Their Discovery (Legally Bound Book 3)

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  “Yes, Madame.”

  Sam climbed onto the bed and straddled Brady. She nestled his cock against her clit, slid it up and down. His startled gasp was like rocket fuel. Pleasure simmered through her with each rock of her hips. Brady moaned but stayed pressed against the bed, all that masculine power shackled with only her words.

  “Undo my garters.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He was clumsy in his efforts to unclip them, fingers too big and his hands trembling, but he got through them all. Sam tossed the belt to the side as Hanna got onto the bed beside them.

  Sam’s heart was positively galloping. This was it—what she’d been waiting for. And these two beautiful people were going to give it to her.

  Climbing off Brady, she settled onto her back between them and undid the top stays of her corset until her breasts were free. Her nipples were stiff, pointy and begging for attention. Sam stretched her arms out and looked to both of them.

  “Come here,” she said, arching her chest. “I want to feel both your mouths on me.”

  Brady reached in first, brows slanted in the most beautiful appetite, like he’d been starving for this. One big warm hand came around her left breast, and she inhaled a sharp breath when his beard gently scraped her skin, then again when his lips closed over her nipple. Sam felt a line ricochet from her breast to her clit.

  That line got even sharper when Hanna’s mouth found her other breast.

  The sensation from her friend’s mouth was different. Hanna tongued a slow circle around Sam’s nipple, then flicked the tip of it over and over until Sam’s hips were rising off the bed.

  She searched through the pleasure for the French words she was looking for.

  “Comporte-toi,” she hissed. Behave. “No teasing.”

  Hanna smiled before she took Sam’s nipple into her mouth. Brady paused, then resumed his ministrations, and Sam closed her eyes. After years of never feeling like her breasts were something sexual, now having mouths on them was intensely erotic. Her legs winged open wide, soft skin going slick. Hanna bit down lightly, and Sam tipped her head back. A pulsing ache started between her legs, and they’d barely even begun.

  “Stop,” she said.

  They both behaved in tandem. The cold air was a shock against Sam’s puckered, wet skin. She pulled Brady close, letting him rest his head on her shoulder and drape his arm around her middle. Then she did the same to Hanna. Her friend looked up at her, expectant.

  “Touch me, Hannaleen.”

  Hanna’s smile was pure deviance. “With pleasure, Madame.”

  Sam tried to stop shaking as Hanna placed a hand on her belly, then moved slowly down. She locked eyes with her husband, body shaking at the light tickle of her friend’s touch. Hanna caressed her trimmed strip of hair, and Sam held on to them both and closed her eyes as Hanna’s fingertip danced across her clit.

  “Oh, God.”

  Hanna’s pointer finger was slim. Warm. Different than Sam’s own finger and somehow the same. She drew a pattern over Sam’s flesh, slow circles around Sam’s most sensitive spot. She didn’t mind Hanna avoiding it though—she liked the torture of dragging this out, and she was sure, the second Hanna’s fingers met that one sensitive button, she would explode.

  “How does it feel, Madame?”

  Sam could barely answer, lost to the pleasure. “Amazing.”

  Brady let out a short breath, and Sam found a way through the cloud of pleasure to press a hand to his back, to try to say, I’m here and thank you without words.

  He tightened the arm he had around her in response.

  Hanna drew a wider circle. “I meant how does it feel to have two people who want you so badly?” She punctuated the question by giving Sam a few caresses in rapid succession before returning to those slow, measured loops.

  “Fuck, do that again.”

  Hanna obeyed. Sam’s head lifted off the bed. Her friend’s touch was shocking.

  “Again.”

  Hanna drew it out this time, adding a few more hurried up-and-down strokes. Sam jolted at the feeling, dropped her head back to the pillow. This wasn’t the same as it was with her and Brady. No emotion—just sex. It felt more like Hanna was running the scene, too, but Sam was too worked up by the hand on her clit to care.

  She searched her mind for the word she was looking for.

  “Rapide.”

  No, that wasn’t right. It was a close translation, but not correct, and Hanna didn’t obey anyway. Sam opened her eyes and glared at her friend. Hanna’s grin was sly and cunning, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

  “Faster,” she instructed. “Or I won’t touch you at all.”

