Keeping Karly (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rachel Clark

  I lift onto my toes, moaning softly as nerve endings I’m not sure I’ve ever noticed before start to throb with need. I’m actually starting to writhe between them when Grant starts to talk.

  “Inside mine and Bryce’s bedrooms, you will always be naked.”

  “A–Always?” I ask breathlessly. Ironically, I find the idea of being naked and accessible for them both makes me even hornier.

  “Always,” Grant assures me. “You will take your clothes off and then kneel for us. We’ll teach you the position we want.”

  Bryce breaks the suction on my breast as he straightens up to frown at his brother. “What happened to easing her into our lifestyle?”

  “I think we should start as we intend to go on. That way Karly will know right from the beginning what we expect from her. She’ll understand the rules and the boundaries and she’ll have her safe words if she needs to stop.”

  Bryce is still caressing my breast with his thumb, the seemingly unconscious touch even more thrilling by the fact that it seems to be a natural reaction to having my breast within reach. He frowns again at his brother before turning his attention to me.

  “Are you okay with that, baby?” He searches my face as I nod. “Anytime you want to stop, just say ‘red.’ Understood?”

  “Yes,” I say confidently. I can do this. I know I can. I trust these men.

  Bryce still seems unconvinced as Grant leans down to caress my neck with his tongue.

  “If you want to slow things down, just say ‘yellow’ and we’ll back off.” Bryce lifts my chin to look at him. “Please, Karly, please, just don’t run from us. Give us a chance to work things out.”

  Grant laughs, the deep sound vibrating against my neck. “She’s not going to run, Bryce. In fact, if you ever get past your obsession to overanalyze, you might notice how turned on our little submissive already is.” Grant caresses my hips through the thin material of my slacks. “Drop the pants, little one. Let Bryce feel for himself how wet you are.”

  I’m sure I’m blushing crimson, but Grant isn’t wrong. I could count on one hand the times my pussy was ready before my ex-husband’s often painful entry, but with these two men it seems to be a fairly regular occurrence, even if I’ve managed to ignore it myself. Physically, mentally, emotionally I feel far closer to these two men than I ever did to the man I’d once thought I’d spend my life with.

  Bryce stands back and watches as I reach for the button and zipper on my pants. I can’t for the life of me remember which pair of underwear I’m wearing, but since they’re all plain and cotton I decide to push them down with my pants. Even Grant seems surprised by what could be considered a bold move, and perversely I’m actually glad to have shocked them. I’m not a fragile flower, no matter how I might have appeared when I’d first come here.

  I want to try this. I need to try this.

  I reach for Bryce, sighing quietly as he steps closer and lets me wrap my arms around his middle.

  “Just like a traffic light,” he says quietly. “Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to go.”

  Both of them are caressing me softly, almost absently, as if touching me is a natural to them as breathing. I almost laugh when I realize that being touched by them seems quite natural to me, too. Apparently we’ve been building a closer friendship over the past few months than I’d realized.

  “Ready?” Grant asks.

  I nod my head and smile at Bryce. He smiles back and reaches out to caress my lips. “The proper response is ‘Yes, Sir.’”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say breathlessly.

  “Good girl,” Grant says. “Step into the bedroom, place your clothes on the chair, and then kneel beside it. I’ll show you the proper pose is a moment.”

  I nod, notice his raised eyebrow, and quickly add, “Yes, Sir.”

  I awkwardly step out of my pants and then squat down to gather up my clothes. I’m almost glad for the order to place them on the chair. My budget is pretty tight. Ruining clothes by dumping them on the ground is not a good idea.

  But as I step into the room and Bryce pulls the door closed behind me, both men still on the other side, anxiety leaps up to grab me once more.

  * * * *

  “Are you insane?” Bryce asked his brother with a tone of voice that held no heat. He wasn’t angry at Grant, but they’d gone from trying to get Karly comfortable with their casual touches to insisting on full Dom-sub protocols in the space of a few minutes. It sure as hell didn’t feel like they were following the carefully laid-out plan they’d discussed several months ago.

  “Not yet,” Grant said with a grin, “but I might be soon if you don’t let me into that bedroom with our lovely submissive.”

  “She’s not our sub, yet.”

  “She will be soon.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Faith.”

  “On what?” Bryce asked as surprise drilled through him. Neither of them had been particularly religious growing up.

  “Faith that we can give Karly what she needs. We can show her what it is she’s craving.”

  “Are you sure it’s her cravings we’re responding to?”

  Grant folded his arms, shook his head in a manner that suggested Bryce was either blind or delusional, and then smiled. “Faith. Faith in you and me, and faith in Karly. It’s going to work out—even if we are a few months ahead of schedule.”

  Bryce laughed softly at the reminder of how rigidly he’d planned the development of this relationship out. He didn’t mind being spontaneous now and then, but it seemed a huge risk to take for something that was so important to both of them.

  “You know if you’re wrong I’m going to kick your ass, don’t you?”

