by Aubrey Cara
My breasts are two burning, throbbing points. He bends his head, and I scream as he sucks one tender tip into his mouth and then the other.
The hand on my throat tightens. “Now, are you ready to take your spanking?” Jess’s calm deep voice rumbles in my ear, completely at odds with the chaos raging inside me.
I nod.
Jace laughs in front of me. “Use your words, beautiful.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, I reluctantly acquiesce. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”
The first strike across my ass is light. Tentative. The second has me up on my toes. The third echoes around us along with my cry. I grit my teeth at the fourth and hang from my cuffs as I walk my feet forward and together.
They arrange me back into position. This time, Jace is the one to kick out my feet. His hand is now in my hair to hold me in place.
“Three more, beautiful,” Jess says, his voice deceptively soothing.
The strikes have me biting back screams. Then his hands are on me, caressing the stingy stripes the belt made. My cuffs are released from the chain, and I teeter and would fall if not for Jess’s steadying arm around my waist. He walks me forward and bends me over the bike so my aching breasts sway on the other side. I feel floaty and outside myself, yet still need so much more. I rub my thighs together, trying to get friction.
The egg vibe is pulled free; a trail of wetness drizzles down my thighs.
I only have a moment to feel achingly empty before the breadth and heat of Jess is pushing inside me, stretching me. Making me whole.
Fingers wind in my hair, tugging my head back. “Now,” Jess says. His hand comes down between my thighs and finds my clit. “Now you’re going to come, beautiful. You’re going to come until you cry to stop coming.”
A hum fills the air, and lighting streaks through me as he touches a mean little vibe to my clit. He works his cock in and out, rough and deep, all the while I come. I come so hard and long it’s difficult to breathe.
The vibe turns off, and I gasp for breath.
“Ready for more, pretty girl?” Jace fists my hair and nudges my lips with his stiff naked cock. I look up at him. He’s removed his shirt, and all his tats are on display. He looks down at me through half-lidded eyes. He rubs his cock head against my lips again, smearing pre-cum over my mouth.
I open and let him slip inside.
He groans, “So fucking hot,” as he pushes to the back of my throat until I gag, my core flexing on Jess. I pull on my binds the sense of being trapped over taking me. Exciting me. I fist my hands tight so neither of them think I might be safewording. In this moment my mind clears and my body is theirs. My breath, my pain, my pleasure is all controlled and doled out by them.
And I am free. Flying.
They set a steady rhythm only interrupted when Jess starts toying with the plug. He pulls it out until the flare of it stretches me then pushes it back in. Over and over, every orifice of my body is stuffed to bursting until I’m moaning and crying around Jace’s cock.
I groan as Jess pulls the plug completely free. It clangs on the floor where he tosses it. He glides his dick over my pucker, and I still.
“Should I take you here?” he asks. He threatened to, last night. He pushes in a little, and my breath catches, my heart hammering.
“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d let me pry your little ass open and stuff it full of my cock?”
I whimper, instead of reply. I’m scared, but yes, I’d let him do it. I want him to.
“Say it.”
I break away from Jace and shake my head. I don’t want to ask for it. I want him to make me take it. “Please.”
My mixed signal of a plea is enough for him. There’s a snap of a bottle cap, a cool drizzle of liquid, and he pushes in a little farther. His entry burns and aches.
“That’s it, baby. Relax and let him in.” Jace strokes his knuckles over my cheek, up and down my spine, all the while holding me steady with a fist in my hair.
“Fuck, Maddie.” Jess’s voice sounds strangled. “Stop tensing. I don’t want to hurt you. Not that way.”
Not that way. Meaning, other ways, he enjoys. I blow out a breath and try to relax.
His fingers dig into my hips as he slowly inches forward, little by little. Stopping to let my body adjust then pushing farther in. The stretch never stops aching, but the burn is turning into a warm thrumming desire for more.
Jace tilts my chin to meet his gaze. “You ready to get fucked?”
