Maybe she was still out of it, the painkillers warping her perception, but he seemed … different. Tired? Gaunt?
Haunted. The word you’re looking for is haunted. Or maybe you’re just high.
“Ashley.” His hand stroked the un-throbbing side of her face, his thumb easing over the curve of her ear. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks. Was about to say the same thing to you.” She stuck out her tongue. “Sir.”
Parker looked across her bed, and she followed his gaze.
“Drake!”
His dark eyes sparkled as his smile brightened the room. She saw relief in those caring eyes … and something else. “Doctor said you were talking her ear off, telling her you needed your Parker.” He jerked his chin up. “So I found him for you.”
“Thank you, Drake. For everything.”
How she could be so lucky — despite the fact that rolling your car down an embankment couldn’t be construed as particularly lucky — she really couldn’t fathom. Two of these men?
She reached for Drake’s hand, and he took it, his massive palm enveloping it in strength and warmth — and safety.
“So, I think it’s time you moved in with us, Ashley,” Parker said, resting a hand on the blankets covering her legs. He sat down beside her bed, leaning over her as if to whisper something, his warm breath tickling her cheek. “When we get you out of here, we’re moving you in.”
“Wait, wait.” She turned to Drake, her vision already affected by the painkillers, the light at the edges of her perception muted, washing out. “Don’t you think this is a bad time to talk about this? You know, me in a hospital bed? Looking like I went five rounds?”
“Ten — and you lost.” Drake gave her a wry grin. “And for once I agree with him. We can take better care of you if you’re in our house.”
“We think it’s time anyway.” Parker shot a glance across to Drake. “Time we finish what we started — before Drake decided he was going to be a pussy.”
Ashley giggled, then sobered as both men glared at her. “Sorry, I just — yeah, Drake and pussy. Not even in the same zip code.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Drake inclined his head, winking at her.
Parker’s hand cupped her jaw, bringing her gaze back to his. “I’m serious. I want you living with me. With us.”
“I can’t … “
“Just while you heal up,” Drake said, the cadence of his voice dropping into a soothing tone. God, the sound of it! She thought she could go right to sleep listening to that bass flow, that uber-masculine voice vibrating through her flesh.
“I’ve got all my stuff — where would I put it? And my car … oh God, my car!”
“Gone to that wrecking yard in the great beyond, my dear,” Drake’s voice intoned.
“We’ll take care of all your stuff,” Parker said. “And I think we can figure something out as far as wheels for you.”
He was definitely looking tired, almost wan — even though it looked like he’d gotten plenty of sun.
She squinted up at Parker. “How the hell do you have a tan? It’s December.”
His eyes bored into hers. “First, don’t use that tone with me. Second, we’ll talk about it later.”
Even though she was hurting, there was no denying the effect those words, and that look, had on her. If she were in one piece, she’d probably be panting. But it was no time for that.
“Let me guess — we’ll talk about this once I’m moved in?”
Both men replied in tandem. “Yep!”
The door to the room opened, and the tall, cool beauty of Dr. Erickson stepped in, stopping to scrub her palms with hand sanitizer. “X-rays came back negative. You’ve got a bruised left clavicle, pretty close to the shoulder.” She met the gaze of each man in turn, her eyes keen. “If you’re going to be taking care of her while she recovers, make sure she doesn’t lift anything. Even if it’s small. She needs to keep that arm in a sling, rest that shoulder.”
Dr. Erickson sidled in on Parker’s side, and he moved his chair back to allow her room to check Ashley’s bandages.
“These need to be changed at least once a day.” The doctor snapped a quick glance at Drake, her mouth tightening to a thin line. “Can you guys handle that?”
“I think we can manage,” Drake ground out, his eyes rolling.
Something was going on there, but Ashley wasn’t sure what it was. A tension?
The doctor picked up the chart that hung from the foot of Ashley’s bed. She flipped back two pages and scribbled in it. “I’m writing a scrip for oxycodone. That shoulder is going to be really sore for a couple days. You’re going to need them.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
Parker cleared his throat. “How about her head, doc? No concussion? Drake said she must’ve taken a pretty hard lick.”
The doctor tilted her head, meeting Ashley’s gaze. “Mild concussion, maybe. Keep an eye on her. If she has any dizziness or vomiting, bring her back in. Otherwise, she should be fine.” She flashed a quick smile at Ashley, then held out a page from the chart. “Is the address current?”
Feeling suddenly sheepish, Ashley looked at both men. “It’s changing.”
Parker and Drake grinned back at her.
“Oh.” The doctor wasn’t quite successful at suppressing her frown.
***
“Oh no you don’t.” Parker snatched the basket from Ashley’s hands. “You know better than that.
