“Yes, Sir.”
“It means if I sit back and tell you to blow him, or let him fuck you, you do.”
The way my pulse gallops at that thought means I need to think on that some more. Not in a bad way, but trying to understand why that idea thrills me so much.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Means this is permanent. That when I finally say so, you’re going to marry me.” His gaze softens again. “Means I can’t give you children. I had a vasectomy. Perhaps some other option in the future, but children are not in my immediate plans. They’ll have to wait until later, if ever.”
Children!
It’s not that revelation that sends a frisson of excitement through me.
It’s the fact that he’s talking really long-term.
Permanent.
“I understand, Sir,” I finally say.
He drags himself off the couch with a pained grunt and fetches tissues. When he returns, he dries my tears, helps me blow my nose, but I still don’t break position. After he returns to the couch, he continues.
“I don’t give up my toys, pet. I’m not interested in playing around for a year and walking away. If you want me, you’ll get me, but be prepared for the flip side of that. It means if I tell you to bend over, you bend over. If I order you to your knees to suck my cock, you do it, because you’re mine. Before you say yes to any of this, you need to understand I’m talking for life. I want us all to get our law degrees, pass the bar, and then we start getting Owen ready for the spotlight through lower offices.”
“And me, Sir?”
This smile is pure amusement. “Pet, do you really need to ask that? That’s a given. You are ready, except for the paperwork and real-world experience part of it. This is a package deal, and I have long-term plans for the three of us.”
“Meaning Owen?”
“They’re centered around Owen, yes. Here’s my plan.” He sits forward, his elbows on his knees, and lays it all out to me.
Excitement ripples through me. It’s getting harder not to break Primed and throw myself at him to hug him.
Daddy’s going to despise Carter.
Senator Benchley Evans won’t be fond of him, either.
Me?
I’m more in love with him now than I was when we started this conversation. And yes, he’s absolutely a bastard extraordinaire. It’s one of the reasons I love him so damn much.
When he finishes, he sits back on the couch, thighs spread wide. “Last chance. Here’s the deal—take it or leave it. I’ll give you a brief test period to think this through and to get a taste of what life will be like with me full-throttle.
“However, you cannot discuss this with Owen. You can’t even tell him we’ve talked about this, or what we’re doing. You still can’t tell him we’re sleeping together. You can’t lie to him, but you’re smart enough to find ways around the truth. Once I ask you if you’re ready to make this permanent, then I will tell you how we handle Owen.
“If you can’t follow my orders on this, or can’t commit to me for life, don’t even bother saying yes. Then we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing now and maintain the status quo, with you understanding that Owen belongs to me, and is collared to me, but at that point my physical relationship with you will end.”
My pulse gallops. “And if I say yes?”
His right hand settles over his bulge and squeezes. “If you say yes, you’re acknowledging that, once I give you the final choice and you accept, you completely belong to me. Not to your father, not to the GOP, not to your dreams—me. Doesn’t mean you won’t get to follow your dreams, because I believe in having happy pets.”
“But what…what if Owen doesn’t agree?”
He shrugs. “More importantly, what if he does? I know where your mind is, pet. On PR. That’s why my plans include long-term situations. You let me worry about PR. I can’t have you marrying some asshole who gets territorial and ruins all our plans. In case I wasn’t clear, this is you, and me, and Owen. No one else. In return, I will give you everything I ask of you—faith, trust, honesty. But understand that you will be sharing me with Owen, and we will always put him first ahead of us. We will both own him, so that’s how it has to be. I will put him first, then you, then myself. Just like I expect you to put him before me.”
How would it be any different than what we already have, except it’d be more perfect and guarantee I’d never have to give up either man? I love what the three of us have.
“Why can’t we tell him about us yet?”
“I can’t have him pulling away from us and feeling hurt and betrayed. I need him tied so tightly to the two of us that he will do anything to stay with us. Especially to stay with you.”
Carter really is a bastard extraordinaire, but if he’s willing to be with me, like hell am I going to complain. “What do you get out of this, Sir?”
He smirks. “Besides the obvious?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I get to be the power behind the throne for two of the potentially most powerful future politicians in Florida. I get to have my cake and eat it, too. I will get a brilliant, gorgeous man as my willing slave, who I can bend over and fuck, and who will happily beg for more. I will also get a beautiful, sweet, intelligent woman to be my wife and slave, a woman who seems to love and crave the darker side of me. A woman I can take home and introduce to my extremely heteronormative and macho-inclined family.”
Ah.
Apparently he sees the understanding hit me, because his smile widens. “Exactly. While I’m sure I can win Owen over, given time, I’m equally sure that my family would disown me in the process. Right or wrong, I love my family.” His smile fades. “I’d prefer not to lose them. I’ve lost enough of them already.”
That’s right, his two brothers, who were killed in action.
“And the info about my vasectomy is a secret,” he adds. “They don’t know that. Owen is the only other person in my life who knows. It will potentially make our lives far less complicated at some future point if that knowledge stays secret, pet.”
I immediately understand what he means and I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
He studies me for a long moment. “None of this bothers you? The…machinations?”
