authority.
She came upright, treading water. “Sir?”
“Take a shower and wait for us in the dungeon.”
Her breathing almost stopped. A scene? Everything in her thrilled at the idea of being totally at their command and the focus of their intense attention.
But…her feelings were a mess. She didn’t want them to know how she felt. Galen would pitch her out if he realized she was emotionally attached. God, what would—
“Did you happen to hear what I said?”
Shit. “Yes, Sir. Shower and wait. Right away, Sir. Please forgive me, Sir. It won’t happen again, Sir.”
A snort. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, pet.”
As he strolled back into the house, she was already scrambling out of the pool.
VANCE SAUNTERED DOWN the overgrown dirt path to the cabana.
Because of Sally, they’d abandoned working on the game room and had been fixing this one up instead. It was going to make a hell of a nice dungeon.
He—and his apprentice—had painted the walls and ceiling. A king-size bed had replaced the twin beds. Some of the equipment had already arrived and would be tested out tonight.
About fifteen minutes ago, the back door had slammed as Sally headed for the cabana. Hopefully she’d spent that time in anticipation of what would come. He grinned. With the little brown-eyed submissive, any assumption was liable to be wrong.
In fact, Galen had removed his toy bag from the cabana—just in case.
Vance opened the door. To his surprise, she was dutifully kneeling naked in the center of the room. Her posture was perfect: hands open on thighs, back arched slightly to display her breasts, eyes down. From the way her hair fluffed over her shoulders and curled down her back, he knew she’d taken the time to wash and blow it dry.
She might drive him crazy sometimes, but she never neglected to prepare her body for his pleasure.
He flipped the switch to turn on the music, and the sound of Enigma filled the room. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
A visible tremor shook her.
“Open your legs farther for me, please.”
She shifted position, spreading her thighs apart as he went down on one knee in front of her. Her pussy already glistened in the bright lights. Yes, she’d been anticipating the scene.
As he cupped his hand over her crotch, he leaned forward to whisper, “Galen and I are going to take our pleasure tonight—and if you’re very, very good, we’ll see that you’re rewarded for your patience. Very well rewarded.”
He heard her gulp. “Yes, Sir. I’ll be good.”
“You won’t get the chance not to be.” He moved his fingers through her plump folds, teasing her clit with his thumb. Her inner thigh muscles flexed and tightened. From the silky smoothness of her skin, she’d applied lotion. The scent wafted up, making him think of sunlit honey. Smiling, he moved back, sucking on his fingers, enjoying the first taste of what the evening would hold.
She stayed impressively still, only her heightened breathing and pink cheeks showing her anticipation.
“I’m going to warm you up a bit before Galen arrives; then we’ll start.” He stroked her hair, silky and bouncy, like her personality. “First, all the lab tests came back clean. Apart from anal sex, we won’t use protection.” And he was looking forward to having no barrier between his cock and her tight, wet pussy.
He continued, “Tonight, anything you haven’t marked as a hard limit might be used. You have your safe word. Use yellow if you’re getting overwhelmed. Otherwise, we’re going to do what we want.”
Her eyes were no longer down. She stared up at him, practically begging him to continue. A submissive’s wish was to be pushed until she knew to the depths of her soul that she’d given up all control. Tonight, that’s what she’d know.
He lifted her to her feet, molding her against him, taking a slow, dru
gging kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet, her tongue teasing.
Curling his fingers under her round ass, he pulled her closer, and her long hair silkily drifted over his arms. Nice.
With a smile, he pulled the set of nipple clamps from his jeans pocket. “Let’s see what these look like on you.”
Her nipples were the smoothest, softest skin on her body and a dusky pink that reddened quickly as he tightened the first screw. He could see her decision not to complain. Her facial and throat muscles turned rigid as she fought the pain.
He quickly loosened the clamp. “Let’s do this again.” He lifted her chin, giving her a firm look. “I know some submissives think their Doms are God—but I’m not. I can’t read your mind.” Thank God, she had such expressive body language. “You need to tell me if something starts to hurt.” He grinned. “Then I’ll decide whether I want you to take it anyway. Is that clear?”
For a second, she pouted. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He tightened the screw slowly. Waiting. Nothing came from her, so he cleared his throat. Fuck, but he wanted to kill her father when he saw her struggle to force herself to speak.
“That hurts,” she whispered.
“Good. Very, very good.” Vance hugged her, feeling how her heart pounded against his chest. But she’d done it. “Next one.” He attached the right clamp, and this time, she managed to speak without prompting.
He stepped back to admire his work for a moment. The shiny metal clamps were beautiful against her reddening nipples. Very nice. Next time, he’d add a chain between them. “Now, take my shirt off, imp.”
She made a pretty ritual of disrobing him, button after button, pressing velvet-lipped kisses to his chest. Her hand blazed a trail downward, her mouth following, until she pushed his jeans down. He stepped out of them, and before he could move, she closed her lips around him. Fuck. The sweetheart had a mouth that was made for sin.
She released his cock and pushed his legs apart. Curious, he went along with her unspoken request. She cupped his balls, dipped her head, and kissed down his groin to his testicles. Licking and nuzzling. The sensation of wetness on his overheated skin was disconcerting, and he had to smother a groan when she sucked one ball, then the other into her mouth, tonguing them.
Masters of the Shadowlands 8 - If only Page 25
