Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  *

  I'm no chef, so by the time our evening is about to begin, the takeout I've ordered arrives.

  After paying the delivery guy, I spread out the containers on the kitchen table, hoping Evangeline and Brayden like Spanish food. Beers and sodas follow.

  Being hungry as fuck, I grab one of the tapas servings and eat as I absentmindedly walk through my condo to adjust the lighting. Dimmed low is good for tonight. It'll create a comfortable atmosphere in my already homey place. A three-bedroom apartment. Old wooden floors, walls in warm colors, furniture made of sturdy, dark wood. It's a bachelor pad with a touch of "my mother interfered."

  I got lucky with this place. A friend of my dad's wanted to get out of the city, so I headed straight to the bank to sign papers. 'Cause even as financially independent as I am, you'd have to be a millionaire to own a condo with a rooftop terrace.

  When the doorbell rings again, it's seven PM on the dot, and I nod to myself, pleased, and walk straight for the hallway to get the door.

  I'm greeted with the sight of two unbelievably attractive people on their knees. Eyes downcast. Motherfucking hell. We didn’t discuss this—for them to greet me this way. I haven't told them what to wear, either, which means…they're only out to please me. Fuck me. Warmth courses through my body as I let my eyes drink them in.

  The black lingerie set, stockings included, that Evangeline's wearing makes my mouth water. The push-up bra and panties, both in the same see-through material, are lined with black fur, matching the pointy kitty ears on her head. My little kitten.

  The only thing missing, I note as I step out into the hall, is a tail.

  I'm more than happy to provide one for her. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a butt plug with fur for a tail similar to the kind lining her lingerie.

  A voice in the back of my head whispers that she's missing another item, too: a kitty collar. One that says "Master Cooper's kitten," I decide right then and there.

  I'm just as satisfied with what I see when I glance over at Brayden. He's only in black silk boxers—not as elaborate an outfit as Evangeline's, yet equally sexy.

  Before I walk back into my condo, I pick up two discarded jackets, pairs of jeans, shoes, and one overnight bag. All of it is dropped on the floor inside the door; focusing on my two subs is more important. Understatement.

  Squatting down to their level, I inspect them for traces of arousal, and I'm happy to find several. Brayden is semi-hard beneath the silk, and his chest heaves with shallow breaths. A few locks of dark hair have fallen down his forehead, so I can't see his eyes, but that’s all right. For now. And Evangeline…oh, she's too horny for words. My mouth quirks up. I see how her nipples strain against the sheer fabric, how goose bumps appear on her skin, and how a pink flush spreads over her chest and cheeks.

  "Very beautiful." I reach out to cup her left blushy cheek. Knowing that my neighbor could walk out in the hall at any moment only makes things hotter. "So…" My free hand goes to Brayden's jaw, and I brush my thumb over the slight stubble. "If Evangeline is my kitten, does that make you my puppy?"

  He shudders, and when I look down, I see the bulge growing slightly in his boxers.

  This is a perfect opportunity to learn what they like, because I don’t think they're into the same things. They're two individuals, even if they come as a pair.

  "You may stand," I say and stand up myself. Unlike their incredibly appealing getups, I'm in black leathers and a T-shirt. Bare feet. Nothing special. But what I have planned is. And I'm ready to get started. So, I usher them both inside, close the door behind me, and then position myself in front of them. "First of all, thank you for this." I kiss Evangeline on the forehead and gather Brayden close, draping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm definitely pleased." In fact, I might make these outfits their standard ones when we play in public. When. Not if. "Secondly, I'm Mark until I say so. Not Sir. Understood?"

  They nod. I crack a grin.

  "I won't punish you if you do call me that, but it's not necessary. We're just going to have dinner now—get to know each other a little better. I want you comfortable, and I want you to feel that you can talk about anything without asking. All right?"

  "Okay." Evangeline smiles. Brayden nods, and I detect a hint of nervousness, more now than before. I bet this is what Evangeline was talking about earlier. Opening up might be more difficult for him than simply following an order to do something.

  We'll work on that.

  "Good. I don’t cook well, so I ordered in a bunch of stuff." I extend an arm, motioning them to the kitchen. "We'll do the grand tour thing later, 'cause I'm fucking starving."

  No lie.

