by Rachel Clark
Casey gave him a sassy wink. “Promises, promises,” she teased on the way past, but at least she left the room.
He’d felt Karly tense up as soon as he’d issued his threat and really wanted to take the words back.
“You wouldn’t, would you?”
“Paddle her ass?” he asked, trying to brazen out the behavior he and Bryce had been curtailing ever since she’d moved in. Karly nodded, but she didn’t turn around to face him. He didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes, but perhaps Karly felt more comfortable talking about this if she wasn’t actually looking at him. “In the past, and if her Dom asked me to, probably.”
“And now?”
“Chris isn’t much of a sharer. If his sub needs paddling, he’ll do it himself.”
“His sub is my little sister,” Karly said quietly. For a house with two Doms and a sub living in it they’d certainly managed to avoid the subject over the past eleven months. It was about time they talked through this openly. He didn’t want to scare Karly away, but he was determined for her to realize the difference between a Dom and a wife beater.
“Do you remember when your sister used to cut herself in high school?”
“You know about that?” she asked, turning to face him. He savored the feeling of being close to her when his hand slid across her lower back as she spun in place.
“Of course we know. It’s a Dom’s job to know a sub’s history.”
“So you’ve played with my sister?”
“No,” he said, very glad he could reassure her on that topic. “Casey is a masochist. She likes pain—a lot of pain,” he said, trying to emphasize his point. Karly needed to know beforehand what she was liable to see at Casey’s collaring ceremony. “Bryce and I don’t really enjoy delivering intense pain. We prefer to torture our subs with pleasure.”
Chapter Eight
We prefer to torture our subs with pleasure.
“Oh.”
As unintelligent as it is sounds, it’s the only word I seem to be able to force past my throat. It doesn’t help that I just realized Grant has his warm hand on my hip, his thumb stroking me softly through my slacks. “Pleasure,” I mumble as I try to get my thinking back on track. I can almost imagine the type of pleasure Grant or Bryce would be able to provide. “But…but…” I had a point to make. What was it?
Oh yes, my sister—the masochist?
“But you could beat me if you chose to,” I say, again completely losing track of what I wanted to say. His eyes widen at my poorly chosen words. “I mean, you could…ah…hurt a sub if you wanted to.”
“No,” he says, completely confusing me. Didn’t he just threaten to paddle my sister? But her reply suggested she would like it? Or maybe she just knows him well enough to know it was an empty threat.
“No?” I ask as my thinking seems to spin in circles. Isn’t BDSM about hurting the sub?
“No. Not if I wanted to. If the sub wanted it, needed it, that would be a different story, but it’s not something Bryce or I feel the need to do. We tend to avoid subs like Casey. Don’t get me wrong—we adore your sister—but she likes more pain than we’re prepared to deliver. It never would have been a good match.”
“So your idea of fun would be?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Do I really want to know the answer?
His hand is still on my hip, his thumb still caressing me softly. His other hand lifts to my face, and I suddenly find myself hoping that he’s going to kiss me. Both Grant and Bryce have given me friendly, affectionate kisses and casual embraces over the past several months, but it’s no longer enough. I want more from them both. God, could I be any more selfish? Not only do I monopolize their time, force them to curb their natural behavior, and disrupt their love lives, I also want both of them to love me.
Shit. How is my behavior any different to my husband’s controlling ways? Haven’t I—unintentionally, of course—made Grant and Bryce act differently because they feared my reaction?
“I’m sorry.” The words leave my mouth instinctively.
“It’s okay, little one. We know you’re scared.”
“It’s not that,” I say quickly, wanting to shake my head but unwilling to break eye contact with a man who has become very important to me. “I’m sorry for making you act differently, for not letting you be yourself.”
“It’s okay, Karly,” he says, sweeping his thumb under my eye to catch the teardrop that escapes my control. “We don’t mind.”
“But I do,” I say as I drag in a halting breath. “I mind. I refuse to be like my ex-husband.”
