by Brandi Evans
Since the rhythmic sounds of the ocean waves were so loud, I focused my attention on them and timed my breaths with their rise and retreat.
Inhale.
Place a trouble in a box.
Exhale.
Lock the box and place it back in the closet.
Inhale.
Place a trouble in a box.
Exhale.
Lock the box and place it back in the closet.
I lathered, rinsed and repeated until the electric buzz of panic receded to a dull awareness. Only then did I lift my head and look at the man I loved. He'd squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and the sight was a dozen razor slashes across my heart. This wasn't the expression of a man in peaceful sleep. No, too many worry lines played at the corners of his lips and eyes.
What I wouldn't give to take his pain upon myself. I'd gladly add his discomfort to mine because the only thing I hated more than feeling the weight of all these fucking emotions was watching Max deal with his own while I was helpless to ease his pain.
I drew the lightest of touches over his bottom lip. "Tell me what you're thinking about," I whispered.
He didn't respond, but the hitch in his breathing told me he'd heard. I didn't push him, but I didn't lie back down, either. I remained stalwart beside him, ready for the moment he needed me.
"I was thinking about one particular birthday," he finally answered, never opening his eyes. "Not mine, my mother's."
I pressed a hand to his cheek, needing even more contact. "Tell me about it."
Max hadn't mentioned much about his parents. I'd assumed his reluctance was because his most painful memories revolved around them; it was part of the reason I still didn't like talking about my father.
My father, Phillip Lancaster, had been a conman, and his crimes had destroyed our family. My five-year-old self hadn't known how to process it. I'd gone from having what I'd thought was a perfect life to wondering why everyone suddenly hated us. I still remembered vividly what the people outside the courthouse had yelled at us as we'd walked by, and I'd had nightmares for years because of it. So yeah, I understood how painful past trauma could be.
"My mum loved her garden," he continued after a long while. "It was one of the few things she did that brought her pleasure. She meticulously planted, weeded and watered her garden. It was her own space, so for her birthday, I wanted to buy her something special to plant. Even if my father hadn't been a worthless, abusive drunk piece of shit, we didn't have the money for it. We were dirt poor. I mean, I-went-to-bed-hungry-more-nights-than-I-didn't poor. I knew if I wanted to get her something, I'd have to find a way to pay for it myself. So, for a week, I walked up and down the ten-mile lane where we lived and begged my neighbors to let me do odd jobs, and I managed to scrape together enough money to buy her a flat of Sweet Peas. They were one of her favorite flowers. She'd said they represented pleasure, bliss, and departure after having a good time."
"That's so sweet, Max." And it was.
I'd had no idea Max had grown up practically destitute. I wouldn't lie. Given the way the man lived now, picturing it was hard. Thinking of the boy he'd once been, going to bed so many nights with an empty belly, broke my heart.
"Well, my father didn't think it was sweet. He beat me for making money and then using it on something so frivolous when he was out of beer."
Motherfucker!
I wrapped Max close, wanting to soothe away both the little boy's and the man's pain. He'd been a child whose only crime had been trying to make his mother happy. There was no reason anyone could give me to justify beating a child for the crime of loving his mother.
I pressed my lips to his cheek, his temple, the corners of his mouth. "If I could go back in time and save you from that, then I would, and it breaks my heart that I can't."
He finally opened his eyes, and his tortured gaze found mine. The pain saturating his baby blues was almost too much to bear. No wonder he never spoke about his past.
"I've never had anyone love me the way you do, Bree, and it never stops amazing me. You never stop amazing me."
I was utterly dumbstruck. How lonely and without love had his childhood been that the idea of someone loving him unconditionally would amaze him so much?
Because I wanted him to hear it again, I physically said the words, "I love you, Max."
He drew his fingertips over my lips as if he wanted to catch the words and hold onto them. "And I love you. Having you at my side has been the only thing keeping me grounded."
"I haven't done anything."
"You're here. That's all I need."