  "Oh, I love your kitchen," Evangeline gushes. "My kind of place—old building with character. And this…" She reverently runs a hand over the solid wood kitchen island. Her finger ghosts over the surface, the age-old traces of knives cutting in, and the few darker rings left behind from damp glasses. I wonder if she's forgotten her state of dress…or undress, as it is. Or maybe she's simply comfortable that way. "Not easy to hose down—" she flashes a grin "—but it gives…"

  I chuckle silently and swipe a beer from the table. "Character?"

  "Right." She giggles and ducks her head. "Sorry—I have a thing for furniture that’s not mass-produced and brand new. I love some modern accents." She points to my fridge and freezer, all in stainless steel. "It blends in, but there are limits." The image of Evangeline keeps getting clearer and clearer. Little bits of information give greater peeks into her mind. "I'll shut up now."

  "Don’t," I reply and pull out her chair. "Now I know never to take you to IKEA." I wink at her and she sits down, smiling happily. "You too, Brayden—sit down." The round table seats four, and after some deliberation, I pick the seat next to Evangeline. I don’t want to crowd Brayden, though I hope he won't think I'll ask him any fewer questions. I'll just…give him a slightly slower beginning. A bit more distance. "Dig in, guys. There should be something you like." For myself, I grab a container with paella, glad it's still hot.

  Throughout dinner, I study Brayden and notice several things. For one, Evangeline is his world. If she speaks, he listens. And I find that I do the same, only I can still keep an eye on my surroundings. Not that Brayden isn't aware of my presence, because he sure as fuck is, but it's clear that he could live to make her happy and die to make sure she stays that way.

  Another thing I notice is that he's on guard. His walls are up, and if I asked him something now—something off-limits—he would either bolt or…or…yeah, that’s it: Evangeline would swoop in. I'm willing to bet he banks on her saving him. Perhaps she has in the past.

  I wouldn’t call Evangeline's protectiveness anything negative—far from it. She's not enabling him. But…it might be time for him to let someone else in, too. And if he grows to trust more and more people, it could eventually help him to relax fully.

  All in due time.

  "You know what I realized?" I ask Evangeline and grab a Styrofoam box with grilled fish. "I don’t know your last name." I've learned her occupation, her hobbies, her age, and more about who she is. "I don’t know yours, either." I face Brayden. I've learned a lot less from him. I know he works with computers—software and animation—I know he's twenty-six years old, and that he likes metal and punk.

  "Oh. My name's Lacroix," Evangeline says.

  "Doesn’t get much more French than that, does it?" I grin. I've already guessed there's something French in her, so I'm not surprised.

  "My father is French." She smiles. "But he was born here."

  "Are you fluent?" I'm not good at languages. In school, I was all about sports, math, and, my favorite subject: free period.

  "Somewhat." Her smile turns modest. "Brayden says I sometimes mutter to myself in French—and, like, I use terms of endearment, curses… Brayden's my angel—mon ange. Oh, and—" she laughs "—I tried to teach him a few things, but he stopped after finding a pet name for me."

  "Which is?"
I glance between the two, ignoring the slight twinge of envy.

  In a perfect world, I'd have what they have. Instead, I got an Alexa.

  Evangeline blushes. "Ma belle."

  I can guess that one. "Very fitting." I smile at Brayden. "No French last name for you?"

  He fidgets in his seat a little and clears his throat, looking away. "No. Um, Zeagler. Brayden Zeagler."

  Unusual. And… I frown. Oddly familiar. I'm pretty sure I've heard that name before, though I can't pinpoint it.

  "Brayden's father ran for mayor a couple years ago," Evangeline says with a tight-lipped smile. And that’s all I needed. Zeagler. Clark Zeagler. He didn’t win. He's not the mayor—much to my brothers' disappointment—but he's an influential man. He's also a strict Catholic, the most conservative of Republicans, and can wrap up a "fuck you" and an "I hate gays" in five-dollar words and a political smile.

  Greg donated generously to his campaign.

  "My condolences," I mutter, tipping my beer bottle at him. With just his name, it's easier to understand him. Not only is Brayden a submissive, but I'm fairly positive he's bisexual, too. Couldn’t have been easy to grow up with his dad.

