Three Men and a Woman_Jubilee

by Rachel Billings

  He could see that. He could even yearn for it.

  But could he see it with Keith at her other side, also holding her hand? With Brody behind her, hands on her shoulders?

  He couldn’t.

  Turning, he made the briefest eye contact with his friends. “I told her I’d come back in the morning and take her to the airport. I figured you both had to be out of here early.” He grabbed his overcoat from the hook and tucked into it. “It’s probably good she has this time planned with her family. Maybe when she comes back, she’ll know what she wants.” He looked back once more before he headed out the door. “I’ll see you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jubilee wasn’t sure she was ever going to move again.

  Her heart hurt.

  She knew that couldn’t be right. Henry had said it himself—they’d spent only a part of five days together. And those days had been the strangest of circumstances—the three men and…her. Taking care of each other, caring for each other, and…falling in love.

  That couldn’t be true. But, no matter how many times her head tried to say it, her heart wasn’t listening.

  Now, Henry was gone. And she could only have him back if she gave up Keith and Brody.

  That thought in itself was ridiculous. It presumed too much—like, that Keith and Brody were hers, or that both wanted her. In the way that Henry did. In the way that she wanted them.

  Though it felt true. It felt like it only needed saying for it to be true.

  Plus, what was she thinking? That they all three would be hers? And she would be theirs? Had she entirely lost her mind?

  Jubilee sighed. Henry was gone. That fact definitely was true, and it hurt her heart, weighing so heavily on her that she thought she really might never move again.

  She’d had her doubts about that even before Henry had broken her heart. When he’d finished with her, when he’d pulled that final, harrowing orgasm from her, she’d felt entirely depleted. It mildly surprised her that her body still had the wherewithal to draw a breath. To maintain a pulse. She’d wondered at it, after he’d gone to the shower.

  He’d unbound her one hand. She could move then, theoretically. The option was there. She could roll over and untie her left hand and then loosen the ribbons that held her ankles.

  Instead, for the longest time, she stayed as she was.

  Aching. Bound. Vulnerable. His.

  Some secret bit of her soul, apparently, liked that. Wallowed in it.

  Most every part of her was sore. Several distinct parts had a lingering sting going on.

  And she loved it. The soreness, the sting. Most especially, the vulnerability. The giving over of herself to him.

  Obviously, he’d had some experience at this, and she’d had none. Clearly, he’d loved it—tying her, overpowering her, thrilling her, and then using her to thrill himself.

  He’d known what to expect—the feral pleasure of it, the ferocious satisfaction of conquest.

  She, on the other hand, had been taken by surprise. She’d not just accepted but enjoyed the physical ordeal of it—the binding, the pinching, the spanking, and even the defenseless, gritty penetration. The anal fuck.

  Her response to the emotional, psychological trial of it had been substantially more than surprising. She was not a submissive woman. She’d always been competent and determined. She had her own mind, and she used it. Never had she given over her will, her control of herself to a man. Not her father, not her husband. Not to anyone, for as long as she could remember.

  Many times, her mother had told the story of how she’d dressed her baby daughter in pink. Until the baby turned two and would wear only black. There’d been a discussion with her pediatrician about her “no-saying” behavior.

  No. Jubilee had the word. She owned it.

  But she hadn’t used it.

  So she lay there, three-quarters bound, as her world re-settled. As her sense of self wrestled with, absorbed, this new Jubilee. A woman who submitted and took delight in it. A woman who’d been thrilled to have a man dominate her. Use her.

  Maybe she was still working on it when she heard the faucet shut off. Maybe there was still more to do, but she’d gathered herself enough to know that she wouldn’t stay passively bound, waiting for him to finish releasing her. Suppressing the groan her aching body wanted to loose, she rolled enough to untie her left hand. Then she scooted around the bed to release her ankles. She took the strands of ribbon from the bedposts and curled them around her hand. There, she could move if she had to.

