Scorching Desire (The Trinity Masters)

by Lila Dubois

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Marco said.

  “Absolutely,” Damon agreed.

  Tasha looked down at herself. She hadn’t consciously meant to be alluring, but if she were honest with herself she would admit that she’d gone for an approachable-girlfriend-hanging-out-on-the-weekend look.

  Marco sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. Ignoring that, she took a seat in an armchair that matched the one Damon sat in.

  There was quiet stillness between them for the first time since they met.

  “Do you know what the greatest threat to women is?” Tasha asked, surprised at herself.

  They both shook their heads.

  “Men.” Tasha wrapped her sweater coat around herself. “Historically and even currently, a woman is at her most vulnerable when she’s with a man—her father, brother, husband.”

  They shared a confused glance but didn’t interrupt.

  “Ever since I was young I’ve learned how to manipulate people. Not control them the way someone like the Grand Master controls us, but manipulate them nonetheless. Because I’m pretty and young and blonde, usually I was asked to manipulate men.”

  “Tasha, you don’t have to tell us about your past,” Marco said.

  “But if you want to you can,” Damon added. “Nothing you can say will change anything, will change how we feel about you.”

  “My past is my own,” she said quietly. “This isn’t about that. What I’m trying to say is I know, maybe more than anyone, how vulnerable a woman is around men. My skills and training protect me. That night at the club I was manipulating the situation.” She motioned to her cheek. “I manipulated Damon into hitting me when that goes against his nature. I manipulated the rest of the people in the club into focusing on me. But I was not really in control. I was vulnerable.”

  Unable to sit still, she started to pace. Piece by piece, she peeled back layers of justification and defenses, telling them things about her fears that she only barely admitted to herself.

  “The only way I know how to protect myself is with manipulation. I can become anyone or anything that I need to in order to get what I want.”

  “That was your job,” Damon said.

  “It was, but it’s also who I am.” Tasha twisted her fingers together to hold her hands still. “I don’t think I’m a good match for anyone—especially the elite members of the Trinity Masters. I’ve known that I wasn’t going to be part of a trinity for years. That made me sad, but I knew it had to be that way. Not only because my past and my reputation would ruin anyone associated with me, but…”

  She sighed, shoulders sagging. “But because I knew if I was paired with a man, I couldn’t stop myself from manipulating him in order to protect myself. I would change who I was every day, every hour, in order to be who or what I thought he wanted.” She forced herself to resume her seat. “When I joined, I thought maybe having another woman in the trinity would help that. Would give me someone to copy, a model to base myself on. It wouldn’t really be me—I’d be playing a role, but I might be safer.”

  “You will always be safe with us,” Damon said quietly.

  “Even from myself?”

  Marco rose, sleek and dark like a panther in human form, and held out one hand. “Tasha, come here.”

  She looked at his outstretched hand, fighting tears. She wanted to take his hand, wanted to believe she could be the kind of woman who could take what he was offering.

  “Tasha.” His tone was soft, but there was a hint of command.

  You can pretend, just for a little while.

  Unfolding her legs, Tasha rose tentatively. There was a hush in the room, as if the whole world was watching her, waiting to see if she’d take what was offered. But it wasn’t the whole world watching her and Marco, it was just Damon, his hazel eyes intent on her.

  Tasha slipped her hand into Marco’s.

  He drew her against his chest, sliding his hands under her sweater to rest on her lower back. She was instantly aroused, aware.

  “Do you trust me?” Marco asked.

  “No,” she said, completely honest.

  “That’s fair. Will you let me kiss you?”

  “You didn’t ask before.”

  “This time I am.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I will respect that, but I will be very sad. Kissing you is all I’ve been able to think about since you stormed into the ceremony room. Have you thought about kissing me?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Have you thought about kissing Damon?”

  “No.” This time her voice quavered a little. She was an excellent liar. What was wrong with her?

  Marco roamed his hand up her back and then down to her ass. “Have you thought about Damon and I kissing you at the same time?”

  Tasha’s whole body was thrumming with arousal. It was making her lightheaded. She’d never felt like this before. She leaned away from Marco.

  Her back hit something warm and solid.

  Damon was there, his size all too apparent as he stood behind her, crowding her toward Marco.

  “Have you thought about Damon and I doing other things to you, with you?”

  Damon spread his hands over her belly, his thumbs just below the lower swell of her breasts. A vivid image of them in this same position, except naked, popped into her head. It terrified and aroused her. For all her experience, being with them would be something new, something foreign.

  But there was something she had to tell them.

  Sighing, Tasha grabbed one forearm each and twisted, breaking free of their hold before they had a chance to react. Both men stumbled back, surprise clear on their face.

  “Too fast,” Damon said.

  Marco nodded. “My fault. I’m sorry, Tasha.”

  “It’s not that. There’s something else you should know…about me.” She pointed to the couch and they sat shoulder to shoulder.

  She perched on the edge of a chair, resting her elbows on her knees. Looking at her men—my men? Did I really just think that?—she realized when they’d followed her into the house she’d started to accept their trinity was real. She’d run, giving them the perfect out, giving the Grand Master every reason to reconsider. But they’d come for her. They hadn’t let her push them away.

