Even more importantly, that it’s okay for him to want to play there.
Play being the key word, in Owen’s case.
I nuzzle the top of her head and kiss her there. I also gentle my tone when I speak. “Go clean up, sweetie, and blow your nose. We go out together. We do not tell him about this. Period. This is between you and me. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” She looks up at me and I kiss her, a slow, sweet kiss to let her know everything is forgiven.
Stick, carrot.
I release her so she can go clean up and put herself together. Now alone, I stand by the bedroom door, leaning against it, my head tipped back eyes closed.
What have I done?
Even though Susa doesn’t know it—cannot learn about it—a chink has appeared in the bastard’s armor. One I’ll have to carefully conceal from both of them.
Whether or not at some future point it’ll allow a fatal wound to be struck in what’s left of my soul remains to be seen.
When we return to the living room together, I sit on the floor next to Owen and praise him for obeying me by not moving, making sure I drop him all the way back into subspace before I allow him to go to Susa, where she sits on the couch.
I watch them together. As she folds her body over his, where he kneels in front of her with his head in her lap, I’m shocked at the jealous jolt that shoots through me when she speaks.
“Such a good boy,” she softly says. “My very good boy.”
It’s not jealousy at her, for holding Owen.
It’s jealousy that Owen can so easily access subspace and still trust her and relish in the freedom of giving himself to her ownership.
It’s a trust that was burned out of my soul years ago, and fucking hell, do I miss it.
Chapter Eight
Susa and I move past that. Fortunately, Owen is none the wiser.
This is one of those incidents that will remain private between me and Susa.
Period.
Besides moving past it, Susa shows me in everything she does with and to Owen that she takes my warning very seriously. Not only because she’s afraid to lose me, but because she truly cares about Owen.
Worse, she begins to regain and even increase my trust in her. I can honestly say I don’t just love her, but I’m in love with her. To the point that I know we have to move forward to the next step.
It’s time.
For once, time is on my side, and I’ve been able to take time to make time. Befriending Owen’s father has paid off with him asking me that, if he bought Owen a ticket, did I think Owen would fly out for Owen’s little brother’s birthday?
I promise to do him one better—that Susa and I will bring Owen out ourselves.
Las.
Fucking.
Vegas.
It’s perfect.
Even better, it means I can marry Susa before her father’s any wiser. Fucking Florida and their three-day waiting period to get married. It’s harder to get hitched than it is to buy a long gun.
Three days in Florida—especially in Hillsborough County—means three days that Senator Benchley Evans can find out a twenty-eight-year-old man is marrying his nineteen-year-old daughter.
Might not go over so well with the guy. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee it won’t.
But she’s a consenting adult, and this is my plan.
Don’t get me wrong—Susa’s beautiful, and absolutely I see myself spending the rest of my life with her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing this.
My plan, however, is for the three of us to spend our lives together. The fastest way to do that is to marry Susa, which we won’t tell Owen about, for now. Meanwhile, we’ll work with Owen to finally sever his last emotional tie to his thundercunt mother.
As soon as we return to Tampa, Susa and I will immediately step up Owen’s training and his immersion with Susa both sexually and as a Mistress and slave. Because Owen will see we’re the ones who faithfully and steadfastly stand beside him, take care of him.
Love him.
Catch him and hold him and protect him in his lowest, darkest times.
Us.
By the time I force him to choose us or his mother, he won’t want to leave us.
Helloooo, Las Vegas.
* * * *
I don’t tell Owen about the trip until the night before. That’s less time for him to stress. Since Susa and I are paying for the trip, he has no excuses to not go.
We fly out to Las Vegas on a Friday afternoon once classes end, and have dinner with Owen’s father, step-mother, and the younger brother and sister he’s never met. Hell, Owen hasn’t seen his father in over eleven years.
After a very emotional talk at their home, where Owen finds out his mother has pretty much lied to him his entire life about everything, Susa and I take him back to the hotel, where the three of us share a bed. Only for sleeping that night, because Owen has emotionally hit rock-bottom now and needs us more than ever.
It kills me seeing him so upset, but this is the only way. His mother is a literal infection in his soul. It’s a painful process, I know, but by cleaning it out for good he can start over and be stronger, healthier.
Happier.
Saturday morning, Susa and I, per the plan I outlined to her before we left Tampa, distract Owen in the most obvious and pleasurable way possible.
Orgasms.
It’s the first time I allow Owen to go down on Susa, and he does so with gusto. I watch, a thread of jealousy winding through me that she gets to be with my boy in this way, but I rip it out and refuse to let it grow.
This is the way it needs to happen. I’ll be able to freely love him soon enough.
After we drop Owen at his father’s house for the party, with a promise that we’ll be back in a few hours to have cake and then dinner, Susa and I go run our “errands.”
I want to do some shopping while we’re here. Tampa doesn’t exactly have a lot of BDSM stores, and this is Sin City.
But first…
We have something else to take care of, and that’s our first stop. Once we’re standing in line in the clerk’s office, I take a moment to breathe, reflect.
