Just before he picked up the tray, he ditched the apron. Considering what he wanted to discuss with Iris, it was not the garment to have her focusing on.
“I won’t let you down, Dr. Kendall.”
“Iris, I really have to insist you call me Donny.”
My timing is perfect. “That goes for me, too. Only first names here, well, first names with perhaps a variation or two.”
“Variations? I don’t understand.”
Rich just grinned. Instead of answering her, he set the tray down on the second desk in the office—his own desk, one he planned to use once he got into the routine of teaching and had daily assignments to prepare. “I took the chance you wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. It’s a light blend.”
“That sounds good. Oh! And you have some of Anna Jessop’s pecan cookies. Have you tasted them yet?”
Rich grinned. “I filched one in the kitchen.”
Donny reached for a cookie straight off, bit into it, and groaned. As a segue from the professional to the personal, his action and response were perfect.
“We may have to increase our physical exercise regimen,” Donny said. “These are seriously addictive.”
“Did you get all the employment paperwork dealt with?” Rich asked.
“I think so,” Iris said.
“No, we have one more piece of paper for you to look at and sign. And depending, we may have a second.”
Iris looked from Donny to him—and kept her eyes on him. Smart girl. Rich had pulled his chair up so they were sitting three points in a triangle.
“The piece of paper Donny is referring to is a contract between us and you—our promise that no matter which direction our personal involvement goes, it does not impact your position as veterinary assistant.” Rich waited while Donny pulled out the page and handed it to her.
“We’re both attracted to you, Iris. Do you feel the same? Are you attracted to us, too?”
“I think there’s something in the water, hereabouts.” Iris sighed. “Yes, I am. Only…I think it’s more than just the usual sort of attraction, isn’t it?”
“What do you think it is, Iris?” Rich kept his tone even and friendly. He’d already been told he had a Dom voice, and since he instinctively understood what that was, he found it not too difficult to keep the Dom out for the moment.
“You can say any damn thing you want, sweetheart,” Donny said. “Even if you think it’s off the wall.”
Iris rubbed her hands together. She’d already fixed her coffee—she liked it sweet and light—and cradled the mug in her hands.
“One of the things I noticed after I came here was the way the ménages worked—in a far different way than I would have imagined, if I’d ever given thought to the matter. The men weren’t the ones being waited on hand and foot, and yet, they were definitely in charge. Mostly.” Iris took a sip of her coffee. “Then I met Jillian and found out about the D/s relationship dynamic. She gave me a book to read about identifying yourself in the BDSM community.”
Rich met Donny’s gaze for a moment. Then he focused on Iris. “Did you read it?”
“Yes, I did. It kind of helped me to understand myself a little better, but it kind of scared me a little, too. I’m not much for pain. I, for sure, have no masochistic tendencies.”
“But you do have submissive ones.” He made it a statement, not a question. Iris met his gaze.
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you want to explore those? Or the better question, I guess, is, do you want to explore those with us?”
“I am attracted to you both, but I’m a bit nervous about the rest of it.” The worry lines on Iris’s forehead bothered Rich in a visceral way. He didn’t want her worried about anything. He hoped in time she would know that she could trust them in all things, that they would always be there for her, and that they’d never, ever let her down.
He had the feeling no one had ever really been there for her before.
He could begin alleviating that worry now. “Fair enough. Why don’t we spend a little time getting to know each other first? Then, perhaps once you trust us a bit more, you’ll want to explore that aspect of your character. When you do, we’ll make sure everything is set out in black and white in a contract that we will absolutely both honor.”
The offer he and Donny had discussed and that he’d just extended to Iris would be considered very generous by some of the Doms they had gotten to know at The Dragon’s Lair. Some of those men—and women—had been more dominant than either he or his brother could ever be. The one thing he’d taken away from their time learning from Damien was there really wasn’t “one true way” when it came to living any aspect of the BDSM lifestyle. That, and they both absolutely believed in informed consent and the safe, sane, and consensual guidelines their friend employed.
He wouldn’t blame Iris for taking the out they offered her. He honestly couldn’t say, if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t do the same. Who the hell handed a blank check to someone they didn’t know well? He showed no outward sign when his inner voice answered him.
A sub desperately in need of a Dom would do just that.
Iris proved that, while she might identify herself as a woman with submissive traits, she was no doormat. “I already trust you. If that setting everything out in black and white means a contract outlining the parameters of a D/s relationship between the three of us, then I’m willing to negotiate that now.”
Rich looked at Donny, recognizing the pride in his brother’s eyes as the same emotion swelling in his heart. Iris Gibbs was no shrinking violet. She was a woman willing to step out on faith, willing to trust them in a very personal way.
Rich felt the responsibility to ensure her safety and her pleasure settle on him—and it was the most welcome weight he’d ever taken on.
