by Sara Brookes
“No. I know just what she should wear.”
Saint chuckled in her ear as Boyce left them. “He’s on a mission now. You rouse something in him, Grae. Something I haven’t seen before. Well, maybe once before, but I was too damn young and unskilled to recognize it.”
“I don’t mean to step on—”
“You’re not.” Saint cradled her jaw, forcing her gaze to remain on his. “I swear.”
Chapter Twenty
An hour later, a soft knock on Grae’s hotel room door had her rushing forward as she belted her robe. The guys hadn’t indicated when they would return, but surely they couldn’t have made it to their place and back already. Though Saint was already dressed for such a social function, Boyce’s jeans and tee weren’t allowed.
As she opened the door, she was still wondering what the hell she was going to wear. A rather short man smiled in greeting. She pulled the lapels of her robe together as she studied his clothing. He was simply dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a thick leather collar with a small disc dangling from a small loop the center. On that disc was the Noble House crest of three lions around a shield.
“Hello.”
The man said nothing, simply bowed his head and gestured toward her with a very large box. She accepted the soft ivory-colored item, nodding in thanks. He turned, striding away without another word or before she could offer him a tip.
Odd. One of the house subs, obviously, who’d been given instructions he was carrying out with military precision. But still strange.
Grae ran her fingers over the fabric of the deep-green bow and ribbon holding the box closed. She was afraid to open it. Not because she was fearful of what lay inside, but because she didn’t want to ruin the careful work someone had taken to wrap the present. But curiosity got the better of her and had her pulling the ribbon free so she could lift the top. A mountain of purple tissue paper greeted her. A cream envelope kept her from ripping the paper back to expose the box’s contents.
Come to us, angel. We’re waiting for you. The choice is yours.
Boyce’s elegant scrawl read clearly on the center of the card.
She bit her lip. For every second of trepidation she had when it came to these two, she had five minutes where she wanted them with everything she was. Today at the fair—the slap of the crop against her thigh, her ass, gifting her with a pain she didn’t know she’d like or need. Then the nipple clamps. The ones that Saint had so carefully applied before admiring her as though she was the finest gilded artwork in a museum.
When she’d taken a shower, she’d felt the absence of the clamps and had replaced them as soon as she’d stepped out, even before she’d dried her skin with one of the hotel’s fluffy white towels.
She shouldn’t continue this game she was playing with them. This give-and-take pursuit they were using to circle one another. Because every minute she did, the weight of false hope grew heavier.
As she pushed back the cloud of tissue, she unearthed a sea of sparkling dark purple. She pulled out yards and yards of the textured fabric. Once she’d placed each item on the bed, she stepped back to take stock.
Shorts.
Corset.
Fitted jacket.
And an odd piece of fabric that she thought was a cape for a few minutes until she realized the discreet buttons on the side of the shorts aligned to the buttonholes at the waist. A skirt. Or at least half of one, anyway.
Hrm. All right.
She looked back into the box, wondering if there was something she had missed. At the bottom, under the pile of tissue paper, she found two cylindrical objects, both bright yellow in color. The bottom of each item had threads, as though they were supposed to be screwed into something. As she lifted the shorts, checking the seams, she found two steel rings with threads machined around the inner circle.
Suddenly, everything in the box made sense.
Dildos. Meant to be mounted in each of the rings and inserted vaginally and anally once she was dressed. She understood what Boyce meant about the choice being hers. Yes, it would be her decision to accompany them to the ball. But if she wore this outfit as intended, it would prepare her for them. Keep her aroused and ready to take them both at the same time.
A thrill raced through her system.
This was it.
This was everything she had ever hoped for.
As she carefully twisted the toys into their respective receptacles, she noticed her hands were shaking. And the realization she’d have to tell them the unvarnished truth hit her squarely between her eyes.
“You can do this,” she stated emphatically. Breathing in and out, she waited until her nerves had settled. “This is what you want. What you’ve wanted all along. It’s right here and yours for the taking.”
The pep talk smoothed over a few of her nerves, but as she stepped into the shorts and slipped them higher, her mind blanked. It took several tries, and a little maneuvering, but after a few minutes, she’d fit both dildos into place and smoothed the legs of the shorts. The feeling of fullness wasn’t uncomfortable.
In fact, it was perfect. Pleasure coursed through her.
Yeah, she could totally do this.
Ten minutes later, she walked out of the hotel lobby. The first few strides from her room had been an exercise in patience. Each step reminded her of the toys she’d inserted as they moved inside her. By the time she’d reached the elevator, she’d been highly aroused.
Bless them.
A man wearing a suit approached. “Ms. Burrows, I’ll be your driver for the evening.”
Grae hesitated, until she saw a small gold disc affixed to the lapel of the man’s suit. The Noble House herald again. “Just how many of you are there?”
“Pardon?” he asked with a smile.
“Sorry. Nothing. I’m ready whenever you are.”
The ride to the hotel where the ball was being held was swift. It was as though the magic of the night touched everything around her. The driver hadn’t encountered a single red light on the drive through the busy city streets.
