by Mari Carr
What the hell did that mean?
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
Vincent answered for all of them. “I’ll have a Scotch and water. My companions will have sodas.”
The bartender walked away to prepare their drinks.
“I think I need something stronger. Maybe a margarita or a daiquiri,” Charlotte said.
Vincent squeezed her ass warningly. “No. Not tonight.” Then he looked over at Christian, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet. “You’re free to touch her, Christian.”
Christian’s eyes darkened with desire, and she shivered when she felt his hand drift beneath her skirt to caress the inside of her thigh.
“You were waiting for permission?” she asked Christian.
“Yes,” he murmured in her ear.
“I seriously need a margarita,” she repeated.
Christian grinned. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
The bartender returned with their drinks, striking up a conversation. “You three local or in Boston visiting?”
Vincent took a sip of his Scotch. “I’m in town on business. Thought I’d combine the work with pleasure.”
“I see.” The bartender gave them a friendly smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
“A friend recommended it to me. Perhaps you know him? Caden Anderson?” Vincent asked.
The bartender’s grin faded slightly. “I know Master Anderson.”
“I was hoping to connect with him while I’m in town. Is he here tonight by any chance?”
The bartender shook his head. “No. I haven’t seen him or his sub here in months.”
“Oh yes, his sub.” Vincent frowned as if thinking. “I can never remember her name.”
“I don’t think anyone knows her real name. He only calls her Darling.”
Vincent snapped his fingers, pretending that was the answer he’d been searching for. “That’s it. Darling.”
Charlotte was impressed with Vincent’s undercover skills.
“I’m sorry to hear they aren’t here,” Vincent continued. “I’ve been trying to meet up with him for a while now, catch up, reminisce.”
“Are you and Master Anderson good friends?”
Vincent shrugged. “I think it would be more accurate to call us good acquaintances.”
The bartender nodded. “That makes more sense.”
“Excuse me?” Vincent asked.
“It’s just I’ve never seen Master Anderson mingle with anyone. He and Darling stay to themselves, and their scenes…”
“Yes. Their scenes…” Vincent said, as if he knew what the man was referring to.
Apparently, the bartender bought the act. “They’re some of the most intense I’ve ever seen. Always made me think those rumors about him were true.”
“Rumors?”
The bartender leaned closer. “I don’t like to tell tales.” Charlotte just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. It was obvious the guy loved to spread gossip.
“I can assure you what you say will stay between us,” Vincent reassured him.
“Well, I’ve heard that he and his sub are related somehow. And that their parents trained them in the lifestyle when they were just teenagers.”
Charlotte gasped then quickly closed her mouth, hoping her response didn’t discourage the bartender from continuing.
Vincent spoke quickly to keep the conversation rolling. “They trained Caden to be a Dom?”
“Yep. And Darling to be submissive.”
The bartender obviously liked the shock factor of his story, so he lowered his voice and added more. “The rumors I’ve heard said that when Master Anderson was fifteen, he was taken to an apartment where his father kept his submissive, and he ordered her to service his son. Can you imagine? I always figured the poor kid, being a teenage boy, enjoyed it as much as he was horrified by it. I know I would be. Anyway, apparently he left the apartment thinking it was a one-time event, but it was actually the first day of his training. His father and some other Dom, who was a friend of the father, hauled him down to that apartment on a regular basis, where he was given literal hands-on demonstrations on how to be a master.”
Jesus. Charlotte tried to let that soak in. Whatever tenuous understanding Caden would have had as to how relationships between men and women were supposed to work would have been lost in the face of that perversion. She was starting to feel sorry for Caden Anderson.
The bartender was clearly enjoying his audience. “I figure the guy never had a chance of being normal. He was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, sent to the best schools, given every advantage. He was expected to become some sort of tech mogul. Is that how you know him or did you meet at the clubs?”
“A bit of both,” Vincent lied.
Charlotte realized that being raised with such high expectations would be enough pressure for anyone, but to think that he was also raised to be a Dominant was too disturbing to consider. Caden never had a chance.
The bartender looked at Vincent. “Did you ever meet his brother? Because apparently the father trained both his sons to be Doms.”
“Caden has a brother?” Vincent shook his head. “I never knew that.”
“I doubt very many people do. That’s why I asked. According to a few of the Doms here, the brother, Weston, disappeared years ago. Vanished without a trace.”
“That’s terrible,” Charlotte said.
Vincent shot her a sharp look and she quickly looked down. She should have asked him for more instruction on exactly what she could and couldn’t do at this club. It was obvious submissives were supposed to be seen and not heard, but that was going to be damn hard for her. She had a bad habit of speaking first, thinking later.
“I have a paddle back here if you’d like to borrow it,” the bartender said cheerfully.
Charlotte bit hard on her lip to hold in all the noises she wanted to make.
“Maybe later.” Vincent cracked his hand across her ass in a firm spank that had Charlotte yelping and leaning against the bar. “Control her,” he ordered Christian.
The bartender hummed in approval as Christian grabbed both of Charlotte’s wrists and pulled them behind her back.
