by Mari Carr
Charlotte frowned until Vincent explained. “It’s a BDSM club.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Wow. Yeah. So…I have no idea what shoes to wear there.”
Vincent didn’t appear to smile often, but Christian got the sense that was about to change. It was hard to be around Charlotte and not be amused. She was open and honest and funny.
“Wear the kick-ass heels,” Christian replied. “They’ll work there too.”
“Okay.”
Vincent reached out and took Charlotte’s hand. “You’re okay with going to that kind of club?”
“Hell yeah. I think it’ll be totally cool. It’s not exactly where I expected to spend my honeymoon, but I think that’s what I like about it most. We’re unique.”
Christian reached over, dying to touch the mass of curls that seemed to fly around her head like a cloud. “I like your sense of adventure.”
“Thanks.” She appeared pleased and maybe even a little embarrassed by his compliment. “The shoes are in my apartment.” Charlotte pointed out the window of the penthouse. “Which is right across the street.”
Christian looked at the ritzy apartment building. Given its primo location in the center of the city, as well as the beautiful balconies, Christian realized Charlotte really was doing well. “Nice digs.”
Vincent took his cell phone out of his pocket. “Let me make a quick phone call to the club and slip into something more appropriate for our venue tonight, then we can head to your place.” He walked down a short hallway to one of the bedrooms.
Charlotte answered Christian’s unasked question. “Our suitcases are already here. We appear to have all been assigned a room.”
“Are you really okay with going to a BDSM club tonight?” Christian asked, trying to decide if Charlotte was a master at hiding her true thoughts or truly as low-key and easygoing as she appeared.
“Absolutely. I mean it sounds like Vincent is into that, so I think I,” she paused briefly, “we should at least give it a try. We’re about to spend the rest of our lives together. I’d hate to put limits on stuff, not give it all I’ve got. You know what I mean?”
Christian nodded. “I do.” And then, because he couldn’t resist the temptation, Christian leaned closer and kissed her. He let his lips linger, taking the kiss out of the friendly range and into passionate. Her lips parted and their tongues touched. Charlotte’s hands found their way to his shoulders, her fingers stroking his hair. Christian wanted more as well, so he gripped her hips, tugging her waist closer, letting her feel the erection she’d inspired.
He had the feeling he was going to have to find a way to adjust to this somewhat permanent hard state. He was knee-deep in lust for his partners and he didn’t see that going away anytime soon.
Their lips parted though they remained close, studying each other. Charlotte’s bright blue eyes had gone soft as she gave him a shy smile.
“I was only out of the room a few minutes.”
Vincent’s voice literally seemed to move the air with its deep, rich vibrations. The man was wasted on Wall Street. Pipes like that were made for the stage.
They turned to face him. Christian could tell from Vincent’s tone he wasn’t angry. Rather, it appeared his new spouse was suffering from the same intense sexual desires permeating every inch of Christian’s body.
Charlotte, as always, rolled with it. “You’re wearing that?”
Vincent nodded as Christian studied the new outfit. Vincent had pulled on a pair of black slacks that he’d paired with a soft black T-shirt that accentuated the man’s muscular arms even more. It was simple, understated. No one would pass him on the street and think Dom.
However, Christian couldn’t look at him and think of anything else.
“Did you want to change, Christian?” Charlotte asked.
Christian had donned a new pair of jeans and a navy-blue button down for his trip to the binding ceremony. In truth, his suitcase didn’t contain anything much different from this. “No. I’m good.”
Unlike Charlotte, Christian wasn’t a novice when it came to BDSM clubs. He’d visited a few in New York several years earlier when he was researching a role. However, unlike Vincent, Christian hadn’t participated, hadn’t proclaimed himself Dom or sub. Instead, he’d remained on the fringes, watching everything with absolute fascination.
Vincent walked to the door. “Let’s go get you ready then, Charlotte. I’ve called the club and they are expecting us.”
“Cool.”