  Tasha was tired of running, of hiding. She knew it wouldn’t last, knew that someday she’d be proved right and they’d want the world-class careers and lives that came with being a member of the Trinity Masters. But right now they wanted her—she believed that much. And she wanted them too.

  “There’s something you need to know about me.”

  “Like we said, your past is your own. You don’t have to tell us anything, but if you do, it won’t change how we feel about you.”

  Tasha smiled at Damon’s serious words. She wanted to see him in a courtroom. She bet he’d be great.

  “Thank you. I won’t tell you everything. Actually, I won’t tell you much, but if we’re going to do this—”

  “We are,” Marco said.

  “Then you should know that technically I’m a virgin.”

  *****

  Damon leaned forward and peered at Tasha. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. For a minute I thought you said you were a virgin.”

  Tasha blinked those big blue eyes at him. “I am. Technically.”

  Marco moaned quietly. Damon swallowed hard and sat back.

  That was the fucking sexiest thing he’d ever heard. His dick was iron hard inside his pants. Right now Tasha looked innocent enough to be a virgin—she had no makeup on, her hair was back in a braid and she wore a tank top and leggings that showed off her body without being sexy.

  But this was the same woman who’d taken them to a BDSM club, who’d played his submissive so astutely he’d felt like he owned her.

  Silence stretched out, and Tasha started to look worried.

  “Are you two okay?”

  “Processing,” Dam
on said. “Trying not to jump across the room and grab you.”

  “You…like the fact that I’m a virgin?” She tipped her head to the side. “Of course. Once I turned twenty-two I stopped doing the virgin schoolgirl, so I forgot what kind of reaction that could get.”

  “How are you a virgin?” Marco asked. “And what do you mean technically?”

  “I was trained in tradecraft—that’s basically spy school. I learned all kinds of technical and computer-based hacking and development, how to hide who I am and what I was doing and sexual behaviors and manipulation.”

  Damon was trying and failing not to imagine her in some sexy schoolgirl uniform.

  “I was fifteen when I started.”

  “You were a minor?” Damon’s arousal died a hard death. “That’s despicable.”

  She shrugged. “I stopped being a child when I turned in my parents.”

  “That doesn’t mean they had the right to manipulate your sexuality at such a young age.”

  “There was a need for someone who could attract targets whose sexual interests ran to children. They taught me how to be innocent in a way that older men found attractive and also how to keep myself from actually being touched.”

  She sighed. “Almost all my training was about how to look or act like a fantasy without ever letting anyone get close to me. I attended PhD-level classes with a human sexuality expert and apprenticed with a dominatrix. It was a very thorough education not only about the physical actions of sex, but the mental and emotional impulses. When I was seventeen, I went to Istanbul to a famous brothel. They taught me how to play a sexual submissive and about the different kinds of kinks and subcultures. I was good at what I did—I’ve played the little girl in pigtails for many men. I was even sold at auction in Beirut.”

  “Sold…as a sex slave?” Marco’s hands clenched. “You could have been killed.”

  “True.” She looked between them and the horror Damon felt must have shown on his face. “If it makes you feel better, for six months I was the mistress of a whorehouse.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s hot or horrifying,” Damon said.

  “My feelings exactly,” Marco added. “Tasha, if you did all this, why do you think you’re a virgin?”

  “I told you—I was the fantasy. My skill was in keeping the target engaged and wanting. If I had sex with them then there was no allure. If I gave them what they wanted then they might lose interest.”

  “But if you were a sex slave or a submissive, how did you manage?”

  Tasha smiled. “I know how to top from the bottom—how to make the owner or daddy or Dom feel like they’re in control when really I’m manipulating them. I’m not saying that I’m inexperienced sexually or that I’ve never gotten a spanking, whipping or had a variety of toys used on me, but I always managed to hold back that last piece. Always managed to keep them wanting more.”

  At the mention of a whipping, Damon’s stomach rolled. He was trying to ignore her bruised face, trying not to focus on how much he hated himself for doing that to her. But hearing this, all he could think about was that he was no better than the men she’d known before.

  “So you’ve never…” Marco seemed to be struggling with what she was saying.

  “I’ve never had intercourse with another person.” She shrugged. “That probably doesn’t matter, I mean what’s the difference between a man’s fingers or a dildo and a real cock?”

  “Uh, there’s a big difference,” Damon said.

  She smiled. “That’s always what I told myself. It’s stupid to think that just because I’ve never let a man fuck me that I’m virginal.” She laughed softly. “Virgin implies innocent. I’m not.”

  “I want to say something profound and meaningful,” Marco whispered to Damon, “but I can’t get the image of her using a dildo on herself out of my head.”

  Damon understood his friend’s problem. He was an uncomfortable mix of horrified and aroused. He wanted to drag Tasha to the floor and fuck her until her toes curled, but at the same time he wanted to wrap her up and promise her that no one would ever touch her again.