  Tucking herself in, she’d covered up with the flannel sheet and waited.

  Waited, it turned out, for him to leave her. For him to break her heart.

  That could have been it. That could have been the last motion she ever made.

  But, several minutes after Henry was gone, Keith came into the room. Whatever he saw, whatever he understood about what was going on with her, made him stop and change direction. He went into the bathroom, and she heard him start the bath. After a few minutes, he came for her.

  He sat next to her on the bed, leaned in, and kissed her temple. “Hey, baby,” he said.

  She’d made a tangle of the ribbons. She’d used her fingers to weave since she was a young girl, but never had she made a tangle of it like this.

  Keith gently unwrapped the mess of it. Like it was all he had to do, he unwound and unwound, in and out of her fingers. When he was done, he neatly rolled the strands up, one over the other, smoothing them as he went, until they made a tidy little roll. He set them aside carefully, on the table, as though they meant something.

  Or might be needed again.

  He kissed her wrists then, letting her know that he knew what those ribbons had been used for, and she swallowed back tears.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

  He did. He scooped her up, carried her to the bathroom, and settled her into the tub. He’d used a bath oil—not vanilla, thank God, but a soft herbal, healing scent. He put her in the water, set the jets, and left her.

  She probably would have stayed there forever, too. But he came back after a while. He lifted her up and set her on her feet. Using a warm towel, he dried her. As he finished, using the towel to softly blot her cheeks, he kissed her gently. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll dress you. Brody went for supplies, and he should be back soon.”

  By “we,” apparently, he meant “he.” He led her into her bedroom and she followed passively. The bed had been made, she noted, and a set of clothing laid out on it. He dressed her like she was a child, except that he did it with soft, child-inappropriate touches and kisses.

  And words. He told her how pretty she was, the curve of her hip and slope of her breast. How soft her skin was, how appealing the lean tone of her arms and legs. He told her how much he liked her lingerie, an observation that almost made her smile. She’d bought it during the week, thinking of them, these three men. How far she’d underestimated them, to think that bits of silk and lace would entice them. When what they really went for was triple penetration and satin bindings.

  He grinned as he helped her slide a leg or an arm into its proper opening. Dressing her was contrary to his usual intent, he told her. But it reminded him of his mother at Christmas, he said. She told her children it was the wrapping of presents that she enjoyed the most. The anticipation of their pleasure as they tore ribbons and paper away to find their gifts.

  That was, Keith informed her, what it felt like to put her into clothes. He was giving himself something to look forward to.

  He put her in her last new bra and panty set, into leggings and a cami and a long sweater. He set her on the bed and asked where to find those bright wool knee socks she’d worn that first night the three men had stormed her door. With her direction, he found them and wriggled them over her feet and calves.

  Then he stood her up, held her arms, and asked if she was okay.

  Like he hadn’t wanted to ask until she’d recuperated a bit, until she felt sa
fe, shielded a little by the soft armor of her clothing.

  She looked up at him.

  * * * *

  Keith had to wait for an answer. And every second that ticked by, he had to squelch an urge to drive after Henry, track him down, and beat the hell out of him.

  Already, once, Bro had talked him down off the ledge.

  Jubilee had looked broken when he’d found her. He’d waited a moment after Henry had left, then looked at Brody and told him he’d go check on their girl. Brody had nodded. He said he’d make the run into Canandaigua that they’d planned earlier, while they were waiting for Henry and Jubilee to come down. If they were going to spend the rest of the day with her as they intended, and, if they wanted to eat, they were going to have to resupply the kitchen.

  Upstairs, Jubilee was curled on her side. Her eyes were open but she was unmoving as he went to her. She was so still that, before he even got to her, he reassessed and went instead to start the bath. Then he took those ribbons from her fingers, saw the red chafe marks on her wrists, and knew what Henry had done to her.

  He put her in the tub, went downstairs, and called Brody.

