Submissive Sirens
Remy’s Release
Remington Park can't have everything she wants. At least, that's what she tells herself…
Torn between loving her career as a former US Marine–turned–American operative and wanting to admit she likes to be feminine (she really, really likes to bake), Remy's feelings flare out of control for her three sexy-as-sin teammates, leaving her wondering which path to choose.
Triplets Drake, Joss, and Knox Grantham have worked with Remy for years, and all three have feelings for her that go way beyond the professional. They worry that their penchant for dominance and the serious side of kink will have Remy running away, but their teammate is too hot to ignore.
When an op goes bad in Monaco, Remy and the triplets will have to work separately and together to bring down an arms dealer, and they'll have to face the truth of their passions.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 51,920 words
REMY’S RELEASE
Submissive Sirens
Charlotte Smith
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
REMY’S RELEASE
Copyright © 2012 by Charlotte Smith
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-658-2
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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www.SirenPublishing.com
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REMY’S RELEASE
Submissive Sirens
CHARLOTTE SMITH
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
“Bitch!” an outraged voice shrieked to a chorus of feminine laughter. “You promised you wouldn’t count!”
“I can’t help it! And besides, Prue,” the second woman replied primly, “I never said I wouldn’t count. I said I wouldn’t cheat. Big difference, love.”
Remington Park rolled her eyes and felt her forehead begin to scrunch as she struggled not to laugh, watching as two of her best friends prepared to throw down over a game of poker. She raised an eyebrow and smiled indulgently at them. They never actually fought for real. Just said a lot of hilarious, catty things they would never say in real life, since real life was often a matter of life and death rather than a matter of pairs and straights.
Remy sighed, brought back to reality by her grim thoughts. For women like them, real life and playtime couldn’t be more different, particularly since they all played as hard as they worked. Remy reminded herself firmly that this was playtime and work was a world away, and she tuned back into the moment, reaching once more for her glass.
Their friend Cleo watched the scene unfold, the martini she was drinking forgotten as she laughed at the antics of her friends. The fifth member of their group, Lila, elbowed Remington as the accuser, Prue, puffed herself up in outrage, looking for all the world like a pissed-off cherub.
“Counting cards is cheating,” insisted the offended card player. She raked a hand through her mop of blonde curls and pointed a polished, pink fingernail at the other woman. “You’re totally buying the next round.”
Remington watched as the cheater prepared to defend her honor. The woman drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t impressive as far as Remy was concerned. Jessie measured five and a half feet in her four-inch Jimmy Choos. She sputtered in mock outrage.
“Look here, you...imp!”
Remy snorted into her own martini over that one. Jessie’s insults were often ridiculous, and her delivery, while daunting because of the clipped syllables of her English accent, was laughable. Whatever she lacked in delivery, however, she made up in sheer cheekiness.
“Just because you can’t count cards doesn’t mean you should accuse those of us who can of these terrible crimes. I am not cheating. And I am not, despite your insistence to the contrary, buying the next round. You lost with your adorable little pair of jacks, and losers buy.” Jessie glowered at Prue, her long, dark hair making her look more than a little sinister.
Just as Prue—Prudence, although she’d half-nelson anyone who called her that—was about to respond, Remington decided she’d had enough. Cleo and Lila were trying desperately not to laugh, good drinks were being ignored, and girl time was being wasted.
“Girls.”
Just like that, the attention shifted to Remy. She grimaced on the inside. She didn’t always want to be the Big Bad Wolf in her circle of friends. It wasn’t her fault she stood five feet ten inches in her bare feet. She softened the interruption with a smile.
“Seriously, ladies, who cares who’s buying the next round? Since we’re talking rounds of spa treatments, it’s not like anyone’s really going to lose here. Unless”—Remy quirked her eyebrow again, her lips lifting in a mischievous smirk—“we extend spa treatments to include boob jobs...”
The shrieks of laughter drowned out anything else she might have been about to say, and that
was fine with her.
Remy looked around the table, drinking in the sight of her best friends. They didn’t see one another nearly often enough. Usually they had to wait to get together during this annual holiday. Remy preferred to think of it as rehab, summer camp, and a slumber party all rolled into one, even if it only lasted two weeks. That’s why they made the time count. They always rented a villa, chalet, or penthouse for their annual get-togethers since they really didn’t want to be bothered by pesky things like room service. Room service put all of them on edge since none of them particularly liked strangers in their midst.