“I’m sorry to hear about his brother,” Vincent said, trying to bring them back on topic.
“Master Anderson is as hard and cruel a master as any, but I always got a sense that he really loves Darling, even as he tortures her.”
Charlotte shuddered at the word torture. When Vincent had said they were coming to the club, she’d been excited about seeing it. When he’d spanked her, a quick thrill had gone through her. After hearing about Caden and Darling, her enthusiasm had dimmed, though the way Christian was holding her, controlling her, was keeping her from shaking the arousal entirely.
Vincent must have noticed. “Thanks very much for your time.”
The bartender understood he was being dismissed. “I hope you and your subs have a good time tonight. Let me know if you need anything more, Master…”
“Clayton,” Vincent supplied.
The bartender nodded and drifted away.
“People never fail to surprise me,” Christian said. He’d been silent throughout the entire conversation. “Anderson’s parents sound like twisted fucks. Can you imagine training teenage boys to be Doms?” He released Charlotte’s wrists, but kept one of her hands, rubbing the hollow of her palm with his thumb.
“Or a young girl to be submissive,” Charlotte added.
Vincent ran a comforting hand down her back. “Most people learn about kinks when they’re in their teens or twenties. They match up these vague feelings they’ve had their whole life with an adult kink that makes sense to them.”
“Is that what it was like for you?” she asked.
Vincent nodded.
She bit her lip, and then said the one word her mind wouldn’t let go of. “Torture?”
“That’s how Caden and Darling play. It wouldn’t be like that be
tween us.”
Charlotte nodded, trying to find comfort in his words. In truth, everything between them was far too new. Apart from a couple kisses and a bit of touching, she knew nothing about her new soon-to-be lovers.
“Do you want to stay, Charlotte? Or go back to the penthouse?” Vincent was giving her a choice. The opportunity to put them back on a path she was more familiar, more comfortable with.
“We can stay a little longer.” She had to fight to sound enthusiastic about it. This lifestyle and places like this were important to Vincent. She wanted to learn more, in hopes that she could understand it.
It didn’t look like her nonchalant response fooled either man.
“Are you sure?” Vincent pressed.
She nodded. “I haven’t seen anything yet. We should look around.”
Christian stood and took her hand. “Maybe we should limit tonight to just a tour.”
She was ruining their first night together. Prior to hearing the bartender’s story about Caden and Darling, she had been excited about being here, about experimenting. Somehow, she needed to find her way back to that.
She squeezed Christian’s hand. “Let’s don’t set limits.”
Charlotte was relieved when the same affable, friendly smile she had already grown far too fond of reappeared. However, a quick glance at Vincent proved he wasn’t as convinced they should remain.
“Shall we?” she said, lifting her free hand.
He claimed it and they walked through the bar—which served as a last gasp of normality—and down a long hallway toward the sound of music. For a moment, it felt as if they were going to a dance club. Then she walked into the room.
“Oh my God,” she muttered.
Though the music was thumping loudly, both men heard her exclamation. She wasn’t sure what this room was, but it was no dance club.
Various pieces of equipment were scattered throughout, most in use, which was a good and bad thing.
It was good because Charlotte didn’t have to guess what the furniture was used for. It was bad because Charlotte didn’t have to guess what any of it was used for. She’d always prided herself on a pretty vivid imagination that had served her well in her architectural designs. Apparently, she wasn’t as creative as she’d thought.
A naked woman was tied facedown over a spanking bench as a shirtless man paddled her very red bottom. She spotted what was no doubt the St. Andrew’s cross Vincent had mentioned earlier, which looked like a large X. It was being used exactly how he’d teased her, only there was a man strapped to it while a woman wielded the whip.
There was a man in a chair being pleasured by two women on their knees in front of him. A man demonstrating some sort of rope bondage to a crowd of five or six couples. The woman he was demonstrating on hung four feet off the floor, her body twisting slightly. And a woman riding some man around as if he were a horse.
It was system overload.
“Holy shit.” Her gaze continued to bounce from one tableau to the next, but she never let herself look at Christian or Vincent. She was too afraid. Too afraid they’d see something she would prefer to hide until she reclaimed her bearings.
“We need to leave,” Christian said.
Charlotte frowned. “What?”
Vincent nodded. “Agreed.”
Before she could question them or put up a fuss, both men had wrapped their arms around her—Vincent claimed her waist, Christian her shoulders—and they strong-armed her toward the exit. Christian jerked a phone from his pocket and put in a request for a car.
“Wait,” she said in vain as Christian flagged down their car and opened the back door. Before she knew it, they were on their way back to the penthouse.
“Are you okay?” Vincent asked.
She nodded, still flummoxed by their rapid escape. “I’m fine.”
Her answer didn’t bring Vincent any comfort. He was holding himself too tensely. “It was too soon for me to take you there.”
“Vincent. What was your plan if you had been put in a trinity with two people who weren’t into that…um…” She waved her hand toward the club they’d left behind. She settled for simplicity. “Into that?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Which basically gave her the answer.
