Seduced by Her Two Masters [The Wolf Masters 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Berengaria Brown

  How the hell were three of them supposed to overpower six men?

  Bronx tapped Carson, made the gesture of pulling out his cell phone and mouthed, “911”.

  Carson nodded and walked back away from the wall and around the corner so the noise of his call wouldn’t alert the bad guys.

  Great. Now there were two of them to fight off three men each. But Bronx was correct. Carson was an attorney and would handle the call to emergency services much better than he ever would. But he wasn’t at all sure he could fight three men at once. He’d just have to fight smart. Or dirty. Either would work.

  From his position flat on the pavement, Cody looked around the corner again. One of the men was getting quite worried, moving from foot to foot edgily and whispering at the man with the keys to hurry up. Last time, when he’d been inside the B-train, unable to know exactly what was happening, everything had seemed to take forever. Even now that he could watch, things still seemed to occur in slow motion. Time stretched out, and with it his nerves stretched too, until he was as tense as a guitar string about to break.

  When the men began to push the roller door up, he was so nervous he almost levitated off the ground at the noise. Bronx patted his shoulder, which didn’t really help, but he took some big breaths. Cody also understood that they needed to wait. One of the reasons the men would have gotten out of trouble so quickly last time was that they hadn’t actually stolen anything. This time he, Carson, and Bronx needed to let them actually steal something that didn’t belong to them. Something that the police would instantly know wasn’t theirs. But hopefully not one of Anne’s precious sculptures.

  The men disappeared inside the loading bay. Cody looked at Bronx but he shook his head. Okay, they needed to wait some more. A few minutes later Carson joined them, giving them the thumbs-up sign. Well at least the police should be coming soon. Bronx led them through the metal gates and they hugged the building as they moved toward the open roller door.

  A minivan was parked just inside the roller door and the men were moving a heavy crate—one of Anne’s sculptures Cody was sure—toward the van. Cody crouched down and ducked inside the loading bay. He pulled the keys out of the minivan’s ignition and tiptoed outside back to the wall where Bronx and Carson were still waiting. Then he threw the keys into a dumpster, hearing them clink as they slid inside it. Shit, he hoped the dumpster wasn’t empty. He hadn’t thought of that.

  He heard sirens coming toward them and relaxed. The police. Good. Anne’s sculpture wouldn’t be stolen this time either.

  Unfortunately the men in the gallery heard it, too, and there was shouting and complaining, the van door slammed shut then someone was yelling, “Where are the fucking keys, you moron?”

  “Just push it. I’ll hotwire it in a minute.”

  “Lock the gate,” said Bronx.

  They raced outside the gate, shoving the metal bar across and hearing it give a satisfactory click as the lock engaged. But the men pushing the minivan weren’t going to stop. They were all behind the van shoving hard as it slammed into the gate.

  Well shit, he was going to have to fight after all.

  Chapter Four

  Anne wasn’t sure whether she’d gone to sleep or not. First Carson had wanted to read the paperwork from the gallery, and then he’d said he and Cody had to go out. It took a little while for the gears in her brain to engage, but it wasn’t long before she sat up in bed understanding that something about her paperwork wasn’t right and the men had gone to the gallery. It was the middle of the night, so likely Carson wasn’t going as an attorney to argue about some detail in the contract. They were going as men, or possibly wolves, because they thought her sculptures were still at risk.

  “Fucking hell. What did I miss in the paperwork?” Anne jumped out of bed and grabbed the papers from her purse, and then went into the kitchen. She made herself some coffee and read through the contract carefully. It took her quite a while to make her way around the long sentences but finally she got the message. What was that saying? “All care, no responsibility”? Yeah, well that was them. If her sculptures were stolen, as far as the gallery was concerned, it was just too fucking bad.

  She’d be negotiating a new contract first thing tomorrow morning. Meanwhile she hoped the men wasted their time tonight. Surely the robbers wouldn’t be back so soon. How long did it take to get out of jail on bail anyway?

