by Mari Carr
“So once we’ve finished our tasks, we’ll move to New York,” Vincent said. “I have a penthouse apartment on Park Avenue that’s more than big enough for the three of us. In fact, I bought it with my future trinity in mind. Five bedrooms, five baths, a rooftop terrace and pool. I think you’ll like it there.”
“You have a penthouse on Park Avenue?” Christian asked. “And here I was thinking myself lord of the manor in my two-bedroom flat in Greenwich Village.”
Vincent grinned. “I’m not moving to the Village.”
“Snob,” Christian teased.
The food arrived and they continued to talk as they ate—about where they grew up, went to school, their college days, and work. Charlotte was enthralled by Christian’s stories about some of the crazier things that had happened backstage. And neither she nor Christian had been surprised to learn Vincent had played football in college.
Christian explained how his legal name was actually the reverse of his stage name. While Sebastian’s parents were legally married, Christian and his sister Chelsea were born from their father’s trinity union with their mother. No one in his ordinary life even realized he knew his real father. His friends assumed his mom was a single mother who had moved in with her sister and her husband and raised her children with their help.
His birth certificate said Christian Stewart Rogers, but Christian had always wanted to carry his father’s name. So when it came time to pick a stage name, he reversed his middle and last names. Christian Rogers became Christian Stewart. His father had been touched by it, honored that Christian felt so strongly about carrying his name.
While Christian had been a legacy, she and Vincent had been recruited for membership in the Trinity Masters shortly after they’d started their careers. Since joining, Charlotte had learned that her great-great-grandparents had been members of the secret society, but apparently, their offspring hadn’t lived up to the Grand Master’s expectations, so neither the son nor the daughter had been invited to join. At that point, her family’s association with the Trinity Masters had ended and, as far as Charlotte knew, neither her parents nor her grandparents even realized the secret society existed.
“So that whole legacy thing skipped several generations in your family?” Vincent asked, after revealing he’d always found the whole legacy aspect of membership confusing.
“Yeah. Apparently. The only reason I know about my ancestors’ involvement at all is because of the Grand Master—the previous one who was in charge before the woman took over. He gave me a letter that had been written by my great great—maybe another great—grandfather back in the eighteen hundreds. He was instrumental in building the Trinity Masters’ headquarters beneath the library. The Grand Master thought I might be interested to learn that.”
Christian was clearly impressed. “Another architect? Must run in your family.”
“If it does, it skipped as many generations as our Trinity Masters membership. But I thought the information was cool, so I started doing some digging into my family tree. Did you know I’m related—very distantly—to Rutherford B. Hayes?”
“How about that? Any political aspirations?”
Charlotte winced. “Good God, no. Life under a microscope has never appealed to me. Anyway, I found out that my ancestor and his best friend, who I’m pretty sure must have been the third in the trinity, were both architects. My great-great-grandfather worked on the library construction, while his friend designed changes that were made to Trinity Church at that same time.”
“Who were they married to?” Vincent asked.
“My grandma times two or three greats, Annie. She was a poet. I found a whole box of her books in my grandma’s attic last summer. Grandma gave them to me.”
“Were her poems any good?” Christian asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “I have to admit I haven’t read any of them. I’m a numbers gal. Poetry bores me to tears. Would you want to read some of it?”
Christian nodded. “I’d love to. I used to dabble in poetry myself.”
Vincent crinkled his nose. “I’m going to side with Charlotte on this. Give me a spreadsheet of numbers over flowery words any day.”
Charlotte stifled a yawn and glanced down at her phone. “Midnight?”
Christian appeared as surprised as her. “Seriously? Wow. We’ve been talking for hours.”
Vincent rose. “Perhaps it’s time we went to bed.”
“Alone?” Charlotte asked, failing miserably to mask her disappointment.
Christian grinned as Vincent shook his head. “No, Charlotte. Not alone.”
She blew out a relieved breath, but made no move to rise from the couch. Vincent waited for a few moments, and then reclaimed his seat. “I suppose sex is something we need to discuss as well. Charlotte, I know you were uncomfortable in the club earlier, but—”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she interjected. “I was shocked at first, but nothing I saw there bothered me.”
Vincent frowned. “But I thought—”
“You both yanked me out of there before I could tell you that. Truth of it is…I thought a lot of that looked really hot.”
Christian reached over and took her hand. “So you’d be willing to go back sometime?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but maybe next time we could play a little bit as well.”
“Remind me to write a thank you note to the Grand Master tomorrow,” Christian joked.
“I’ll sign it too,” Vincent said, his gaze still locked on Charlotte’s face. She thought perhaps he was looking for some sign that she was lying or maybe even talking in her sleep.
“So it’s settled. We’ll explore the whole BDSM thing.”
“Yes, we will,” Vincent agreed. “But not tonight. Tonight will be…”
“Difficult, taxing, uncomfortable?” Christian offered words, but Vincent didn’t latch on to any of them.
