Destined

by Allyson Young

  There was plenty she’d like to say, but for the life of her she was having trouble formulating it all, her senses invaded by Craig’s spicy scent and the heat of him, so close beside her. Ash favored a citrus soap and shaving gel, she recalled, and surreptitiously sniffed to see if she could smell him.

  “Are you crying?” Ash snapped the question, and Craig stiffened.

  “What? No, why would I be crying?”

  “Maybe because you didn’t get away? Or maybe because you know we’re gonna take you to task for running in the first place.” Ash glared at her from the mirror.

  “I’m not crying. And you’re not the boss of me.” Oh, real grown up, Sinclair. Schoolyard stuff. Quickly, she added, “I’d like to know what’s going on.”

  Craig distinctly said, “You’ll be finding out soon enough.”

  His dark threat didn’t make her feel anything other than aroused, and how weird was that? Maybe it was the way he looked at her, nothing like he’d look at a sister. She felt the heat of those eyes as they drifted over her face and to her breasts.

  The bus depot wasn’t far from the outskirts of the small city, and she became aware Ashton was consulting the GPS. He traced a line on it and grunted in apparent satisfaction, then pulled off to follow a country road rather than go back to the interstate. Curious.

  “What do you know about ménage?”

  Startled, she turned her attention to Craig. “Uh, whatever the internet could tell me, I guess. And whatever I figured out, picked up from you and Ash. And Melinda.” She didn’t mention any of the other female names she’d gleaned from listening to the gossip around the area. Or how hot the idea of being sexual with her two men made her.

  “We have no interest in Melinda.” Sinclair felt like she was watching a tennis match as she looked back at Ash. His look in the mirror was steady.

  “I thought…” she faltered.

  “You thought because you eavesdropped at the vent like you did when you were little. And didn’t hear it all.”

  “I heard you talk about the girl next door and about Melinda. And … and me not being like the women you favored. You’re ashamed to be with me.” Her voice cracked on the accusation, and she willed it not to be true.

  Ash’s hands came off the wheel in a “heaven help me” gesture he used to use around her all the time, and Sinclair bit her lip. Craig made a sound so close to a growl she of course snapped her head in his direction.

  “I’m not waiting to get home, Ash. Figured you aren’t either, seeing as we aren’t on the interstate. I’ve been thinking about this since I read that goddamned note where you verbally smacked us in the head, Sinclair.”

  “Thinking about what?” She nearly shrieked as he hauled her over his lap, reversing her body as neatly as any calf he’d roped, to trap her legs between his own muscular ones. The top of her head rested on the hump on the floor behind the console.

  “Craig, I’m driving.” Ash was protesting, but not interfering. She struggled.

  “Then adjust the mirror to bear witness or find a private place to pull over. I’m not waiting. We were taught not to string punishment out. Sinclair listened to a private conversation, then didn’t hang around to hear us out. And she ran away like a spoiled brat.”

  Punishment. Sinclair tasted the word and assessed her position. She’d never been spanked and didn’t plan to change that fact. Besides, they were as much to blame as she was. “Quit that.”

  Craig’s big hand, maybe a tad bigger than Ash’s, smoothed over her jean clad buttocks. He followed it with a solid whack, and it freaking stung. Her scream nearly overshadowed Ash’s curse, and she felt the truck weave to one side and come to a shuddering halt. Saved.

  Another smack, this one on her right buttock, testified to the point the bucket seat had been slid forward to give him more working room. What the hell? She struggled against his hold and flailed her arms, grabbing behind her. All that did was give Craig the opportunity to gather both wrists in one of his hands and pin them against the small of her back. Whack. She yelled at him to stop. Her ass was heating up and stinging. A blast of warm air and the smell of country washed over her as Ash exited the truck before his door slammed shut again. The rear passenger door opened and she relaxed, waiting for him to make his crazy brother see reason.

  “Good hold.” Ash sounded grudgingly approving. What?

  “I can’t paddle her bare ass. Not enough hands. She’s stronger than she looks.”

