by Joey W. Hill
He rapped on Lucas’s door, drawing the man’s attention from that jungle of numbers. “Hey. Looks like you’re doing nothing important and have your thumb up your ass as usual. Got five minutes for something not work-related?”
“You know, if my fondest hopes are realized and the legal system is overhauled so we go back to a handshake to honor deals, you will be superfluous,” Lucas informed him. “Matt will have to find you work in the mailroom.”
“Naw. I’ll apply to be your secretary. Easiest gig in this place, if I can put up with the ass pinching and having to wear short skirts to feed your misogyny.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll tell Beatrice you said that. She’s as much responsible for the financial success of this place as I am.”
“I’ll tell Matt to give her half your salary then.” Taking the banter as consent that Lucas had a few minutes, Ben strolled in, moving to take one of the chairs in front of his desk and balance his ankle on his opposite knee. Lucas finished typing whatever he needed to reach a good stopping place and sat back.
“What’s up?”
No reason not to get right into it. “Your lady wants to give you something special for your birthday.”
Lucas lifted a brow. “Oh? And are you risking her wrath to spoil the surprise? You know she was plotting to kill you just last week.”’
"That was a misunderstanding. Nate wanted to know how much you tip a stripper versus a lap dancer."
"He's barely hit double digits in age," Lucas pointed out.
"He wanted to be prepared. I figured Cass would be thrilled that he wants to see hardworking women properly paid for their work. Let’s not get side tracked. You know your sisters fantasy? She wants to give you that.”
It was always fun to take Lucas off guard, since it didn’t happen a hell of a lot. But the lifted brow immediately drew down to meet the other in a forbidding line, and Lucas’s silver eyes steeled. “No. I know her limits, and she’s not comfortable with that. If Marcie pressured her in that direction when they were discussing birthday ideas—”
Ben’s amusement disappeared. He held up a hand. “Hey. My girl isn’t like that, and you know better. Even if she was, Cass’s backbone is as rigid as some of those corsets she wore when you first met her. She’s not going to let her little sister push her into the wrong kind of session with her Master, even if he wasn’t sharp enough to catch her trying to do something she shouldn’t in some misguided attempt to please him. And this isn’t that, by the way.”
Lucas stared at him, but then his penetrating look was replaced by something unexpected. Regret and some frustration—with himself. He shook his head, sitting back. “You’re right. That was undeserved to Marcie and Cass.”
When Lucas rubbed a hand over his face, Ben recognized just how hard the guy had been working of late. It might be time to get him not only an additional admin, but a couple more accounting managers to take some of his load for this detailed shit. He was a control freak; they all were, which was why sometimes it was necessary to put a bug in Matt’s ear to force one of them to let go of the drudge work. He made a note to do that, even if he caught shit from Lucas. Over the past couple years, the guy had gone from dividing most his time between working for K&A and pursuing his amateur cycling, to being a husband to Cass and a guardian for her four younger siblings, three of who were still teenagers and living at home. He’d incorporated those large responsibilities without visibly missing a step, but he’d had to increase the pace. Even while continuing to be a supportive part of their extended family network.
Ben fondly recalled a recent memory of his friend taking Matt and Savannah’s daughter for a bike ride, little Angelique facing backwards in her baby seat, tiny head dwarfed by the helmet, her arms outstretched and mouth open, tasting the wind as Lucas pedaled.
He just made handling all those responsibilities look so effortless, sometimes even those closest to him could miss that he was getting winded. Maybe that was part of what had motivated this for Cass, to get him to slow down and change gears. She might also have been driven by what Lucas was explaining now.
“Cass has been mourning Jeremy hard these past few months,” Lucas said. “That second-wave grief crap that hits just when you think you’re getting past it. I think she feels guilty, like she’s somehow been grieving too long, as if somehow me dealing with that is a burden.”
Ben shook his head. “She has a generous heart, but that’s wrong thinking. Hope you’ve set her straight.”