  “Marco? Damon? Are you okay?”

  Damon realized they’d been sitting there staring at her for five minutes. “We, uh, are taking some time to process what you said.”

  She nodded and looked away. He could see the hurt in her eyes.

  “Tasha.” Damon got up and sat on the coffee table, close enough to touch her. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I don’t want to hurt you again, and right now I’m terrified to even touch you.” Damon let his hand hover over hers but didn’t make contact. “I don’t want to be like anyone you’ve been with before. I’m your husband. You’re my wife. Do you know what that means?”

  “I have no idea. I never have.”

  “It means that I, actually that we—Marco and I—will protect you, love you and care for you. That includes satisfying you sexually, whatever that means. All we need to know is what you’re comfortable with. Not what you were trained to do. Not what you think we want. What do you, Tasha, desire?”

  She looked startled. Then she started to blink rapidly. Before he knew it, a tear rolled down her cheek. His previous hesitation forgotten, Damon scooped her up and carried her to the couch to set her down on his lap. Marco scooted over, taking her legs onto his knee and stroking her calves.

  “Why are you crying, beautiful?” Marco asked softly.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Of us?”

  “Yes. Of all of it.”

  She was shivering, and Damon hugged her closer. “We won’t hurt you.”

  “Don’t put me in the middle,” she pleaded. “It’s too much pressure. I won’t be able to do it without pretending to be someone, something, else.”

  Damon looked at Marco. Don’t put me in the middle.

  Did that mean what he thought it did?

  *****

  Marco stroked Tasha’s legs as he processed her whispered plea. After everything she’d said—her extensive sexual training, her fear that she’d become manipulative because that’s how she protected herself—it made sense that she was scared of being put in the middle. It was a lot of pressure. Marco hadn’t even realized that he’d assumed Tasha’s place in their sexual relationship would be between them.

  He met Damon’s gaze, and for the first time he looked at his friend as more than a companion. He looked at him as a lover.

  “If you don’t want to be in the middle,” Marco said to Tasha, keeping his gaze on Damon, “then we won’t put you there.”

  She looked up, her head resting on Damon’s shoulder. Marco liked seeing them together. They would have beautiful blonde children.

  He’d have to come back to that idea later.

  “You mean…” Damon’s face was set, his eyes stormy.

  “Yes.”

  Tasha looked between them. “You’ve been lovers?”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to be lovers?” she asked.

  Marco didn’t answer. He feared admitting that he did want to be Damon’s lover would scare his friend.

  “We’re friends,” Damon said, sounding frustrated. “We’ve never…I mean, we’ve had sex with the same woman, at the same time.”

  “That’s what you thought you’d use me for. A way to be together without touching.” She sounded tired.

  “No,” Marco assured her. “We both knew there was a possibility that we would be part of a trinity with another man. Bisexuality is practically a requirement of the Trinity Masters.” His gaze met Damon’s. “But this is complicated. Like you said, we do love each other—as friends and companions. I’m always happiest when Damon’s with me. Adding sex to that is daunting.”

  Damon looked embarrassed, but he nodded in agreement.

  Tasha’s face lit up. “So you’re like a romantic comedy. The kind where two friends realize they’re meant for each other.” She looked excited.

  “We are n
ot a romantic comedy.” Damon’s teeth were gritted.

  “It sounds like a romantic comedy.”

  “I’m starting to worry that you have terrible taste in movies,” Marco added.

  “I love romantic comedies. And Nicholas Sparks books.”

  “That’s it. Forget it. I’m not marrying her,” Marco declared, lips twitching.

  Tasha smiled. “I think you’re stuck with me.”

  “Does that mean you’re agreeing to the marriage?” Always the lawyer, Damon was trying to close the deal.

  “Yes…maybe. If you two promise that you won’t put me in the middle. I don’t think I can handle it. Not right away. If we’re going to do this, then I want to be me…just me. I’m not even sure I know how to do that, but I’d like to try.”

  “And that’s what we want too.” Marco stroked the outside of her thigh and then laced his fingers with Damon’s so she was cradled between them.

  “Damon?”

  His friend nodded and then rose while still holding Tasha. “Where’s the bedroom?”

  *****

  Damon followed Tasha’s directions, carrying her up the stairs, which creaked under him. Marco opened the door.

  The bedroom was like something out of a country calendar. The bed was a large four-poster with a white crochet cover. There was a large dark-wood armoire against one wall and simple armchair in the counter. He set Tasha on her feet. She pulled the sweater around herself.

  “This is the master bedroom,” she said. “I never use it. I don’t have guests. But there are sheets. I like making up the room. It makes me feel homey.”

  “It’s a nice place.” Damon felt like an idiot. He had no idea what to do, what to say.

  Tasha looked at him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  Marco slid his hand across his back and Damon froze. Desire flooded him, unexpected and exciting. He closed his eyes.

  “He needs time to process this,” Marco said. “He’s a bit of a straight arrow.”

  Damon didn’t respond. The reality was that as far as sex with a man went, he was a virgin—and as far as he knew Marco was too.