Alves turned grey then white. “You have no proof of that.”
“No, but I have proof Murphy isn’t the golden boy he pretends to be.” Nash proceeded to show Alves the evidence that pinned Murphy as an embezzler. He also played him the recorded conversation between Thomas and the hacker. “You can help Fiona if you give me the info I need. What did Murphy have on you?”
Alves’ lips became a tense, thin line. He looked away from Nash, ran a hand over his short, dark hair. “Murphy knew I cheated on my wife. Fucker got pics of it somehow, and he threatened to tell Mary about my affair. I love her, Nash. I made a mistake. I couldn’t let that happen. Mary would leave me in a heartbeat if she found out.”
His words hit home. Nash remembered his own infidelity and remorse clouded his anger, tempered it with regret. “You want to nail Murphy for blackmailing you?”
“Sure.” Alves nodded. “And I’m sorry … for Fiona. You gotta believe me. I never wanted to do that to her. Fiona was a great rep. She didn’t deserve what Murphy made us do.”
“If I guarantee you protection, will you go on record about Murphy? Take it to Daniel if I need you to?”
“You bet.”
Nash waited until a fighter who wandered into the area left before he continued, “Do you know what Murphy had on Mako?”
Alves’ face wrinkled and his feet grew restless. He couldn’t hide his conflicted loyalties. “Mako was doing steroids and Murphy knew it. He told Mako he’d pin the whole thing on him if he didn’t help frame Fiona.”
Nash took this all in, his anger at the manipulative Murphy raging higher. “Bring Mako by my place tonight. Tell him I’ll make sure he’s protected if he goes on record too. We have to take Murphy to Daniel, but I promise you two will stay clean.”
“Thanks, man.” Alves shook his hand. “I’ll contact Mako and see you tonight.”
They agreed on a time and Nash left. The need for revenge burned hot in his chest.
***
Eli massaged Fiona’s shoulders with the wash cloth and her eyes fluttered closed. She let the stress of the day melt as she relaxed. The warm water eased her sore muscles and the caress of Eli’s skin comforted her nerves.
But her stomach tensed as she thought of the last words Nash had spoken to her that afternoon. He’d agreed to her proposal. Now she just had to get Eli to do the same.
Before she could stop herself, she broached the subject. “Can I ask you something?”
Water sloshed over the sides of the whirlpool tub as Eli leaned forward to kiss her neck. “Of course.”
“Remember how we talked about scening with other people?”
His chest stiffened and his arms went tense as they encircled her waist. “Yes.”
“Would you be willing to scene with me and Nash?”
His silence made her heart thud in her ears. Eli’s fingers dug into her hips, almost painfully, then relaxed.
“You’re going back to him, aren’t you?” His rough words tickled her ear and made her shiver.
Fiona turned to face him. The hurt etched into his features sucker punched her in the gut. “Eli …” She stroked his handsome face. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I won’t lie or make promises I can’t keep. But I do love you, and I want so much to share this experience with you.”
A low rumble emitted from his throat. “But with him?”
She feathered a kiss over his soft lips. “Like I said, I won’t lie. I still love him, too. I thought I was over Nash, but … seeing him.” She shook her head. “He’s like a force I can’t withstand.”
Eli’s frown deepened and he clutched her tight to his chest. “I don’t want to lose you.”
She smiled up at him. “You won’t. But I need you to share me, too. I know I’m asking a lot. I’ll understand if you can’t …”
He gazed down at her, his brow still knitted with wrinkles of concern. “I’ll do this with you, with him.” He let out a sigh that bordered on a growl. “I don’t want to, but for you I’ll do anything. I love you, too, Fiona.” Then he placed a kiss to her forehead.
“Thank you, Eli.” She snuggled deeper into his wet, slippery embrace. “It means a great deal to me.”
She had promised he wouldn’t lose her, but what she couldn’t promise was exclusive love, and she knew this hurt him. It hurt her to be so torn between these wonderful men. But she couldn’t lie to them or her heart—she loved them both and needed to be with them both. What the future held, she had no idea, and it scared her too much to think on it right now.