The thought gave her a moment’s pause. Surely Saint couldn’t have programmed the stoplights....nah. That was too far-fetched even for her. Somehow, everything was just working in her favor. She hoped the trend continued.
After they arrived, and the driver opened the door, Grae saw a wide variety of people filing into the hotel in all manner of outfits. Four women appeared around the corner, laughing and talking excitedly as they approached the hotel. The vintage styles of their clothing made Grae instantly envious. The dresses dazzled the eye with bright colors and shiny waist cinchers. They’d artfully arranged their hair in soft waves that framed their face and skillfully applied makeup to accentuate their features. Their choice of clothing wasn’t the only thing that bound them together. Each woman had a matching slender metal band surrounding her throat.
As that group passed, Grae recognized a few people who’d chosen to dress up as characters from the past summer’s blockbuster. A man wearing black pants, a white shirt, a skinny white tie and a brown trench coat passed, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips.
Another man wearing jeans, a crisp white button-down shirt, and a pair of thick leather cuffs circling his wrists approached her. His hair was dark, except for the streaks of gray on either side of his temple, and it looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed. A wry smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he met Grae’s gaze. A woman dressed in a form-fitting suit and severe heels stepped out of the hotel. She leveled a glance at the man with the cuffs. The man’s demeanor instantly altered as he spotted the woman, his gaze dropping as she welcomed him to the party. Though she couldn’t be certain, she guessed the woman was the man’s Mistress.
“Here I thought I was going to be underdressed,” Grae muttered.
The chauffer caught her eye as she stood and smiled. “If I may, ma’am?”
As annoyed as Grae was that he refused to drop the formality, she realized he was working to maintain a certain tone. “Yes. Go on.”
“The gentlemen you’re here to meet are extremely fortunate you’ve agreed to join them tonight. I should be so lucky to find a woman with even half your beauty.”
Oh, he is gooooood. “You’re quite the charmer.”
“I only speak the truth.” The stoic mask returned. “Your dates will meet you inside.”
“I don’t—”
He pulled out a long piece of thin cardboard and presented it to her. A ticket. “Enjoy the ball, ma’am.”
He was gone in a flash, leaving Grae standing near the valet station alone. If there was anywhere she could feel comfortable about being with two men, the fetish ball was the place. Where individuality and thinking outside the box was accepted. Hell, for all she knew, half the submissives she would see tonight were wearing some sort of device their Dom had carefully, and lovingly, selected for them.
Unsure of where to go, Grae entered the lobby and followed a couple down a wide hallway. The woman with long brown hair walked in heels so high, she was nearly perched forward on her toes. The effortless way she made walking look astonished Grae. While she felt she was more than adept at managing high heels, Grae was certain she couldn’t attempt more than six inches.
Grae also admired the woman’s jacket. Black and shiny, it fit her snugly and laced up the back from hem to neck with a bright pink ribbon. Every so often, she would step in such a way that Grae would get a quick flash of skin.
Was she naked? Or simply wearing something under the jacket that made it appear as though she was nude?
As they drew near a curtained area that had been designated as a privacy transition space for the event, the man leaned over and whispered something to his companion. Though Grae couldn’t hear what he’d said, she had felt the air around the couple snap like an electrical charge. Grae followed them as they stepped through the heavy black drapes, interested in learning more about what was going to happen next. In the privacy of the secure area, the woman bowed her head as she began unbuttoning the jacket. Seconds ticked by as the woman worked to obey what her Dom had commanded.
Grae inhaled softly when the woman removed the jacket to show she wore nothing underneath except for the ornate white collar around her throat. One the man had affixed a delicate length of chain to. He handed the jacket to the coat-check woman and accepted a ticket. He turned back to the collared woman and caressed her shoulder. “Ready for the show, Fancy?”
Grae couldn’t hear the woman’s reply, but it was obvious the two were more than just play partners. More than fuck buddies. They were a couple. A quick glimpse at the man’s left hand showed they were married.
“I did say I would parade you around on a leash someday.” His devilish smile showed those words had been a long-standing threat. Though the woman didn’t appear nervous, the man pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’ll get back to our club in Atlanta soon enough. And I’ll mark you again in front of our friends.”
Grae wanted that. Wanted the obvious love and affection the couple shared even with their power exchange.
“Ticket?”
With a start, Grae realized she’d been staring at the couple as they moved into the room and ignoring the man waiting to take her admittance ticket. “Sorry.”
“No worries, ma’am.” Grae glanced at the man again and realized it was the same submissive who had presented her with the box from Saint and Boyce at the hotel. “Masters Saint and Boyce chose very well.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant her outfit or her body. And she wasn’t sure how to respond. So she simply bowed her head and ducked inside the ballroom. She had to inhale sharply as the atmosphere slapped her in the face with the potent scent of sex. And sin. The Court at Noble House held a similar aroma. As did the Keep.