  She was wide awake now, so she went and got dressed, made more coffee, and sat down with a notepad. Likely Carson would be better at this than her, but she really ought to think about what she wanted in her contract.

  She was still sitting, staring blankly into space when the doorbell rang.

  Who knew they were here? Who could it be? One of the werewolves would have rung on their cell phone first.

  Ben and Jerry raced to the door and stood there waiting for her to open it. As she stood up from the table Nevis appeared, wearing her jeans and with her sweater on back-to-front.

  Nevis marched to the door and said, “Who is it?”

  “Animal control, ma’am. We have reports of two vicious dogs that attacked people at the gallery.”

  Smiling, Anne walked to the door and held Ben’s collar. Nevis grabbed Jerry’s. This was why they’d bought the dogs here. It was time for them to be the men’s alibis.

  Nevis opened the door and the man held out his badge. It looked legitimate to Anne, but what did she know after all. Nevis let the man and his female colleague in. The woman was wearing thick workman’s gloves, but the man looked more laidback. Both were in animal control uniforms.

  Anne shut the door behind them and let go of Ben’s collar. Jerry was the one who’d lick their faces, not Ben.

  Nevis spoke to the dogs. “Boys, where are your manners? Say hello to our guests.”

  Immediately both dogs sat and extended a paw. Instantly the woman dropped to her knees and shook hands. “Aww they’re so cute.”

  The officers began talking to Nevis, who answered their questions. Anne supposed she and Bronx had made up some reason why the dogs were with Bronx at the gallery. Anne’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

  She pulled it out and read a text message. Bad guys at gallery. Cops here, too. Nothing stolen.

  Now that was a bit suspicious. First the animal control people turn up really late at night. It’s not like this was an emergency after all. Then right when they’re looking at the dogs the robbers just happen to be at the gallery.

  “Excuse me. Who made the report about the dogs?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Okay, but I think you should look into it. These dogs just happened to be at the gallery when some people were caught in the act of stealing valuable artwork. Now, you’re here, and the robbers are once again at the gallery. The police have just caught them. I’m wondering if the person who reported Nevis’s dogs to you is also the person masterminding the art thefts. Anyone can see the dogs are harmless, but it seems the thieves wanted to be sure they were out of the way before they made another attempt at robbing the gallery.”

  “The dogs are certainly not vicious, are you fella?” The man rubbed Jerry’s ears, causing the dog to pant with delight.

  The woman stroked Ben’s head. “We’ll look into that. Making a false report is an offence.”

  The animal control officers left and Anne and Nevis sank down into armchairs, the dogs sprawling over their feet.

  “I wish I knew what was going on,” said Anne.

  “Me, too. I wouldn’t mind a big glass of whiskey and a large piece of chocolate either,” added Nevis.

  * * * *

  “It’s just as well I brought a suit for Anne’s opening night,” said Carson, rubbing his dress shoes with a pair of socks.

  “I didn’t think of that,” said Cody, looking at his own dress pants and blue silk shirt and wishing he’d thought to bring a jacket.

  “It’s just that I want to do my very important attorney
act, and it’s easier to make it work if I’m wearing a suit. That shirt looks good on you, though, and you’ll be the one standing beside Anne while I’m pontificating all around the place.”

  Cody laughed. Carson was making him feel good again. But he still should have thought to bring a jacket. He wouldn’t forget at any of Anne’s future exhibitions.

  As for Anne, she looked absolutely stunning in a shimmering dress that was neither blue nor silver, but a mixture of both colors, with a chunky silver necklace at her throat and a pile of silver bracelets clinking up and down her left arm.

  Carson had hired a white stretch limousine to take them all the opening of the exhibition. He’d also convinced Anne to put a reserve price on each of her pieces that was higher than she’d expected to get for them. “You can always negotiate later with a bidder. But if your pieces are so valuable that the gallery director—former gallery director that is—didn’t want to pay for insurance on them, you’re not asking enough,” Carson had said forcefully.