  “Wait.” She lifted her head and blew her hair out of her face, but they weren’t listening. She felt fingers shove between her waist and Craig’s hard thighs fumbling at the opening to her jeans. “Hey!”

  “You researched ménage, darlin’.” Craig’s deep voice was laced with erotic promise, and she could feel herself getting damp. “Two pairs of hands, two sets of lips, and two cocks. All for one woman.”

  “But you’re spanking me.”

  “And it probably won’t be the last time, if you pull stunts like this,” he promised, and Ash succeeded in unfastening her pants, tugging them down over her hips. He pinched her ass when she tried to use her weight to gainsay the slide of the material, and her flinch allowed the fabric to move freely. She squeezed her eyes closed so tightly she saw white spots, her lower body exposed to the elements—and them. God, had she even worn cute underwear? At least she’d groomed last night.

  A hard, callused hand stroked over her bare skin, passing from high on her hip to her thigh. She heard the reverence in Ash’s voice, and it made things better. “She’s got skin like satin, Craig.”

  “It’ll feel better hot. And look sweet in pink.”

  Lord, she knew she was in for it. Their anger was still hovering beneath their obvious appreciation of her nether regions, but she hoped the worst was over. Besides, they blew me off this morning. Relaxing her guard was a mistake when her unprotected flesh was the recipient of a formidable spank, followed by another and another. She lost count at five and by then was weeping uncontrollably, her tears dripping over the curve of her cheeks.

  And then she was gathered up onto Craig’s lap, on one hip in deference to her throbbing buttocks, and Ash was crowding in beside them, tucking her head beneath his chin. His steady heartbeat soothed her angst, and she sniveled into more controlled breathing. He mopped at her face with a wad of tissues, and she was so glad she eschewed makeup. Raccoon eyes would be the last straw.

  As she came back to herself, she became aware of Craig rubbing her back and drifting his fingertips over her bottom, the light touch somehow easing the soreness there. A massive, pulsing bar of flesh, separated from her by his jeans, pressed into her abdomen. She hoped it was her near nakedness that had aroused him and not beating her ass, although it was likely both. She’d read about those things. And truthfully, her pussy was still wet, despite the punishment, if not because of it, and the nature of the way it was administered. They’d clearly done it because of their strong reaction to her flight—and the risk she’d taken. Easing her head away from Ash, she glanced down and saw the evidence of a matching erection caged in his pants. Hoo, boy. Two of everything.

  She looked out the window and saw they were screened by a stand of bushes, and understood that Ash had taken care not to take her … spanking public.

  “We’re going home, honey.” Ash dug a blanket from somewhere, and Craig eased her onto the seat to drop it over her from the waist down. She hoped her clothing accompanied her, as she snuggled down with her cheek on Craig’s thigh. As she exhaled, the bulge in his jeans visibly jerked, and she filed that away for another time. Her research might have prepared her for what to expect, but there was nothing like lab and field work.

  Chapter Four

  The sound of dogs barking permeated Sinclair’s light doze. The drive home had been fairly leisurely. She didn’t really sleep, anticipating how the evening and night were going to play out, but she was recovering from an adrenaline high. Getting caught just minutes before she got on that bus to Canada,
and then punished for running away, was so far out of her normal it took some recuperation.

  Craig’s solid thigh was beneath her cheek, and his comforting touch—fingers working through her hair, and then to massage the nape of her neck—soothed her immensely. Her spanked bottom was still a vague, heated reminder of her perceived perfidy, but it also spoke to an apology owed her. Two apologies, although she’d take one if at the hands of both men. Maybe.

  “Home, darlin’.” Craig sounded such a cowboy when he used that endearment, and her belly warmed in response. Her sex was still thrumming with anticipation. She knew intellectually what to expect, but experience … not so much. Hell, nothing. She should probably tell them.

  Ash took her from Craig, lifting her easily against his chest, corded muscles evident in his every move. He ensured the blanket covered her, a good thing, because she just knew the ranch hands were about, and watching the performance. She only hoped they didn’t know the entire story.

