by Mari Carr
Isaiah might not be in the lifestyle, but there was no denying in that moment if he were, he would be a Dom.
When they parted, Tess sighed, the sound rife with joy. “Us,” she whispered again.
Caden fell to the mattress, facing both his lovers. Isaiah was his mirror image on the other side. Time ceased to matter as the three of them touched and kissed, stroked and teased. Hours or days could have passed for all Caden knew, as they learned each other intimately.
They’d taken turns going down on her and she’d come two more times. She’d given Caden a hand job as she sucked on Isaiah’s dick but—much to her annoyance—neither of them would let her finish them off that way.
“Are you on the pill?” Isaiah asked when the moment of truth arrived.
She nodded. “I wanted to be ready for this.”
Perfect. With every word she spoke, every kiss, every touch, Caden found himself drawn deeper under her spell. He’d spent a lifetime dismissing the concept of soul mates as complete and utter bullshit, but he felt like he knew them, understood what made them tick. Tess and Isaiah were making him a believer.
Caden gestured to Isaiah, who moved to cage Tess beneath him, her thighs parted in invitation.
Caden reached between them, gripping Isaiah’s cock and placing the head at the opening to her body.
Isaiah groaned at the touch. “I don’t want either one of you judging me for how fast this is going to end.”
Tess and Caden both laughed, but hers was cut short when Isaiah started his slow, steady glide inside.
This was why he wanted Isaiah to go first. Caden knew himself too well. Knew he’d never have the patience to hold back, to be gentle. Even now, all he could imagine was taking his turn between her legs, pounding deep and hard, feeling her pussy clench against him as he came.
Once he was seated to the hilt, Isaiah paused for just a moment, just long enough to hear Tess’ contented sigh. There was clearly no pain, no discomfort.
“You feel so good,” she said breathlessly.
Isaiah began to rock inside her, slowly building the speed until Tess’ back arched and she cried out loudly.
“God! Please! Yes!”
Isaiah pushed in hard, one last time, then his harsh curses mixed with hers.
“Fuck. Baby. Jesus.”
Caden watched them through it all, certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Then Isaiah fell to the side, and Tess—who had to be exhausted—turned toward Caden.
“I want you too.”
“Rest a minute, Tess. There’s no reason to rush. It’s your first time. Give your body a second to recover.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to recover. I want you.”
“You don’t get to decide.” There was no mistaking the dark tone. The Dom reared his head.
Of course, Tess either didn’t recognize that or care. “I love that big bad wolf voice of yours. Now, come inside me.”
Caden struggled to take a breath. Every instinct was telling him to flip her over and spank her ass. So far tonight, the man he used to be hadn’t shown up in this bedroom. The training had faded away because it had no place here.
Until now.
He really wanted to spank her. Not as punishment necessarily, though perhaps that was a bit of it. A good spanking could be about pain, or tension relief, or just a way for a Dom to let his sub relax in one of the simplest and oldest forms of power exchange.
She started to move, to take matters into her own hands. He felt her shoving against his shoulders, trying to maneuver him to his back, intent on riding him.
Instinct won out.
One second Tess was facing him. The next she was facedown over his lap, his hand smacking her lovely, firm rear end.
She gasped with surprise, then resisted, trying to push up and away.
For a second, he was torn, aghast by his actions even though he wanted to continue.
Isaiah must have understood the battle raging inside him. He moved slightly, applying his own pressure, holding Tess down.
“You were a naughty girl, Tess,” Isaiah murmured in her ear. “You have to trust me and Caden. Have to let us take care of you.”
Tess stopped fighting. And then, she blew Caden’s mind when she glanced over her shoulder at him with a minx-like smile and wiggled her ass.
He narrowed his eyes, half-feigning disapproval. “You’re still being a brat.”
She giggled. “So punish me.”
Caden grinned and spanked her again. He hadn’t brought his old life into the room after all. This was something completely different. New. Right. This was BDSM the way other people played—with minimum power exchange, done more for kink than for D/s.
He caressed her ass after a half dozen or so smacks. Caden didn’t try to stop her as she rolled over to her back, her legs parting.
“Please, Caden,” she whispered, her eyes heavy with desire and…
It wasn’t what he saw in her eyes that took his breath away. It was what wasn’t there.
No fear. No reticence. She met his gaze straight on.
Tess wasn’t here because she had to be, because he’d collared her, because she was helpless to refuse his demands…because she was as fucked up as he was and didn’t know what else to do.
She was here because she wanted him.
His heart started to race.
“Caden,” she said, louder this time.
He smiled at her, then pushed himself inside. Suddenly, he understood Isaiah’s ability to temper his needs, to take her gently.
For the first time in his life, Caden made love to a woman. And he never wanted it to end.
Her legs wrapped around his waist once he was fully seated. He struggled to draw air into his lungs, his chest tight with…an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to.
Caden leaned closer, kissing her as he slowly slid in and out. Tess moved under him, changing the tilt of her hips, adjusting the rhythm of their union. He started to stop her, to pin her down so he would have full control.
