by Zoey Marcel
Master withdrew into himself again, thinking hard. “So he knows Hammond and the piss poor excuse of a bodyguard you had, interesting. Did you ever meet him?”
She shook her head, heart racing with want when she saw his groin puff up and caught the smoldering fire in his heated gaze. “I doubt it. I never met anybody named Romanov or who had a Russian accent or name.”
“Maybe you met him and didn't realize it,” he murmured, tracing hedonistic circles in her palm, before trailing his finger through the lines.
The motion tickled, but his finger on her and that hard, searing “I want you” stare made her guts twist with carnal longing. “I think I would know if I'd met a psychotic Russian killer.”
“Why are your hands on my body?” he asked in a breathy tone.
Her pussy moistened, and her stomach clenched with mounting arousal. “I thought your leg might be sore from sitting up all night.”
“It is, but it's not the only part of me that hurts.”
The hard intensity of his electrifying blue stare was like a blowtorch to her riled sex drive. His hand slid upward, pushing the sleeve of her hoodie back so his finger could draw invisible patterns on her ultrasensitive wrist. Darn his prowess. He remembered how strongly that affected her.
She lost her breath when he forced the sleeve up even higher on her arm, his ardent leer somehow hungrier.
“What else is sore?” she whispered. “I can massage away the pain.”
His pupils dilated as he moved her hand to his crotch. His rigid cock lifted beneath the light weight of her hand. The subtle motion of sexual interest riled her passion. She ran her hand slowly along the appetizing length, recalling every delicious detail of his erection.
Her eyes rose to meet his hard, devouring stare. She circled her thumb around the head of his penis, making the tip twitch and bob in response. She held eye contact with him as her fingers journeyed back and forth in a gentle sweep over his thickening shaft.
She went breathless when his hand wound tightly in her tresses, and he pushed her head down between his spread legs. The scent of his lust overpowered her with an ecstasy so intense she felt dizzy and feverish. Kissing his crotch in appreciation, she reached for his fly, disappointed and frustrated when he clasped her wrist still.
Kayla grazed her teeth over the denim, displaying her starvation for his juicy meat. She bestowed fervent kisses on his increasing length, growing hotter and wilder when his grip in her hair tightened, immobilizing her further. Her lips parted, and she sucked on the coarse smoothness of his jeans, pressing her lips firmly against his cock, sucking hard on the clothing that separated them from gratification.
Master Hugh lost himself to a long groan that seemed to be equal parts lust and frustration. He heaved an annoyed sigh and pulled her head up, studying her with undying need. “Are you their sub or their slave?”
Guilt shot through her. Loyalty to the Langleys demanded she scoot her butt away from him, but an indomitable devotion to her first and only Master left her paralyzed to the floor, swimming in the sea of exasperation his eyes had shifted to.
“Their sub.”
It had never occurred to her that to kiss him there would be wrong. Had any other man wanted her to do that other than the five men currently under this roof, she would have refused and felt ashamed and disloyal if coerced into such relations.
But Hugh Langley was different. He and Virgil were every bit as dear to her as the three Langley brothers. Showing them affection and caring touches didn't feel wrong or disloyal to her.
Shake out of that twisted mindset, you dirty slut. Travis, Jake, and Keith probably wouldn't like it if you got their uncle off.
Master—No, he wasn't her Master anymore—Hugh observed her in the awkward silence, though he seemed unfazed by the lack of conversation. He didn't look guilty like she did. Merely dedicated to whatever decision his mind had arrived at.
“I mean it's not official yet or anything.”
Like that will make it better, Kayla. This was probably some Dom test they all arranged and you failed.
Her eyes stung. Great, she'd lost them all.
Goodbye now.
Hugh continued to watch her with a poker face that betrayed none of his thoughts or motives. “Under Consideration?”
She shook her head, trying to blink back the urge to cry and the flush of embarrassment that swept over her downcast face. “No. They're training me. I just agreed to it yesterday.”
After a long, heavy silence, he breached the void with a calm, interrogative voice. “Look at me.”
She balled her hands in her lap, fighting to defy him. Did she really want to look at him when she was so ashamed of her conduct?
“Look at me right now, slave,” he ordered in a low tone she knew meant business.
Her head involuntarily moved so she met his soul-searching orbs. He called her slave. Why did she respond? He wasn't her Master anymore. Why did it still feel like he was?
“Why are you a sub?” Hugh's question caught her completely off guard.
He didn't say “their sub”. He'd said “a sub”. As in, why was she submissive at all or why wasn't she a slave? The question was too probing. The true answer to that was likely more refining than she cared to be subject to. Too many needs. Too much fear and confusion. She couldn't have everything or everyone she wanted.
Was settling for halfway so bad? She could be happy with partial submission and three of her five loves. So why did her greedy heart hurt so badly over his question?
Keith walked into the living room before she could answer. He was dressed, but he had a spent look of exhaustion and an uncharacteristic gruff manner that told her he possibly had a hangover from the night before.
“You look so well this morning it's staggering,” Hugh quipped.
Keith grunted at him and stopped walking to rest his face against the wall, groaning. “Fuck everything.”