My turn to smirk. “Not really, Sir. You weren’t raised in my father’s house. This kind of stuff, for me, is just business as usual on any day ending in Y. Politics 101.” I snort. “Especially in Florida.”
He laughs. “I guess I didn’t think about it like that. I’m so used to you loving the evil things I do to you.”
My smile fades. “I have a condition of my own.”
Serious Carter is back. He nods for me to continue.
“You have to promise.”
“I have to hear it first, pet.”
“You don’t do…that with Owen.”
Some of the stuff we’ve already done, if it wasn’t for the fact that I have a safeword, it’d be considered sexual assault to the casual observer.
Some of the stuff we’ve talked about doing in the future, once Carter crosses the final line and has intercourse with me, basically is rape, in nearly every way.
I want that with him.
I want the darkness racing through his mental halls. I love the wild gleam in his eyes when he’s chasing me through the house and catches me, pins me down to fuck my mouth.
I love everything about it.
I love the fear.
I crave it. I crave the adrenaline spike I get, and the way my pulse races.
His brow furrows. “Do what with Owen?”
“The dark stuff. The CNC play.” The thought of Owen feeling in legitimate fear for his safety, even for consensual non-consent play, especially from someone he trusts as much as Carter, does ugly things to my insides. “Promise me you won’t ever do anything to make him feel afraid.”
He takes a deep breath. “I can’t make that promise, pet. I can’t be sure that—”
“The stuff we do. I don’t mean like he’s
afraid of breaking position and getting a cane stroke that he knows he might get. I mean he doesn’t turn around in the kitchen to see you coming at him in a ski mask with a knife and threatening to cut his throat. You don’t break in in the middle of the night and he wakes up to you duct-taping his hands together and cutting his clothes off. That kind of play.”
Okay, it was a dull knife, but still…it was haaawwwt.
Although that’d been my favorite bra he cut off me one night. He found me another just like it, but it took him a couple of weeks.
I’m not done. “Owen’s not wired like we are, Carter.” Okay, I’ve jumped to serious. “Carter Edward Wilson.” I still don’t break position, even though I’ve just safeworded. “Owen doesn’t thrive on fear. You know that. He’s had enough fear in his life already. You said you saw what a cunt that woman was to him. If you’re serious about putting him first, then promise me you’ll never deliberately, or accidentally-on-purpose, try to trigger the bad kind of fear in him.”
He studies me for a long time before he sits back and pats his lap. “Come here, Suse.”
I do, sitting across his lap, my arms draped around his neck.
He still hasn’t answered me, but he’s staring into my eyes. “What if, in the process of negotiations, he asks me to do something like that? What if he asks me for a CNC or takedown scene?” His hand comes to rest on my thigh, but it remains still. He’s not trying to distract me or seduce me. This is serious Carter now.
“Asks-asks, or you manipulate him into begging for it?”
“Asks-asks.”
I try to think about that, about the way I love and thrive on this, and I honestly can’t picture Owen begging for that kind of fear.
If anything, Owen would beg for peace.
“How about you promise that you won’t do a scene like that with him, that will cause the bad kind of fear in him, or deliberately do anything to try to trigger the bad kind of fear in him, without bringing it to me first? I get to talk to him about it, and I get to be the one who decides if it’s go or no-go. Including I get to decide if I want to be there to watch and stop it. I get to override it. And that if you find something you’re doing with him is triggering bad fear in him, you promise to stop immediately and soothe him.”
He studies me for at least a minute as he turns it over his mind. Finally, he nods. “Fair enough, pet. I’ll agree to that rule. I will never try to deliberately trigger the bad kind of fear in him, through a scene, or otherwise, and will stop if that happens. Even if he asks, I’ll bring it to you to hear, and you get the final ruling. Period. I’ll even go one better, that I will always give you safeword rights if you think he’s being triggered with the bad kind of fear during a scene. I’ll let you safeword for him, so we can talk.”
I don’t know why I start crying, but he holds me close as I do. “Thank you, Carter.”
He slowly and gently rocks me in his arms. “You’re welcome, Suse. Thank you for loving him.”
I guess I do really love Owen as more than just a friend.
The way I love Carter.
I nestle my head on his shoulder. “I don’t need a trial period,” I say. “Let’s get married.”
He stops rocking me. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. I know we’re bending the truth around Owen, but it’s for good reasons. I can see how you love him. You fucking used your body as a human shield to save your guys. If I can’t trust you, I shouldn’t be sucking your cock, or have given you a key to my house.”
I sit up and cradle his face in my hands. “I want this. I want us, the three of us, for life. I want you.”
He’s looking into my eyes again. Another long, quiet moment follows before he speaks. “Ask me properly, pet.”
I turn and straddle his lap, my arms draped around his neck, my forehead pressed against his. His hands settle on my ass, lightly stroking.
“Sir, I want to be your wife, and I want to submit to you as your slave. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and Owen, and I want to own him with you, and I want to be owned by you.”
He doesn’t answer me, at first, but I hear the way his breathing changes, faster, harder. Feel the way his fingers tense on my flesh.