  Grant just laughed, clapped a hand to Bryce’s shoulder, and then opened the door that hopefully held their happy future.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I try not to shuffle on my knees when the door opens. That would telegraph my fear, and I truly don’t want Bryce or Grant to see it. My past is my problem. I shouldn’t be bringing it into this room with me. Bryce and Grant said they’d teach me what I need to know, but I at least want them to understand that I’m willing to try. Even if I don’t know the finer points of a Dom-sub relationship, I did do a lot of research on this subject over a year ago. Although, judging by the arousal swirling through me, my investigations into this lifestyle had been done with a biased eye. I’d read cold hard rules about kneeling and submitting but had never given a thought to how those actions might make someone feel.

  Wanting to please Grant and Bryce seems to be turning me on more than just about anything else I can remember. Until now, I haven’t even considered what a submissive might get out of such an arrangement. I’d only seen subjugation and abuse—in other words I’d overlaid the BDSM ideals with my own experiences. The way my ex-husband treated me wasn’t a fair comparison.

  “Widen your knees further apart,” Grant says as he comes to stand in front of me. I do as he orders, gasping as the cooler air caresses the wet lips of my pussy. I don’t really understand why this is turning me on, but I can’t deny liking the feeling. “You look very beautiful, little one.”

  Bryce moves to one side and presses his hand against the side of my head, urging me to rest against his thigh as he caresses me gently. I hear him breathe a sigh of relief when I finally manage to relax and lean against him like he wants. Somehow that sound just turns me on even more.

  “We’ll avoid bondage for the moment,” Grant says as he moves over to his closet. “But we would like you to wear cuffs on your wrists and ankles. Do you trust us enough to let us do that, little sub?”

  I begin to nod, but Bryce’s hand against my face tightens just a tiny bit. “Remember, baby, in this room we all promised to be completely honest. We need to know exactly what you’re feeling even if the answer is something you think we won’t like.” He caresses my face again, his big hand comforting in ways I’d never anticipated. Somehow I feel like I belong here.

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nbsp; “I think I trust you both,” I say a little nervously, “but I trusted my ex-husband once, too.” I whisper that last bit very quietly. I know Grant and Bryce are nothing like my ex-husband. It’s a lack of confidence in my own judgment that leaves me shaking.

  “Thank you for being honest, little one,” Grant says, holding his hand out for me to take. He helps me to my feet as Bryce moves to stand behind me. “It takes time in any relationship to build the level of trust this sort of thing requires. We plan to be worthy of that trust, but we’re not mind readers. You need to tell us when something frightens you.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my mouth, the same type of kiss that he and Bryce have been giving me now for months. I smile at the reminder that these men are my friends. “Do you remember your safe words?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say as relief runs through me. I can do this. I really, really want to be able to do this. Not just for Bryce and Grant but for me as well. They’ve been telling me for months that I deserve to be happy in a relationship. Now, I’m finally starting to understand what they meant.

  I can submit to them and find pleasure in doing it.

  I think.

  * * * *

  Grant could see a million different thoughts swirling through his sub’s overactive brain. He loved her intelligence, quick wit, and sense of humor, but when they played together, he wanted her to feel, not think.

  He lifted her wrist in his hand, smiling when she didn’t resist, smiling even wider when she sighed as he buckled the cuff into place. He did the others quickly, wanting to savor her reactions but not wanting to prolong the anxiety she was obviously feeling.

  She was being brave, but he could clearly see the worry in her eyes.

  “On the bed, little sub,” he said, guiding her onto her back in the middle of the mattress. He lifted her arms over her head and wrapped her fingers around the railing of the headboard. “Now, we want you to lie very still for us. Keep your hands where they are. Can you do that, little sub?”

  “I’ll try, Sir,” she said in a sweet voice.

  With her arms over her head, her breasts were lifted, the hard peaks of her nipples displayed perfectly. His gaze roamed further, his hand gliding down her smooth skin as he drank in the beautiful curves she’d managed to hide under her clothes. She truly was a beautiful woman inside and out.

  His eyes paused at the scar he’d known was there but had never seen. Anger boiled inside him as he remembered the way she’d finally explained how it had happened. The pale white scar traveled across her abdomen, just below her belly button, spanning from hip to hip. It was obvious that the cut had been shallow—and he’d seen many scars like this on subs who enjoyed some of the more extreme forms of BDSM play—but it was the inference behind it that set Grant’s anger ablaze.

  This scar was about control, about fear, a constant reminder that her ex-husband could do what he wanted, when he wanted. The “peace” outsiders had seen in Karly’s marriage had really been her too frightened to not do everything her husband demanded. It had given the illusion of a happy marriage but had only served to hide the terror underneath.

  He probably should have ignored the scar, pretended it wasn’t there, but he couldn’t overlook something so confidence shattering.

  He trailed his finger over the pale line and felt his anger spike once more as she flinched away from his gentle touch. He was careful to hide his reaction. His anger was very specifically aimed at her asshole ex-husband. There was no way he wanted Karly thinking it was meant for her.

  “Grant,” she whispered in a pleading tone of voice. “It’s ugly. Please don’t.” Her voice broke on a sob as he pressed his lips to the pale line.

  “No, little one, it’s a badge of courage, a symbol of your survival.” He lifted up to see her face, his fingers still gently roaming over the ragged scar. “You walked away from the man who did this and took back the confidence he’d stolen from you. It’s a reminder of how strong you are.”