He paused, checked himself, and let her move under him. Instead of taking the lead, he followed hers, letting her decide the rhythm. Through it all, they kept kissing, connected together in every way they could be. Her tongue stroked his, and then he moved his face away, wanting to see her eyes.
He tilted his head when he saw wetness on her lashes. “Crying?” he whispered.
She smiled and nodded. “I’ve never been so happy. It’s too much.”
Caden cupped her cheek. He’d never been good at the gentler side of things. He felt awkward and unsure. He placed a hesitant kiss on the corner of her mouth. That felt good. It felt right. He kept going, pressing light kisses all over her beautiful face. “You’re perfect, Tess.”
“So are you.”
He no longer felt in control. It felt as if desire ruled him, instead of desire being a tool he used to control others. His back was damp with sweat as he moved faster, deeper. He dropped the reins and gave in to the moment. When he was close, he reached down and stroked her clit. He wasn’t falling alone. He wanted her with him. Always.
Tess’ back arched and she came a second before him. For several moments, he held himself above her, kissing her even though they were both breathless from their orgasms.
Then he dropped to the side opposite Isaiah and smiled at his lovers.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “For being my first.”
Tess wiped her eyes. “Damn it. Stop making me cry.”
He rose on his elbow and kissed her and then Isaiah. Caden felt like he should say more, but he couldn’t find the words.
It didn’t seem to matter. Isaiah and Tess kissed each other, and then the three of them settled together, drawing the covers over them.
A perfect trinity.
Chapter Eleven
Isaiah glanced at one of the exhibits at Hamilton Grange, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. His mind was a million miles away, reliving the previous night
. He had never experienced anything so intense or raw or beautiful.
Having joined the Trinity Masters later in life, Isaiah didn’t harbor any romantic notions about what his marriage would be like. He’d been old enough to understand the premise, the reasoning for why the Trinity Masters believed lives were better spent in threesomes.
Humans needed so many different things in order to be happy. Physical attraction, intellectual equals, emotional support. They needed someone to challenge them, coddle them, make them laugh, and give them unconditional love and acceptance. Finding one person to check off all those boxes was a difficult task, as proven by the high divorce rate in the country. Adding a third person to the mix improved the chances of making matches that worked, that went the distance.
All of those reasons made sense in Isaiah’s mind, helped him accept the uncertainty of his future marriage with logic and calmness. With some luck, one partner would offer sexual satisfaction, and the other might be someone he could talk to about academic pursuits and interests. Isaiah figured that was the best he could hope for and all he truly needed.
He’d been wrong. None of his logical, well-thought-out reasons for agreeing to an arranged ménage marriage explained last night to him. It had defied explanation.
He hadn’t expected to be so completely and utterly moved by two people. So drawn into their circle, so quickly enmeshed in the physical, emotional and intellectual with both of them.
Once Caden opened up to them, everything fell into place. And while Isaiah couldn’t shake the feeling there were still some secrets Caden was harboring, he wasn’t worried about them. The three of them were well suited and more than capable of weathering whatever storms they encountered. Isaiah had never felt more certain about anything in his life. And he didn’t care if it was the honeymoon phase or the amazing sex doing the thinking for him.
They found the display where the fan was supposed to be, but it was gone. Isaiah felt a moment of panic.
An older man approached them. “Ms. Hamilton?”
Tess nodded. “You must be Roger Coen.”
Roger shook her hand. “Your boss called this morning to tell me you would be here today to pick up the fan. I’ve prepared it for you.” He gestured toward a door Isaiah hadn’t noticed. “If you would follow me.”
The three of them traversed down a short hallway to a small room in the back that was clearly used exclusively by the staff. As they walked, Tess explained to Isaiah and Caden that Hamilton Grange had actually been moved twice in the past two hundred years, once in the late eighteen-hundreds and then again in 2006. Roger seemed impressed by her knowledge.
“Fortunately,” he added, “even with the moves, we’ve managed to keep the Grange within the boundary of the land Hamilton owned.”
“The restoration work is beautiful.”
“Here we go.” Roger handed Tess a box. “I’ve taken care with the packaging, backing board, rigid support, and the like.”
“Thank you very much, Roger. I know there was a quick turnaround on this, so I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“Do you know how long the Smithsonian intends to study it?”
Isaiah wasn’t sure what excuse Tess’ boss had used to acquire the fan, but he was impressed by her connections. He could have used her knowledge and access to cool historical artifacts on the last few books he’d written. It had taken him months of requests and—in the end—downright begging before he was able to see a letter Thomas Jefferson had written that was in the Smithsonian Archives for a book he was researching.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you a specific time frame. I know that it’s important to your exhibit here. I promise that we will work expediently and with great care, of course.”
Roger nodded, appeased by her answer. Then he walked with them to the exit. “I’m interested in hearing what your research yields.”
Tess smiled and they said their goodbyes.
As they walked along a path through the park, Caden glanced at his phone. “Why don’t we catch a taxi and head back to the…”
His words faded away, capturing Isaiah’s attention. He looked over to see Caden had stopped walking.
“What is it?” Isaiah asked.
Caden didn’t answer right away, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
Isaiah looked toward the road where Caden had been looking. There were several parked cars and a handful of people, including a couple walking their dog. It did appear to be nothing, so he dismissed it.