***
The three agreed on a day. Monday, because the club was closed then. Eli told Fiona to go treat herself, spend the morning at a spa and shopping, but she wasn’t to come back to her apartment at Claim Me until after 6 pm.
She was shocked the two men had actually swallowed their differences and decided to work together on this. So far, no broken noses or calls from the hospital saying she had to pick up two brawling, large males.
With her department store bags, she made her way toward the side entrance of the club. The place was quiet and dimly lit. Just enough light for Nash and Eli to move around should they need something on the lower floor.
She listened as she headed up the stairs to her apartment, but no sounds filtered from within. After unlocking the door, she slowly turned the knob and let herself in.
The main area, which was set up as the play room for her clients, was aglow in soft candle light. Tapers were placed in simple metal candle holders on a torture rack and on a bureau that held sex toys. Some tea lights lined the top of a shelf that displayed whips and paddles.
But the men were nowhere to be seen. At least, not yet.
A shuffling sounded from her bedroom. She put her bags down and headed in that direction. Before she reached the archway, Nash appeared at the threshold.
He was dressed in tight leather pants and biker boots. His thickly muscled chest gleamed, as did his long black hair. Smiling, he walked toward her and took her hand.
Eli joined them moments later, similarly dressed and looking just as devastatingly gorgeous.
They knew what she wanted them to do. Eli asked her to write up instructions for both of them, and she did. Wordlessly, they began. First they lead her to the bathroom.
No one spoke as Eli ran a hot bath filled with bubbles while Nash undressed her. Together, they guided her into the water. The scent of rosewood and vanilla wafted up around her, making her muscles relax as she sank into the warm, tranquil liquid.
One of them raised her up so he could sit behind her, while the other plunged his feet beneath the surface as he sat on the side. Thankfully the whirlpool was large, or it would never fit them all comfortably. A new, spicy fragrance tickled her nostrils as the lover behind her squirted shampoo into his palm. She dipped beneath the surface and wet her hair before he applied the mixture and washed her red curls.
The last of her tension eased from her muscles. The lover sitting on the end of the tub reached for soap then massaged the slippery suds into her feet, up her ankles. The more they pampered her, the more she relaxed, until she became one with the water. Her muscles were loose and limp. She was fluid and floating.
They made love to her body without bringing her to release. The lover sitting on the edge joined them in the water and, together, the two men washed every inch of her. She burned with desire as they caressed her breasts, teased her nipples, with a soapy wash cloth. Her lower belly ached for climax when they spread her legs and stroked up her thighs, cleaned her sex and rubbed her clit with the soft fibers of the cloth. She gasped out, knowing they wouldn’t give her an orgasm yet, and their throaty chuckles sent a shiver through her.
Once the bath was done, they carried her out of the tub and took their time gently toweling her off. They lingered again at her breasts, swept languid strokes over her belly, and their fingers crawled over her throbbing sex and clit, taking their sweet time in drying her there. She moaned and practically cried out for satisf
action.
But satisfaction would not arrive for some time.
When this was done, their touches turned from soft to dominating. With slitted eyes, one lover led her to the torture device she had chosen. They fastened her with her back against the Saint Andrew’s Cross. Her damp skin tingled from the leathery touch of the crisscrossed device, and her nipples hardened further from the anticipation of what would follow.
One of her doms selected a brilliant red feather, while the other forced a ball gag between her teeth and fastened it behind her head. She had asked not to be blindfolded, though, in her instructions. She wanted some denial, but she wanted to see everything.
The feather swept down the side of her face, lulling her into a false calm. It traced down her neck, over her clavicle, then it teased her hard nipples with its downy touch. But soft torment became rough when her second dom fastened clamps to each taut peak.
He touched a button on each clamp and vibration as well as the sharp sting of the pinching clamps zipped through her. She clenched her teeth and thrashed in her bonds.
“Stay still, mistress,” one dom scolded, then he grabbed a paddle from the table of toys nearby and slapped her thigh hard.