  Tears filmed her eyes as she smiled shyly and nodded her agreement.

  “I never thought of it like that,” she said quietly, her tone thick and husky, full of emotion.

  “It’s how you should always think of it. It’s how Bryce and I see you. Even Chris and Casey see what we see. You’re an amazing, talented, beautiful, caring woman Karly James. You just forgot that for a little while.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I try to hide how emotional Grant’s words make me feel. Lying here naked as he kisses and caresses me gently is creating a sense of peace I can’t really explain. Just knowing that he isn’t repulsed by the scar that I’ve always viewed as a reminder of my failure, lifts a burden I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

  Of course, Bryce being Bryce, the man who has never failed to sense my moods, notices the tear that leaks from my closed eyes. He slides onto the bed, lying beside me as he traces the wet path with his finger.

  “Talk to me, Karly,” he says quietly, his tone very serious. “Tell me why you’re crying.”

  “I’m not crying,” I say quickly, but then I remember my promise to always be honest in this room. “It’s sort of a happy crying.”

  “Relief?” Grant offers as a second tear escapes my control.

  “Yes, relief, but maybe…I’m not sure…maybe triumph as well.” I’m a little frustrated that I can’t find the words to describe what’s going on inside me.

  “Triumph?” Bryce asks curiously. “It’s not as unusual a feeling as you seem to think.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, unconvinced as I finally open my eyes to look at them both. “It’s not exactly an Earth-shattering victory. Getting naked in front of men I care for isn’t cause for celebration.”

  “You don’t see it, do you? You deserve to celebrate. Everything you’ve done since leaving that asshole has taken courage. Even this.” Bryce kisses me softly and then asks, “How many men have you been naked with—”

  “Only three,” I blurt out before he finishes his question.

  “—since your marriage ended?”

  He gives me a surprised look. I shake my head quickly when I realize that by interrupting him I gave him the answer to the question I thought he was asking, not the actual question he asked.

  “Since then? Only now. Only you two,” I say quickly, worried that I’ve hurt them with the suggestion that I may have slept with someone else.

  “You were a virgin when you married?”

  I blush slightly. My mother would have been disappointed if she’d known the truth. “Not exactly, but John was my first. We just…um…didn’t wait for our wedding night.”

  “But you’ve never made love with anyone else.”

  I shake my head as confusion whirls through me. Why are we talking about a man who made my life miserable? I want to forget all about John McCoy and move onto a better future. “Why?” I ask as a sob threatens to rise from my throat.

  “It’s not important,” Bryce says, caressing my face. “It’s just a habit we pick up as Doms. Knowing what a sub likes and dislikes can help make a scene more pleasurable for all of us.”

  “So you’re not a virgin?” I ask with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. When Grant mentioned knowing about Casey cutting herself as a teenager, I hadn’t realized they would want to know my past just as intimately—probably more so since they plan to have sex with me.

  Bryce laughs softly, seeming to realize what I’m doing. The kiss he presses to my lips is warm, soft, possessive. I want to wrap my arms around him but Grant said to hold on to the headboard, and I’m trying to do what he asked. I move my legs restlessly as Bryce deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth thoroughly as arousal swirls through me.

  He moves a hand to my breast, the gentle touch on my nipple making it pull tighter, the sensitive bud sending a welcome surge of electricity lower. Without thought, I lift my spine, arching into his touch, demanding more. Bryce lifts his head, breaking the kiss, smiling at the soft moan that escapes me.

  �
��Don’t move, little sub,” he says as he slides lower down the bed.

  I gasp as his warm tongue laves over my nipple, Grant bending closer to do the same on the other side, the air rushing from my lungs as he bites me gently. He lifts up, smiling at me as he checks that my hands are still where he placed them. “Good girl,” he says before returning to my breast and driving me mad with desire. Even his words fill me with a sense of accomplishment. How can two little words make me feel so happy?

  I’ve never felt like this before. Intercourse has always just been something I tolerated to keep my ex-husband happy, but now I actually want Bryce and Grant inside me. I shiver all over as I imagine cradling them in my body.

  Bryce slides even lower, pushing my legs wide as he settles himself between my thighs. I feel a moment of fear, just a touch of panic as I realize the vulnerability of my position, but the first warm touch of his tongue on my damp flesh has me reeling. I moan as a strange sensation slithers through me, the feeling similar to what I knew to be orgasm, but this time somehow more intense, more appealing, more addictive. Grant brushes a hand over the side of my face, his expression one of happiness.

  “Please,” I whimper, moving restlessly, my hands clenching the headboard tighter. I have no idea what I’m even begging for, but Grant’s whispered “soon” has me moaning the words “no, now.”

  Bryce’s laugh vibrates against my pussy, my desire for him only winding higher. “I can see you’re going to need some incentive to behave, little one,” Grant says with a smile. “Perhaps you’re more ready for a spanking than you realize.”

  I shudder all over at the thought, but strangely it’s not from fear. Grant watches me closely, assessing my reaction to his naughty words. I can’t help but gasp when Grant grins and tweaks my nipple quite hard.