“Several times, but I’ve obviously gotten a little hypervigilant if I jumped to such a bullshit assumption about her and Marcie.” Lucas’s expression sharpened as he connected the dots he’d missed at the outset. It had only taken him two minutes to catch up, so Ben wouldn’t fault him on it. “Why are you coming to me about this?”
“Because Cass talked about it with Marcie. She asked her to bring it to me so, if I was convinced, I could convince you this is a shared gift, something she wants as much as she wants to give it to you. Marcie is as aware of Cass’s grief as you are, because you two are closest to her. If Cass was doing what you’re worried about, Marcie would have caught it just as quickly, and defused it without bringing it to me. Marcie has a radar for bullshit like a bloodhound.”
As he well knew. When they were first getting together, she’d seen through every wall he’d thrown up to persuade her he didn’t want her, and his insistence that she was misreading his signals. Looking back now, he couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot, denying himself the thing that would save his soul. In fairness, it was because he was sure he would taint hers. But it had worked out because Marcie finally convinced him that she loved and needed him as much as he needed her.
While it would be Lucas’s privilege to get to the bottom of all his submissive’s thinking on it before anything happened, Ben suspected the same foundation of logic was at work here. If Cass wanted Lucas to have something she’d seemed adamantly against for so long, something had changed for her. Something to make her want it now.
Ben shared that perspective with Lucas. Lucas’s countenance became more thoughtful. “So why didn’t Marcie come to me directly about this?”
“I think your brain is still caught up in these numbers, so I’m going to sit here for a minute and let you think it through. But here’s a hint. This isn’t about Nate having a problem with algebra.”
Lucas’s well-defined jaw eased as he allowed himself a wry smile. “If Marcie had come to me with this, it wouldn’t be as my sister-in-law. It’s a sub coming to a Dom.”
“Amazing. He can be taught. She would never have that kind of conversation with you. She also knew if I believed her, you would believe me, because we evaluate things differently when it’s coming from our submissives, versus our wives.” Ben shifted, putting the other ankle on the opposite knee. “The other reason she didn’t come to you—dumbass—is that your sister fantasy involves my woman. If she initiated a conversation with you about that, I would beat her ass. And not in a way she would enjoy.”
“Is that even possible? Cause short of you using a paddle embedded with barbed fishing hooks, I’m not seeing her having a problem with any—”
Ben bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Shut up. What about it? You want to think about it, or you want to put the wheels in motion?”
“I’m still missing a piece here.” Lucas folded his arms on the desk and leaned forward. “And that’s how you and Marcie feel about it. I expect it wouldn’t have reached me if Marcie wasn’t comfortable with it, because Cass can read her sister, too. But what about you? You cool with this?”
"You’ve nursed this fantasy forever about eating both sisters' pussies in the same room at damn near at the same time. Since you’re a bitch to buy for because you go out and purchase anything you want before we can do it, this saves me some birthday shopping.”
“Yeah. Asshole. Give me a serious answer.”
Ben leaned back in the chair, propping his shoe on the edge of Lucas’s desk before
meeting the other man’s eyes. “You’re my brother,” he said simply. “Marcie and I want to help Cass give you this gift. I trust you with Marcie’s wellbeing without reservation. Hell, probably more than I trust myself with her. I hope you know you can trust me with Cass.”
“I do.” A muscle flexed in Lucas’s jaw. “Okay. I’ll talk to Cass and get this straight between the two of us. Then I’ll let you know.”
“Got it.” Ben rose. “That Ritz-Carlton suite might be a pretty sweet setting for it. You know Cass loves the terrace overlooking the river and the French Quarter. Me and Marcie could take a suite across the hall and join you guys when you’re ready, but give you privacy afterward if you want. Though that king would sleep four easy enough.”
“I will not spoon with you, even if you beg,” Lucas said.
“I’m crushed. Seriously, let me know. We’ll have some planning to do if it’s a go. I want details about what you have in mind to do with two beautiful women at your feet for the entire night.”
