Her restraints were released, and she was flipped onto her back and tied again. Sarah didn’t make a move to resist, a fact not wasted on either Alain or Ryan. The sensuous torture began again, only this time she knew it was Alain massaging her neck and throat while Ryan began with her toes. Alain murmured endearments in French, and he kneaded her breasts with exquisite attention to detail yet avoided her nipples that were now beaded and pointing for his notice. Sarah bit her lip against pleading for him to suckle her and resigned herself to this new tactic designed to breach her defenses. Ryan worked on her legs with long, firm strokes, paying attention to the inside of her thighs, while carefully avoiding her apex. It was maddening, and she could hear him humming for Christ’s sake. Humming! Then it was over. She was released, the blindfold removed, and the lights turned off. Both men crawled into bed on their respective sides and cuddled against her, kissing her cheeks goodnight. Sarah lay there, denied release, and took cold comfort in their raging hard-ons. She might go mad with desire, but they were coming along right behind her. She suspected they were jerking off in the shower, but they were both highly sexed, and that would be limited relief for them. Sarah rarely had the time alone to do anything about herself, so she gritted her teeth and waited for sleep.
Sarah had breakfast in bed the next day, fed by each of the men, utensils denied her. They provided bite-sized pieces of bacon, toast, and fruit, carefully wiping her lips in between each morsel she chewed. Alain held her coffee for her to sip, smiling when her eyes closed against the perfect mix of caffeine, cream, and sugar. Sarah instantly opened her eyes, refusing to give an inch. Like she hadn’t already done so. Good God, they were pampering her, binding her to them, and she felt powerless to resist. They left her alone to use the adjoining bathroom, and then Ryan came in and ran her a tub, adding her favorite bath salts he had brought from home. Tears stung her eyes at the reminder, and she kept her head down as he piled her hair on top of her head, securing it with clips. He slipped the robe off her shoulders and helped her sink into the hot water. She reclined against his arm as he used his other hand to squeeze the bath sponge over her breasts, then swept it up over her throat, down her arms, and across her chest.
Alain came in, naked and aroused, and slipped in at her feet, lifting them and bending her knees to place each arch on his pecs. Ryan pulled his arm from behind her and tossed the sponge to Alain, along with the bodywash. He, too, removed his clothing and inserted his body in behind hers, his legs sliding down her sides and coming to rest over Alain’s, his hard length pressing into her back. They were packed into the large tub, in as intimate a position as ever they had been in. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Ryan, the familiarity of their position overwhelming her much as the familiar scent had done. They were undoing her resolve by dint of their determination, coupled as it was with their care and gentleness. Even the fact that she was virtually prisoner in George’s home didn’t detract from their ability to seduce her judgment as well as her body.
Sarah moaned as Ryan kneaded her breasts, and Alain washed up her legs to her wide-open sex. The water lapped gently around them, the steam rose with the scent of vanilla, and she could almost forget the circumstances that brought her here. She would let them pleasure her, just once, and when they believed they had won, she would make her move. Alain swirled the bath sponge over her labia, pressing between the folds, pressing at her opening and rubbing over her clit. She arched into the pressure, and Ryan held her head on his chest and above the water as she slid forward. He plucked at her nipples, rolling and pinching them, pulling them up from her body, and the sensation warred then merged with the coiling in her pussy. Alain teased her with the sponge, pushing her legs higher so that her thighs folded up against her breasts, and Ryan secured them with his hands at her knees. Her breasts mourned the loss of his fingers. She was vaguely aware of the water level dropping, the sound of water swirling down the drain and the cooling of her skin, but she was focused upon Alain’s clever ministrations. He stopped.