Chapter 5
Iris looked from Donny to Rich. The last few minutes had been completely surreal. She’d never been popular with guys, and while she’d had a couple of boyfriends—she wasn’t a virgin—she didn’t feel she understood the male-female relationship dynamic at even the most basic level. What these two men were proposing was exactly what she’d secretly hoped for ever since Jillian had given her that darn book. Ever since reading it, she’d understood why she’d never felt right in any relationship with a man. Now she had a hint at what she’d been missing.
But that “hoping for” had just been theoretical. Before it became real, she needed something from each of them. She needed something personal and real, beyond theories and mental imaginings. Logic was all well and good, but it had its limits. She needed something more, and it was the most important thing she really needed to be sure of first. She needed some real emotional connection between her and each of these men.
She licked her lips and gathered her nerve. “There is just one thing before we do that.”
“What, sweetheart?”
Even though Donny was the one to ask, and she met his gaze, she focused on Rich when she answered. “Before we get into all those details, I think each of you should kiss me first.”
“Yes, I think we should, too,” Rich said. His gaze never left hers as he set his coffee cup down. When he held his hand out to her—asking her to go to him—the urge to comply ran deep.
Iris didn’t even blink when Donny relieved her of her cup so she could take his brother’s hand.
When Rich tugged, but didn’t get to his feet, Iris understood what he expected and let him pull her down onto his lap. He arranged her the way he wanted, so that her legs were to the side and she faced him. Her hands found their place to his shoulders. Sitting this close, with bare inches separating their mouths, made everything feminine within Iris flutter.
He never let go her gaze. “Lick your lips, baby, and then part them for me.”
She did as he asked, and as she waited, as the heat in those captivating blue eyes of his stirred her arousal, she had the inane thought that, even with her sitting on his lap, he was taller than she.
&
nbsp; Rich tugged her ponytail, tilting her head just a bit more, and then he covered her mouth with his own.
Thoughts splintered as the heat and the wet and the flavor of Rich Kendall filled her. Weightless, she wondered if the floor had somehow given way and she was floating in space. His tongue commanded hers, swirling and tasting every bit of her, and Iris knew she’d never been kissed like this in her life.
She didn’t recognize the sounds emerging from her throat, but the men must have. Rich lifted his lips from hers, gently kissed the corner of her mouth, and sat back. Smug satisfaction shone from his eyes, but before she could react to that, Donny’s hand caressed her chin, cradled her face, and turned her toward him.
His mouth fairly devoured hers. His flavor differed from his brother’s, as did the essence of his kiss. Identical, however, was the arousal that flooded her and the need that filled her. Iris returned his kiss with all she had, surrendering to the vortex that pulled her down, ready to give anything and everything—ready, very ready, to submit.
It took her a moment to realize Donny had ended their kiss. She opened her eyes to encounter him looking at her, a little smug maybe, like Rich had been, but also…pleased.
She’d pleased both of these men, and she couldn’t describe the enormous sense of accomplishment that filled her with that realization.
“You damn near took the top off my head,” Donny said. “You sure do know how to kiss, Iris Gibbs.”
“I’m a very fast learner.” Now that she could feel them both looking at her, heat warmed her cheeks. But she needed to say just one more thing. “I’m not very experienced, sexually. I’ve been told—a couple of times—that I look easy. But I honestly never have been.”
Rich scowled. “Someone actually said that to you?”
“Yes, the two men who told me that, on separate occasions, of course, were each completely mystified as to why I didn’t want to get immediately naked with their studly selves.”
“What the hell would make them say that?” Rich asked.
Iris felt the heat of color on her cheeks. “The second one said I was blonde, and must be stupid, because I was, and I quote, ‘kind of pretty.’” She shook her head. “I have no idea why the first jerk said that.” Then she shrugged. It had pissed her off, both times, but she’d known even then there was nothing she could do about other people’s perceptions of her.
“If we ever happen to encounter either of them,” Donny said, “please point them out to us.”
She wasn’t fooled by his smile. She tilted her head to one side. “Why?”
“We’d just like to have a word with them,” Rich said.
No one had ever offered to “have a word” with someone who’d offended her. What a totally awesome feeling that is.
“Did those two kisses answer your doubts?” Rich asked.
Iris looked from one to the other, and then she nodded. “It would have been senseless to go on if the attraction was only superficial.”
“We’re both glad you understand it’s more than that.” Donny took her one hand and brought it to his lips.
“We also know, baby, that you’re not ready to ‘get naked immediately.’” Rich stroked one finger down her cheek. “That said, we do intend to move forward. So we’ll talk about limits, both hard and soft, and expectations. We’ll answer your questions and draw up a contract between the three of us. In the meantime, we’d like you to consider accompanying us to Houston on Thursday. We’re going to check out a club, and we would like to have you with us when we do.”
“A club?” Iris knew that the Jessops went to a club in Houston because Jill had mentioned it. Iris had done enough reading to know that all manner of things could and did take place at these clubs. “What would be expected of me?”
Was the look of pleasure in their eyes because she hadn’t dismissed the idea outright? Likely. She was planning to do her best, to be honest, and if something they proposed frightened her more than it excited her, she damn sure would let them know. Beyond that, Iris was determined to see if what she’d read really was for her, or not.