Am I? Jess’s thighs rest against mine, his groin against my ass. He’s buried to the hilt. I tentatively move my hips. He curses and holds me in place. He echoes Jace’s words. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Please, Jess. Fuck me.”
“You’re so fucking tight. This isn’t going to be sweet and gentle.”
I look over my shoulder at Jess, his jaw clenched. His hair has fallen forward, and his easy charm is gone. My pulse picks up. “Who said I wanted sweet and gentle?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up, but the savage gleam in his eyes remains. He slaps my ass hard before pulling out and pumping back in. My back bows, and I scream as he plows my ass, fists my hair. “Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how you want me to come in your ass.”
“Fuck, Jess.”
“You gonna come like this? With me fucking your ass? Or you need your sweet pussy played with?”
“I don’t think she’s ready to come again just yet.” Jace rolls a condom down his thick cock, and he wedges himself between me and the bike.
“What do you think, beautiful?” Jess asks. “You think you can take us both?”
I’m already achingly full, but I want this. Right now I can’t imagine being complete without this. Them.
I nod, reaching for Jace. “Please. I need you inside me.”
12
J ace
She needs me.
Fuck, I need her so much, my balls may burst if I don’t get inside her.
“Next time I’m going in bare,” I tell her, daring her to have a problem with it. “There ain’t gonna be nothing between us.” I’m not sure why I insist we should fuck unwrapped. Why I want to mark this woman in every way I can. It’s not something I ever do and this is just sex. Off the charts, insanely hot sex. But just sex.
Instead of an angry retort, she brings her cuffed wrists up over my head, drawing me into a kiss that makes all thoughts fly from my mind. I lift her leg to my hip and nudge my cock inside her opening. Christ she’s tight. Jess eases out a bit, and I shove in a little farther.
Mads gasps, her head falling back.
Jess’s arms bind across her upper chest and torso, framing her tits. I can’t help leaning down and sucking one of her rosy peaks into my mouth as I work my dick into her. I’m not going to last long, and from the pained expression on Jess’s face as he rests his forehead on Mads’ shoulder, neither is he.
Doing us all a favor, I turn on the little bullet vibe and press it to her clit. She detonates like it’s the Fourth of July. Jess holds her tight as she arches and cries, bucking in our grip. We seesaw in and out while her cunt spasms on me and it’s the best feeling in the world.
My balls pull up tight, and I think of ignition coils and oil pumps. And then I look at her, really look at her. Her body is flushed. Tendrils of her hair have gone dark auburn with sweat and cling to her skin, and she writhes between us.
She looks desperate and wild and free. Her emerald eyes, hazed with lust, meet mine. Tears stream down her cheeks as she comes and comes.
For a minute, the world fades away. The wet slapping sounds and our sex groans mute. All that exists is her. Beautiful, perfect Madeline.
And then I’m coming. Pumping into her. Bellowing out her name like I’m Braveheart as my balls empty in hard pulls.
It’s never been like this. Ever.
Instead of contemplated what makes this time so different, I turn off the vibe, and she sags back against Jess.
My brother nuzzles her neck. Whispers tender words in her ear. I know they’re tender from her dreamy expression.
Jess has that effect on women. I used to call him the pussy whisperer. He likes that domly shit. Pushing a woman’s limits, discovering what makes her tick but then taking care of her after he wrecks her. Making her feel a little special so she floats out the door on cloud nine.
I’ve always found it amusing to watch, but I’m not laughing now. Now I want to be the one doing that for Madeline. For a second, I’m the seventeen-year-old idiot who just wanted to make her smile.
“I got her,” I tell him as I gently tug her into my arms. His brows pull down in surprise, but he relinquishes his hold on her as I scoop her up. The second she’s in my arms her head falls to my shoulder.
Jess opens the pole barn door and then the one to the house for us. I stride across the yard like I’m carrying a captive, suddenly thankful we’re so secluded out here.
Once inside, I go straight to my bathroom.