  Cody had to agree. The gallery director’s guilt was blatantly obvious and now he was sitting in jail with the thieves, only in his case for mismanagement and fraud. His former assistant, now the interim director, was working night and day to make Anne’s exhibition the talk of the town.

  Cody proudly held Anne’s arm as she stepped onto the red carpet and blinked as camera flashbulbs popped all around them. It hadn’t even occurred to him the paparazzi would be present. He hid his nervousness and concentrated on the stunningly beautiful woman on his arm. She was the highlight of this evening. It was her special night. Bronx and Nevis followed them out of the limousine and his smile became genuine when Nevis said softly, “Ben and Jerry should be here. They’re part of this, too.”

  For Cody the night was a blur. He almost burst with pride when he saw the first sold sticker on one of her statues. He followed Anne around, always there if he needed him, honored to be able to help her, and so proud of her success. But he didn’t really understand a lot of the conversation, especially when it was about art styles. He promised himself he’d get her to teach him more of the history of sculpting when they got home.

  For the next three nights, Anne had to make an appearance at the exhibition. She’d arrive in a different outfit every time in the middle of the evening. For half an hour she’d walk around talking to people and either he or Carson would be there with her. Afterward she’d return to the apartment and change out of her beautiful gowns with obvious relief.

  “I hate this part of it. I’m much happier in boots, but I know it has to be done,” she said.

  On the final night they all went with her again, and Cody was excited to see that all her pieces had sold and she’d received several new commissions. Once again she accepted the praises heaped on her head graciously, smiled, and shook hands, then thanked the interim gallery director for all his work.

  “We’d like to host another exhibition of your work next year. I’ll be in touch later to organize the dates,” he said.

  “Thank you. I’ll be expecting your letter,” replied Anne. Cody noticed she didn’t say she’d accept. He supposed it would depend on how many other commissions she’d received. He wondered if she found it difficult to think of new ideas, or if she had a lot of ideas and not enough time to sculpt them all. He would ask her that question when they got home, too. Home. He was looking forward to being back in Pine Corner. Would she let them live with her in her studio? Was there even room for the three of them there? And Internet and space for an office for Carson?

  Cody had loved them sharing a bed each night. They hadn’t made love every single time, but when they hadn’t fucked, at least they’d all been snuggled and cuddled together, too tired to move but content and at rest in each other’s arms. He couldn’t bear the thought that they wouldn’t be together at home. That conversation simply couldn’t wait. They needed to have it tonight. But not until she’d been praised and thanked and treated as the star she truly was.

  As soon as they arrived back at the apartment, Cody followed Anne into their bedroom. He unzipped her gown for her. It was a deep orangey-gold color that looked amazing against her dark hair. He carefully laid it over the chair in the corner of the room.

  “How big is your house in Pine Corner?” he asked.

  “It’s just a regular clapboard house. The biggest room by far is my studio but I designed that myself with a solid concrete floor so no welding sparks would burn out my floorboards.”

  “I think Cody is asking if there’ll be room for him and me to move in with you,” said Carson, unknotting his necktie and dropping it on the chair.

  Anne shrugged. “I’ve lived there alone since I got back from art school so I really have no idea how much space you men want. It’s a large block of land. You could always extend the house if it’s not big enough. Add a study or an extra bathroom or whatever.”

  Then she looked at them and grinned. “Maybe build a dog run and some kennels. But they’re not to come into my studio, ever.”

  Cody’s breath hitched. “So you’re agreeing we can move in with you?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Thank you.” Cody leaped sideways and grabbed her in his arms. The bed hit the back of his knees and he let himself fall back onto it, holding her tightly to him, then kissed her thoroughly once they were lying down.

  “What about if I added a dungeon? Would you both play with me there?” asked Carson.