  That was when he’d learned that their good buddy Henry had a kinky side.

  Keith told Brody about finding Jubilee looking totally…spent. About the ribbons and the chafing at her wrists and ankles.

  And Brody told Keith about the small room off Henry’s bedroom. A play room, of sorts. It was filled with restraints—some of them attached to the wall or ceiling—and devices and…shit.

  Shit.

  Didn’t Brody think Keith ought to know a thing like that?

  No, apparently. Brody had found it by accident on one of the many weekends he’d spent at Henry’s place. Henry had been working, and Brody had needed a pair of sweats before he took a run. He hadn’t been snooping, he said—he’d just opened what he thought was a closet door.

  He thought it was Henry’s business—his, and whatever girl he hooked up with. Not theirs. He broke in when Keith started to tell him, yeah, it was their business when they were sharing a girl.

  “Did he really hurt her?” Brody asked.

  It was a good question. And he asked it, when he’d waited long enough—too long—for Jubilee to tell him she was okay.

  “Baby,” he said. “Did he hurt you?”

  Her eyes seemed to focus again, like he’d brought her attention back. She watched as he kissed the red marks on her wrists again. “Oh,” she said, like she’d just realized what he was asking. “Oh, no. Not that way.” Her gaze fell for a moment before it came back to his. “But…he left, didn’t he?”

  Keith nodded, kissing her fingers now. “But Brody and I are still here. That’s good, right?”

  She hesitated for a moment before she returned his small smile. “Yes,” she said. “That’s good.”

  * * * *

  It was good.

  Keith took Jubilee downstairs and gave her tea. When Brody came back with groceries and the Sunday Times, Keith made a French toast brunch. After they’d eaten, the three of them lounged in the living room, reading the paper and working the crossword puzzle together. Later, they drove to Cummings Nature Center, where they could rent snowshoes for the guys, and then hiked through the pretty, quiet woods there. Keith made lasagna for dinner, delegating responsibility for salad and garlic bread to Brody and Jubilee.

  There was hardly a moment of the day when at least one of the men wasn’t touching her in some way. She snuggled against Brody’s chest as they sat on the couch with the puzzle. Keith was there, too, his hands massaging her feet. They patted or hugged her or gently kissed her through every activity. They were there for her, every moment. Present and undemanding. Entirely comforting.

  Jubilee smiled at them and touched them back, kissed them back. Her heart was full and only a little sad.

  They didn’t speak of Henry or any aspect of the future until late in the evening. After dinner, they were back in the living room watching the fire and finishing a bottle of wine. Jubilee sat with Brody in the big easy chair where, just the night before, Keith had started the lovemaking that had ended with all four of them in her bed. He was running his hand along her arm and shoulder, and every couple minutes, he pressed his lips into her hair.

  From across the sitting area, Keith watched. “I have to leave early in the morning,” he said finally. “I have a meeting, first thing, in Albany.”

  In other circumstances, she understood, he’d be there already. He’d stayed to have the day with her. And the night. She also comprehended the deeper intent behind his words. For the length of the weekend, they’d agreed to not think about what they were doing. Now, their time out of time was ending.

  “I have to go early, too,” Brody put in. “My take-off time for San Antonio is before seven.”

  “Henry knew our schedules. That’s why he said he’d come back to take you to the airport.”

  Jubilee looked over at Keith. “I don’t need a ride. I can take myself.”

  Brody patted her hip. “Henry didn’t ask if you needed a ride, did he?”

  She turned her gaze up to Brody’s and got his point. Henry’s offer hadn’t been an offer. “No.”

  “I want to see you when you get back, Juby,” Keith said. “I want to keep on seeing you.”

  “So do I.” Brody turned her face to his and gave her a soft kiss.

  After that sweet touch of lips, she rested her head down on Brody’s shoulder, but her eyes went to Keith.