“I was going to say exciting enough as it is. We have all night to explore, to experiment, to learn each other’s bodies. I think the best way to do that is to keep it simple.”
“No frills,” Charlotte added with a grin. “And the two of you?”
“Will touch,” Christian said quickly, “but not fuck. Not yet. I…I think…”
Vincent and Christian looked at each other, clearly speaking some language Charlotte didn’t understand. In the end, Vincent smiled then quickly nodded his head.
When he stood again, he reached out to both of them. Charlotte accepted one of his proffered hands and Christian the other, as they walked to the master bedroom together.
Charlotte realized it was way too soon, but these men were working fast and furiously at claiming her heart.
She was already falling hard.
Chapter Three
Vincent walked into the bedroom, feeling like the most blessed man on the planet. His mother had always proclaimed he lived under a lucky star, but he’d never felt the truth of those words until this moment.
Growing up in Chicago and the son of a single mother, he’d watched as Mom worked three jobs to keep food on the table, to make sure he and his two brothers never went without what they needed. She preached about education, about getting a high school diploma and finding a career that you loved rather than a job you needed to pay the bills.
He’d listened, excelling on the football field while earning straight A’s. He was determined to be the whole ticket, not leaving anything to chance when it came to getting a college scholarship. It had worked. He’d gotten a full ride to Notre Dame.
For his entire life, he’d waged an invisible battle against anyone who didn’t think he had what it took to be successful, to make something of himself. Most of the time people didn’t even know they were at war. Someone would make a comment in passing, share some belief that he couldn’t do something—be it breaking the rushing record at his school or graduating Magna Cum Laude or making it on Wall Street. The second the bar was set, he attacked the goal with everything he had.
Toni
ght didn’t feel like a challenge. Actually, nothing about today had been hard. For the first time in his life, Vincent felt as if he’d been given the world on a platter and he hadn’t had to do one damn thing to earn it.
Charlotte and Christian were walking into this bedroom the same way they’d walked into the altar room, without question or reservation. He’d never met people like them. They were open, funny, easygoing and not the slightest bit intimidated by him. Perhaps that was the part that was resonating with him the most. He’d lived too much of his life dealing with people who were wary or downright scared of him. When he was in junior high, he’d tried to diminish those looks with humor.
However, as he got older, his tactics changed. Vincent used his large frame, his serious expression, his deep voice and his commanding presence to bend people to his will, be it lovers, business associates or the competition.
He’d laughed more today than he had in the last twenty years put together. And he liked it.
Charlotte walked over to the bed and hopped into the center of it with a light laugh, bouncing on the mattress like a two-year-old child. She seemed to take delight in everything, and her joy was contagious.
Christian knelt on the edge of the bed and reached for her. One second there was laughter, the next kissing.
Vincent stood at the foot of the bed and watched them for a few minutes. Neither of his lovers had forgotten his presence, and in some ways, Vincent felt as if these kisses were meant for him as much as them.
He took a deep breath and considered his next move. He’d told them they would keep it simple tonight. And he intended to follow through on that. However, there were parts of him too deeply ingrained to ignore.
Bondage and spankings could wait, but that didn’t change who he was at the core. Who he would be to them.
“Take off her blouse, Christian.”
It was a simple command, but with those five words, Vincent made it clear he would run the show.
Christian glanced up at him briefly. Vincent held his breath, wondering if the other man would fight him for control. Christian wasn’t a natural submissive. In fact, in any other relationship, he suspected it would be Christian in charge. He commanded the attention of theatergoers with his larger-than-life stage presence.
Vincent hadn’t admitted it to Christian, but he’d seen him perform once. He had box seats, though more often than not he gave the tickets away to colleagues or friends. That night he had wanted to see Les Misérables. In his opinion, Christian had stolen the show as Javert. Much older actors typically played the part, but Vincent understood instantly why the show’s director had chosen Christian for the part. He brought something unique to the role, something so spectacular Vincent had found it difficult to concentrate on the rest of the play.
He’d spent the night spellbound by Christian Stewart. And when that handsome man had thrown back his hood in the altar room, every preconceived notion Vincent had had in regards to how his trinity would exist flew out the window.
Neither of them spoke as Vincent waited patiently for Christian’s response. God help him if Christian refused.
Finally, after several eons had passed, Christian turned his attention to Charlotte, unbuttoning her blouse, and then sliding it off.
Then, Vincent had to grip the bedpost to remain upright when Christian looked at him once more, awaiting the next command.
“Take off your shirt.”
Christian had peeled off the button-down shirt he’d worn to the club shortly after dinner, leaving him in a simple black T-shirt that had made it necessary for Vincent to readjust his slacks to accommodate his hard-on.
Christian’s shirt joined Charlotte’s on the floor, and their lovely lady wasted no time sampling the goods. She ran her hands over Christian’s washboard abs, then lifted her head to place a kiss on each of his nipples.
Vincent hadn’t given her permission to touch Christian. Here he’d thought Christian would be the reluctant sub.