“Can you stand?” I ask her even as I’m setting her on her feet. I hold her until she finds her legs then take off her cuffs, rubbing one wrist then the other. I turn on the shower and strip down, toeing off my boots. She watches me undress with sleepy eyes. When I see a little steam, I scoop her back up and carry her into the shower.
“You don’t have to wash me.” She says this with her cheek on my shoulder, her entire body resting against mine.
This is a foreign Madeline. Sweet. Cuddly.
She whimpers when I clean between her legs and ass cheeks, so I kiss her gently and murmur an apology. My heart kicks in my chest. I’ve never done this with a woman. For a woman. Had this kind of intimacy.
I should be freaking out, but I don’t want to ruin this. I want to cling to this moment and never let go.
Jess comes in already stripped down and steps into the spray. He kisses Madeline’s shoulder before washing himself but makes no move to take over. Maybe he knows I need this. Senses it.
After I’ve wrapped Mads in a fluffy towel, I take her to my bed. It’s the middle of the day, but she’s already half asleep, high on sex.
“You changed your sheets,” she observes as I settle her in the center of my big bed. “But your room is still messy.”
My shit looks fine to me, but I try to see it through her eyes. There’s some stuff out. Maybe some dust, but…okay, it’s a little messy.
She curls up against me, places her head on my shoulder, and traces my tats. Her skin looks pale against the mural of ink on my chest.
I’m in a trance from her touch, so it takes me a minute to notice her fingers have stopped moving. She’s fallen asleep, lightly snoring, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s an enigma. I’m not sure what to make of her. The spoiled princess. The uptight hardass. The feisty wanton. And now this.
Maybe it’s only afterglow painting her in pastels.
Fucking Mads was spiritual this time. It transcended all else. Or, I crashed my bike this morning, I’m lying in the hospital in a coma, and this is some messed-up fever dream.
Jess crawls into bed on the other side of her, and I lift my head to glare at him when he cuddles up to her back.
He grins back unrepentantly.
Whatever.
“Still don’t want to keep her?” the smug bastard asks.
“Fuck you.” Yes. Yes, I want to keep her like a fucking pet. Preferably chained to my bed. I don’t think that’s either of our choices, though.
Sure, right now she’s content to be here with us, but she’s vulnerable and using us to feel better. She wants to get dirty and slum it. Once she’s feeling better, she’s out of here.
A pounding knock on the front door has both Jess and I on alert.
“What the hell is that?” Mads groans and cracks one eye open from where she’s cuddled into my pillow.
I yank on a pair of jeans and toss a pair of shorts at Jess.
Boom, boom, boom. “Jace? Jess? You in there?”
“Is that Terry?” Jess asks as we file to the front door.
“It sounds like Terry. But what the hell is he doing here, banging on our door like we robbed the liquor store?
I rip the door open and sure enough, there’s Terry, along with a petite blonde, her hair back in a severe bun. Thick tortoise-shell framed glasses are perched on her nose. She’s wearing a straight gray skirt, heels that don’t help her height, and a navy blazer buttoned up over a white, collared shirt.
She takes a step back at the sight of me.
Jess crowds into the doorway, scratching his jaw. “Hey, Terry. What can we do for you, man?”
“You guys happen to know where Madeline Fitzpatrick is? This one showed up at the station wanting to file a missing persons report.”
The prim little woman pushes her glasses up her nose and bares her teeth at Terry. “She hasn’t been answering her phone. Then I show up at her father’s house where she’s supposed to be staying, and it’s a crime scene. Of course, I want to file a missing person report!”
“Celia?” Mads says from behind us.
“Madeline!” The blonde’s eyes fill with relief. She shoves her way into the house, past Jess and I. “Oh, thank—” She freezes and stares at Mads in one of my chambray button-ups.
“Oh—my—I thought you’d been murdered—and that man,”—she points at Terry—“said you were here—and—and—I didn’t think you were interested in men.” She says the last in a scandalized whisper shout.