  He went on like he’d been waiting for her. “You know what a ménage is?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “I’m not talking about just sex, but a relationship.”

  “You and Brody and me?”

  “And Henry,” Brody added.

  Jubilee looked up at him. “Henry doesn’t want me.”

  Brody squeezed her shoulder, then soothed. “He doesn’t want to share you. But he does want you.”

  “He’s going to change his mind,” Keith said.

  Jubilee shook her head. With or without Henry, what Keith was proposing was out there. Way out there.

  “Seems crazy, eh?” Keith got up. “Bring her here,” he told Brody. “I need hands on, too, for this.”

  Keith reached out and gave her a hand up from Brody’s lap. Brody followed and they all settled on the sofa together—Jubilee in the middle. On either side, they held her hand. Keith took her fingers to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. “I think we have to establish this first.” He touched her face and turned her toward him. Their gazes met and he spoke into her eyes. “I’m falling in love with you.” He still had his lips on her knuckles. “Just in case you were thinking this was only about the really spectacular sex.”

  Then Brody’s fingers were there, turning her in his direction. “It is really spectacular sex. But I’m falling in love with you, too.”

  Jubilee took an uneasy breath. She couldn’t believe what the two of them were saying. It seemed impossible—

  “Sweetheart,” Keith said. “Don’t get ahead of us. Just tell us what your feelings are. We need to hear, too.”

  What he was asking was crazy. “I can’t.”

  He had her facing him again. “Yes, you can. Be brave.”

  His gaze was intent, expectant. Just a little bit…commanding. Henry wasn’t the only one among the three to have a tendency to dominate.

  Brody gripped her hand. She turned to him and stepped off the cliff. “I’m falling in love with you.” Then she looked back at Keith and said it again.

  “Good girl,” he said with a kiss to her forehead, then to her lips. “And…”

  She looked at him in question. “And?”

  He nodded. “And Henry.”

  Ah, yes. She nodded, too, if a bit reluctantly. “Yes. Henry, too.”

  “Right,” Keith said. “So, we can work out the logistics as we go along.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Brody broke in. “He’s the engineer. You can bet he already has
the specs in his head.”

  “Specs?”

  Keith lifted a shoulder. “I’ve got ideas, yeah. But they can wait. I mean, it’s too soon to start talking about building an addition to your house, right?”

  “Right.” Jubilee almost squeaked the word out.

  Brody laughed. “See?” he said. He leaned close and whispered in her ear.

  Keith eyed them both, one brow raised. “And I figure it’s also too soon to bring up the subject of babies, so I wonder if we can talk about you getting on birth control.”

  Brody nudged her arm, in case she hadn’t gotten that he’d been right. He whispered again, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

  Keith frowned. “Did he just tell you that I want to fuck you without a condom?”

  Yeah, he had. Brody chuckled out loud. “You are so easy, dude.” But he squeezed Jubilee’s hand and looked at her seriously. “I do, too, though. I mean, I really do.”

  She spent just a moment thinking about what she was considering. She should get on birth control so her…men didn’t need to use condoms. But she’d already flung herself into the freefall of it. “Sure. I can do that.”

  Keith was all accommodating in his victory. “I’ll take you, if you want.”

  “Or I can,” Brody put in. But then he glanced at her. “Probably better not both of us, though.”

  She smiled at the thought of it. Those gyn visits were never all the way comfortable, though she had a great midwife in Canandaigua. But even Jennifer might blink a couple times if Jubilee walked into the office with two men.

  “I’m good,” she chirped.

  Keith grinned. “Good girl,” he said again.

  She looked at those sweet blue eyes and could almost believe in the future he seemed to see. “Do you really think this could work?”

  He held her hand hard. “It looks complicated, doesn’t it? But I’ve looked at all the options—” He paused for Brody’s snort like he knew it was coming. “—and I discarded all the ones that were worse. You with none of us. You with one of us. Those are no good. Even if I was the one you chose in the end…”