  Cody was glad he was already lying down. He’d thought about this but had never known if it was just his imagination or not.

  He waited until Anne had answered softly, “Hell, yes,” before nodding himself. “I’ll be your submissive,” he said.

  * * * *

  Anne and Carson had drawn up plans for the house extension on the road trip home from New York, but the workmen had only just started to dig the foundations. Meanwhile Carson’s possessions had arrived from Hot Springs Mountain in the helicopter, as had Cody’s. It’d taken two trips. Most of the boxes were piled up along the hallway, but Carson had unpacked his dungeon toys.

  Anne was naked and shivering in the unfurnished spare bedroom, which was about to become their temporary dungeon. She wasn’t frightened. She trusted Carson implicitly to treat her correctly and not hurt her more than would enhance her pleasure. But this was her first time in the dungeon and it was a new world to her. A world she would explore with Cody and Carson. She wanted that so much it surprised her. Up until now the most important thing in her life had been her sculpting. Now the men stood beside her art in her list of priorities.

  Carson was wearing thigh-high boots, pants so tight his cock and balls were clearly outlined, and a black band around his right wrist. Nothing else. She and Cody were completely naked.

  “When you come into the dungeon you stand in the middle of the room, head down, feet shoulder width apart, hands at your sides, gaze fixed on the floor,” said Carson.

  Okay, I can do that. Anne walked to the middle of the room and stood as directed. Cody stood beside her.

  “You do not speak unless asked a direct question. If I ask you a question you answer only ‘Yes, Sir’ or ‘No, Sir.’ Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” said Cody.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I have planned everything that will take place in the dungeon with your ultimate pleasure in mind. You must trust me that whatever happens is exactly as I mean it to be and it will bring you pleasure. However, you will have a safe word. Once you say that word everything will stop. The word is yours to say freely whenever you want to. But there will be no more dungeon activities that day once you use your word. Do you understand?”

  Again, Cody answered immediately, “Yes, Sir.”

  Anne had heard about safe words, but they seemed very final. If she used her word everything would stop completely. But what if she only wanted it to slow down or ease back a little bit? I guess that’s where the trust comes in. I have to trust that Carson—my Dom—knows it’ll be muc
h better for me if I don’t ease back or slow down. It’s all about trust. The sub trusting the Dom to know all about her and plan something that will please her greatly. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. What is your safe word, Anne.”

  “Chisel.”

  “And yours, Cody?”

  “Tree of man.”

  Anne was honored that he’d chosen her sculpture as his safe word. That sculpture was how they’d come together at the start. It was very special to them all, but most of all to her. Without him it might never have been completed. But for him to use it as his safe word was an amazing tribute to their relationship.

  Ignoring the rule about not speaking, she said, “Thank you.”

  A whip cracked down over her ass, making her jump in astonishment.

  “The sub will not speak unless to answer a direct question. Remember that.”

  Anne decided that was a statement, not a question, and remained silent. Nevertheless Carson led her across the room and raised her arms in the air. She noticed several eyebolts attached to the ceiling crossbeam. Carson threaded a couple of ropes through them and tied her arms above her head. She could still stand with her bare feet flat on the floor, but her arms were held fully extended. If she wanted to bend her elbows she’d have to stand up on her tiptoes.

  She kept her head down but watched using her peripheral vision as Cody was led over beside her and tied up as she was. Okay, Carson must be going to spank them now. Or maybe whip them. She was pretty sure it was a whip he’d used on her ass when she spoke out of turn before. Not that she knew a whole lot about canes, whips, floggers, and all those things. But a whip made a unique sound going through the air.

  That’s when she realized she’d actually learned something he’d meant her to know. To rely on her other senses to gain information. Her head was bent but that didn’t mean her ears weren’t there to be used. Or that her body couldn’t feel the air brushing across it, or even that she couldn’t use her peripheral vision. Damn, Carson was clever. He was teaching her things just by making her think.