Then he lets go of me, unfastens his shorts, and pulls out his cock.
I’m already wet and reaching for him, rising up a little so I can settle on his cock, both of us moaning as he fists my hair and we kiss.
We kiss, and we fuck.
It starts out a slow, deep grind, his other hand kneading my ass as I ride him and find the perfect angle to get over. When I find it, I rock harder, working it, chasing it and needing it more than anything now.
I’ve never come just from a guy fucking me—ever.
And he knows this, because I don’t lie to him. Despite the fiction we spin for Owen, I know Carter isn’t lying to me. He doesn’t have to. We accept each other at our darkest levels without shame.
My fingers dig into the back of his neck as I crest and fall, gasping as it bursts inside me.
“Good girl,” he says against my lips. “Do it again.”
And I do. After the second time, which takes longer, his hands grab my hips, fingers digging in with the good bite of pain as his gaze turns hard.
I want it. I want all of it, and all of Him.
“You going to be Sir’s good little slut, baby?” He starts thrusting into me harder.
Oh, god, I’m going to come again. “Yes, Sir!”
“You going to like watching him watch me fuck you, and then watch as I make him suck the taste of your pussy off my cock?”
“Yes, Sir!”
He sucks on my bottom lip. “I can’t wait to make you suck my cock while he’s fucking you, baby.”
Aaaaaaannnd I’m there. I’m officially a slut. His triumphant grin as he thrusts and fills me, falling still with his cock pulsing inside me, twists me around his heart.
He nuzzles my nose with his. “Marry me, Suse,” he whispers, and I suspect this might be one of the rare times I get to glimpse the raw, unprotected, and vulnerable center of Carter’s soul. “Please, marry me.”
I press my lips to his forehead. “Yes, Carter. I’ll marry you.”
He sighs, his eyes falling closed as he bows his head. I hold him, playing with his hair, my face nuzzling against his head as he wraps his arms around me.
“How do you feel about Vegas?” he asks without looking up.
“Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“For the wedding?” I rub his head the same way he’s rubbed mine, and Owen’s.
I feel him relax even more. “Among other things.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“I guess we’ll both check it off our bucket lists, then, won’t we?”
I inhale, loving the smell of Him. “I guess we will, Sir. Love you.”
When he lifts his head and kisses me, it’s a kiss full of promises and faith and fragile, quiet trust.
Another sigh escapes him. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
And he said he can’t do gentle. Bullshit. He can when he trusts. I’ve seen him be tender and gentle with Owen, and I know he trusts Owen.
I’ll never give him a reason to not trust me.
Chapter Twelve
Two nights later, I’m sitting sideways on my couch, my laptop balanced on my thighs, my feet in Carter’s lap. Owen’s at the dorm, ostensibly studying for finals.
We’re supposedly working on my submission.
Technically, it’s not a lie.
“Are you sure about this, Sir?” My finger hovers over my laptop’s touchpad as indecision forces me to pause.
He nods. “If you’re not going to pay for it, I will, but we’re taking him to Vegas.”
“No, I’ll pay for it. I meant that. I’m just worried about how he’s going to react.”
“You let me worry about that. Besides, we’re not telling him until the night before.”
I stare at him, at first think
ing he’s just fucking with me. “Seriously?”
He gets that look. “Are you arguing with me, pet?”
Let the battle of wills begin. I’m not sure if Carter actually gets off on waiting me out. I think he does, at least a little.
Okay, maybe more than a little.
Saaaadist, duh.
Of course he gets off on waiting me out. He never has to “force” me to do anything, outside of our dark and twisted play. I do too damn good a job of forcing myself and refusing to buckle, and he knows it.
I crack first and look at my laptop screen. After I click the button to complete the purchase, I add Carter as a recipient of a confirmation e-mail with the boarding pass information.
“Okay,” I say. “Three round-trip tickets to Las Vegas. Done.”
He picks up his phone and checks his e-mail, then slowly nods. “Very good, pet. Thank you.” He’s paying for the hotel and rental car, among other things.
“How is this helping him, again?” I ask.
“I need to forcibly jolt Owen out of this last little rut he’s stuck in about his mother. The timing happens to work out perfectly.” He sets his phone on the coffee table and points for me to do the same with my laptop.
I do.
He starts rubbing my feet. “His father’s told me a few interesting things about their divorce.”
“Such as?”
“Owen says his mother took great pride in griping that his father never paid child support past the first few months or so.”
“Yeah?”
“He did pay. Until Owen turned eighteen. Not only paid, but because of their prenup, it was way more than the state-mandated rate. He also told me he sent Owen birthday and holiday cards, letters, left phone messages. According to Owen, he’s had very little contact with his father, all of it initiated by himself, not his father.”
My eyes widen. “She’s been lying to Owen?”
“Yep.”
“Does he know yet?”
“Nope.”
It’s hard to focus with his thumbs skillfully kneading my feet. “What else has she been lying to him about?” I muse.
“A narcissist like her? God only knows.”
Lieutenant Page 11