  Hanna pouted falsely, looking for all the world like a misbehaving child—one who knew she’d still get a toy no matter what she did. “Pardon, Madame.”

  She did as she was told, though, and Sam was instantly breathless at the astonishing pleasure. She dug her nails into Brady’s back.

  “Touch me, pet. Touch me now.”

  He followed her request without question, lifting his hand to dip below Hanna’s. Sam let out a wild cry when his big middle finger slid inside her.

  “It feels incredible,” she said, finally answering Hanna’s question as Brady added another finger to the mix. “You both feel incredible.”

  Her hips rocked in time with their movements. Hanna’s fingertip was a millimeter off from the spot that would send Sam into overdrive. She didn’t know how Brady knew—maybe it was the look on her face, the strain in her body or the noises she made, but he lifted his head and said, “She’s more sensitive on the right.”

  Hanna edged her finger the tiniest bit over, and Sam made a fist in Hanna’s hair. She’d wanted it to last, but there was no stopping this now. Fuck, she hadn’t counted on this, hadn’t imagined their worship would drive her to the point where she lost all sense of being in command.

  “Gonna come,” she moaned, and then she was clutching both of them, gasping through waves of crippling bliss that stole her ability to think, to talk, to do anything at all except thrash and shake. She didn’t feel sated when they both pulled back though. Her hips were still surging when she heard Hanna speak.

  “What does she need after she comes?”

  Sam opened her eyes. Brady’s gaze was right on her, loving and hungry.

  “Simple,” he said. “She needs more.”

  27

  Brady wasn’t misbehaving when he reached for a condom without Sam’s instruction. He knew what she needed, and he needed to prove it.

  He hadn’t expected to need to prove himself tonight.

  He hadn’t liked it when Sam and Hanna were speaking in French. He’d felt excluded. He hadn’t liked the way Hanna called Sam Madame, sharing her as their Domme but also alienating him at the same time. It wasn’t a big deal, though, not big enough to use his safeword on.

  And none of that mattered when Sam nodded and reached for him.

  It was like a reboot to his system. He stopped thinking about anything else. He sank into that place in his head where her ownership was all he felt, her satisfaction all he craved.

  Hanna moved away, giving them space. Brady vaguely registered her action. He didn’t want her out of the bed—there was enough room for the three of them—but he needed a glimmer of his confident Sam, his Mistress. The woman who’d quirk an eyebrow at him if it looked like he was going to step out of line and lay down holy hell if he did. He wasn’t seeing that version of her. She seemed lost in all this, so he sheathed himself quickly, climbed on top of her and guided himself inside.

  Sam whimpered, and God, she was so tight. Too tight at this angle, he needed to change it, but Sam reached up, put her hands on his face and pulled him down roughly until she was kissing him. They were fast kisses, like they were drinking each other in, each using the other for air.

  This wasn’t how they kissed—it didn’t feel like them. There was a hunger from Sam she didn’t usually show. He came up for a breath to look at her, but she r
ose up into the next kiss, the next thrust, grabbing his back and trying to pull him harder onto her.

  “I’ll crush you if I do that.”

  “Don’t care,” she said. “Closer. Kiss me.”

  So he did. She was more desperate than he’d ever seen her, and he needed to fill that abyss. He moved until they were skin to skin. Kissing her slowly, he deliberately measured his thrusts, using his body to show her how much he loved her, like there wasn’t someone else in the room.

  But there was, and that someone needed to see what he and Sam had.

  He wasn’t an exhibitionist like Sam had thought. He wanted to show Hanna he was the only person who could have Sam like this.

  He was more jealous than he’d realized.

  It wasn’t a fair thought to have, not now, not when they were doing this, when Hanna hadn’t done anything wrong. He felt Hanna’s hand trace over his back, and he liked it. Liked the quiver that coursed through him when she used her nails.

  “So pretty,” Hanna said. “What a good boy you are. How well you serve her.”

  Brady laughed and smiled, felt his pleasure spike and his cheeks heat as he turned his face away. Who knew the embarrassment from unexpected praise would crank him up higher, too?