Grant gives me a smile and leans forward to press a warm kiss to my lips. “I’m afraid you lost me. How are you like your ex-husband?”
“He controlled my actions because I feared his reaction. You and Bryce are doing the same thing—restricting your behavior for fear of upsetting me.”
Grant looks over his shoulder and I realize that Bryce has joined us in Casey’s bedroom.
“The difference,” Bryce says as he moves to stand beside me, “is that Grant and I aren’t really curbing our behavior. This is who we are—Doms, yes—but for the most part just regular guys.”
“We enjoy playing Domination games in the bedroom, but outside of it we want an equal partner, someone we can share life with, not a fulltime submissive.”
“Oh.”
There’s that dumb-sounding word again. I’ve made so many wrong assumptions about these men that I truly am starting to wonder about my own intelligence. When had I become so narrow minded that I’d begun seeing the world in black and white?
“But you haven’t been to the club the whole time I’ve been here.”
“True,” Grant says as his thumb caresses over my cheek in a very soothing, rhythmic movement, “but that’s because we prefer to spend our time with you.”
“Why?” Okay, I really have to stop blurting questions out like that. Do I really want them to explain why they’ve spent all their spare time babysitting a broken woman?
Bryce steps up behind me and I suddenly find myself pressed between them. Amazingly, all I feel is excitement, not fear—an unexpected but very welcome reaction. Grant lowers his head, capturing my lips with his own, kissing me gently, but far more thoroughly than any man I’ve ever known. I’m panting by the time he breaks the kiss, but it’s when he turns me around and Bryce does the same that my arousal leaps into the stratosphere.
Holy heavens, I never expected that—wondered about it, daydreamed it, perhaps—but never expected it. Yet how selfish am I to accept it? It’s not like I can suddenly become a submissive, even if it’s just in the bedroom.
“Stop overthinking it, Karly,” Grant says as Bryce rubs his thumb over my lower lip. “Come to the club with us tonight. We wanted to introduce you to the lifestyle gradually, but with Casey’s collaring ceremony set for next week, we need to hurry things up a bit.”
“Hurry things up?” I ask, wondering when I lost the thread of this conversation. I thought we were just roommates. Well, I thought that was how they saw me, no matter what my imagination might have conjured in the loneliness of the night.
“That’s probably not such a good idea,” Chris says from the doorway. Casey is beside him. She looks a lot less excited than she did a few minutes ago, but she doesn’t say anything. “My sub finally mentioned something that I should have been told earlier—although I can appreciate that Karly might not wish to discuss it.” He gives me a sympathetic look and I’m suddenly glad he’s going to be my brother-in-law. He is a really nice guy. I know he’ll protect and love my sister for a very long time. “I don’t believe Karly would be comfortable watching the scene I have planned for tonight. It includes blood play.”
“Blood play?” I ask in a very small voice. Surely I couldn’t have heard that correctly. I feel both Grant and Bryce tense up when they hear my reaction. When Casey had seen the scars on my stomach a few months ago, I’d finally found the courage to explain to her the full h
orror of what I’d been through.
“I’m sorry, Karly. Casey didn’t know what I had planned until a few minutes ago.”
“It’s okay, Chris,” I say, trying to be brave. “You didn’t know.”
“But you’re right,” Bryce says. He sounds like he’s forcing himself to be casual, but I can hear the strain in his voice. “Thanks for warning us. We’ll skip tonight’s scene.”
“Casey?” I ask as I manage to see around Grant where my sister is standing in the doorway to her own bedroom. We probably should have taken this discussion elsewhere, but it can’t be helped now.
“I’m sorry,” she says, giving me a sad smile. “I was just really excited. I didn’t even think how you might react to seeing the type of scenes Chris and I play.”