  “I’ll bring her stuff,” Craig called out quietly, as she was borne across the yard and up onto the veranda. Ash smelled comfortingly of his usual citrus scent, and she drew it deeply into her lungs. The sounds of encroaching nightfall washed over her.

  With a dip she barely registered, Ash had the door open and they were inside the house. Instead of bearing her up the stairs—maybe she was getting too heavy for him—he toted her into the kitchen where he gently set her on her feet. She clutched the blanket and watched heat flare his blue eyes to the true color of the prairie sky. It gave her the confidence to flash him a smile.

  Quirking a brow, he pointed to one of the stools set against the granite counter. They’d steadily upgraded the old ranch house over the years, and the downstairs mudroom was the last to be tended to, now the kitchen was finished. It had honored her to be consulted on all of the renovations, and that, too, had given her reason to hope she was reading their interest in her as quite separate from what they might feel for a foster sister. Like they were building toward a very different future.

  “Sit, Sinclair, if you’re comfortable.” A slight smile lifted his sensuous lips. It drew her, even as she was annoyed at his reference to her spanking. It hadn’t only been Craig’s big, thorny palm meting out those smacks. She sat, and covered any sign of outward discomfort with utter determination. Besides, she could admit to being a little turned on.

  “I’ll make something to eat. An omelet okay?”

  “Sure.” She addressed his broad back, shamelessly ogling his fine ass, encased in worn denim. “With rye toast.”

  A chuckle made his shoulders lift, and she totally relaxed. It was going to be okay. The door slammed, and Craig strode in, but bypassed the kitchen. She heard him mount the stairs and surmised he’d brought her things inside and put them in her room. After a pause he thundered down the steps and came to join her and Ash.

  He gave her a look redolent of caring and desire, and she was thrilled to see it, after the way they’d hidden from her that morning. They weren’t hiding now. Was it only several hours previous that the brothers had rejected her plea to join them in a ménage? Ashton and Craig Russell. Package deal. A deal she was determined not to miss out on this time around.

  “You okay?” She assumed Craig was referring to her bottom but chose to ignore that, and tell them what they should really hear.

  “I’m not as sad and despairing as I was.”

  The pan clattered against the stove, and she figured the omelet might be a lost cause, when Ash whirled and came to her, Craig pushing into her other side.

  “Jesus, darlin’.”

  “Sinclair, honey, if I could turn back time…”

  Two pairs of arms encircled her, and she was nearly crushed between two wide chests. A chin rested on the top of her head, and lips pressed against her temple. Craig, so the chin belonged to Ash. She’d cried enough today to fill a lifetime, but a tear still escaped and slipped down her face to catch on the corner of her mouth.

  “Can we put that behind us?” Ash crouched at her side and peered up at her, while Craig massaged her shoulders. The man could hire out as a massage therapist.

  “I’d like to,” she admitted. “Although I can’t say I’m impressed with the spanking. That might be difficult to forget.”

  Ashton’s face hardened, although there was still a gentle look in his eyes. “You scared the living shit out of us, Sinclair.”

  “And forced us to accept the truth.” Craig spoke to them both, she knew it.

  “Well, I didn’t get far.” And hadn’t called the school to cancel her practicum, thank goodness. She’d take the spanking, because they’d come to get her, bring her home. She supposed they’d have to talk about many things.

  Ash visibly swallowed some things she could guess at, but she wasn’t going to apologize further. “I was going to explain things to you better,” he said.

  “Uh huh, and would things have changed?”

  “You might have found out the truth about Melinda,” he muttered.

  “What is the truth?”

  “Jesus.” Craig was filling the toaster, having rescued the omelet. “Way to take the edge off.”

  Ash served up the food, and then buttered toast. “Eat, Sinclair. We’ll deal with this once and for all.”

  Huddled around the table, they ate for a while in silence, before Ashton broke it. “You saw us with Melinda when you were sixteen. Worst mistake of our lives, although I guess you finding out what we like in our pleasure isn’t the worst thing.”