“Sure you have to be there?” Lucas chuckled as Ben shot him an appropriately rude gesture at the door.
“Long fall from that terrace, Bicycle-Boy. Then I’d have two beautiful women at my feet for the rest of the night. You know Cass is as practical as you are about money. She wouldn’t want to call in the law until we at least got a night’s worth out of the suite. And drank all the complimentary champagne.”
As the lawyer took his leave, Lucas turned back to his screen, still grinning. Then he sobered. For a few minutes, the columns in front of him were the last thing on his mind as he put together what he wanted to do next. He made a quick adjustment on his shared calendar so Beatrice would know he’d be going out for lunch today.
He needed to have a heart-to-heart with his submissive, and that was something best done on a lunch break, rather than this evening when they’d have the mid-week needs of three teenagers hitting them the moment they hit the door.
But the Ritz-Carlton suite was a decent idea. He shot off a note to the head manager at the hotel, to put the wheels in motion. When he at last started working on the numbers again, his mind had a pleasant side distraction—what he planned to have for lunch.
Part Three
Cass chose to work through noon, but she sent her administrative assistant out to enjoy the late fall weather, since New Orleans didn’t have many sunny days that didn’t come hand-in-hand with oppressive humidity. Nell had already teased her by shooting her a quick selfie from the overlook of Jackson Square, her hair fluttering in the breeze, the Mississippi behind her. Bitch.
Cass should have heard her visitor approach, but within seconds of setting aside her phone, she was back in a deep analysis of the report on her screen. However, it didn’t take too long for a prickling on her nape to tell her she wasn’t alone. The exotic, masculine fragrance of her husband’s aftershave confirmed it. His fingers tunneled in her hair, an expected caress, but she gasped as he gripped and pulled her head back in one decisive, heart-stopping move that was pure Master, giving her no time to look at him. His lips pressed against her throat as her fingers slid off her keyboard to grip the edge of her desk. She’d slipped off her heels and her toes, clad in thin stockings, curled into the carpet.
He used teeth as he slid his other hand up from her waist to cup her breast and explore. Heat swept through her core, a trembling breath whispering out from between her parted lips. “Did I give you permission to wear this today?” he said.
She shook her head. They didn’t really do a lot of the 24/7 stuff, like him telling her what she could wear to work, but she understood why he’d asked. It had been awhile since she’d donned a corset beneath her work clothes. Her nails dug into the wood veneer as he bit her throat harder, tracing her pulsing carotid with his clever tongue. Oh-so-lightly, he brushed her nipple through the thin satin cup of the corset.
“Hmm.” Straightening, he moved to her office door, closed and locked it. Leaning against it, he looked at her. That kind of look.
He’d stopped by plenty of times to take her to lunch, or to give her a heated but friendly and quick hello kiss, ways to touch base with one another. On a normal day, they were extraordinarily busy, but she did the same with him when she could, their offices only a short distance from each other. She made the time, not because it was the proper, recommended thing to do, some pop-shrink yet very valid advice about prioritizing time for your marriage. They did it because they wanted and needed to see each other as often as it could be managed. Silly as it might sound, when she looked at him, the Christina Perri song about waiting a thousand years for him always rang true. She wasn’t anywhere near that age, but the road to get to him had at times seemed endless.
When she’d first seen him in an office environment, he’d been wearing an outfit much like he wore today. Expensive gray suit, silver tie and crisp white dress shirt with the proper length of cuffs edging out from beneath the jacket sleeves. His aftershave combined with his heated male smell had made her imagine an Egyptian prince, never mind the ethnic discrepancy that his streaked blond hair and silver-gray eyes tossed into that analogy. Something about his singular intensity, the steady gaze, the way he moved his lean and powerful body, had made her imagine him walking the halls of an ancient palace. He’d be wearing a silk tunic, and his dark, kohl-rimmed eyes would assess everyone he saw. The way he seemed to be assessing her now, which gave her the desire to do what any concubine in the hallways would do who saw their prince. Kneel, and wait for his attention.