Although there was that one time, Remy reminisced silently, when the gentleman delivering their meals had been a Dom they’d ordered from a local BDSM club...now that had given the phrase “room service” new meaning. Remy had learned a whole lot that day about submission, since she’d watched the Dom play with Lila. Lila was a bit of an exhibitionist, and Remy had been curious. She’d always wondered what it would be like to submit to a strong man, and the things the Dom had done to Lila had made Remy restless, giving her a delicious sense of nervousness as she pictured being the one to bow down and get spanked pink. In addition to their occasional forays into naughtiness, the girls drank girly drinks, went for spa days, and did all the things they didn’t, no, Remy corrected herself, the things they couldn’t do in real life.
And there was lots they couldn’t do in their day-to-day lives because each woman at the table was a professional badass. They had all met during their time training at Parris Island because they had all started military careers as US Marines. They had each recognized in one another a kindred spirit, and they had worked together whenever they could, helping each other out and busting each other’s asses. They had all proven themselves to be more than capable of meeting the grueling requirements of the Marines, and they established reputations for themselves as tough-as-nails bitches no one fucked with. Each woman had seen her share of combat, and each woman had moved into a line of work that was physically and mentally demanding. That’s why these girls-only annual vacations were so important. They grounded each woman, reminded her of what she’d gained, and what she’d given up to get where she was. Remy was reminded of exactly that as Prue looked forlornly at her pair of jacks.
“Damn,” Prue sighed, “what I wouldn’t give for a real pair of Jacks. Big ones, with blue eyes and tight butts.”
Remy felt herself relax. This was more like it, talking about hot guys, even ones that didn’t exist, and being able to be honest with themselves and each other. She looked forward to this part of the vacation every year, when she and the girls could stop pretending there was nothing more to them than their careers.
“Hey, how’s that servant of yours, Jessie?” Cleo drawled in her Louisiana twang, the look in her eyes wicked as she gazed at her friend. “Last I recall seeing him, he was smokin’ hot in his uniform.”
“He’s actually my butler, manservant, and handler,” Jessie corrected with a slight smile. She was an agent who worked solo, using her position as Lady Jessamy Cumberland as a front for her activities for MI6. Now that’s a story, Remy thought. Jessie had survived a seriously dysfunctional aristocratic family, training at Parris Island in secret, and working her ass off to salvage something of the life her brother had gambled away after her mother died. Now she lived independently with a gorgeous hunk of Scotsman as her butler, and Remy was almost positive there was more to their relationship than met the eye. Remy liked to think of Jessie as James Bond refined.
“Yeah,” sighed Cleo, her eyes going dreamy, “that man surely did put the ‘butt’ in ‘butler,’ the way he filled out those pants. You planning to tap that or what?”
“No, Cleo. For some reason, MI6 frowns on its agents ‘tapping’ their handlers. I can’t imagine why.” Jessie rolled her eyes.
“I’d let that man handle me any day,” Lila interjected. “I bet he gives a hell of a spanking.”
Now this was the part of the conversation Remy knew they all looked forward to because, in addition to their career choices, they shared in other choices as well. Each woman at the table was a closet submissive. Well, perhaps I’m really the only one in the closet on that one...
Women like them didn’t have the luxury of living out their sexual fantasies, or at least that was what Remy told herself when she got frustrated. She reminded herself of how hard they’d all had to work to get people to take them seriously. It’s not like there were oodles of women joining the Marine Corps every year, and she and the girls had had to work twice as hard to feel half as accomplished as their male counterparts. She had ruthlessly taken the submissive part of her, the part that melted and got soft when she was around a man she sensed could really take her for a ride, and she had squashed it. She squashed it as hard as she could, as often as necessary, until she’d persuaded herself she didn’t need to submit anymore.
Remy stopped brooding when she realized the girls were looking at her expectantly. “Sorry? Did you ask me something?”
Lila stretched like a cat, allowing her long, red hair to hang toward the floor. “I asked if you’re still living with those incredibly hot triplets.”