  "Je te l'avais bien dit, mon ange—I said he'd understand." Evangeline gives Brayden a teasing little smirk. "You should tell him more—"

  "Lina." Brayden's voice is soft and his gaze isn't harder, yet the warning's clear. He's not ready.

  "It's okay." I nod to him. "I won't pressure you." Yet. Limits are meant to be pushed, though I know when to be patient. "In fact, let's drop this subject and move on." While Brayden looks relieved, Evangeline appears remorseful for pushing her boyfriend. I want none of that right now. "If you're finished eating, I think we should take this into the living room." Ironically, I'm not done eating, so I shovel some grilled fish into my mouth and then chase it down with my beer.

  As much as I want to tell them to just march into my bedroom and wait for my orders, it's too soon.

  Chapter 7

  I find out that the right way to mellow out Brayden is to let Evangeline take the lead. The setting might appear romantic—lit candles, music on in the background, and wine on the table—but the mood is light thanks to Evangeline's babysitting stories. Not the sexiest topic, though it certainly helps Brayden lower his guard.

  We're seated on my big couch, and I even have my kitten on my lap. Brayden's next to me, and much like we did after our scene at Switch, he has Evangeline's legs in his own lap.

  "I remember you came home one day and told me about that couple who wanted more from you." Brayden grins cheekily at her. "You were so flustered."

  "I was shocked!" she argues, giggling. "They were like sixty years old." She makes a face.

  I chuckle and aimlessly caress her thigh. Hard not to. "And they had young kids you babysat?"

  "Well—foster kids." She smiles. "The couple was really sweet; they'd always wanted kids of their own, but they never could. So, they helped out with children who were waiting for permanent families."

  I raise a brow. "And they came on to you?" Oh yeah, I'm amused as fuck.

  "Yes." She blushes so hard that she covers her face with her hands. "I was so embarrassed—you have no idea!" Next she ducks her head and buries it in the crook of my neck. I chuckle and give her upper thigh a squeeze. "I was about to leave one night when they told me to wait." Her voice is partly muffled by my skin. "At first I thought they were gonna talk about next time I babysat. But instead they told me I was beautiful—then they asked if I ever wanted to stop by when the kids weren't home."

  I laugh.

  "I was so confused, 'cause…" She groans. "They were this strict couple. Sweet but strict. Kind of like your brother, actually." She pokes my ribcage, and she obviously doesn’t know Greg very well yet. "The kids could only drink the most vitamin-rich OJ, eat the best meals, wear the fanciest clothes, and they all came home with straight As and weren't allowed to watch TV until after dinner."

  "But what if they'd been a sexy, younger couple?" Brayden waggles his eyebrows.

  Evangeline lifts her head and sticks out her tongue. "You know chicks don’t do it for me, mon ange."

  "No." I snort a chuckle. "You need two men, apparently." I pinch her hip, causing her to squirm over my semi. "Greedy little girl, aren’t you?"

  "Mmm." She hums and nuzzles my jaw. "I guess I'm guilty there."

  Tease. "Hey, come here," I murmur, cupping her cheek. Looking into her eyes, I try to see if she's had too much alcohol, but I see none of that. Two glasses of wine should be safe anyway. What I do see is arousal. With a faint smile, I close the distance and kiss her softly. Once, twice, three times. By the third, I linger. "I think that’s enough talking for now. What do you say?"

  Before they can even reply, I claim Evangeline's mouth again and blindly reach for Brayden's hand. He says he's not ready for me to be intimate with him, but there's no forgetting the moment at the club when we both finger-fucked the young woman on my lap.

  Slowly, I slide our hands up Evangeline's thigh. Breathing grows labored for all of us, stories about babysitting long over and forgotten. Eventually, I need air, so I break from the kiss and urge Brayden closer. Closer and closer—until their heads tilt together and I'm four or five inches away from a deep kiss between two people who love each other. I watch as their tongues meet; it's sensual and beyond passionate.

  Only a few seconds after, Evangeline whimpers as Brayden and I reach her damp pussy, and she tries to part her legs for us. Leaning in, I start to kiss her neck. Openmouthed. I taste her, nip at her skin, and breathe her in.