Once again, Vincent claimed Charlotte’s hand as they crossed the street to her place. And once again, Christian followed, intrigued and somewhat curious about his own role in this new relationship.
Charlotte gave them a quick tour of her apartment before inviting them to wait for her in the living room.
Vincent had other plans. “Where are these kick-ass shoes?”
Charlotte laughed. “My closet.”
Vincent raised his hand, indicating that Charlotte should lead the way, so she started down the hallway. Christian was still two steps behind.
Charlotte’s bedroom was as lively as she was. It was decorated with bright colors, the walls covered with so much stuff it was almost an assault on the eyes. Every single item in the room told him who she was. From the Big Bang Theory bobbleheads to the small wooden sign that said, “Kinda pissed about not being a mermaid,” it was obvious Charlotte loved to laugh and that she took delight in basically everything.
Vincent was standing next to Charlotte’s open closet door as she rummaged around on the floor of it, searching for her shoes.
“Ta-da,” she said at last, holding up the sexy spiked heels.
Christian sat on the edge of her bed and wolf-whistled. “Very nice.”
“Yeah. I bought them on a whim, but I haven’t had a chance to wear them. Mainly because I have nothing that goes with them.” Charlotte flipped through her closet, but it was apparent she’d done the search before and come up empty.
Vincent took over, sliding article after article of clothing along until he found what he was looking for. “Here.” He handed her a short black skirt.
“Oh no. Sorry. That’s my ‘maybe someday’ skirt.”
“Maybe someday?” Vincent asked, confused.
“As in, maybe someday I’ll lose the ten pounds that need to go before that fits over my fat ass again.”
Vincent looked at the skirt and then Charlotte’s ass.
Christian knew the man was thinking the same thing he was. Her booty was perfect just as it was.
“Put it on.” Vincent’s tone told Charlotte resistance was futile. “With this.” He pulled a silky white blouse from a hanger and handed it to her as well.
“Okay. Is there a backup plan if this—”
Vincent interrupted her, his arms crossed. “Put the outfit on, Charlotte. Now.”
Christian saw Charlotte’s eyes widen at the direct order, not with fear, but with arousal. Christian recognized the look because he was suffering from the same affliction.
Jesus Christ. Vincent was sex and sin incarnate.
Charlotte began to unbutton the more practical blouse she’d worn to the binding ceremony. Once she’d shrugged it off, she started to pull on the silky one.
Vincent stopped her with a raised hand. “Take off your bra.”
Charlotte’s gaze drifted from Vincent to Christian as she reached behind her to unfasten her bra. It landed on the floor next to her other blouse.
Vincent took the silk shirt from her, taking over the task of dressing her. Her hand flew up to the second button when Vincent left it undone as if she was contemplating buttoning it.
Christian could tell she wasn’t used to showing off so much skin, but then her hand lowered. Her hesitation faded quickly and she didn’t resist, demure or complain. Instead, she unbuttoned her slacks and slid them off.
“Panties?” she asked Vincent with a playful grin.
Vincent didn’t return her smile. His gaze was too intense. �
�What do you think?”
She laughed softly. “No panties. Got it.” She tugged them down, and then wiggled her way into the black skirt. It was definitely a tight fit, but while Charlotte considered that a sign that she needed to lose weight, Christian and Vincent clearly viewed the skirt as something much different. It fit her like a second skin, accenting her curves, tempting a man to touch, to stroke.
“You look beautiful, Charlotte,” Christian murmured.
She walked toward him with her shoes, dropping down next to him on the mattress to strap them on. Christian took them from her and slid off the bed to kneel on the floor. He propped one bare leg on his bent knee and slid her shoe on, buckling it in place. Then he repeated the motion with the other foot. He could feel Charlotte watching him, heard her breathing deepen until each exhale was almost a sigh.
Vincent’s presence behind him was like the heat of a fire, licking against his exposed skin with heat and danger.