  Sam moaned, a soft, needy noise. Brady’s eyes were back on hers in an instant. She brought her hands to his shoulders, body undulating beneath him.

  “Shhh,” Brady whispered.

  He stopped thrusting, long enough for his arms to quake from the effort of holding still and know she felt him shaking, too. This would’ve been the moment, if they were alone, that he would’ve thrust fast and hard. But he didn’t want to fuck. He wanted to make love to his wife, to be selfish and possessive and feel the ownership only he could have of her.

  Staring into those deep brown eyes, he eased even deeper inside her. One inch at a time.

  “He never takes his eyes off you, does he?” Hanna asked.

  Sam shook her head, her gaze gentle and amazed.

  He wasn’t going to say it, not with Hanna here, but he hoped Sam knew he’d never taken his eyes off her. Not once in seventeen years. He’d seen her when she was in college, when she came home from DC disappointed and depressed. He’d seen her pregnant and heavy, when she’d shed the weight, too, and every single minute he’d been in awe of her.

  He was still in awe. Of how she commanded him now, without a single word.

  Brady spread his legs wider, expanding his stance with his knees farther apart. Sam rose up again and kissed him, dug her hands in his hair. She broke the kiss and pushed him up until he hovered above her.

  “Make me come again.” Her voice was rough. Abrasive. “Get the bullet vibe.”

  It wasn’t until she glanced to the side that Brady realized the order was for Hanna.

  Hanna retrieved the vibrator from the nightstand, then moved in close. The visual as Hanna’s darker arm crossed the midsection of his wife’s pale body was hot as hell. This was what he’d pictured when he’d agreed to this—to fuel Sam’s lust along with her friend. Her knuckles bumped against Brady’s pubic bone as she fit the vibe against Sam’s clit and turned it on. It was strange and arousing, and the jolt of Sam’s body as she gasped and went slicker startled him toward his own release.

  “Mistress,” he groaned.

  “Not yet,” she said, and Brady barely bit back a cry of protest.

  “We’re working on his control,” she said to Hanna, who turned the vibe up higher. Sam choked on a moan.

  “He’s not gonna make it,” Hanna teased. “I bet it feels too good, fucking into you like that. I bet you’re so soft and wet he can’t hold back another second.”

  Brady grunted and pinched his eyes shut. That was the shit that got at him. Talking about how close he was, putting his face in his own pleasure nudged at that weird space inside. Like he was the toy nestled between them, nothing but a plaything with a flicked switch.

  He tried to slow down. To hold off.

  “Can’t,” he gritted out. “Sammy, please.”

  The name slipped out, and for the first time, he didn’t try to swallow it. She was his Mistress and his Sammy, his wife and the mother of his children. She was everything to him, and he belonged to her, no matter what name he called her.

  “Yes. Now, fuck yes, I’m coming, too.”

  He gripped her tight, lost it, groaned into the sweaty hollow of her neck. Sam bucked up against him a moment later, until they were both shivering messes, raspy breaths panting to quiet.

  “So pretty,” Hanna said again.

  Brady turned to look at her as Sam reached up to stroke her cheek. “Yes, you are.”

  Hanna blushed, and Brady knew it was his turn to give them space, to watch Sam dominate a woman. He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel about it, but by the time he’d slid out, disposed of the condom and turned back to them, they were already kissing. Hanna had moved onto her back, and Sam was hovering over her, running her fingers over the other woman’s legs.

  “I was right,” she said. “Your skin is gorgeous everywhere.”

  Brady positioned himself at the edge of the bed to watch, and he had to admit they were beautiful together. He was worried he’d be jealous, that he’d feel like less of a man watching this, but he was enthralled with the way Sam touched Hanna’s breasts, playing with and twisting her nipples. Sam dragged Hanna’s panties down her thighs. His mouth went dry when Sam leaned forward. Ass in the air, corset still laced, thigh-highs a dark sheen against her white skin, she snaked her tongue out against Hanna’s clit.

  “Oh, oui. S’il vous plaît, Madame.”

  Brady knew enough French to translate. And even if he couldn’t, he’d be able to figure out what Hanna wanted from the roll of her body, the way her hands gripped the sheets.