Well, maybe not all he needed, but I wasn't sure if this was one of those times. After all, he'd been the one to shut down my earlier request.
I had anti-anxiety meds to help me deal with the trauma of my attack; Max had sex. It was his version of my "closet" therapy, only Max didn't take the bad and lock it away. He burned it away in the heat of coupling. At least, momentarily anyway. Sex was a temporary fix. If he didn't find a way to purge the emotions for good, however, then they'd come back, but that was a battle for another night.
"I love you, Max," I said again. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you. All you have to do is ask."
He studied me, and after what felt like four and a half eternities, he eased a hand down my back and drew me closer to him.
"You're what I need, Bree," he whispered. "You're always what I need."
"Then take what you need from me." I paused so my next word would carry more weight. "Sir. If you hurt, I hurt, remember?"
A familiar heat gleamed in his eyes, the Texas sky blues turning the same shade as the sky before a storm. He knew exactly what I offered; I just hoped he'd take it, both because I wanted to help ease his pain and because I simply wanted him.
"I want to stop thinking for a while," he admitted after a long moment. "I want to exist on feelings and let my brain shut down, and more than anything, I want to be inside you."
"Then be inside me, Sir. Tell me what to do, how you want it done, and I'll gladly do it. I love you."
He fisted my hair in his other hand and tugged me toward him until our lips almost touched. When he spoke, a steely edge played in his words. "Get on my cock, little sub, and ride me until your tight little pussy is dripping with my cum."
Shivers pirouetted over my skin, mixing with the ethereal touches of salty air. Hearing Sir re-emerge was like coming home after a long journey. Sir overtook and usurped the businessman and the doting boyfriend. Sir was raw power, a drug on the senses. He was sex incarnate, and I needed to feel his power, needed to ride the wave of pleasure he aroused in me as easily as some men picked up a TV remote.
Taking Sir by the shoulders, I straddled him. "Fucking you would be my pleasure, Sir."
"Then stop talking and get to it."
I undid his belt buckle, unfastened his trousers. Briefly, my thoughts drifted to the security detail. Could they see us? Of course, they could. They wouldn't be doing their job otherwise. But just as quickly as the thoughts had come, I realized I didn't care. Sir had given me an order, and by god, I'd obey it.
Max teased his palms along my outer thighs before dipping his fingers beneath the hem of my dress. With one deft movement, he ripped away the delicate lace of my panties. The move didn't surprise me in the slightest; he was regularly buying me new ones to replace the ones he ripped. When Sir was in a certain mood, taking the time to remove my undergarments wasn't exactly a tool in his arsenal.
I freed his cock and wrapped my fingers around his satiny hardness. He shivered at my touch, and I shivered at his reaction to my touch. Knowing I could make him do that was the headiest of aphrodisiacs.
One of his hands returned to my hair while the other gripped the base of his erection and held himself at rigid attention. "Get on, little sub. Now. Don't make me tell you again."
"Yes, Sir."
His gaze never wavered as I pushed onto my knees and then lowered to take him slowly inside me. He watched me with unbreaka
ble attention. He made me feel as if I was the heart of his world.
His hard cock stretched me to near bursting, and my breathing turned shallow, erratic. We'd stopped using condoms months ago, after getting clean blood tests and making sure I'd been on a course of birth control pills long enough.
"Sir. God." A whole-body shudder seized me when he was fully inside me, and I nearly came right then and there. He was inside me in every conceivable meaning of the words.
He circled my waist with his hands. "Now ride me," he commanded, voice strained in a way I didn't often hear when he was in Dom mode. "And don't stop until I give you permission. Do I make myself crystal, fucking clear?"
I answered in words and in action. "Yes, Sir," I murmured as I rolled my hips, setting a quick rhythm that would likely send me tumbling over the edge first.
Hips grinding, I cupped his face between my palms and kept my gaze glued to him, and dear god, he watched me right back with a fiery intensity I feared would burn me alive.
"Faster," he ordered. "Harder."
"Yes, Sir."
He dug his fingers into my waist as I rode him with wild abandon.