Once her shoes were on, Christian returned to sitting on the bed. Charlotte blew out a breath, then stood and spun in a circle.
“Club worthy?” she asked, her lighthearted tone working in opposition to the anxiety Christian felt.
It was obvious what roles Vincent and Charlotte would play tonight. But where did he fit in?
Vincent lifted his hand to cup Charlotte’s cheek possessively. “Tonight isn’t a game, beauty.”
Charlotte’s smile faded, but her spirit wasn’t dimmed. “Maybe you should give me an overview, explain some of the rules.”
“You’re going to be my sub. If I tell you to do something, you will obey without question.”
Charlotte was obviously intrigued. “Give me an example of what you might ask me to do.”
Vincent paused, considering. Christian held his breath as he waited to hear the request. “Kneel.”
Charlotte started to drop down, but Vincent stopped her with a firm grip on her upper arm. He was clearly pleased by her quick response, and Christian was grateful Vincent’s attention was locked on Charlotte. It prevented the man from seeing that Christian had stirred. That he’d nearly gone to his knees on the floor as well.
“Very good, beauty. If I ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable or that causes you more pain than you can bear, I want you to say Boston. That will be your safe word. That is the only word that will make me cease. Saying ‘no’ or ‘stop’ won’t work. Do you understand?”
Charlotte nodded.
“I practice Risk Aware, not Safe, Sane, Consensual.”
Christian’s body stirred. From what he’d learned, there were some in the BDSM community who considered it irresponsibly naïve to label BDSM play—which had the possibility to be both emotionally and physically dangerous—as “Safe, Sane, Consensual.” They played using “Risk Aware Consensual Kink,” which they called “RACK.” Charlotte and Christian both nodded, though Christian doubted that Charlotte had any idea what Vincent meant.
Christian had held his tongue as long as he could. With each passing moment, he was feeling more and more like an outsider. He didn’t like it.
“And what role will I be playing tonight?” he asked.
“Role?” Vincent didn’t appear to like Christian’s term. “You heard me say tonight won’t be a game?”
Christian jerked his head up and down just once. “Yes, but—”
“Regardless of our reason for going to that club tonight, what we do there will be real.”
Christian struggled to catch a breath; his chest tight with longing tinged with just a tad too much worry. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
Vincent never missed a beat. “You want to know where you’ll be?”
Christian nodded.
“You’ll be on your knees next to Charlotte.”
Chapter Two
Charlotte appreciated the fact that both Vincent and Christian were flanking her, holding her hands. She’d lived in Boston her entire life and never had a clue that places like this existed in the city. Obviously, she knew what BDSM was, but it wasn’t something she’d ever seriously considered trying.
She hated to confess it to Vincent and Christian, but the truth of the matter was she was a vanilla girl. Which in hindsight was probably a shortsighted take on sex, considering she knew she was going to eventually live her life in a triad.
She probably should have indulged in more adventurous sex before reaching this point. Kissed a girl in college or experimented with bondage or…well, something. Anything. Instead, she’d dated a long string of very nice guys who’d rocked her world with nothing more scandalous than doggie style.
She was an idiot.
“Relax, Charlotte,” Vincent murmured. “I’m not going to chain you to the St. Andrew’s cross and whip you straight away.”
Christian chuckled, but Charlotte was too hung up on the words chain and whip. Her normal “try anything” attitude had turned tail and was making a hasty retreat, leaving her an increasingly worried ball of nerves.
The club was located in a small brick building not terribly far from her condo. There was no business name on the front, just large brass numbers mounted above the door, marking the address. Vincent pressed the buzzer by the door and said simply, “Basement.”
The door clicked open and he held it for her. The tiny lobby was normal enough, with a single elevator with a gold door, marble floors, and some elegant woodwork. Charlotte studied the elevator, mentally removing it, taking the architecture back to what it would have been before the modernization.