There is no going back, for me.
Susa’s all in, obviously. She understands I’ll own her and Owen, and that the plan is for us to bring Owen in as our permanent third for life.
Fortunately for me, Susa sees the benefits of having two guys in her bed every night, and understands that I’m bi and my ultimate goal is a sexual relationship with Owen.
Thankfully, Susa has a Kindle full of…well, fantasies she’s about to make reality.
I watch her as we await our turn. Susa’s beautiful, nervous.
Scared, but determined, because she wants this, is as hungry for our future as I am.
Looking even more beautiful because of it, in my mind. It makes my cock throb, to see how anxious she is standing in line at the clerk’s office while waiting to file for our marriage license.
That she lets me see her vulnerable like this. The way I get to see Owen vulnerable.
That’s so fucking sexy I don’t even have the words for it.
This is the real woman, with all her barriers to the rest of the world stripped away.
This is the woman only Owen and I will ever get to see. Not even her precious daddy gets to see this side of Susa.
Everyone else will get Susannah Evans, attorney, or politician.
We get her.
Or, in Owen’s case, Her.
But I mean every word—I’m only doing this once in my life. Once she’s mine, Owen’s mine. I know this with complete certainty or we wouldn’t be standing here right now.
For this plan to work, I can’t have Benchley Evans storming in and stopping things.
I need time.
I need her married to me, and then I can bring Owen in, and he’s mine.
She’s a woman of her word. Once we’re married, I’m certain she won’t back out. Especially once Sir’s completely in ch
arge. Once she’s mine, I’m not letting her go.
She’s my key to Owen.
Don’t judge me. I’ve never lied about being a bastard extraordinaire. I learned at the feet of one of the best mindfuckers there is and, somehow, survived the experience.
Barely.
I was used and discarded, with no thoughts for my future, or Eddie’s.
This is totally different. I not only plan on keeping Susa and Owen for life, I plan on dedicating my life to their happiness, their dreams. Because of them, I once again feel…alive.
Meeting Owen and Susa have restored a tiny bit of my faith in the human race. It’s restored my ability to love, to feel.
To trust.
Unlike her, I do have empathy and plan on loving my two pets forever. I’m not in this for some sick game, getting my thrills solely from the manipulation aspect.
I’m in this for life.
When I marry Susa, I plan to uphold my vows, and I know she will, too. She’s young in calendar age only. Susa is far more mature and knowledgeable about life than many women twice her age. We’re going to be a marriage of three, even if the most silent partner is the one who will gain fame first.
Susa knows the plan and wants to enact it, stick with it, carry it through.
Once Owen is mine, life will be perfect. No one—not Benchley, not Elandra—will split us apart.
I won’t let them.
It doesn’t take long. We get our license, we buy rings…
And then an overweight Elvis marries us.
Hey, I let her pick which chapel.
As I stare down into her eyes while the organist plays “Viva Las Vegas,” I can’t help grinning. I savor the unfamiliar joy swelling inside me.
Because I’ve done it.
She’s mine.
Now it’s only a matter of time before Owen’s mine, too.
* * * *
My plan works, so far. A week after returning to Tampa, I claim Owen after revealing everything and giving him the choice to stay or leave.
He chooses us—meaning he understands he’ll belong to me.
With that settled, it’s time to start enacting part two, which is working toward our law degrees and getting Owen and Susa elected. I feel confident, maybe even a little cocky.
With them by my side, I know we’re unstoppable.
Except…
All good plans have at least one downside. It’s the give-and-take of life.
I saved three lives and nearly lost mine.
I lived out my fantasies in Germany, and nearly lost my soul.
I gained the man of my dreams—who’s in love with my wife.
It is what it is.
Another downside is that I am not looking forward to explaining to Senator Benchley Evans that I am now his son-in-law. Doesn’t mean I’m going to shy away from doing it. I know how I handle this will set a tone for the rest of our marriage between myself and Susa, myself and Benchley, as well as for the relationship Susa and I both have with Owen.
If it were up to me, I’d consider life perfect with my two pets and maintain the status quo—get our law degrees, go into practice together, and raise kids together, the three of us.
Unfortunately, that isn’t going to come anywhere close to making one of my pets happy. Owen could live without politics if he’s kept happy in other ways. I know this with all certainty. And Susa would agree to a life in the private sector if I asked it of her, but she would likely grow bitter and resentful over the years as she watched others achieve what she did not.
I’m a bastard, but I’m not an asshole.
Keeping Susa happy will keep Owen happy.
Keeping Owen happy is my priority.
That means politics are in our future, like it or not.
I’m not actually sure which news is going to piss Benchley Evans off more—that I am now his son-in-law, or that Susa and I both now sport Is on our voter registration cards.
I guess if he didn’t want an independent-minded daughter, he shouldn’t have raised her in his metaphorical spitting image.
We’re on our way to Tallahassee for a weekend get-together the GOP is putting on for pre-law students. We’ve been married for less than a month, but finals are over for the semester, Owen and I are moved in with Susa, and we’re going to have dinner with Susa’s parents tonight at their house in Tallahassee.