“You would have gone without them, found someone else to satisfy those needs.” Charlotte needed to keep her voice down since the driver had to be wondering what they were talking about, but she was too wound up.
“That was before I met you and Christian. I won’t cheat on either of you, Charlotte. I promise you.”
“Why did you drag me out of there?” she asked.
“You were clearly upset.”
“What?”
Christian nodded. “Yeah. I get it, Charlotte. The first time I went to a club, I had to work overtime not to freak out at everything I saw.”
“You’ve been to a club before?” Charlotte was shocked. For some reason, she had thought Christian was like her. Aware of BDSM, but not a practicing member.
“I was researching a role. I only observed. I didn’t take part.”
“Oh.” She was relieved by his answer.
Vincent wasn’t. “You didn’t want to take part?”
Christian shook his head. “No. Not back then.”
“And now?” Vincent pressed.
Christian looked at them. Charlotte was amazed by how clearly his emotions were reflected through just his eyes.
“I gotta ask you something, Vincent. Because I can’t figure it out on my own. Are you straight? Or bi?”
Vincent leaned back against the seat and rubbed his chin. “I’m afraid there’s not a simple answer to that question.”
Charlotte frowned. “Um. Yes, there is.”
Vincent chuckled, the sound too rusty for her liking. “I was straight.”
“Was?” Christian asked.
Vincent sighed as he looked out the window. “I don’t want to have this conversation in the car.”
Christian looked like he wanted to press the point, but Charlotte agreed. They’d jumped at least twenty steps by going to the BDSM club tonight before talking about the dynamics of their relationship. Shit. If you considered they were strangers before this morning, they’d probably jumped closer to a hundred steps.
Silence fell. Charlotte was grateful for the time to mentally prepare for everything that needed to be said tonight. She also needed the time to calm down. Despite everything, it was still their honeymoon. Were they going to consummate it tonight? Or would they wait? What the hell did Vincent mean when he said he was straight, like that was past tense now? And how would Christian and Vincent react when she told them she wasn’t freaked out or upset by what she’d seen in the club?
She’d been more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.
They pulled up in front of the hotel. Vincent helped her out of the car and for the second time today, she walked into the Boston Park Plaza hotel with her two men.
Her men.
As soon as they entered the penthouse, Christian was ready to pick up exactly where they’d left off. “What did you mean when you said you were straight?”
Vincent countered with his own question. “You’re bi, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Christian admitted, not that Charlotte was surprised by that detail. She’d seen him checking out Vincent in the altar room.
“You’re attracted to me?”
Christian shrugged as if embarrassed. “Yeah. I am.”
“You want me to fuck you?”
Charlotte sucked in some much-needed air. She’d spent the last few hours riding one wave of emotion after another. She was starting to get light-headed. Then she remembered they hadn’t eaten.
“Maybe we should order room service,” she interjected when Christian didn’t reply.
Neither man looked in her direction.
“We will in a minute,” Vincent said to her, even though his eyes were glued to Christian’s face. “Answer me.”
&n
bsp; “I want you to fuck me.”
Vincent nodded. “Then I stand by what I said. I was straight.”
“So you’re going to swing the other way? Just like that?”
“Yeah,” Vincent said. “Just like that. Because I’m attracted to you too.”
Christian didn’t appear to have an answer to that. Both men continued to look at each other until the silence hovered just a moment too long. The air in the room had gone heavy—with tension and, holy mother, desire.
Charlotte realized it was up to her to break through it. “So…can I watch?”
Christian laughed. Loudly. And then, so did Vincent.
“God, beauty,” Vincent said, reaching for her. She snuggled against his chest as he wrapped her up in a soft, warm hug.
Christian sat down on the couch and reached for the room service menu. “Wish you hadn’t mentioned food, Charlotte. Because I’m suddenly starving.”
“Me too,” she said as Vincent released her. “We forgot about dinner.”
“That’s my fault,” Vincent said. “I was so anxious to get the Caden Anderson part of our task over, I failed to realize we needed time to talk, to get to know each other.”
Christian called and placed their order and then the three of them settled in the sitting area of the large penthouse. She and Christian had each claimed opposite corners of the couch, while Vincent sat in an overstuffed chair across from them.
“It sounds like we’re going to have to remain in Boston for a little while so Charlotte can study the blueprint of those tunnels,” Vincent said. “I can do my work from here, but what does that mean for you, Christian?”
“My last play just wrapped up and I was going to treat myself to a month off. I can spend that time here as easily as New York.”
“That works for now, but you both have to go back to New York eventually, right?” she asked.
Vincent nodded. “Yes. I need to be in New York.”
“You know I do,” Christian confirmed. “I realize Boston has a theater district, but…it’s not Broadway.”
Charlotte sighed. She had prepared herself for this, realized that once her trinity was formed there was a good chance she would have to relocate, move to be with her spouses. In truth, she loved New York, and she had been toying with the idea of starting her own firm. What better place to strike out on her own than in the Big Apple? “I can be an architect anywhere.”