She bit her lip and struggled to internalize the pain, to not cry out. When she looked to her other dom, he appeared torn over this. He was new to scening, after all. So she indicated that the ball gag should be removed then murmured “green,” the safe word, to reassure him, and gave a smile to let him know she was enjoying this. His tentative posture relaxed a bit, but she knew it would take him some time to understand this world fully.
He went back to work with the feather, but soon traded this for another toy she had instructed them to use: a tiny vibrator with an exaggerated curve at its tip. The reluctant dom went to his knees and turned the toy on. He traced its smooth surface up her thighs slowly. The vibration made her skin tingle and shiver. Closer, closer still, he moved toward her sex, and her anticipation spiked higher, as did her need for release.
He teased her wet labia with the toy, stroked it up and down her slick opening. She squirmed and bucked her hips forward, moaning in her frustration. Once more, she received discipline for this.
“I told you to stay still,” the dom commanded, giving her three sharps raps on both her thighs.
The other dom bolted to his feet. “Quit hitting her, you asshole!”
Eli gave him a confused frown. “This was part of the deal! You read her instructions, didn’t you? This is part of BDSM. She’s consenting.”
Nash stomped closer and raised a fist.
“Nash, it’s okay,” Fiona spoke loudly and hoped her ex would listen. “Eli’s right. This is part of what I wanted. Pain and pleasure go together for a lot of us in the BDSM community.”
Nash gave her a bewildered frown, then his face fell in defeat at her disappointment. “I read your instructions. I’m sorry. This just seems… strange, I guess.”
To her shock, it was Eli who spoke encouraging words. “This lifestyle takes some getting used to. But, please, know I would never do anything Fiona hasn’t consented to. Trust is very important in these scenes.”
Nash nodded. “I screwed this up.”
Fiona looked to Eli. “Just take me to bed.” Then to Nash, she gave a reassuring smile. “Make love to me, both of you.”
His sideways grin told her he knew she’d forgiven him. They untied her and Eli let Nash carry her into the bedroom. They placed her on the quilt and cherished her completely, as they had in the bathtub. Lips and tongues glided over her wet skin, licking and kissing the beads of liquid from her flesh. Hands roamed over her flesh, squeezing her breasts, her hips, her ass.
She returned this attention, stroking their slick biceps, molding her palms to their sculpted pecs. Dipping her head, she lapped up beads of water from the valley between their pectorals.
Teeth dug into her neck, making her gasp as her sex throbbed hotter. Her hand wrapped around one steely erection, feeling blood pump through the hard cock as she worked it with her grip. Fingers explored her labia and clit, making sensation shoot through her every nerve.
Here, with her, the two men seemed to forget about their differences and lavish Fiona with attention, affection. She melted into their kisses, caresses.
A mouth closed around her nipple, suckling hard, while the lover behind her raised up her leg and wrapped it around his hip. He entered her pussy from behind and pumped in and out in a sensual rhythm. The one in front continued to tease her nipples, squeeze her breasts, then his mouth moved lower. His teeth bit into the flesh near her belly button and she cried out as the one fucking her drove his cock deep.
Those lips moved lower still until they closed around her clit. He suckled this bead of flesh, then ground his tongue into its throbbing surface until she moaned loud and long. The lover inside her alternated between thrusting deep and slow then hard and fast, as she begged him to do. She soon trembled and whimpered as she came hard while one ate her out and one fucked her.
They kept her lost in this bliss for what seemed like hours, making her orgasm three times before she fell asleep between them. When she awoke, Nash was gone, and it filled her heart with a great sadness to find this.
***
Nash glanced over at Eli. “I’m sorry about … the other night.”
Eli raised an eyebrow as their gazes met. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”
“I already told Fiona I was sorry.” He focused once more on the house they watched. “I acted like an asshole. I read her instructions. Knew what was involved. I just didn’t think we’d be slapping her so hard.” He winced at the memory.
“BDSM play takes some getting used to. For many in the lifestyle, pain is a part of pleasure.”