Sarah tried to sit up, to shield herself from his gaze, certain he would be sporting a smug look. Instead, he stared back at her with tenderness and compassion, and Ryan let her legs go to slap together and cover her arousal. Ryan pressed a kiss on her shoulder and gripped her under her arms to support her to stand while Alain held her at her waist. She pivoted and clambered out of the huge tub, grabbing for purchase and a towel in one motion, fighting tears, arousal, and confusion, then she fled into the bedroom. That door was locked, so she curled up on the dressing chair, her back to the room, her hair falling down to hide her face. She heard Alain and Ryan enter the bedroom and the sounds of clothing being pulled on.
Alain kissed her temple. “You thought you would use our need for you against us, Sarah,” he said quietly. “Your face is always so expressive. We are ashamed that we didn’t read your innocence that day. And totally ashamed of what we did to you in an effort to lessen our pain. It was unconscionable and totally selfish. Forgive us.”
She kept her head down as Ryan also kissed her temple then unlocked the door. They left the room, the door shutting behind them. God, what was she going to do? She wanted to forgive them, wanted them back. She wanted to believe that it was because of her forced internment, like Stockholm syndrome, but knew in her heart it wasn’t so. Her pride wouldn’t let her give in, and pride did indeed go before a fall. Had they paid enough? What did that even mean? Was she still thirsty for vengeance? What did that make her if she was? Time crept by, and the only sounds she heard were those from the street. As she became aware of that, Sarah jumped to her feet, wincing at the feeling of pins and needles as the blood flowed back into her legs. She half staggered to the door and threw it open to be greeted by nothing. The house was empty, the rooms clean, and nothing out of place. The key to the bedroom lay on the table, totally symbolic. They had left, given up on her changing her mind, given up on seeking her forgiveness. Sarah felt the pain like a knife in her gut and held onto the table to avoid sinking to the carpet.
Chapter Twelve
“I hope leaving was the right thing, Alain,” complained Ryan as they made their way back to the condo.
“We tried everything I knew, Rye,” came the answer, “and all of your ideas. You saw her. You felt it. She desires us, still loves us, but we hurt her badly, and her pride is formidable. It is part of what drew us to her in the first place. Sarah would have allowed us to pleasure her, fuck her even, believing it would lull us into dropping our guard, and perhaps she would have run again. And it wouldn’t have meant anything. I couldn’t take that, could you?”
Ryan closed his eyes against the churning in his gut. “I couldn’t. I know. We left her the key. Maybe she’ll come to us. But if she doesn’t, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.”
Alain just shook his head and stared out the side window.
* * * *
Sarah idly tapped the end of the pencil against her teeth. The last dress simply didn’t drape properly. The fabric seemed right but somehow…
“I’m leaving now, Sarah, if that’s okay?” asked Sheila from behind her.
Startled, Sarah spun to face her assistant. “Oh, Sheila, of course. I was caught up in this last design and lost track of time. Go, by all means, and have a wonderful weekend.”
She felt Sheila studying her. She had come back without explanation following her brief leave of absence, apparently recovered from her illness, and no one asked questions. She hoped she was still the loyal, supportive boss and creative designer, but she felt like her spark for anything else was gone. Sarah knew that she had withdrawn from others. She lived and breathed her work, and Sheila had asked if Sarah even went home at all over the past four months. Of course she had gone home, but only to grab a few hours of sleep and change her clothes.
“Would you like to join us for a drink?” Sheila offered. “The staff is meeting up at the Shady Cat in a few minutes.”
Sarah shook her head. “Nope, but thanks. I’ve go
t to get this right.”
Sheila grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Sarah vaguely heard her assistant mutter something about men being assholes.
Sarah spent the next two hours trying to capture her vision then packed it in. She wondered if the others were still at the pub and decided to stop by on the off chance. She felt like some company for once and allowed herself to consider if she might be healing, just a little. The pain rose up, threatening to choke her, so she locked her thoughts up again, abandoning the idea of having a drink with friends and colleagues. Instead, she would pick up her items from the cleaner’s and get an early night’s rest so that she could work through Saturday without flagging.