Remy flushed. This was the one thing she hadn’t wanted to discuss. “Yeah, they’re still my team, and we find it’s just practical if we live together between jobs.”
Silence fell around the table. Uh-oh, not good.
“Remy,” Prue breathed, her voice almost a whisper, “are you saying you haven’t told them yet?”
Remy squirmed. She thought it might have been a mistake to have mentioned her crush on her partners during the last vacation with the girls. Not that it was really her fault. A game of truth or dare combined with—how many?—rounds of margaritas had loosened Remy’s tongue. “No, I haven’t said anything.”
Jessie was frowning at her. “Why not?”
Remy sighed. “Jessie, what would I say? ‘Hey guys, you know how we’ve been living together for the last three years? Well, during that time I’ve developed a major crush on each of you. That’s right, each of you. So I was thinking...maybe we could, you know, have a foursome some time? Oh, and by the way, all the stuff about how tough I am is a total front because I’d love for you to spank my ass and tie me up before you fuck me.’ Is that what I should say?”
Damn, now Lila and Prue were frowning, too.
“What on earth makes you think you can’t be tough and submissive at the same time?” Cleo asked. “All of us are. And besides, those boys know you earned your rep. They know you busted it to get where you are. What makes you think they wouldn’t go for it? I bet those boys have a serious side of kink, and I, for one, think it’s your job to coax it out of them.”
“Coax? Really, Cleo?” Lila asked with an eye roll.
“Coax, lick, fuck, nibble, suck...whatever it takes!” Cleo said enthusiastically. “Really, baby, we’re all here for you one way or the other. But can you imagine the looks on their faces if you waltzed into the living room wearing nothing but an evil smile?”
The rest of the girls groaned and laughed at Cleo’s enthusiasm, and the seriousness of the moment passed. Remy was secretly grateful for that since the conversation had been going somewhere unpleasant. If she was honest with herself, just thinking about the brothers made her hot. And seeing them...seeing them was worse, or maybe better, a little voice in her head said, because seeing them was all it took these days for her to get wet. If one of them touched her—little, innocent touches that meant nothing, like brushing by her in the hallway—her pussy spasmed, her stomach developed an infestation of butterflies, and she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. But what could she do? She’d worked too hard to risk it all for a quick fuck, although she suspected it wouldn’t be quick with any of her teammates, and she didn’t want them to think of her as weak. Plus, she doubted any of those boys thought of her that way at all. After all, she was one of them. She stood so tall she fit right in. Never mind they were all monsters of men standing six feet fi
ve inches each. She was crazy tall and spent tons of time working out. They didn’t have to know she worked out so hard because she was trying to flatten her tits and ass. No, they could think she worked out to stay in peak physical condition, always ready for combat.
Too bad the weights and cardio weren’t working, she thought ruefully. No matter how hard she worked, her breasts stayed big and her ass stayed rounded. Her only defense was to wear baggy shirts and combat pants in order to camouflage her curves. She figured she made it work. No doubt her teammates simply assumed she was just as macho as them.
Remy grimaced to herself. She really did miss wearing dresses. She used to love showing off her long legs and perky cleavage, but she just didn’t trust herself around her teammates. She couldn’t risk them thinking she was feminine. She didn’t want them to think she needed their protection on the ops they did.
Nah, she thought as she got up to fetch the next round of drinks from the kitchen. Better to stick with her vibrator because the things she wanted from her teammates would send them screaming for the hills in record time. At least, she thought with a secret smile, she still got to see them walk around without shirts. That would have to do.
Chapter 1
Remy took a deep breath as she hauled her suitcase from the belt. Her vacation had been awesome, as usual, but now she was back, smack-dab in the middle of sexually frustrated reality. The parting shots from her friends continued to make her ears burn when she thought about actually doing the things they’d discussed. As much as she’d love to take a shower and “forget” her towel and have to ask one of the guys to bring her one, she knew she wouldn’t dare. Same went for getting down on her hands and knees to “look for an earring she dropped” under the sofa. Apart from her own insecurities and fear that such a move could end her career, she was pretty convinced none of the brothers would take too kindly to her screwing him senseless...then screwing his brothers as well. Nah. She’d just have to live with it.
Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 1