I closed my eyes and kissed my forehead against his. Our breaths mingled, each one coming faster than the last. I was falling and flying and crashing at the same time, and just when I felt as if I'd come apart in his arms, he released my waist, gathered my hands behind my back, and held me firm.
With nothing more than his hands, Sir bound me—and I rocketed over the edge.
"Siiir! "
The orgasm consumed me. Vaguely, I was aware I was screaming; at least I thought I was screaming, but then Max covered my mouth with his. He swallowed my strangled cries in greedy gulps as he, too, found release.
When it was over, he snuggled me against him, and neither of us moved for a long time. I just lay corpse still and breathed in the pure, male scent of him, a compelling contrast to the clean ocean air.
"Mmm, that wasn't nearly enough of you," he said after a while, an edginess still clinging to his voice. "Not nearly enough, little sub. I already want you again."
"Then take me again, Sir. As many times as you want. I've missed you." I sat, took his face in my hands and just said the thing that had been bothering me too long. "I'm scared of Théo. I won't lie about that, but I'm fighting it. And I'm gonna win. I am. I'm not gonna let that asshole take anything else from me. I'm not. Especially this, Sir. You and I, the way we used to be."
He studied me for a long, torturous moment, and then, almost imperceptibly, something shifted in his expression. I couldn't quite state what, but I saw it as plain as the setting sun on the horizon.
"What's your safe word, my sweet?" he asked.
My heart thrilled. "Fishnet, Sir."
It was our safe word, the one he'd given me early in our relationship. I'd been wearing a fishnet lingerie number when we'd first became lovers, so he'd suggested "fishnet" as an homage to that night.
As soon as the answer left my lips, Max was on his feet, and his mouth was on mine. He carried me in his arms as if I weighed nothing. I wasn't sure how he moved so quickly with me in tow, but he did. He burned so hotly that I felt as if I'd been dropped straight into an active volcano.
I wrapped my legs around him, holding tight to him while also keeping his pants from falling to his ankles. I hadn't realized we'd stepped from the ocean air into the air conditioning until Garrett's voice broke through the heatwave building inside me.
"Is this a private moment? Or is everyone invited?" His voice, despite being somewhere across the vast open spaces of his home, still sent goosebumps racing along my skin.
Max broke our kiss and looked at me. No, he studied me, the question in his eyes unmistakable.
Did I want Garrett and Karen joining us?
Typically, it wouldn't be a question. Sir would simply tell me what would happen, what I'd do—or what I'd have done to me—and I'd happily obey. I loved him and his world of sex without boundaries. Becoming Max's submissive had been a soul-opening experience from our very first night together.
"Whatever you want, Sir," I reminded him. "Whatever you need, Max. I love you."
The smile that touched his lips wasn't the feral smile he usually adopted before ravaging me into oblivion. No, this smile was sweet and undeniably tender.
The words Karen had spoken earlier whispered in my ear. Maxwell Penn loves you more than life itself.
Without looking away from me, Max spoke to his best friend. "No, Garrett. This isn't a private matter. It's a family matter."
"Good." When Garrett spoke again, he was closer. I wasn't sure how close until the warmth of his body made contact.
I flinched, and I hated myself for it. Would it ever stop?
Garrett instantly pulled away, but I reached for him, found his hand and tugged it to my lips.
"Don't go," I said. "It's just, I'm wound so tightly that unexpected touches can startle me, but please, please, don't let my reaction stop you from touching me. Just reassure me it's you, and I'll relax. I promise."
"Okay, love. I can do that." Garrett nuzzled the side of my neck, nipped at it a little for good measure.
"Go grab Karen," Max ordered his friend.
"Will do," Garrett answered. "And once I have her, should we meet you in the bedroom or the dungeon?"
Chapter 4
Dungeon.
Goosebumps spread over my skin. Aside from the soul-churning, libido-enflaming night at Restrained Fantasies, I'd never been in a real BDSM dungeon. Max had a room at his Dallas home he and I used often. His indoor garden oasis was full of flora, fauna and floggers, but I'd never thought of the space as a dungeon. It was much too lush and green for that.