“Not a good idea,” Virgil teased, coming from the kitchen with a mug of coffee before a guilty, lopsided grin turned up his lips. “Sorry. That was kind of dirty of me.”
“I liked it.” Kayla offered him a weak smile as she stood, grateful to get away from the older man who shook her up inside and discombobulated her with his probing questions. She didn't want to be open about her dark needs and risk losing three good men who loved her back. Nor did she want to face the fears she knew a controlling Master like Hugh would make her do. It was probably good for her, but she didn't care.
Hell, exercise was good for her, but she'd made it a habit to do it as a treat several times a month the way ice cream should have been, though the two had somehow gotten themselves prioritized wrong. Oh well. Ice cream was sweet and comforting.
Exercise was challenging and caused her pores to open, spilling her sweat and exertion out until she was open and her weakness exposed. Only consistent training would make her stronger, but it was difficult, dirty, and at times daunting. Did she really want to go through the process of shoving the weight of her doubts and fears aside, allowing herself to be torn apart inside during training? To trust that through the oasis of recovering, somehow the pain would turn to scars that loving hands would massage and break apart until she was whole again and somehow stronger?
She must be the Langleys’ sub rather than entertain memories of being Hugh's slave. And she darned sure didn't need to keep wistfully dreaming about having all five men to herself. That could only end in heartache and with each man thinking she was a tramp.
Kayla walked across the room to where Keith stood looking like he hated everything this morning.
“How do you feel?” she asked gently.
“Shitty. I wasn’t in the barn long enough last night.” His eyes glazed, almost looking obsessed. The look reminded her of a milder version of his facial expressions when he had sex with her. “It's really bad this time. I'm gonna go ... somewhere.”
She panicked and tugged his arm. “No!”
Hugh's voice sounded clipp
ed and reproachful. “Don't even think about it, son.”
Virgil smiled, savoring his cup of Joe. “You're not his dad, Hugh.”
“Regardless, I still raised him for over five years. He's like a son to me.”
His fatherly concern touched her. Despite his tough old guy persona, she knew he loved his nephews like his own flesh and blood. She held Keith's hand, using her eyes and voice to plead with him. “You'll get past this, and if not there's counseling.”
Keith rolled his eyes, sounding grumpy. “I don't need therapy. Physical pain isn’t working anymore. I need something stronger.”
“No, Keith. Not that.” Her eyes burned, and she grabbed both his hands. “Please don't go.”
“I just want to go to the barn for a while.”
“So you can beat yourself?”
His expression turned sour. “I need relief, you understand?”
Virgil watched them curiously, taking a drink of his coffee. “I didn't know you were a masochist, Goldilocks?”
Keith glared at him. “I'm not. Is it so wrong to want to suffer when you deserve to?” He looked down at Kayla. “I need physical pain to take away the emotional anguish, or the remorse will kill me.”
Kayla stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around him, kissing him softly. She plundered his mouth with caressing strokes as her tongue intimately humped his. When she tried to pull back, she had to smile against his lips when he held her hips in place, keeping her body against him. He released her when he was ready to ... like Hugh would. The assertion intrigued her. Keith had shown greater levels of dominance than Travis and even Jake had.
Keith brushed his hand over her hair before sighing. “I'm sorry I snapped at you. I had no right.”
The sincerity in his steely blue eyes lifted the burden of worry from her shoulders. She grabbed his wrist when he turned to leave.
“I'm going for a walk.”
“Can I come with you?”
His focus shifted away from her. “I need to be alone right now.”
“Please don't hurt yourself.”
He rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Say I'm sorry at the grave Miranda doesn't have? What good is an apology when she's probably...” His octave faltered, and his head drooped before he composed himself. “I'm not going to damage any organs if that's what you're worried about. I just need severe pain and to see blood and then I'll be fine.”
“Don't beat yourself!” She begged, tears dripping down her face. “Please. Hurt me instead.”
Keith's eyes narrowed in warning. “I will not hurt you for a wrong I've done. I won't beat myself anymore.”
“You plan on burning yourself or cutting instead?” Virgil accused.
Keith threw him a nasty glare.
Kayla clung to Keith like a leech attaching itself to flesh. Her saturated eyes implored him. “Please don't hurt yourself in any way. You can go to therapy sessions.”
He shrugged in annoyance. “And do what—talk about my shitty feelings? I'm done with words. I want action, and pain, and blood, and relief.”
“Then let me help you. Whenever you feel frustrated or depressed, just train me as your slave. I mean sub.” Her heart stammered like a frightened child in her chest. She felt Hugh's knowing eyes burning into the back of her head like acid devouring her.
The sudden dilation of Keith's pupils and piqued fascination intrigued her. Did she imagine the interest that passed briefly over his countenance when she said the word slave?
“You can just focus on my training and showing me more about BDSM, and we could have sex. Lots and lots of comforting sex,” she suggested, feeling her pulse stutter at the lascivious curve of his lips. “We can do things. All kinds of things and find something that will keep you from ever reverting back to your old ways again.”
“Like my cane up your ass,” Hugh said.
Virgil snickered, nearly inhaling his coffee, and Kayla smirked. “Whatever works, but that wasn't quite what I had in mind, Ma—Hugh.”