  Sam hummed—that infuriating, intoxicating noise, and the other woman’s eyes slammed shut.

  Brady felt a funny kind of kinship with Hanna, watching Sam lick her clit the same way she’d licked his cock that night after the dungeon. Quick, short laps with the pointed tip of her tongue, over and over, until Hanna mewled and squirmed. Did it feel the same for her as it had for him?

  Had he looked as helpless as Hanna did, right now?

  Sam did something that made Hanna squeak, and then Sam was laughing. She stopped, went up on her knees, then flipped Hanna over onto all fours. He watched Sam’s arm move, then heard the skin-on-skin sound of fingers parting soft flesh. Brady watched Hanna’s face contort in pleasure.

  “Mon Dieu, Madame. Feels so good.”

  “I know it does, you greedy girl,” Sam said with a smirk. Brady watched her arm move faster. Heard those sounds speed up. “I’d spank you, but I wouldn’t want a handprint on that beautiful skin.”

  Sam stopped stroking, palmed Hanna’s hips, drew the other woman upright until they were chest-to-back. “So instead let’s hear what you sound like when you come.”

  Sam wrapped one arm around Hanna’s middle, hooked her chin over Hanna’s shoulder as she reached for the vibe and placed it between Hanna’s spread thighs. She turned it to the highest speed, rubbing it in a ruthless way that made Brady sure Hanna had no choice but to come. When the other woman’s body jolted, Sam looked at Brady, her smile wild, liked she’d reached into that box of Lucky Charms and found a marshmallow clover on the first try.

  Gasping, Hanna leaned against Sam. They stayed like that for a few moments. Then Hanna turned one sweaty cheek toward Sam.

  “Merci, Madame,” she said, then glanced in Brady’s direction. “May I play, now?”

  Sam’s eyes met Brady’s. His heart rate sped up.

  “You may,” Sam said, one devious brow slanting. “He’s all yours.”

  Wait, had they agreed on this? He’d consented to oral, but was something else happening?

  “I haven’t played with such a big toy in a long time,” Hanna said as she crawled toward him. “Your Mistress is lucky.”

  “Thank you—”

 
Shit. What was he supposed to call her? They hadn’t discussed it, so Brady left it at that. Hanna stroked her hands up his legs, scratched her nails down them. His body reacted, his dick going from soft to semi, but his head wasn’t in it.

  “Oh yes, such a pretty slave.”

  Brady looked away, mashing himself against the pillows. He didn’t like her calling him that. If he was Sam’s slave, it was in their own private moments when they were alone. But Sam would catch that, right?

  He waited as Hanna stroked up his thighs. Sam said nothing.

  “Such powerful legs,” Hanna said. “I liked watching them move. But you did something naughty just now, didn’t you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You called Madame the wrong name.”

  Brady’s stomach clenched. Oh, no. That wasn’t fair. He tried to see around her, to catch Sam’s eye, but Hanna got in his line of sight. “I’m talking to you now, slave. Apologize to your Mistress.”

  Brady closed his eyes. “Apologies, Mistress,” he whispered, but he didn’t want to be sorry. Not for that. Not when those blurred lines had solidified into one he could understand, one he’d finally felt good about.

  “That’s better,” Hanna said. “Always remember to treat your Domme with respect.”

  “I will,” he croaked. He thought he had. He tried to curl away, tried to sink into himself, especially as Hanna moved closer to his dick.

  “Good. Time to reward the little subby.”

  Brady flinched. He felt small again, while somehow massive, an ex-linebacker’s body with a mind that didn’t match. He didn’t want to feel this way, not in front of her. Suddenly he didn’t want this at all.

  But Sam didn’t notice. She watched from the foot of the bed, smile mischievous, her eyes shining. He pleaded for her to figure it out, prayed she’d see him squirming away as Hanna kissed his inner thigh. He was getting hard at her unfamiliar touch, his traitorous body reacting beyond his control.

  “Don’t,” he said, but Hanna didn’t stop because that wasn’t the safeword. Neither was metamorphosis. Shit. What had they decided to change it to?

  “Don’t what?” Hanna asked. “Don’t do this?”