“You may find yourself wearing less than you’re used to,” Rich said. “But you won’t be naked, and we promise that we’ll take care of you.”
That wasn’t a very detailed answer, and maybe to someone else, those two promises wouldn’t mean a whole lot. But for reasons Iris couldn’t immediately articulate, Rich Kendall’s response settled gently on her.
“All right, I’ll go with you on Thursday.”
* * * *
Rich had done his homework when it came to the Edwina Claymore College. The school wasn’t doing as well as it had in the last decade when the institution’s founder had been at the helm. Still, from what he’d been able to discern, with a student body of close to five hundred and a faculty of over forty, the college was far from dead. As private colleges went, it was quite small, but its academic credentials were sound. Among its alumni, the college claimed several winners of the Marshall Scholarship, the Fulbright Scholarship, and at least three Rhodes scholars.
For a small private school, that record was impressive.
The college stood on a large tract of land east of Waco. There was something definitely distinctive in the appearance of large main building. Built of stone, with a bell tower and at least two other turrets that he could see, the edifice spoke to an earlier age. The only thing missing from the picture was green ivy clinging to the walls. It looks like a large English abbey. The campus itself consisted of the main building, the new building, which had been built in 1990, and a large dorm, constructed at the same time and of the same materials as the edifice before him.
Rich parked his car in the designated area to the left of the main building. There’d been no security at the end of the rather long driveway, so he was particularly glad to see a security guard positioned just inside the door.
“I’m Dr. Richard Kendall, and I have an appointment with Ms. Claymore.” Rich set his attaché case down and reached into his pocket for his wallet. He handed over his identification. He’d been places where the staff barely glanced at ID, so he was pleased to see this guard took his duties seriously. He checked his list and took a good long look at Rich’s driver’s license.
“Please sign in, Dr. Kendall—and sign out again when you leave.”
“Of course.” Richard did as requested. He couldn’t help but note he was the only guest signed in so far today, and there’d been only one yesterday.
“Thank you, sir. You’ll want to take the main corridor on your left to the second corridor on the right. Miss Claymore’s office is well marked.”
Rich thanked the guard and made his way to his appointment. The halls of academia, no matter where they were located, held a certain hallowed atmosphere. It was an atmosphere he’d always revered, and he’d been able to find a scintilla of it even at the high school where he’d last taught in New York City.
Rich had come to the conclusion it had more to do with the purpose for the institution than the actual local environment itself.
Moments later, Rich arrived at Ms. Claymore’s office. The outer door stood open, revealing an unoccupied and exceptionally neat reception desk in the outer office. Movement to his left caught his attention. A woman of about forty-five stood in the open doorway to an inner office. Her dark-blue business suit was of good quality but did nothing to enhance her appearance. Brown hair with slight streaks of silver had been caught up and held tightly atop her head. A pair of bifocals sat on her nose, and he wondered for a moment if she needed them to read or if their sole purpose was in the effect they added to her overall appearance.
He’d been subjectively peered at over such glasses more than once in his life, and it had never been a warm and fuzzy experience.
“Dr. Kendall? I’m Edith Claymore.” She gestured to the empty desk. “My admin is on vacation. I usually have a temp lending me a hand, but the agency and I crossed our wires.” She offered him a slight smile.
H
e honestly had nothing to say to that but accepted her handshake when she offered it. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Claymore.”
“Please, come in, and thank you for making time to see me on such short notice.”
“Thank you. I was promised that the certification process was going to be expedited, and I wondered if your interest in my résumé was the reason for that.”
“My mother had many good friends at the state level,” Ms. Claymore said. She took her seat and waited until Rich had taken his before she continued. “One of them knew I was in desperate need of a good literature professor and called me about your application for reciprocity when it arrived.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, did your previous lit professor quit?”
“Sadly, no. He died in a car accident. Very recently, in fact. He’d been with our family here for several years. We were all quite devastated by his loss and are still in mourning.”
“My condolences.” He crossed his legs and relaxed in the comfortable chair. “It must have been very difficult for the students to lose their teacher.”
Ms. Claymore folded her hands on her desk. He could tell, just by her posture and the expression on her face, that his comment had pleased her.
“It has been a difficult time for some of them. Dr. Broderick was a very personable gentleman.”
“Did you have any specific questions for me, Ms. Claymore? I will be honest and tell you I’ve never taught at a gender-exclusive school before. I was surprised to understand that fully half of your faculty was male.”
Edith acknowledged his point with a tip of her head. He had to wonder if her back was aching because her posture seemed agonizingly stiff. “Mother had originally hoped to have only female staff, but it soon became clear that to draw the caliber of teachers she wanted, she’d need to include men. We’ve never encountered a problem.” The woman reached for a folder and opened it. Rich understood his faxed application and résumé was now spread out before her. The process of interviewing for a job almost always made him feel inadequate. He understood why so many men in his family—both in New York and here in Texas—preferred to work for themselves.
Love Under Two Loners [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 5