“You let him cut you?” I ask as memories of the time I’d found her cutting her thighs with a razor slide into my mind. It had been a horribly confusing time for both of us. At nineteen, I’d had no understanding of why my fifteen-year-old sister would find such self-abuse necessary. She’d eventually stopped and we’d never spoken of it again, yet now it seems like she’s found someone who encourages her self-destructive behavior.
But Chris is so good to her. Until thirty seconds ago I would have said he was the perfect match for my sister, yet now I don’t know what to think.
“It’s what I need to be happy,” Casey says seriously. “I realize now that you’ll never really understand it, but Chris loves me. He would never abuse my trust.”
I really don’t understand it, and as Casey just said, I probably never will, but I want to love and support my sister, even if I don’t understand her.
“I believe you,” I say in an almost whisper. I move from between Grant and Bryce and wrap my arms around Casey. “You’re very lucky to have found a man who loves you exactly the way you are.”
It’s probably not an ideal solution, but it’s the best I can offer. “I’ll be your bridesmaid at the wedding and stand proudly beside you as you marry such an amazing man.” I take a deep breath, knowing I’m going to disappoint Casey, yet seeing no other solution. “But maybe it’s best if I skip your collaring ceremony. I want you to enjoy something that obviously means so much to you. Worrying about how I might react will suck the fun out of it.”
Casey laughs softly, a half sob escaping her control as she nods her understanding and hugs me harder.
* * * *
Blood play?
Hell, Bryce hadn’t even considered the type of scene Chris and Casey would play. He nodded his thanks to Chris for the timely warning, but the heavy feeling in his stomach still made him feel ill. What the hell had he been thinking? Over a year ago he’d decided to live a normal, vanilla life—he wanted a wife, kids, and a white picket fence, the whole nine yards. It was why he’d taken the job in Hong Kong. None of his plans required dragging Karly to the club to watch scenes that would be very distressing for her to watch. Why would he even think about taking her there?
He glanced at his brother and realized he knew the answer, even if he hadn’t consciously acknowledged it until now. They’d both fallen for her, and it felt so much like the relationship they’d wanted from the beginning of their Dom training that they’d forgotten that Karly wasn’t likely to ever want to live the Dom-sub, ménage lifestyle they wanted, not even in the bedroom.
Shit. That left them in a love triangle. Or did it? Maybe what they’d considered a very slow courtship, Karly had seen as nothing more than friendship. It seemed almost ludicrous that the woman who’d gutted him with her words and unfair accusations a year and a half ago—the woman who’d been the catalyst for his change in plans for his future—was the person he now wanted to introduce to a lifestyle she abhorred.
The whack over the back of his head, though not exactly painful, was as annoying as hell.
“Stop overthinking it,” Grant said as he stepped over to Karly, extricated her from her sister’s embrace, and pulled her into his own. “We’ll find something that works for everyone.”
Confident words, but was that even possible?
Chapter Nine
I glance at the clock again for the fifteenth time in fifteen minutes. Grant notices, leans over, and lifts me onto his lap. I’m a little surprised by his move, but I can’t say I dislike it. He’s such a big guy that I can curl into his embrace and feel safe here. It doesn’t stop me worrying about Casey’s safety, though.
“He won’t hurt her,” Bryce says as he moves closer, pulls my feet into his lap, and starts to massage them with his strong hands.
“I know,” I say truthfully. “I’m just trying to understand it.”
“Maybe it’s not for us to understand,” Grant says in his deep, soothing voice.
“This probably doesn’t help much,” Bryce says as he continues to massage the instep of my foot—the man has magic fingers—“but we used to worry about her, too. Even before the incident with Robert, but Chris is a perfect match for her. He’ll give her what she needs and keep her safe.”
“But what if things get out of hand?” It’s what happened with Robert. Casey had trusted the man and he’d nearly killed her.
“Not at the club,” Grant says as he slides his hand through my hair. “The scene monitors will quickly intervene if they think things are getting dangerous.”
“And since Chris won’t do anything more dangerous than a simple spanking outside of the club, Casey is in very good hands.”
