by Jane Jamison
“Do it, kid. We’ll help you anyway we can.”
“They’ll lock me up.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe not. If they think it’s better that you get the help you need, then that’s what they’ll do.” Michelle’s voice quivered. “I promise we’ll go through it together.”
Wiley drew even nearer. He was almost close enough to try and make a grab for the lighter. If he did and missed, then what? He caught Brody’s attention and inclined his head toward the door, then nodded at Michelle.
Get ready, bro. Get her out of here.
A lifetime of interpreting each other’s nonverbal clues served them well. Brody gave a return nod, showing that he’d understood Wiley’s unspoken message.
“Please, Curt.” A tear made a slow trek down Michelle’s cheek. “Please put the lighter down.”
She was making headway. Curt lowered the lighter again, but still hung on to it. Wiley raised a hand to act as though he was scratching his neck and put out three fingers. He started counting down, moving his lips without speaking as he did.
“One. Two.” One more glance at Brody. “Three.”
Moving as fast as he could, he threw his body at Curt and grabbed for the lighter. Michelle’s scream was followed by the sounds of Brody hauling her off her feet and over his shoulder as he darted for the doorway.
As though in slow motion, Wiley saw the lighter leave Curt’s hand and fly into the air.
Chapter Eight
“We have to go back. We have to help them.” Michelle struck at Brody’s back as he carried her down the stairs then out onto the front porch. “Damn it. Put me down.”
He did, but he kept a death grip on her arm. As hard as she struggled against him, she couldn’t get free.
“How could you leave them up there?” She searched the windows of the second story, praying not to see flames.
Brody stood tall and silent, his focus fixed on the house. The other firefighters came to stand alongside them, taking their cue to stay outside and wait.
Her throat closed up, too, unable to do anything more. Reeling from all she’d been through, her mind was a blur of questions with no answers, a whirlwind of fear without any courage to drive it away.
She almost fainted with relief when Wiley and Curt walked out into the sunshine. “Oh, thank God.”
The police had arrived and dashed over to take Curt into custody. After a quick discussion with the paramedics, the police allowed them to take his shirt and shoes, then pour something—water?—over the rest of his body. All she could do was watch.
Once the paramedics gave the okay, the police snapped a pair of handcuffs on him, then hauled him toward a squad car. She rushed toward him, but they wouldn’t let her get near. Handcuffed, with tearstains streaking his face, they helped him into the rear seat.
“No! I have to go with him. I promised I’d stick with him.”
Brody’s arms wrapped around her waist and held her to him. “You can’t go in the cop car. But don’t worry. We’re not leaving him alone on this. We’ll meet him at the police station.”
She didn’t want to let Curt out of her sight, but she had no other choice. As she watched the police car move down the street, the rush of energy that had sustained her gave out. The world blurred in front of her, then blackness took her.
* * * *
“He still won’t talk to me.” Michelle sat in the courtroom, getting as close as she could to Curt, Elbert, and his attorney. Although the hearing had been closed to spectators, Brody and Wiley had called in a favor with the authorities and had gotten her inside for the final hearing. She was glad they sat beside her. She doubted she would’ve had the strength to go through the ordeal without them.
“Give him time.”
“He won’t forgive me for not going with him to the police station. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Elbert told him that you passed out and had to go to the hospital and get checked out. If he can’t understand that, then he’s just plain wrong.”
Wiley’s strong arm pushed against hers, giving her comfort. Brody sat on the other side of her.
“I’m so grateful the judge expedited his hearing. And so fast. How did you manage that?”
Brody smiled, then took her hand. His thumb rubbed the ball of her hand, giving her comfort. “That’s one of the perks of working for the Firemen for Hire teams. The judge is paying it forward for our helping his wife.”
“You did? How?”
“Little one, you know we can’t talk about that.”
Little one. Would she ever get tired of him calling her that? She loved it as much as when Wiley called her baby.
“I know. And as long as Curt gets the help he needs, that’s all I need to know.”
Wiley took her other hand. She gazed down, and for the hundredth time that day, wondered how she’d gotten so lucky. She had two brave, strong men who were everything she’d wanted in sex. Outside the bedroom, they were just as gentle and caring, as virile and strong, but in a different way. Since Curt’s arrest, they’d given her the time and space she’d needed, allowing her to invite them into her bedroom for comfort, then sending them away so she could think. By calling in another favor, they’d gotten her off the hook for not telling the police what she’d known about Curt. She’d gotten only a warning.
Although she’d told Elbert everything, he’d refused to turn her over to the governing board of Hope House and had sentenced her to “working at Hope House for the next ten years.” It was a punishment she was more than grateful to receive.
The judge cleared his throat, ready to pronounce his decision. His gaze fell on them as though sizing them up, then came back to Curt. Curt rose to his feet along with his attorney.
“Young man, you’ve made some very bad decisions lately. You almost cost a man his life, then you placed the lives of firefighters and your counselor in harm’s way by your actions. For that alone, I should sentence you to the fullest extent that the law will allow.”