Sarah emerged from the dry cleaner’s, wrestling with the plastic-wrapped suits and dresses. She couldn’t imagine how she had left so many clothes there. She was lucky they hadn’t been sold off. She shifted them to lie across her arm and made her way up the street, looking around for a cab. One pulled up ahead of her in front of a pricey hotel, and she hurried to grab it as soon as it expelled its present fare. A black limo pulled in right behind it, and the back door flew open. Sarah slid to a stop and fought nausea as Alain got out on the curb, helping a beautiful redhead out of the backseat, Ryan right behind her. They didn’t notice her at first, Alain leaning over the woman and Ryan smiling at something she said, and Sarah wished for the ground to open up and swallow her, for something to distract them further so she could escape unseen.
Ryan turned to meet her gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and then he lurched toward her, hands outstretched. Alain, his eye likely caught by his friend’s sudden movement, saw her an instant later, and he, too, held out a hand. The redhead stood there, puzzled. It all unfolded like a strange tableau, and the dry cleaning slipped and slithered to Sarah’s feet with little, whispery sounds of plastic. She backed away with tiny, little steps, eyes wide and staring, jealousy warring with pain, and anger that they still had so much power over her overwhelming her. And then she recovered herself with a self-deprecating laugh, stooping to gather up her clothing.
“Alain, Ryan,” she managed to say coolly. “Hold that cab for me, would you please?” She stepped off the curb to bypass them and use the street-side passenger door.
Ryan motioned the cab to leave, and she gasped at his temerity. She had been civil and nonintrusive, and he had simply ignored her attempt to avoid the situation.
“Sarah,” he said, never taking his eyes from her. “Long time, sweetheart.”
“Allow me to introduce my youngest sister, Sarah,” announced Alain. “Maxine, this is our beloved Sarah. Sarah, Maxine.”
Sarah didn’t think her legs would hold her up. His sister. The relief was palpable. She wanted to throw herself into their arms. The walls she had so carefully built back up after having thrown away her pride that day at George’s, only to find they had given up on her, crumbled again. They weren’t with anyone new. Alain had talked about Maxine, his baby sister who hoped to model in America sometime.
“I am pleased to meet you, Sarah,” said Maxine, offering her hand.
“I am, too, Maxine,” Sarah managed. “Alain has talked about you so fondly.”
“My dear sister, would you mind if we simply escorted you to your room instead of staying for a drink?”
Maxine, still clearly puzzled, replied, “But of course. And you need not escort me. We are virtually in the lobby, and I can make my own way. It was nice to meet you, Sarah.”
Sarah nodded, bereft of words, and fisted her hands to avoid slapping Maxine when she kissed both men, including Ryan, good-bye. She watched Alain tip the bellman to take his sister up to her room, and in that moment realized that Alain would never depart from ensuring a woman made it to her room safely unless something even more important required his attention. Ryan slid into the backseat of the limo, and Alain handed her in to him, managing the slippery dry cleaning bags with no apparent effort, and then got in beside her. They rode in silence. Sarah struggled to contain her emotions, then gave up and leaned back, her eyes closing, and let go of the burden. She felt both Ryan and Alain relax beside her.
She accompanied them in silence into their building, although she acknowledged the delighted greeting by the doorman and the security guard with her usual charm. They entered the condo, and Ryan disarmed the system before caging her against Alain, kissing her to steal her breath. Alain released her hair from its clip and threw the dry cleaning across the sofa in one motion. Together they pulled her clothes off in skilled, synchronized movements as they moved her down the hall. Alain stopped just outside the bedroom door, staring at her throat.
“Ryan.”