However, the sex was restrained here. At the club, people were free to indulge in their desires on a whim. Here, they were forced to keep them controlled. Plenty of flesh was exposed, much like the sub who had entered before Grae. However, everyone knew no one could fully engage in any sexual acts. At least not overtly. The temptation was great. However, the whole point was not to participate. To draw out. To tease.
Torment.
Grae understood the draw. And knew she had been putting herself through it all by only being a member of Noble House virtually.
Look. But don’t touch.
After a quick glance around the room, Grae couldn’t locate either of the men. Just as well—she wanted to look around some more. Enjoy the heady atmosphere without Saint and Boyce clouding the mix. Not that she minded them fuzzing her brain, but she wanted to appreciate her first fetish ball without wearing subspace-colored glasses.
She took her time wandering, drinking in the assorted costumes. Seeing the way Doms had marked their chosen subs. How submissives looked at their Doms with admiration shining freely in their expressions. It was a feast for the eyes, as well as the senses.
When Grae came around a tall column on the outskirts of the room, her breath caught in her throat. The crowd had parted, revealing Saint and Boyce standing there, looking at her. Their heated gazes signaled an appreciation for the outfit they’d sent. Unafraid of a little mutual ogling, she noted they were both wearing tuxes.
She wondered if Saint was still wearing the harness he’d shown her earlier.
She’d thought about that damn thing the entire time she’d been in the shower. Thought about how the crop had felt striking her ass. Wondered how it would feel slapping bare skin. The special thing about the men was they both made her want things she’d never desired before.
She’d spent years flitting from one club to the next, never truly giving herself over to the Doms she played with because she’d kept using her one night with Saint and Boyce as a reference point. But she’d thought her two interests could never be the same because she felt her desires were too extreme.
The guys had never showed an interest in the lifestyle, not that she would have understood those thoughts years ago. Then she’d gotten involved in the lifestyle. And she’d realized she’d spent the years since graduation running from the very thing that excited her the most.
“That outfit looks even better than I imagined.” Boyce pulled her to him, slowly backing out onto the dance floor as he teased her mouth with his lips. She was so enamored with the way he played with her, dipping his tongue in for the briefest second before retreating, she forgot that she couldn’t dance.
Boyce covered her lack of skill by capturing her hips between his broad hands, fanning his fingers over the curvature of her ass and guiding her along. She flowed with him, feeling the brush of her thigh against his leg as he pulled on her knee. The movement shifted her stance and a few sharp pangs of arousal unfurled inside her as her pussy clenched around the dildo.
Boyce caught the edge of the slim disk sewed into the outfit, shifting the one buried deep inside her pussy. When she gasped, he smiled before swallowing her quiet inhalations. He shifted again, this time pushing the fabric to the side so he could trace her swollen pussy lips.
Ready to beg him to take her right then and there, fetish ball rules be damned, she very nearly mounted him.
As he lifted his fingers, Boyce held her gaze. He traced her lower lip with the pad of his finger. Before she could lick her wetness away, Boyce crushed his mouth down on hers. She returned the kiss without any sort of control.
Saint nuzzled her ear, pressing against her back and swaying his hips as he pushed the steel firmness of his erection against her bottom. The trio flowed and dipped as one, moving in time to the music as the party around them disappeared.
She was revved, spinning high on the pleasure they’d given her.
&
nbsp; As Boyce slipped his tongue between her lips, she desperately wished for someone to touch her with more force. Her clit was swollen and achy, burgeoning with a need that signaled she was ready to let them do whatever they wanted.
Take her.
Put her on her knees.
Collar her like the submissive she’d seen when she’d arrived.
The foreign thought startled her. She’d never wanted that from a Dom. Never longed to be connected to someone in that way. But she wanted so much with these two men. Needed so much. The natural progression to full-on submission to the men made sense.
“It can always be like this, Grae. Between you and us.” Saint’s voice sounded in her ear as Boyce slowly ended the kiss. “The three of us could be a family. A unit.”
Grae’s heart tripped. “What?”
The men pinned her between them, as though they anticipated her running away.
“I know, angel. From day one,” Saint stated carefully. “You want us both, because you love us both. You don’t want just the sex at the club, or even at home. You want the happily ever after. But you can’t let yourself because you’re afraid.”
“We’re scared too, Grae,” Boyce added, touching her face. “We’re scared you won’t accept us because you can’t admit you want a triad relationship. You’re afraid of what other people think. What they’ll say behind our backs.”
She swallowed, wondering how they’d gotten to the heart of the matter without her spilling her guts. “I’ve tried ignoring what is inside me, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” Saint urged.
The cravings she’d had minutes ago faded, and took on a hard edge that had nothing to do with love. Or lust. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, screaming a reminder that Grae had the power to shatter lives. Homewrecker. “I have to. Don’t you understand? I have to.”
“Watching this back and forth you’re conducting in your head is pure madness, Grae. It can only go on for so long.” Saint brushed her hair out of the way, shifting her so she felt the rigidity of the harness he still wore under his tux. This time it didn’t arouse her. “One minute you shove us away. The next, you look like you want to rip our clothes off.”