She squeezed her men’s hands, fearful of what the judge would order. If he sent Curt to Juvenile Detention, or worse, to trial as an adult and then onto prison, her heart would break. He’d come out of both of those places hardened and worse off.
The judge drew in a long, slow breath. “However, because I believe that there’s more to you than what your actions show, I’m going to give you what the professionals who have testified think you need. I want you to know that I also based my final decision on the word of a lot of good people, including the firefighters who saved your life, and many of the staff members at Hope House. They think you’re worth whatever it takes to put you back on the right path. I know you’ve had a rough go of it earlier in your life, but now it’s time for you to become the kind of man that will make you and those who care about you proud.”
He narrowed his eyes at Curt, driving home the weight of his words. “Tell me. Am I wasting the court’s time? If I get you the help you need, will you take it and do the hard work that will be required of you? There’s no use in my offering you help unless you’re willing to take it. So what do you say, son? Will you do your best?”
Curt’s frail body straightened. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay then. I’m recommending that you be placed for an unspecified length of time at Westmore Heights. It’s a rehabilitation and psychiatric center for youths with the best care you can receive. Once they believe that you’re fit to reenter society and become a contributing member, then you’ll come back to court to determine the next steps to take. Everyone, this courtroom is adjourned.”
Michelle rose along with her men, then put her hands on the chair in front of her. “Curt? Please, look at me.”
She pleaded with him again, but he kept his attention on his attorney. Once his attorney had finished speaking with him, he followed a police officer through a side door. From there, he’d get transported to Westmore Heights.
As soon as Curt disappeared from her sight, Michelle sat down again. Her leg
s were too weak to hold her.
“Baby, it’s going to be okay.”
Brody wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Wiley’s right. The kid will come around.”
She lifted her blurry gaze to his and fought the sting of her tears behind her eyelids. “I hope so. Can you take me home, please?”
“Sure, baby.”
Wiley attempted to put his arm around her to lead her from the courtroom, but she brushed him off, then lifted her head. If nothing else, she wanted to leave with all the pride she could muster.
* * * *
How could she feel so wonderful yet so horrible at the same time? Broken and miserable, she’d allowed Brody and Wiley to take her back to their place. It was a two-bedroom apartment in a bad section of town, but she’d have gone to hell to stay with her men last night.
She swung her feet over the bed and reached for her phone. Sleep had taken her hard and she’d slept through the night and into mid-morning, missing several calls. All from Elbert. With a clog in her throat and fearing what he might tell her, she listened to the message he’d left with his last call.
“Michelle, I know you’re kicking yourself over Curt. But don’t. Westmore Heights is a great place for him to wrestle with his problems. I’ve already checked on him and he’s doing fine. Please, give yourself a break and know that it’s the best thing for him. Take a little advice and take a couple of days off, will you? You need the rest. Okay, then, I guess that’s all. Call me if you need anything.”
She listened to the message again. Elbert had accepted her explanation for her actions and had forgiven her for keeping secrets. He was a good supervisor and an even better friend. The message finished and she left it on her phone, knowing she’d want to hear it again later.
The men’s apartment didn’t look much better today than it had yesterday. They’d apologized for the clutter, but it was the run-down appearance of the entire apartment complex that bothered her. Why would they live there when they could afford better? But Wiley had explained that they hadn’t wanted to spend much money on rent. Instead, they were saving to buy a house one day.
They couldn’t have been better to her. They were dominating in sex, but when she needed them, not only physically, but emotionally, they were there for her.
But where were they now?
She’d awakened with a need that had her pussy already throbbing. Tiptoeing to the door, she cracked it open and heard their voices in the living room. It was wrong of her, but she couldn’t help but listen in.
“She’s the one. You’re as sure as I am, right?”
A different kind of warmth than what was between her legs spread through her at the sound of Brody’s voice.
“No doubt about it. I don’t know why you’re even asking me again. Do you think she’s awake?”
She smiled. That was Wiley. Ever the ready one.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to disturb her. She needs her rest.”
“And I need her.”
“Same here.”
She heard the scraping sound of one of them standing up from the kitchen table. His footsteps didn’t go far, meaning he more than likely went into the small galley-style kitchen.
“Do you love her?”
Wiley had asked the question she’d longed to ask. She held her breath and waited for Brody’s answer.
“Hell, yeah. Just as much as you do.”
“Then let’s tell her.”
They loved her. Hearing them tell each other that they loved her was almost as good as hearing them tell her. She wanted them, yearned for them, and had to show them she felt the same way. An idea came to her and she quickly pulled off the huge T-shirt that Brody had lent her to sleep in.
Determined to make them understand just how much she loved them without using words, she marched down the hall and stopped at the entrance to the hallway. As she’d suspected, they were seated at the kitchen table. Brody was reading his tablet, while Wiley concentrated on the television news.