"The bedroom," Max answered. "Let's save the dungeon for a night when Bree and I aren't so jet-lagged."
I wanted to believe he'd said no out of actual exhaustion and not a need to protect me, but I wasn't positive. Still, we were taking a step in the erotic direction; I didn't want to start rocking the boat.
Garrett nipped at my neck a few more times. "Meet you there in two shakes."
"I can't wait," I said.
"Me, either," Garrett returned before going in search of his wife.
"Me three," Max murmured, but his words were for me and only me.
He carried me farther into the house. I didn't pay attention to where. I trusted Sir to know the way.
When we reached the bedroom, he set me on my feet. Without my legs banded around him, his pants fell to the ground. He toed off his shoes as I unbuttoned his shirt. He rid me of my dress in the same frantic fashion. I couldn't remember him ever acting with such desperation to get me naked, not since the very beginning of our relationship.
A vivid memory flashed of an enraged pounding at my apartment door, followed by an equally enraged Max fucking me from behind right there against said door.
I hooked my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a slow, sultry kiss. From behind, another equally naked body pressed against me. I flinched, the movement breaking my kiss with Sir, but Garrett's soft baritone was right there, drawing me back from the edge.
"It's just me, love. Just me." Garrett worked a hand between Max and me and speared my sex with knowledgeable fingers. "Goddamn, I've missed this wet cunt."
I gasped, leaning into Garrett even as I tugged Max harder against me. Garrett's rigid cock pressed against my back, Max's cock against my belly. Sandwiched between them, I was trapped and enjoying every moment.
Garrett forced his fingers deeper. "God, you're practically dripping."
Karen's sultry chuckle filtered through the hormone-soaked haze in my brain. I tried to focus on her, but the things her husband was doing to my pussy made my eyes go crossed.
"You're so impatient, darling," Karen teased.
Even though she was speaking to her husband, she had her arms wrapped around Max's middle and was—I was able to focus on this—slowly stroking Max's dick. He may have just had an orgasm, but his cock wa
s growing hard in her delicate hand.
I wasn't sure whether the sight of Karen's stroking or the feel of Garrett's manipulating fingers made me squirm the most.
I covered Garrett's hand where he fingered me while placing the palm of my opposite hand over Max's heart. He placed his own palm over my heart as he turned his head and caught Karen's perfectly pink lips with his own.
Something hot and primal shot through me, coming to rest at the spot where Garrett's fingers worked inside me, but the sensation boiling me wasn't jealousy. No, I wasn't jealous of this beautiful woman anymore. Karen might have a timeless beauty I'd never be able to compete with, but seeing her now, her lips on the man I loved, happiness was my primary emotion. Pure, unbridled happiness.
My Max, surrounded by two women who loved him dearly, at a time when he needed comfort most.
Garrett slid his fingers forward, found my still-sensitive clit and circled over the bud. I gasped and spasmed as he worked. At the sound, Max turned from Karen's kiss. His scrutinizing gaze slithered over me like a physical touch. He moved his hand from my heart to my left breast and clamped his thumb and forefinger over my hard nipple.
"Sir." The word leaped from my lips, Garrett still rubbing my clit, Karen still stroking Max's cock.
I came as fast as a flash of lightning and just as powerful. My thighs quivered. God, I feared I'd melt into a puddle of pleasured goo between them. Luckily, Garrett's hold was granite, his fingers magic. Through everything, he never stopped stroking me, never stopped wringing pleasure from my body.
When my climax ebbed and I was able to focus again, I looked at Sir. The left side of his lips had taken on the slightest upturn, and if the glint in his eyes was any indication, he'd enjoyed that as much as I had. He got off on watching me come. Whether he was giving me pleasure, I was doing it, or someone else was, he lapped it up.
Max drew a fingertip over my still-trembling bottom lip. "So breathtaking, little sub."