There should be fireworks.
We’re staying in a hotel, obviously.
I’m driving Susa’s car. Owen remains quiet in the backseat as we drive north. Susa acts uncharacteristically nervous, sporadically chatty before sinking into sullen silences as she stares out the passenger window.
I am about to order her into the backseat with Owen to suck his cock and to put both of them in a better mood when Owen softly speaks.
“Maybe I should hang back at the hotel tonight.”
I glance in the rearview mirror. “What’s that?”
He finally meets my gaze. “Maybe this will be easier if I stay at the hotel.”
Oh, no, he doesn’t. If anything, having Owen there will help keep me focused.
But how to tell him that without looking weak in front of Susa?
I settle on the easiest default. “No.”
I return my focus to the highway. That should be the end of it, but Owen tries again a few minutes later.
“I don’t want to cause trouble, Sir.”
“You’re not going to cause trouble,” I tell him. “You’re likely going to keep him from blowing up as much.”
Susa snorts.
“What was that, pet?” Yes, I drop into full-on Master mode, without apology.
She’s wearing an adorable smirk that makes me want to pull over right there and spank her, and then fuck her.
“Daddy is going to blow his top. I don’t care if it’s only you and me, or the three of us, or the entire goddamned Florida legislature standing there when it happens—it’s going to happen.”
“Is that going to be a problem for you, pet?”
“Not really. Not for me. I’m used to it. House and car are in my name, and he can’t revoke the trust. I’m set until well after law school.” I glance her way and realize her smile’s faded. “I am worried about you guys, though. Well, mostly you. He’ll probably ignore Owen.”
“Me?” I ask. “What’s he going to do to me?”
“Remember I told you about the ratfuck he pulled on that guy in Miami-Dade? Sanchez? If you have the slightest thing in your past, he could blow it up into a massive deal and make your future professional life…difficult. At least in Florida.”
There’s only one thing that could be used against me like that—besides Owen—and I know damn well those people aren’t talking. Not without far greater risk to themselves than to me.
Besides, Benchley’s reach might be great, but unless he has contacts in Germany, they aren’t even going to scratch the surface of my past. I left no proof anyone could leverage against me. Burner phones and texting apps that can’t be traced back to me. No pictures—none that are compromising, anyway—and like hell would I ever admit any of it.
I was young and stupid, but not that stupid.
Chapter Nine
When we arrive at her parents’ home in Tallahassee, Susa doesn’t knock, she just opens the front door and ushers us inside, calling out to them.
“Momma? Daddy? We’re here.”
Poor Owen looks terrified, and I give his shoulder a quick squeeze before following Susa deeper into the house.
It’s okay, because part of me feels terrified, too, but I’ll never let it show.
Especially not in front of my pets.
Senator Benchley Evans rises to hug Susa as we enter the living room. My girl looks not quite as terrified as Owen does when she introduces us.
“Daddy, this is Carter Wilson and Owen Taylor. Guys, this is my father, Senator Benchley Evans.” He’s about my height and maybe two of me, a politician’s gut on him. Fortunately, Susa seems to mor
e closely resemble the woman who comes to join us.
I go for broke and hold out my hand. “Senator, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He shakes with me, but carefully eyes me as he does, trying to get a read on me. “Benchley.”
Owen shakes with him, too. “Sir.”
Benchley nods.
“And this is Momma,” Susa says. “Momma, Carter, and Owen.”
I smile and turn on the charm. “Ma’am.” I kiss her hand, and Owen follows suit.
She smiles, delighted. “You boys can call me Michelle.”
Benchley gave his daughter his blue eyes and his brass balls. “SusieJo talks an awful lot about you two boys,” he says. “I hear you’re all roommates, now, huh?” He chuckles. “Sponging off my daughter, are you?” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.
As Susa rejoins me and Owen, standing between us, I see Benchley’s gaze focus on her left hand, then mine, on the rings we wear, and storm clouds quickly build in his eyes.
Busted.
That’s fine. I wanted to do this sooner rather than later, anyway.
“Actually, I pay my own way,” I say. “Between my disability pension and my scholarships. The truth is, Owen’s our roommate.” I drape my arm around Susa’s shoulders. “We’re married.”
Ooooh, here we go.
Michelle frowns, obviously confused. “What—”
“WHAT?” Benchley thunders.
I’ll give Susa all due credit. Owen is darn near cowering behind us now, but Susa straightens even as she presses herself against my side. “I’m registered as an Independent now, too. I’ve left the GOP.”
It takes every ounce of will I have not to burst out laughing.
My girl is wicked smart. She just derailed her father’s brain for a moment. Benchley stands there, literally with his mouth gaping open as he stares at her.
I couldn’t be more proud of her in this moment if I tried.
Michelle finally finds her voice. “What do you mean you’re married?” her words bear a shrill, sharp edge.
“What do you mean you left the GOP?” Benchley demands. “You can’t do that!”
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