* * * *
Ryan followed his gaze and swallowed. Hanging from a chain around Sarah’s neck was the key they had left on the table at George’s. Alain pressed a kiss into the hollow of her throat and unclasped the chain, folding his hand around the key so tightly it would leave an imprint. Ryan lifted her and carried her to the big bed, laying her down in the middle with care. She was thinner, her ribs clearly visible, and she had allowed her pubic curls to grow back. Her eyes were shadowed and her face pale. Four months, he thought bitterly, four fucking months without her. And her without them. He stripped, aware Alain was already naked and moving to lie beside her. Ryan’s heart was pounding against the wall of his chest, trying to reach Sarah, he was sure. They had someone following her and monitoring her, providing them with regular reports, but they hadn’t seen her in person for months. Fuck the waiting, fuck being patient. He took heart at her obvious jealousy of Maxine.
Sarah lay in between them and kept her eyes closed. The tears spilled from behind her eyelids and trickled down the sides of her face, pooling in her hair. As one, both men glued themselves to her sides, alternately stroking the length of her torso and pressing kisses on her. Gradually, she stopped crying. She fell asleep, clearly exhausted by the total drain of emotion.
Ryan chuckled quietly. “Not quite the homecoming we envisioned, eh, Alain?”
Alain, too, laughed. “I wonder why it is that we men need to express our narrow range of emotions through sex? Never mind, we will wake her in awhile, and it will be like she never left.”
“So, do we pretend that what happened is over, or do we try to talk to Sarah about it?” Ryan asked his friend.
“There’s that narrow range of emotion again, Rye. I say we raise it and follow Sarah’s lead. One thing is for certain. There will be no further, what is that expression, knee-jerk reactions in our future. Ever. I will never risk what we have together again.”
“Done, buddy.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah woke to the sensation of wet heat on her pussy. Startled, she tried to sit up, only to be restrained gently by Ryan, who kissed her and smoothed her hair from her face. She peered downward and saw Alain pressing a washcloth against her, soaking her curls. A towel was spread beneath her, although she had no memory of it happening. She remembered her exhaustion but had no idea how long she had slept, but for long enough apparently, as she was wide-awake and feeling rested. Alain bent her knees and placed her feet flat on the mattress, wide apart, and began to lather her with shaving cream.
“Maybe I want to leave my pubic hair au naturel, Alain,” she complained.
He lifted his head from his close perusal of her mound and smiled up at her. “And maybe we prefer total access to this beautiful cunt that we have been missing, cherie,” he answered. “It is my pleasure to do this for you.”
Sarah slumped back and let him shave her, feeling how gentle he was, how thorough. Ryan rolled her nipples and pulled them, steadily building her arousal as she arched for more stimulation. Her breasts grew heavy and tender. He bent to suckle her, taking as much of one breast into his mouth as possible, lapping at it as he released her, his fingers plucking at the other. He alternated, and the air cooled around her damp nipple. Sarah moaned and felt the wet cloth on her again, swiftly followed by Alain’s voracious mouth. He flung her legs over hi
s shoulders, lifting her to allow even greater access, and ate at her. When he sucked her clit into his mouth and pinched it gently with his teeth just as Ryan bit her nipple, Sarah went over, screaming. She had missed this so much. She had missed them so much.
Before she could recover, Ryan had turned her over and propped her up on a pillow, sliding down to separate her buttocks and plunge his tongue into her anus, pulling out to gather her juices and return to stimulate her further. Alain slipped a hand under to find her clit and turn feather-light circles on it. Sarah arched into his touch then back on Ryan’s tongue, her vagina clasping at nothing. Then Ryan pressed three fingers up inside her, never stopping his erotic assault on her anus. Alain increased the pressure on her clit, and Sarah broke again, unable to even take a deep breath, panting and whimpering. She couldn’t take anymore and struggled to escape their persistent touch, only to feel Alain slide beneath her, lifting her easily to drape her over his body as he ministered to her breasts, holding her shoulders up just off of his chest. His latex-covered cock flirted with her pussy, and she swore her opening tried to follow it, grasping like a little mouth. She felt warm lube squeeze into her anus and tensed for a moment. It had been so long, and the last time had not made her particularly anxious for double penetration again. Ryan ran a hand down her spine in a soothing, gentle motion.
Young, Allyson - Forgiveness (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 6