Keith became serious and cool at her mistake. “You should show my uncle the changes we added to the club before he leaves.”
His suggestion stunned her. He wanted her to go to a sex club with her old Master? Was he out of his mind? “What?”
“Show him around,” Keith repeated.
There was something looming in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. What was he up to? “Okay.”
“How were you taught to respond, Kayla?”
“Yes, Sir, but we're not in the bedroom or doing a scene.”
Hugh broke the heavy pause. “Now isn't that interesting? Virgil, finish your coffee and let's go for a drive.”
“All right, hang on.” Virgil wandered back into the kitchen, draining his mug as he walked.
Keith took Kayla gently by the arm, warming her with his touch as he led her down the hall. He let go of her and closed the door to his bedroom.
She shivered, pulse drumming in a delighted rhythm inside of her. Would he take her to bed with him? “What's going on?”
He leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest. The impressive display of his strength and the subtle way he blocked her means of escape made her tremble and ache with submission.
He studied her long and hard before heaving a sigh. “What are you, Kayla?”
She blinked in confusion. “A woman.”
“Are you a sub or a slave?” His abrasive smoky blue eyes scraped at her mask until all pretenses were peeled away.
“I'm whatever you want me to be.”
A troubled blue storm of temptation brewed in his eyes. “I assume my uncle taught you the kneeling position?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Assume it.”
Kayla eased to the floor on her knees with her thighs spread and her palms facing upward. Her back remained straight, her head high, and her focus lowered, fighting the compulsion to search his face for clues. She waited for a further command. Nothing happened. She peeked at his shoes, keeping her eyes down. The way she felt him stare at her in the subservient position in complete silence with a total lack of indication as to his thoughts was unnerving and insanely hot.
Finally he bridged the gap between them with each steady footfall toward her. Her eyes climbed up to meet his when he guided her chin upward with two of his work-roughened fingers. “You called me Master once before, and out there you suggested I train you as my slave.”
“It was a mistake.” She felt small at the silent reproof in his expression.
“Funny how you've never made that mistake with Travis or Jake.”
Crappers. Keith knew. “You called me slave once before.”
The slight backward movement of his head was subtle, but she could almost see the invisible wall that emerged up around him at her rebuttal. He let go of her jaw and gently pushed her head into his crotch. The aroma of turned-on male thrilled everything female from within her. She timidly reached for his fly, hoping he wouldn't notice.
“Maintain the position, sla—sub.” His tone shortened with self-frustration.
Disappointment over his command and smug victory over his careless mistake made her giddy. Despite his denial, he wanted her complete submission just as badly as she wanted his total control over her.
“Yes, Master. Oh, I mean, Sir,” she teased.
A tattered sound, something akin to a muffled cry darted from her when he jerked her head away from his groin and glared down at her.
“Let's get one thing straight. I'm not your Master. I just top you in the bedroom, and that's all. That's all this can ever be. You'll be my wife and my submissive, not my slave or my possession. Not ever, damn it.”
Did he even realize how much disappointment was streaked across his stubborn face?
“Yes, Sir. Why are you holding back with me?”
He blinked, eyes glittering with wistful longing as his sexy voice softened to a comforting hush. “If you want a Master, then leave with Hugh. I can't be your Mast
er, Kayla, or your hero. If it weren't for my brothers, I'd warn you to run as far away from me as you could.”
“Why? Because you're human? Nobody’s perfect, Keith ... Sir. We all make mistakes. I've made a ton of them, and you still want me.”
“That's different. Your mistakes aren't half as bad as mine.”
She rolled her eyes. “You're too hard on yourself, and why did you tell me out there to go to the BDSM club with my old Master? Isn't that ... you know, kind of stupid?”
His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Are you calling your Dom stupid, sub?”
She smashed her lips together, rolling them in toward her mouth to rein in her flyaway tongue. Shaking her head, she mumbled, “Nnmm.”
“It sounds like you are.”
She shook her head rapidly, nervous and excited that he might discipline her for insulting him.
Yes, please.
“I have my reasons for letting you go to the club with him. I'm not stupid, just realistic. I know you still have feelings for him and for Virgil. I'm not blind, sub.”
Her head dropped at the accusation. This was bound to end in her losing all five men that she loved.
Keith's tone sharpened. “I didn't tell you to move from that position, Kayla.”
She straightened up, keeping her gaze downcast.
“I'm not saying to go and fuck him. I'll pummel your ass if you do. I'm giving you permission to do one last scene with him. He can spank you, flog you, or cover you in whipped cream for all I care, but no penetrative sex.” He stepped forward and cradled her chin, massaging her jawline with his rough thumb. “The only reason you came back to us is because you had nowhere else to go.”
“That's not—”
“I'm talking,” he growled, continuing when she fell silent. “The only reason you're not with him is because he sent you away to protect you. If he hadn't, you'd still be with him. Even your desires seem to lean more toward a power exchange than bedroom domination only. How do I know you don't just want me as a Master to replace him when he's gone?”
Kayla burst into tears. “No. It's not like that. I love you for you and him for him. I can't help what I want or who. Please don't send me away for it.”