A middle-aged man in a black jacket sat behind a small reception desk to the right of the door. He checked Vincent’s ID, and she had a moment to worry—there wasn’t exactly room for a wallet in this outfit—but the receptionist didn’t ask her for anything. Instead he nodded and there was another click. A section of wall on their left, directly across from reception, popped open an inch.
A hidden door? That was so cool.
Vincent opened the door, revealing a small staircase. It was probably remnants of the original servant’s stairs. She peered at it, professionally interested, but when Christian came in after her, bumping against her, she jolted back to the moment. She was about to go down a dimly lit staircase into a sex club with two men who were virtually strangers.
“I don’t think—” she whispered.
Vincent stopped walking and turned to look at her. He put both hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look up—way up—at his face, his actions cutting her words off.
The man was fucking beautiful, in a seriously scary way. Charlotte had no idea how those two things went together, but she’d been fighting off the urge to touch herself since Vincent had shrugged off his robe in the altar room. He towered over her by at least a foot and even though she knew she needed to lose weight, she felt almost petite standing next to Vincent.
“I was kidding about the whip, beauty. We’re here for two reasons. To see if we can discover any information about Caden Anderson, and to see if you and Christian might like to explore some facets of BDSM with me. If you hate everything about it, it will be taken off the table.”
“Okay.” His words had gone a long way toward easing her fears.
“It’s our honeymoon,” Christian added. “Our chance to learn about each other.”
While her attraction to Vincent was based on pure animalistic need, she was just as drawn to Christian. But for different reasons.
Like Vincent, Christian was extremely handsome, and while he wasn’t as tall or as broad, he still had a few inches on her. However, Christian lured her to him not with intensity, but with his quick wit and easy laugh. He also had a presence. Maybe it was charisma, maybe it was natural charm, but whatever it was, it made her want to be near him, to bask in that reflected glow. When he’d winked at her in the altar room, she had known instantly that this man was her kindred spirit.
“I’d like that,” she admitted. “So what’s first?”
“There’s a bar,” Vincent said. “Let�
��s put out some feelers for Caden.”
Charlotte minced down the stairs. With Vincent in front of her and Christian behind, she felt both protected and trapped.
At the bottom was a small coatroom on one side and a mini sex toy shop on the other. Charlotte gaped at it. The space no bigger than a linen closet was packed with plastic-packaged sex toys. There was a small cashbox sitting on a shelf. Apparently, it was a mini sex shop that ran on the honor system.
Vincent looked over the toys, then at her. Charlotte fought down her panicked arousal—who knew that was even possible?—and looked at the coat closet instead. But there weren’t just coats there. There were whole outfits. Meaning the people inside were naked.
Directly in front of them was a heavy black velvet drape in place of a doorway. As Charlotte listened, she heard the smack of flesh on flesh.
Vincent caught her hand and pulled back the curtain. He led them into the club. To her relief it looked like any club she’d ever been in—a few low couches, two cocktail tables, and then an elegant oak bar. She tried to concentrate on where she was walking, but her attention was continually drawn to the other people around them. She’d never seen so much black leather in her life. No naked people. Yet.
Vincent took a seat at the bar, while Christian claimed the stool on his right. She started toward the one to Vincent’s left, but he stopped her, dragging her to stand between his outstretched legs. Christian was facing them, so his parted thighs completely caged her in.
Charlotte stood facing the bar, grateful to have the high counter to lean on. Both men were sitting close enough that she could feel the heat of their bodies. Vincent’s hand found its way to her ass, where he gently stroked it. She felt a bit like a beloved kitten. It was almost enough to make her want to purr, and it eased the anxiety that had been knotting her stomach.
So far, Christian was keeping his hands to himself. Mercifully. If he touched her, she would be a goner. She’d never indulged in PDA, keeping all the sexual stuff behind closed doors. However, tonight, that rule had vanished. If Vincent told her to take her clothes off right here, she was convinced—and sort of mortified by the fact—that she wouldn’t hesitate to obey.
