Sarah let her gaze drift back to Jonathan, watched him widen his stance, his arms falling to his side. His attention was so fixed on Christiana, she believed if she was closer to him she might see a reflection of her in his eyes. He was riveted.
Christiana and her father stepped down, the crowd’s faces following their procession up the terrace. When she was a few feet away, Jonathan couldn’t stop himself and stepped forward to meet her. Peter didn’t let go of her arm at first, his eyes holding a slight challenge. Jonathan nodded once at him, and Peter relented. He drew Christiana’s hand from his arm. “I love you, Chrissy,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“And, I love you, Dad.” She pecked him on the cheek.
As with many father-daughter relationships, they’d had a complicated relationship, but one that had grown better over the last few years. Sarah was glad Alexander had moved mountains to ensure Peter could be here. Then again, that’s what Alexander did—took care of others. He was who she should mirror herself after. Someone who did the right thing—always.
Jonathan and Christiana faced one another.
“You wore it.”
“Yes.” She ran her hand down the front of her sundress.
The flap of the canvas overhead and the clang of lights against tent poles filled the space—and love, so much love, that the tight vise in her heart, the one she’d been living with for the last two days, squeezed once more. Tears leaked from her eyes. A male body pressed into her back, and Steffan’s hand settled on her hip, his favorite place to hold her. Laurent was next to her, his hand reaching for her fingers. She allowed both, as now was not a time to eschew any tender gesture.
“Friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Jonathan Franklin Brond and Christiana Snow in marriage,” Alexander began.
She laced her fingers through Laurent’s. She wanted to feel his presence, this man who was so eager to please her. She then let herself grow lost in Alexander’s words.
The ceremony was brief with Jonathan and Christiana reciting vows they had written. Christiana spoke of belonging. “We needed to find each before we could have a life—our real life,” she had said, earning a hushed amen from Laurent. Jonathan wiped tears from under Christiana’s eyes and promised for as long he lived, they were the last tears she’d ever shed unless they were from happiness.
At one point, Christiana placed her hand on his pec and looked up at him with such love and admiration, Sarah’s throat threatened to close with the purity of it all, and it was the first time she’d ever seen Jonathan almost break. He quickly swallowed back whatever had risen up. He firmed his jaw, and his resolve returned. If there was one thing she knew about her step-brother—the only other person she was as close to as she was to Alexander—he would do anything for the woman standing in front of him which, to him, meant never breaking. My, how familiar that felt. It was safer that way, was it not? To never be a burden to anyone.
“Jonathan, do you take Christiana to be yours?” Alexander’s voice rang out.
“I do.”
“And Christiana, do you take Jonathan to be yours?”
“I do, I do, I do.”
Jonathan’s face cracked into a huge smile at her enthusiasm. A few tittering sounds of approval sounded all around.
“Good. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the—”
Christiana leapt up to Jonathan, wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her lips on his, earning cheers from Marcos and Carson. Isabella clapped, and Derek’s little girl screamed in glee at the adults’ sudden enthusiasm.
When Christiana broke the kiss, she smiled at her now-husband. “You’re mine now.”
The smooth back of the dress was now wrinkled and puckered, and the flowers in her hair were mashed into the veil and her back.
“And you will always be mine.” Jonathan’s fingers dug into her ass, and her lips parted with the silent message. She may have leapt into his arms, but he was the one keeping her there.
Steffan pressed into Sarah’s body more, and she realized she’d been leaning into him throughout the ceremony.
As they left the terrace to go inside to the small room for the intimate reception, bird seed and petals rained down on them. She clapped a hand to her mouth. She’d forgotten to distribute them. How did this happen?
“I figured you’d want me to hand them out,” Laurent said.
“Good man,” she said.
The reception was in the intimate, upscale restaurant on the roof, the sunset spreading out in all directions. Shells, large glass balls from fishermen’s nets, and small ice sculptures of mermaids and fish adorned a large oval table. No one sat right away, rather mixing and mingling around the bar, taking in the view.
Jonathan clinked his glass with a fork. “I have one more announcement before we sit down.”
Mark and Carson groaned good-naturedly.
“You’ll survive another ten minutes,” Jonathan chided with a smile.
“Given how long it took you to get her to the altar, that’s nothing,” Mark called out.
Animals.
Jonathan brought out a long black box from behind the bar. “A wedding gift.” He handed it to Christiana.
“Jonathan.” She took it. “Now I’m going to have to do that thing to you tonight.”
Wolf calls sounded from the men, their woman shifting on their feet, giving them good-natured sideways glances.
She cracked open the case, her lips parting on a sigh. She drew out a choker, lined with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls, a mother of pearl mermaid dangling between two shells dusted in diamond dust. She peered up at him, her eye alight.
“My little mermaid,” he said. “Luring me to—”
“Don’t say death,” she whispered.
“No, to my life. It’s what we do for each other. We bring each other to life.” He kissed her on the forehead.