“Um, guys?”
They turned toward her. She couldn’t have gotten bigger reactions if she’d shot off a gun and thrown a flaming baton into the air.
Wiley perused her from her head to her toes, then came back up and stopped at the spot between her legs. Suddenly self-conscious, she did her best to act nonchalant, but still felt awkward.
Brody stood up, dropped his tablet on the table and strode toward her. Heat gleamed in his eyes as he took her in, then reached out and cupped her breast.
“Hey, little one. How’re you doing?”
“How do I look like I’m doing?”
He groaned, then ran his thumb over her already taut nipple. “You look like you’re starving for sex.”
“Not just any sex. Your sex, sir.” She flicked her gaze to Wiley. “And yours, sir.”
Before she’d finished speaking, Brody had lifted her over his shoulder and was carrying her down the hallway. She clung to his shirt and yanked it free of his jeans. She heard the whack of the door as he kicked it open, then found herself back on her feet in a different bedroom than where she’d slept.
Wiley was beside her and taking her breast in hand as Brody had done. She moaned, hoping to encourage him to put his mouth where his hand was.
“What do you think you’re doing running around without any clothes on? There might have been someone else in the living room.”
She pouted, puffing out her lips and taking his gaze to them. A vibration between her legs hummed its way into her abdomen. Her throat tightened as the yearning for them grew stronger with each second. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”
“Damn straight you did. When we want sex, we’ll tell you.”
Brody brushed her hair away from her shoulder. Even that slight touch had her quivering for more. “We give the pleasure. You don’t demand it.”
Wiley pushed his hips forward, making her more than aware of his erect cock. She wanted to wrap her hand around it, but didn’t dare. If she did too much too fast, would they stop everything?
“Do you remember your safe word, little one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is it?”
“Radish, sir.”
“Good girl.” Brody’s gaze went to a spot behind her. “Look at the bed.”
She did as she was told. A chain was connected at one end to the headboard, then strung across the bed to the footboard. She couldn’t imagine what it was for, but she was dying to find out.
Wiley bent over and dragged a large box out from under the bed. He dug around inside it, then stood up and held out a pair of handcuffs. He took one wrist and snapped a fur-lined cuff around it. He let the other cuff dangle.
“What are you going to do?”
The slap of Brody’s hand against her ass reminded her of her mistake.
“Don’t speak until we say you can. Is that understood, little one?”
She nodded, not wanting to speak out of turn again.
“I think our woman needs to learn her lessons again.” Wiley slid his tongue along her shoulder. “She must’ve already forgotten from the last time.”
“Agreed. Get what you think we’ll need.”
Wiley returned to the box, but she didn’t get to see what he pulled out. Instead, Brody took her by the arm and motioned for her to get on the bed. She did, making sure he got a good shot of her ample bottom in the process. She’d use her body to her advantage.
“Don’t think your enticing ass will sway me, little one.”
She flipped over to sit at the headboard. “No, sir.”
“But you are very pretty. I love the shape of your body. Do you want me to fuck your pussy or your ass first?”
Lust swelled inside her just thinking about his doing either one. “Whichever way you want, sir.”
“Now that’s what we want to hear, right, bro?” Wiley moved next to the bed but kept his hands behind him.
She tightened her pussy even as the excitement caused a flow of her juices. Wi
ggling her bottom against the bed didn’t help ease the pain in her pussy. Nothing would, except their cocks.
“Stop that. We control when you come. We control everything.”
She stopped immediately. She hadn’t thought they’d even notice.
Brody undressed, taking his time, knowing that she watched every second of it. She was proud that two strong men had chosen her. That they’d said they loved her. But she yearned for them to say it to her. Another rush of juices wet her pussy and the bedspread under her.
Wiley brought his hands out from behind his back. One hand held a flogger while the other held clamps. She swallowed, ready to experience both.
He flicked the soft leather strips of the flogger and trailed them over her shoulders. She let out a squeal, thinking he’d strike harder.
“Easy, baby. You know I won’t hurt you. And if it gets too much, you can always use your safe word. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Brody leaned over the bed. “Put your arms above your head.”
She complied and he grabbed the cuffed one then flung the other cuff over the chain. Taking hold of it, he bound her other wrist. Her arms remained over her head and hooked over the chain.
“Get on your knees.”
She had a difficult time doing that, especially when Wiley flicked the flogger against her butt, sending fresh stings into her skin.
“Hurry up, baby. Don’t keep us waiting.”
The leather strips rested against her back, then slid down before coming back to slap against her butt cheek. She let out a cry as the pain and joy swept through her.
She’d never expected to like the kind of sex play her men wanted. Dreams of rough play were one thing, but now she knew that the reality of it was so much better. She loved having them in control of her pleasure.
Warmth spread through her as Wiley added lash after lash against her ass flesh. She wished she could see the pink stripes he was making, but knew that that was for their pleasure and not hers.