“Charlotte,” Vincent said, infusing as much warning into his tone as possible.
She glanced over at him with a sexy grin. “Why are you so far away?”
It took all the strength in his body not to laugh.
Well, at least he had one sub.
Vincent pulled off his own shirt, and then he added his pants and briefs to the pile as his lovers sat up and watched. There was something very heady about their obvious appreciation.
Once he was naked, he stood, hands on hips. “Your turn. Be quick about it.”
Christian rose from the bed, stripping the rest of his clothing off with haste. Meanwhile, Charlotte fought to wriggle off the skirt while lying on her back. Twice, she grumbled, “I told you it was too tight.”
He and Christian watched, enjoying the way her breasts bounced with her exertions.
Once the skirt cleared her ankles, she tossed it at Vincent. “Never again.”
“I’ll decide that.” Vincent reached for her foot, using his hold to drag her toward him. She lifted her arms to him, misreading his intent.
Flipping her to her stomach with ease, he placed three firm smacks on her ass.
He had expected her to fight him, to try to escape, so her quiet, “Oh,” caught him by surprise. Then she went a step further, lifting her ass toward him in invitation. “Oh, yeah.”
Vincent stared at it without moving.
Christian placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention to him. The two of them were standing next to each other beside the bed. “Might go easier if you roll with it. I get the feeling she’s not going to do anything the way you expect.”
His words caught Charlotte’s attention and she rose up to her hands and knees, looking at them over her shoulder, a crease between her brows. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Vincent stroked her ass. “No, beauty. You’re doing everything right.”
Christian made the next move, reaching lower to touch her clit, then run his fingers over her opening.
“That feels so good,” she whispered.
Christian pressed two fingers inside her as Vincent watched, wondering where in the hell he’d lost control. Part of him wanted to reclaim the reins, the other—stronger—part wanted to see what they’d do next.
Vincent placed his hand on one of Charlotte’s ass cheeks, rubbing the pink skin with his thumb as Christian slowly fucked her with his fingers.
Charlotte was not going to be a quiet lover. That part wasn’t at all surprising. Charlotte liked to talk. And Vincent really liked to listen to her.
Moving his hand slowly, Vincent ran his thumb over her anus, wanting to see how she would respond. There would be three of them in bed together. That opened the door to a wider variety of sexual positions. Charlotte had confessed at dinner her past affairs had been fairly staid, boring, she’d called them. And given her wide-eyed reaction at the club, he didn’t doubt that was true.
He caressed the tight hole for a few moments as Christian added another finger to the two already inside her, though he kept his thrusts slow and gentle. Vincent ran his thumb through her slit, coating it with her arousal before returning to her anus. He pushed just the tip inside.
Charlotte’s back arched as she cursed. “Holy shit. I can’t take…”
Before either of them could stop her, she fell forward, their hands falling away just before she turned to sit before them. One second their hands were on her, the next, hers were on them. She gripped each of their dicks and began giving them a taste of their own medicine.
Her actions had been so quick—and dammit, unexpected—that Vincent hadn’t had a chance to call her to task. And once he managed to form the words, she wiped them away again. With her mouth.
She sucked the head of his dick inside her mouth, applying a generous amount of suction. Enough to have him going light-headed for a second. Then she turned her head and did the same to Christian.
The only consolation Vincent had was Christian wasn’t faring much better when it came to rolli
ng with it. Charlotte acted on impulse, rather than subscribing to what he considered accepted norms as far as sex was concerned. Most women, at least his lovers, were content to let him take control. Of course, ever since he was eighteen, Vincent had sought out submissive lovers, women who didn’t make a move he didn’t command.
Perhaps Charlotte’s responses were normal.
Vincent glanced over at Christian, took in his awed response to their enthusiastic lover, and reconsidered.
Charlotte was special.
And she was theirs.
Her hand tightened around his cock, as she stroked him with the perfect amount of strength. He liked a firm touch, liked the power of her grip. She wasn’t timid, wasn’t worried about hurting him.
Her mouth left Christian’s dick with a quiet pop, and Vincent braced himself for the hot feel of her lips around his once more. Jesus, she was too good. And there was no way he was going to let this end anytime soon.
“Kiss.”
Vincent looked down at her. Charlotte was still stroking both their dicks, but she was staring at them. Because of her position and her fucking sexy-as-sin hand job, she had managed to pull him and Christian closer together.
Vincent hadn’t even noticed. No. That wasn’t right. He’d noticed, but he hadn’t minded.
“What?” Christian whispered.
“I want to watch the two of you kiss.”
Vincent frowned. He’d let things get too far out of hand. It was time for him to reclaim control of the ship.
Or, that had been his intention.
He turned to Christian, but before he could say a word, Christian’s hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
Vincent had initiated the kiss in the altar room, had felt the undeniable urge to seal the vows they’d just made with his future husband as well as his wife. It was the first time he’d ever kissed another man. And he’d liked it.