She turned and lifted her hair, and as Jonathan fastened the choker around her neck, the other Dominants in the room visibly straightened. Ryan stood from his stool and pulled Yvette closer in between his legs. Carson widened his stance behind London. Mark placed his hand around the back of Isabella’s neck. They did that, absorbed the energy in the room. It wasn’t a formal collaring ceremony like Charlotte’s, but Jonathan’s gesture was intimate and equally profound.
Sarah glanced around at the others in the room, each of them meeting her eyes, some acknowledging with a dip of a head or a smile. That’s what her group did. They belonged to each other so completely, they didn’t need words.
She exchanged a glance with Jonathan. His eyes softened toward her before returning his attention to the love of his life. That’s when she put a name to that chronic hollow feeling inside her—despite all the people in the room who would protect her, love her, she was estranged—and it was of her own making. She had two men who were offering themselves to her, and she’d done what? Thrown it back in their faces.
She looked at Laurent, chatting up Yvette a few feet away. He glanced her way as if sensing her staring at him. He winked at her, the playful little sub. He then arched his eyebrows in question. She knew what he was asking. What do you need? Steffan, standing at the bar, also glanced at her. It was as if the three of them were held together by an invisible thread, knowing when one pulled away or went in a different direction. They were bound to one another—inexplicably connected.
They continued to stare at her, softly, and it was killing her. This time she wouldn’t be strong enough to resist them. She’d break rules. She’d not be able to stop herself. She needed both of them. Not wanted. Needed.
She turned to Derek. “I understand you, Samantha, and the kids are flying back tonight.”
His brow furrowed. “Yes. Wheels up at 10 p.m.” He glanced at Steffan who studied her as if he was attempting to read her thoughts.
“Lots of planes leaving from here this week, however,” Derek said.
He knew. They all knew, didn’t they? For th
e first time in two decades, she hadn’t a clue what to do next. She should go to her room and pack, leave with them, start anew. She could arrow through the small crowd and fall into Steffan and Laurent’s arms. She glanced out the glass windows. Or, she could run down to the ocean and throw herself into the waves, take in the cold until she woke up from whatever dream had been cast around her.
She kissed a startled Derek on the cheek. “Love to Samantha and the kids.”
The beach would be empty, and the stars and moonlight across the water had looked so magical. She needed the ocean, where the souls of mermaids and lost sailors might have answers.
36
Steffan tried to catch Sarah’s attention before the elevator doors closed, but she looked so deep in thought it was as if she wasn’t seeing anything or anyone.
A male hand came down on his shoulder. “Sarah asked if we were flying back tonight.” Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is she?”
“Hell no.”
“Just what I thought.”
Steffan slammed his empty tumbler down on a tray. “Excuse me, Derek.” Like hell she was running. Sex notwithstanding, he’d given her two days of space. Enough was enough. He wove through people, each step as if he slogged through molasses.
As soon as he stepped off the elevator, he caught her pushing her way through a glass door down the hallway. She was headed to the beach. If she tried to do anything foolish … He broke into a jog.
She was unwrapping her dress. Fabric floated through the air, and she ran straight into the waves, her hips slapping against a crest tipped in silver moonlight. She arched like a dolphin, cutting through the surface, then disappeared, her head breaking through a few feet away. Shit, it was dark, and she was in the water.
He kicked off his shoes, ripped his shirt straight down, the buttons easily giving away, and peeled it off as he ran to the shoreline. His feet hit the cold water, and he leapt into the waves, diving into the smooth surface. He kicked his legs hard, striving to get to her. When he finally reached Sarah, her dark eyes glinted in the moonlight and the ambient light from the party lights less than one hundred feet away. She didn’t look surprised to see him.
She kicked toward him, wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her breasts against him. Her lips fell onto his, softly at first and then with more hunger. This was not the greeting he’d expected.
When she broke her kiss, he smoothed her hair off her forehead. “I saw Jaws on TV when I was a kid, so I want credit for diving in after you.”
She laughed lightly, her teeth flashing white in the dark. “I didn’t think anything scared you.” She let her head fall back, and he loosened his arms so she could float backward, her hair forming a dark fan waving just under the water surface. A large wave made them bob up and down.
“Everyone’s afraid of something,” he said. “Like you’re afraid of me.”
She lifted her head. “I’m not.”
He pulled her close again and since he could stand on the sandy bottom, he twirled them around so he could get more light on her face. “Let me re-phrase. You’re afraid to love me because you have the power to undo me. Well, let me tell you. You don’t. I’m not going to crumble under you, Sarah.”
“Said the Dominant male.” She gave him a flirty smirk. Her nipples brushed across his pec, and his cock twitched like the animal it was around her.
“I’d expect you to say nothing less,” she said. “It’s not in our nature to give into our weaknesses.”