“Disappointed?” I ask.
Her face goes scarlet. She straightens her unrumpled buttoned-up blazer and scuttles over to Madeline. “I’m sorry. That was impertinent of me, but Madeline, really. What happened to you?”
Madeline
What happened to me?
I’m achy and sore in all the right places and my mind wanders to all the reasons why. Now, it’s my turn to be embarrassed. Or at least more embarrassed than I am standing here in front of my old assistant in a haphazardly buttoned-up men’s shirt and boxer briefs that fit over my ass like minuscule boy shorts.
I flush, and Celia hisses, “I’ve left you a million messages since Friday.”
My mind reels. “I had to get a new phone. The messages must have not transferred over. What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
“No. Nothing is all right, Madeline.” My infallible personal assistant is harried in a way I’ve never witnessed. “You were fired, and Franklin wanted to demote me for sending you that email—so I quit.”
“Why would you do that?”
“My loyalty was always to you.”
“That’s flattering.” As well as dramatic. “If you were so loyal, why did you leave me for Franklin in the first place?”
“It was a good career move. I thought you, above anyone else, would understand. If you taught me anything, it’s emotion is a weakness with no place in business. You’ve got to be cold.” She slices a hand through the air. “Cutthroat.”
I wince. It’s true. Emotion doesn’t belong in business. I still die a little inside, knowing this is something I’ve taught this younger woman to emulate.
“What am I supposed to do?” She appears as adrift, as without purpose as I’ve been feeling. And she doesn’t have a Jess and Jace to toss her a life raft.
Her meltdown is having a calming effect on me. I’m slipping back into work mode, and with it comes clarity. Comfort.
“You’re the best in your field,” I tell her. “We’ll put out feelers and get you another position. A better one. Until then…I need a contractor to fix my lake house. Someone local, preferably. A cleaning crew. And an interior designer to stage the house now that the furniture is largely ruined.” I tick down the list of things I was planning on accomplishing myself.
She nods, already taking notes on her phone.
“Oh, and I’ll need clothes. Most of mine were destroyed. My sizes should be on file with Bishop & Lang.”
“Busin
ess or casual?”
“Casual, from the skin out. If I need business, you can send someone to get my things in the city. Also—there’s a restaurant called Debby’s Diner in an old building in Shelbyville. Find out who owns that building and if they’re willing to sell.”
Her eyes light up with purpose. “I’ll get right on it.”
“This is temporary,” I warn her. “I can’t pay you what you’re worth.” And have no idea what I’m doing myself.
“I understand. What hotel are you staying at?”
“She’s not,” Jace says. “She’s staying here, with us.”
“Here is the number for a contractor we’ve worked with before.” Jess hands over a business card. “And she won’t need any clothes until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest.”
Celia’s mouth opens, and snaps closed. “Right.” She clears her throat. “I’ll get started on this and touch base tomorrow—afternoon. I have my phone, and I’m staying at the Ridgeline if you need me.” She leans in and whispers, “So both of them?”
She waves a hand. “Sorry. Don’t answer that.” She turns on her heel and snaps her fingers in the sheriff’s direction. “Officer Malone. Come along.”
Celia breezes out the door, and the sheriff’s jaw ticks.
“By the way,” Terry says, stopping in the doorway. “We apprehended the kids we suspect vandalized your house. It was a group of nine teenagers. They hit another house last night and we caught them in the act. They’ve hit five houses total. Most of their parents have posted bail, but there will be an arraignment and most of them could be facing felony charges.” He sighs, likely exhausted. “You’ll need to come down to the station--”
“Tomorrow is soon enough,” Jace says.
Sheriff Malone holds up his hands. “Tomorrow is fine. You guys enjoy the rest of your day.” He smirks before stepping outside.
“It’s about time.” I hear Celia snap before Jess shuts the front door.
I sigh in relief. That was humiliating as well as surreal.
“Who’s your friend?” Jess asks, pulling me in against his bare chest.