In so many aspects of their lives, they were partners. They shared guardianship of her siblings, and made many decisions related to them. They had arguments, too, like any other husband and wife. Since she was a professional negotiator, he claimed it was almost impossible to win a fight with her. But when he gazed at her with the unsmiling, steady look he had now, there was no question who held the upper hand. When he was like this, she wanted him to have it. But she felt a fluttering too, sensing there was more to this visit than just the pleasurable destruction of her work-related concentration.
“Let me see it,” he said softly. “All of it.”
Everything in her wanted to obey. With barely any hesitation, she tucked her feet back into her shoes and rose, her fingers already slipping the buttons of her blouse. As she shrugged it off her shoulders, she moved around the desk and unzipped the skirt, letting it pool around her feet. Since she was decently tall, she’d be able to meet his eyes, but even in heels he still had her by a few inches.
He came to her now, extending his hand palm up. She laid hers in it and used his grip to step out of the circle her skirt had formed.
She wore thigh-high stockings in light pink lace. The corset was white with touches of pink ribbon, but since it was designed to go under clothing, there was little embellishment. Just satin and boning that clung to her curves, nipped in her waist and molded over her hips, the front forming a point over above her mons, the back edged with a ribbon trim over her buttocks.
He moved around her, one hand settling at her waist. His breath was on her bare shoulder blades as he slid his other fingers into the laces tied at the small of her back and twisted, eliciting another gasp from between her moist lips.
“What was our rule about you wearing one of these?” His voice was mild, but the coolness beneath sent a shiver up her spine. She was at work, but he’d timed his arrival well, knowing how likely it was she’d work through lunch and send Nell off without her.
“If I wear one, you put it on me.”
“Yes. Why?”
Now he was untying the laces, loosening, adjusting, his fingers awakening need wherever he touched. His thumbs slid over the rise of her backside in the silky panties she wore with the corset.
“Because… the hold of it, you lacing me into it, is a reminder of who holds me.” Whenever she needed it, however she needed to be held.
“And?” he queried pleasantly.
She was stumped. “I don’t—”
“Becaus
e I do this better, sweetheart,” he said, pulling the laces taut in one smooth movement.
It constricted the corset’s hold more than she could do it, enough to emphasize both his points. Arousal, already simmering, flared hot. And he knew that, too.
He eased her down to her elbows on the desk and nudged at her ankle with one polished dress shoe. Desire and trepidation made her stomach quake. His belt was his preferred tool for reminding her of the rules, and she loved it as much as she sometimes quaked at how effectively he wielded it. But that wasn’t what he had in mind.
“Spread your legs and lift that beautiful ass, Cassie. I haven’t had my lunch, and I’m in the mood for my favorite meal. What is it?”
Sometimes she stumbled over the word, but today she managed it in a breathless whisper. “My pussy.”
“Mm-hm.” He slid his thumbs under the delicate straps of her underwear and took them down to her thighs, so she felt the elastic stretch against them. Clasping the cloth between her legs, he rubbed his fingers over the cotton crotch.
“Already getting my lunch heated for me, I see. Here. I think you’ll need this. Open up.”
He’d rolled his handkerchief into a tight wad he inserted into her mouth, so she could bite down on it. It would muffle the sounds he would undoubtedly wrest from her. Self-control wasn’t an option with him. All control was his.
Dropping to one knee behind her, he put his strong hands on her upper thighs and buttocks and settled to it. She’d seen him savor a seven-course meal at a diamond-rated restaurant. He gave the same time and attention to savoring her pussy. Probably more. There was no rush for him when he did this. Oral sex wasn’t a bridge to fucking her, though that often happened afterward. He treated her cunt like a multi-city tour. Every inch was a destination, and he didn’t rush even one of them.