I laugh quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a spanking described as simple. Does that mean there are complicated spankings, too?”
“Absolutely,” Bryce says. “There are harsh spankings, soft spankings, deep-tissue spankings that will leave bruises, shallow skin-deep spankings that will leave your skin feeling sunburned but undamaged. Then, of course, there is a whole variety of implements that can be used in a spanking—paddles, wooden spoons, hairbrushes…”
“You’re serious?” I ask, waiting for the punch line to the joke. When both men stay quiet, I wonder if I’ve insulted them somehow. “So…um…what sort of spanking do you prefer?”
“The ones where I do the spanking,” Grant says wickedly, tickling my waist with his fingers.
I can’t help but laugh, yet I do find myself wondering when he had time to learn all of my ticklish spots. “Okay,” I finally manage to say breathlessly. “Which type of spanking do you prefer to give?”
“The shallow kind,” Bryce says, moving his massage up higher so that he’s caressing and squeezing the muscles in my lower legs. “Usually I prefer to use a soft flogger on a sub’s ass and thighs. It’s easier to control and ends up only affecting the skin.”
“Same here,” Grant says as he goes back to stroking his fingers through my hair. “Although I am quite partial to flogging breasts as well. There’s nothing quite as pretty as quivering breasts covered in my marks.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to imagine what that might feel like. I am not turned on by his words. I’m not. Really, I’m not.
Okay, maybe just a little.
I’ve never considered BDSM might have varying facets of interest.
“What does a flogger look like?”
“Do you want to see one?” Bryce asks warily.
I suppose it’s a valid question. I’ve been so dead set against everything BDSM that they probably expect me to freak out if they provided a flogger for me to inspect.
I want to understand the appeal. I realize that I might never understand my sister’s need for extreme pain, but Bryce and Grant seem to derive something completely different from the same lifestyle.
“Yes, I’d like to see one.”
Bryce gives me a smile and reaches over to touch my face. I’m not really certain what passes between us at that moment, but I like the feeling it gives me deep inside. It’s like time is frozen. Eventually he leans over, presses a quick kiss to my lips, and maneuvers himself off the sofa.
Grant pulls me closer, his hand massaging the back of my skull
as he eases my head against his chest. I relax against him as I try to process all that this means. I’m a little surprised to hear the deep rumble of Grant’s laugh.
“Stop overthinking it,” he says.
* * * *
Bryce was horrified to realize his hands were shaking. Shit. He’d never wanted something so much in his entire life the way he wanted Karly James. The woman was very literally perfect for both him and his brother, but the likelihood of her accepting such an unusual relationship was next to nil. He shouldn’t be so excited that she’d asked to see a flogger. It was just natural curiosity. It’s not like she’d asked him to strip her down and flog her to orgasm.
He groaned softly, adjusted his cock inside the uncomfortable confines of his jeans, and tried really hard not to imagine what Karly James would look like covered in his marks and shattering in orgasm. God, he could almost taste the sweet cream he would lick from her thighs, could almost see himself suckling her clit as he finger fucked her to a second, more intense climax, could almost feel what it would be like to shove his cock deep into her pussy and fuck her for hours and hours as she screamed her orgasm over and over.
Fuck.
“Get a grip,” he mumbled to himself, trying to will away the hard-on that wanted Karly James and no other. She was ordinary, vanilla, not into the lifestyle. But wasn’t that what he’d decided he wanted? Hadn’t he walked away from the BDSM lifestyle?
He opened his “toy” cupboard, and the answer was staring him in the face.
No.
Chapter Ten
It’s taking Bryce longer to fetch the flogger than I thought it would. Has he changed his mind about showing me? I wriggle a little as I try to decide what I should do. Should I call him back and tell him not to worry? Will that make things more embarrassing? Or will I be giving him the opening he needs to back away gracefully?
“Bryce, get your ass back in here,” Grant yells down the hallway. He shakes his head as I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Overthinkers, both of you.”