“Oh, but we all have weak spots. That’s not what makes us Dominant, and you know it. What makes us Dominants is our ability to control ourselves. We don’t control others—not really. We accept the willing and temporary suspension of power. We can’t hurt another without them being willing to accept our control. Just like you couldn’t have—”
“Don’t.” The struggle in her voice nearly broke his heart. “Don’t say those names,” her whisper barely audible over the sound of the lapping waves.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He placed his forehead on hers, then captured her lips again, the taste of salt and Sarah. He parted her lips with his tongue, forced her mouth to open more. Her lips barely accepted him. He could feel her hesitation, her withdrawal from anything pleasurable the second she thought of the tragedy of Joshua and the madness of Troy. Anger that her family had let her down, let her blame herself for Joshua’s despair rose hard, and he pressed his lips harder as if he could stamp out her past.
“Sarah, I love you,” he growled into her mouth.
She sucked in a breath and yanked her head back.
“Don’t. Admire me. Work with me. Appreciate me, but …”
“But, what? Not love you so deeply that if you were to reject me, I might harm myself? Not happening, sweetheart. I won’t leave Laurent, remember? I gave you space the last two days, but that’s over.” A wave took them up and down again. “You could walk away from me—in those death heels—but it would be a mistake, and you’d regret it. Not now. Not next week. Hell, maybe not next year. But you will someday.” He set his forehead against hers. “I know because I made a big one two years ago. I let you get on that plane in London, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“You couldn’t have stopped me.”
“I should have tried.” He swirled her again. He could stay for hours like this, his hands on her ass, her crotch pressed against him. “So don’t reject me because you have the power to hurt me. Reject me if you don’t love me at all.”
Splashing made him turn his head to find Laurent appearing next to her. He had followed, as Steffan knew he would. Someone was in need and hurting, so Laurent would be there.
“I’m not rejecting you.” She cupped Laurent’s face and then turned her gaze back to him. “I have an idea. Something I’ve been thinking about. I’m going to move into Accendos. We can meet there. It will be—”
“Not good enough. I won’t let you disappear into protocol and contracts and what else you’re proposing, in sacrifice of something real.”
“You can’t take that away from me.”
He understood what “that” meant—something that could be a barrier between her and others. “I’m not. I’m saying let’s have both.”
Laurent positioned himself behind her, drew her wet hair over her shoulder.
“How did you learn, Sarah?” Steffan said. “You may have always had controlling characteristics, but how did you learn to execute your dominance?”
“Alexander.”
“He took that natural part of you and helped you channel it. What you’ve never had is an adult loving relationship. Let Laurent and I be your teachers there. Alexander gave you one kind of structure, let us show you another.”
“Messy,” she said. “What I’m proposing is better.”
“Yes, it will be messy … and different. What you propose is not good enough. I promise you, your formal dominance and our lives can co-exist.”
“Please,” Laurent said. “Don’t let go of that.”
Sarah laughed. “You’re impossible.” She leaned her head back against his shoulder.
“You deserve more. Like Laurent. He deserves you, don’t you think?”
“Trick question. If I say no, it means I don’t believe in him. If I say yes, you’re forcing me to say I’m worthy of him.”
“You are,” Laurent placed a kiss on her shoulder. “Mistress.”
“And you’re my equal,” Steffan said.
She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Except in arrogance.”
He laughed.
“There’s an old myth,” Laurent placed his arms around the two of them and twirled them easily in the water. “That a man and woman were separated by the Gods because they were frightened of how strong they were together. They were then left to search their whole lives for the halves they lost. So I say, let the Gods be afraid because we’ve beaten them at their game. We’re three, and we’ve found each other.”
“That’s beautiful.” Tears
shone in Sarah’s eyes. “But you say that now …
“Then we’ll believe for you until you’re ready to know it.”
He could tell Laurent pressed himself into Sarah as her body mashed further into his.
“I could have left two hours ago,” she said. “but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not without you both.”
“So both of us, you will have.”
Steffan tightened his hold on her. “There’s a suite upstairs with a massive king-sized bed. And we’re going to show you how much you can have.”
37
Sarah grasped Steffan’s cock at the root and pulled it through her soaped-up fist until the thick head crossed her palm. He groaned in appreciation and caught her wrist before she could do it again. They hadn’t made it to the bed, instead, washing off the salt and sand from their bodies in the open, crescent-shaped shower. It was as if they stood inside a large conch shell.
“I love you, Sarah.” His blue eyes glinted in the dark. The only light came from tiny twinkle lights, recessed and inlaid the tile meant to resemble stars.
“And I love you.” She glanced down at Laurent on his knees. “Both of you.” She’d given up trying to fight what was happening between the three of them. Truth was, she’d run out of reasons to fight them.
“Did your mistress say you could touch yourself, Laurent?”
The man had eyes in the back of his head.
His hands dropped to his sides. “No, sir.”
“Mistress, Sarah,” Steffan said. “What do you wish Laurent to do?”
“Focus.”
“Hmmm, vague, but I can roll with it. Laurent, take care of your Mistress.” He spun her so her back was to his front. Water pounded on the back of Laurent as he knelt. Steffan’s palm slid down her belly to part the folds of her labia with his fingers. His fingers slid easily down only to pinch her swollen clit between his first and second finger. He pulled it forward as if offering.
Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Page 20