Caden started walking toward the street, waving down a taxi when they reached it. He glanced over his shoulder as they pulled away, but Isaiah didn’t mention it. He was putting that same high-suspense fictional spin on Caden’s behavior again.
Rather than give the address to the hotel, Tess asked the driver to take them to the nearest craft store.
“What’s at the craft store?” Caden asked.
“You can usually grab soda ash with the tie-dye stuff. Soda ash is another name for sodium carbonate, which—when combined with heat—is what we’re going to use to see if there really is invisible ink on the fan.”
“Will that damage it?” Isaiah asked.
Tess shrugged. “It shouldn’t. But I’m going to be very careful just the same.”
An hour later—and after Caden’s first ever trip inside a craft store, a fact which seemed to upset Tess more than finding out about his sexual proclivities—they’d gathered all the supplies. Tess doubled-checked the bag. She had a thin artist’s paintbrush, cotton gloves, acid-free paper, and the soda ash. They returned to the hotel.
The hotel suite Caden had reserved was at the Mandarin Oriental in Hell’s Kitchen and had a beautiful view of Central Park.
Tess walked to the large windows, her eyes wide as she took in the expansive New York City skyline. Isaiah suspected the view would only get better as night fell and Manhattan lit up.
Caden cleared a spot on the dining table, unpacking their purchases. “I’ll let you open the box with the fan. I don’t want to hurt it.”
Tess turned away from the window, clearly reluctant. Isaiah was going to have to pull Caden aside at some point and try to encourage the man to stop and smell the roses occasionally.
Tess put a towel over the surface of the table, then laid out a layer of the acid-free paper. Then she put on gloves and worked slowly and methodically, extracting the fan from its packaging. “Roger knows his stuff,” she muttered, more to herself than to them. “Caden, get the hair dryer and plug it in, please.”
Gently, she placed the fan on the prepared surface. “Isaiah, can you dilute some of the soda ash according to the directions on the package?”
He moved to the bathroom, doing as she asked. When he returned, he found both Caden and Tess leaning over the fan, studying the tops of the pleats carefully.
“I’ll just apply the sodium carbonate to one spot to begin with.”
Isaiah placed the glass with the mixture next to her. “Just so you both know, whether this works or not, I’m putting invisible ink in my next book. This is cool stuff.”
Tess grinned while Caden simply rolled his eyes.
“Okay.” She dipped the paintbrush into the soda ash mixture. “Here goes nothing.”
She dabbed a tiny bit on the top of a pleat in the same spot Adams had put the letters in his drawing.
Once the small spot was covered, she turned on the hair dryer, holding it about two feet away and using the lower heat setting. Nothing appeared at first, so she moved the dryer the tiniest bit closer.
“This is taking too long,” Caden said. “I have a lighter.”
Tess stared at him. “I’m going to assume you’re joking.”
“You wouldn’t be happy if you knew that I let boxes of priceless art and artifacts rot in wet underground tunnels, would you?”
Isaiah thought for a moment he was going to have to protect Caden. Tess looked ready to do some serious damage.
Caden held up his hands. “Joke. Well, sort
of. We moved most of it when I was in college. It all went to art storage and auction houses or into private collections. Except the papers. We left most of the papers.”
Tess turned wide, murder-filled eyes to Isaiah. “He’s joking, right?”
“Um.”
“Right?!”
“Yep, yep, he’s joking.” Isaiah made a face at Caden over Tess’ head.
Caden smiled. It was a slow grin that worked its way across his face. When Tess whipped her head around to glare at him, Caden’s expression changed to contrite.
Isaiah looked at the fan. Something started to appear. “It’s a number.”
“Holy shit,” Tess muttered. “It worked. I was right.”
Caden raced into the bedroom, returning with a notepad and pen. “Dab the soda ash on the rest of the pleats that are marked with letters in the journal, Tess. I’ll write down what you see.”
Despite her excitement, Tess didn’t seem to forget she was working with a valuable artifact. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, taking care not to use more of the sodium carbonate than necessary. Isaiah got handed the hair dryer, holding it exactly where she told him to. As they worked on each pleat, she or Isaiah read off the number to Caden, who wrote it down.
Once they were done, Tess carefully dabbed any excess moisture off the fan, applied a neutralizer, and then packed the fan away. By the time she was done, Caden was practically vibrating with impatience.
There were sixteen numbers and they were scrambled, some duplicated.
“Now what?” Isaiah asked. “We’ve got sixteen numbers. 3, 2, 1, 1, 3, 7, 4, 9, 5, 10, 1, 6, 5, 8, 2, 11. But there are only eleven letters on the fan drawing.” He read them out of the book as Caden recorded them. “TILMUCEPOND.”
Tess blew out the candle and carefully laid the fan down. “So let’s start unscrambling them. What’s the first number you wrote down, Caden?”
“Three,” he replied.
“And the third letter is L.”
Caden pulled a clean sheet of paper from the notepad, handing it and a second pen to Isaiah. They methodically worked their way through each number and letter combination, getting excited when the first six clearly formed the word “little”.