  "I want your panties off." My voice is rougher, huskier. The hand I've had on Evangeline's back trails toward the clasp of her bra. I flick it off. "Help her, Brayden." And while he does, I remove her bra and toss it aside. I also pull my T-shirt over my head. "You've got beautiful breasts." I capture her mouth in a kiss, at the same time cupping her tits in my hands, feeling the roundness, the heaviness, and two tight nipples that I pinch between my fingers.

  "Damn." She breathes heavily. "I want more—" she hesitates "—is it Mark or Sir?"

  I smile against her cheek. "Still Mark. Don’t worry, I'll let you know." And right now I want her mouth on me. "Will you kneel for me?"

  As a response, she stands up long enough for Brayden to slide down her panties, and then she drops to her knees between my legs. Fucking gorgeous. So willing to submit.

  Keeping our gazes locked, I unzip my leather pants and push them down my thighs, my cock slapping against my lower abdomen. I'm acutely aware of the need in Evangeline's eyes, but what turns me on even more is Brayden in my periphery, licking his lips. The battle he has within himself will make for the sweetest motherfucking surrender one day. Surrender to me.

  "Suck me off, kitten."

  She takes a breath and leans forward, placing her hands on my thighs. A wet kiss to start with, then cute little laps and licks. Fuck. Kitten is correct. Her noises fit, too.

  Dizzy with lust, my head lolls back as her hot mouth slides down my cock, soaking me in saliva. I groan under my breath and buck my hips. In turn, she hums around me and takes me deeper.

  "Jesus." I hiss and grind my teeth together. "Brayden—" I swallow a moan, pointing to behind Evangeline "—fuck her. Right now." This wasn’t exactly my plan for tonight, but as I watch Brayden tugging down his boxers and getting behind his girlfriend on the floor, his cock hard as rock, I don’t give two shits about my plans. "Do you need a condom?" I think I have one in the back pocket of my discarded leathers.

  "No, we're clean and covered," he says quickly, aligning his dick with Evangeline's pussy. "You ready, Lina?" With my cock in her mouth, she manages a small nod, and that’s all Brayden needs before he pushes inside. "Oh fuck, yeah…"

  My mind spins, registering that this is getting out of control—or rather, out of my control—so I decide to keep this up until they can't take it anymore. After that, we'll go to my bedroom. Before, though, I will grant myself a fuck
ing release. I've earned it.

  "Fuck, that feels amazing, sweetheart," I groan. Fisting her hair, I guide her over me and thrust, coating the roof of her mouth in pre-come. Long, deep strokes that make the head of my cock touch the back of her throat. The irony of our positions causes my mouth to edge upward slightly, because I have something similar in mind for my bedroom.

  The sound of Brayden's hips slapping against Evangeline's ass reminds me of later, so I say, "You're not allowed to come." Mark, Sir, Master—they can see this as a transition. They can call me what they want at this point.

  "I'm already close," he grits out. His eyes plead with me, a surge of possessiveness settling in my gut at the sight. They come to me for permission—nobody else.

  "You better hold back, pup." I return my attention to Evangeline. The wet noises she makes, combined with Brayden slamming into her from behind, are enough to push me close to the brink. My balls grow firmer, and Evangeline cups them in her hand. She massages them like a fucking expert, all while tightening her soft lips around my erection. "Almost there." I throw my head back again, feeling the familiar tingling sensation surge down my spine.

  It's only a couple passes of her mouth later that my climax takes over. Pleasure builds up and explodes; every fucking nerve ending is a live wire. "Fuck." I spit out a curse. Cock throbbing, I release in three streams down her contracting throat.

  I slump deeper into the plush couch, barely able to think straight.

  "You can stop now, Brayden."

  He won't be able to fight back his own orgasm if he keeps going.

  He complies with an expression of despair.

  "Was that good?" A smug smirk tugs at the corner of Evangeline's mouth as she crawls up my body. She's breathing heavily, cheeks and chest flushed, and she's evidently cocky enough to be proud. "Thank you for letting me taste you." She kisses my chin.

  I grin lazily and scrub a hand over my face. "You won't be smirking for much longer, kitten. But yeah, that was good. Or un-fucking-believable is more like it." She's not taking my promise seriously; her satisfied smile is proof of that. Her mistake. "I think I'm ready to continue this in the bedroom."