Nash nodded. He knew it would take him awhile to accustom to this world his ex-wife, and his brother, were now a part of. Fiona had explained to him that, for her, it was about the high that came with the adrenaline rush the pain created. There was a spiritual element too that resulted from pushing herself to her limits, denying the orgasm until she was nearly mad with the need for release. The pain heightened the pleasure and took her to an altered state of consciousness.
“Some live the life 24/7,” Eli continued to explain. “It’s not always about pain for everyone, either. Some find pleasure, freedom, through serving another. Satisfying their needs satisfies their own. Some also incorporate punishment not only as sexual gratification, but as discipline when a dom is displeased. BDSM is far more complex than most outside the subculture realize.”
They were parked outside Murphy’s place, waiting to go in and confront the MMA fighter. Mako and Alves would arrive soon and they would pay him a visit. Nash had selected a spot far enough away from the house so they would remain inconspicuous, but close enough that Murphy couldn’t give them the slip.
In an effort to kill time while they wait for Alves and Mako, he asked, “How’d you get into the lifestyle?”
Eli smiled, and nostalgia showed in his expression. “I was a street kid. Stole this woman’s purse and she ran after me. I was a skinny twenty-year-old back then and she packed a mean punch. She gave me options. Said I could avoid the cops if I’d do something for her. Turned out Rose was a dominatrix working for Surrender. She took me under her wing and the rest is history.”
“Where’s Rose now?”
Eli heaved a great sigh and looked away from him. “Rose was a former old lady. She left the motorcycle club she was affiliated with when it got too deep into dealing drugs. A rival of the cartel her husband was muling for gunned her down one night when she was walking home. They didn’t know she’d left him. The murder was a warning to her ex.” Eli’s voice went gravelly with emotion.
Nash reached over and gave his shoulder a brusque squeeze. His gut tightened with compassion for his rival. “I’m sorry, man.”
Eli nodded and looked forward.
“That thing we did … scening? Would you be willing to do it a
gain?” Nash said.
Eli shrugged. “Sure, for Fiona I’ll do anything.”
Nash locked eyes with him. The big Polynesian wasn’t goading him. He was just stating a fact. “So would I.”
Eli nodded. “You really love her. I see that. A man doesn’t go to these lengths unless he truly loves someone.”
Mako and Alves pulled up behind them, killed the headlights, and it was time to go. They all vacated their cars and met under the looming willow they’d parked beside.
“You and Mako cover the back door,” Nash said to Alves. “Just in case Murphy tries to run when he sees me.” Then he turned to Eli. “You knock on the front and I’ll stand out of sight. Once he lets you in, I’ll come up behind you.”
They headed toward the sprawling stucco rancher that was Peter Murphy’s home. With the cash he made in MMA, Murphy should’ve been able to buy a nicer place, but the money he’d gambled away must’ve landed him in this less than savory neighborhood.
Mako and Alves slipped around back of the house and Eli rang the doorbell next to the screen door. It took three rings before footsteps thumped toward them and Murphy opened up.
The big Irishman glowered out the screen door at Eli. “Who the hell are you?”
“Someone you need to talk to,” Eli said. “Open up.”
Murphy frowned and backed away, then he bolted. Eli tore the screen door open and sprinted inside, with Nash close on his heels.
They brought the big fighter down beside the couch. When he was sure Eli had Murphy restrained, Nash went to the back door and let in Mako and Alves. Eli ripped a cord off a lamp and used it to secure Murphy’s wrists behind his back. They put the big Irishman on the couch and gathered around him.
Nash sat in an armchair opposite. “Here’s the deal, Murphy. You’re going to tell Daniel Milligan that you framed Fiona. That you were really the one dealings steroids to Mako and Alves.”
Murphy scoffed and glared at the two fighters standing near Eli. “And why would I do that?”
Nash tossed a folder at the bound man. Eli untied him so he could read the contents. As he did so, he growled. “Running wouldn’t be wise, asshole. I don’t care if you’re a trained fighter. There are four of us and one of you.”
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