  Sinclair contented herself with a knowing look and tried to focus on the food and not the memory of what Ash and Craig were capable of doing to a woman’s body. If she could forget it was with Melinda, then she could recall the screams of pleasure and loud begging for more, more, with a certain titillation. Imagining herself in Melinda’s place. She squirmed a little against the stool.

  “Melinda got around,” Craig said. “Not that I’m sitting in judgment. She liked what she liked. And we’re hardly in a place to criticize.”

  “But she wasn’t very nice.” Both men looked at her in surprise, and Sinclair continued. “Don’t forget my school friends have older sibs and they heard a lot. Which they shared in graphic detail. That’s why I was so hurt. She isn’t good enough for you.”

  Craig shook his head while Ashton rubbed the back of his neck. This was probably one of those feeling moments that men couldn’t put into words.

  When they said nothing, she asked, “Are you both really past the sister thing? What you said this morning? Because I’d rather not talk about the skank, if it’s just the same to you.”

  “No problem. And we are so past our stupidity, honey.” It was a relief to hear that from Ashton because she knew he’d be more concerned about appearances. Craig then confirmed it.

  “We were worried about what your involvement with us would mean for you, Sinclair,” he said. “This isn’t exactly an accepting community.”

  “Maybe not the older folks, but I don’t know if you need to worry so much about your generation. Or mine.”

  “Hey!” Ashton sounded offended, but he was smiling.

  “What? You’re an old man compared to me. You might as well add robbing the cradle to your other concerns.”

  “And that would have been true, honey, if I’d acted on the attraction when you were seventeen.”

  “Sixteen for me. Maybe fifteen and a half,” added Craig.

  “So we’re good?” It sounded as though they had discussed the sister/boundary issue and worked it through, but she held her breath, because she was doing this her way if they balked.

  She needn’t have worried. The two stares directed at her flicked an arousal switch she hadn’t known existed before. Sure, she was impossibly drawn to these men and fantasized about them. They starred in all her masturbatory dramas. All the same, if they’d gotten to the good stuff without talking the other things through, it might have tainted it. She let it go and waited for their lead. As she expected, Ash too
k charge.

  “You open up the suite?” He addressed the question to his brother.

  “I did.”

  “Sinclair, you go up to the master suite and use the bathroom, whatever you need to do while we clean up down here. Strip off and wait for us in bed.”

  Holy crap. Game time. Sinclair slipped off the stool to her feet and made her way toward the door with no hesitation. As she passed through, she allowed the blanket to drop to the floor, the rustle of the fabric loud in the silence of the kitchen. The fridge compressor kicked on but didn’t muffle the choked sounds made by her men, nor the clatter of dishes and silverware as they started clean up. Right. She bet they’d heave everything in the sink for Rose to find when she got back tomorrow evening if Sinclair didn’t tidy up first. But she giggled to herself and ran up the stairs, feeling only a little awkward wearing nothing below the waist.

  She hadn’t been in the master suite in some time, the door closed and the rooms unoccupied for years. As with the other renovations, she’d helped and offered suggestions from a female viewpoint, but had accepted the men’s assertion it was to be a guest suite. It took on a very different look as she entered. The bed was super king sized, to hold three people in any configuration, and her senses leaped to think of what three people might get up to in such a bed. The bathroom was huge and luxurious, and she surveyed it from her perch on the commode, considering the size of the tub and of the shower. Definitely fit for three with room to spare.

  For a moment, she thought about how it could have been meant for another woman—and still could be. But she wouldn’t think that way. This was for keeps. She had to believe that, and wasn’t going to waste her time tormenting herself with other scenarios. If ménage wasn’t for her she’d soon find out. But it was Ashton and Craig, so it would be fine. Better than fine.

  She sluiced water over her heated cheeks and washed up quickly, pulling off her shirt and bra. She exited the bathroom and stalled out. Her men were waiting, standing shoulder to shoulder, same height and breadth, and the bulges in their jeans looked damn near identical, too. But it was the expression on their faces that really drew her. Naked desire, heated lust, dark need over stark caring, a mix that galvanized her into action. She ran into their arms, the dichotomy of her naked self against their fully dressed bodies an amazing turn-on.