“Parker, I can get it!” Ashley reached for the wicker with her right hand. “See, I’m using the approved arm!”
“You can’t hold a full basket with one arm.” He glared at her before taking it down the hall. “Go sit down and rest. I mean it.”
She hated the fact that she literally could do almost nothing to help them move her things. Not even a simple basket of clothes! She went out to her living room, and slumped down on the couch. Snow was coming down hard again outside, but not sticking, the clumpy, soggy flakes looked not much smaller than coasters.
Ashley scratched at the gash at her hairline, the itching from her stitches worsening. At least the pain from that cut was gone now. Looking down at the dark blue fabric immobilizing her left arm though, she frowned. “Too bad I’m still a fucking cripple.”
The front door opened, cold rushing in behind Drake’s looming form. Rapidly melting snowflakes dusted his close-cropped dark hair. “Let me guess. He banished you to the living room to wait?”
Looking up at Drake, she grimaced. “Something like that.”
“She tried grabbing the full basket of clothes!” Parker strode out from the hall scanning the living room, before his gaze centered on her. “And after I expressly told her she wasn’t supposed to pick up anything.”
“It was, fuck — a basket, Parker. Seriously.”
Drake pulled off his coat, hanging it up to dry on the rack in the foyer. “Didn’t Brunhilda down at the ER say something about resting that arm?”
“Yeah, yeah — I know.” Ashley threw her hand up in disgust. “Don’t lift anything. She’s helpless. Baby her.”
Both men stood in front of her, their gazes hard. Her urge to snark melted away as she peered up at them.
Oh shit.
“Do you think it’s time to tell her about the book?” Parker glanced at Drake, an eyebrow raised. “I thought it might be too soon, but with the mood she’s in?”
“Might be time, yeah.”
What book?
“Guys, I’m right here.” She held up a hand, palm up. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just … frustrated. I don’t like you guys doing everything. And what the hell is this book you’re talking about?”
“It’s one of the things that will be part of your life if — when — you move in. It’s simply a leatherbound book — I know just the one I want to get you — with nothing but blank pages in it.” A sly smile curved Parker’s lips. “Anytime one of us thinks you’ve done or said something that we don’t like, any behavior that we’ve expressly
prohibited, we’ll tell you to go write it down in your book.”
“Like cursing.” Drake’s eyes narrowed.
Ashley gulped.
“At the end of the week, or month, or whatever regular period we decide for you, we’ll review the book to see how you’ve behaved.” Parker’s gaze turned cool. “And then it’ll be time to pay the piper.”
“Um, we could just not keep … a book. Couldn’t we?”
Both Parker and Drake shook their heads.
“What do you have in mind for, um, ‘paying the piper’?”
Ashley wasn’t sure she even wanted to know the answer to that question, but the idea, that these two men would keep her accountable — for even the smallest of transgressions — was straight out of her darkest, most twisted fantasies.
“You’ll find out soon if you keep it up.” Parker’s jaw firmed. “I wanted to ease you into things with regard to the book, but now I’m not sure you don’t need it now. Maybe we need it too.”
“You're going to have to get used to it, Ashley.” Drake touched her cheek, a finger caressing the corner of her mouth. He leaned in close, kissing the top of her head. “Besides, if Parker gets his way, there'll be a time not so far away when you'll be doing practically everything for him. So you'd better enjoy it while you can.”
“What — what does that mean?”
Drake's grin lit up his handsome face, and his beauty made her want to kiss him. “I think you know exactly what that means.”
Just him? What about … ?
“Now, just rest. We'll have something to talk about when he get back to the house.”
“Like what?”
Drake picked up another box, and swing the door open with his hip. “The book, Ashley.” He walked back out to the car before she could respond.
“Great,” she muttered. “Fucked up again, apparently.”
Oh stop, you slut. You LOVE this. This is what you've dreamed of. And there are TWO of them.
So, maybe that was true, but if this was the stuff of her dreams, what the hell was wrong? Something still nagged at her, an uneasiness that she hadn't been able to shake since leaving the hospital. Was all of this right? For her?
Yes, the men — her men — were eager to get her into the house with them. That made some sense — easy access to the you-know-what.
It was Drake she still didn't have a handle on. Something had happened in the hospital between him and Parker, and she wanted to know what it was. They were keeping something from her — again. Ashley was growing tired of being the last person in the room to find out anything.
This is kind of what you signed up for when you agreed to submit to Parker.
Had she though? She’d agreed to be Parker's … but she hadn't agreed to be Drake's.
But the thought sends your heart racing, doesn't it? Two Masters? Both concentrating on you? Bending you to their will?
“Maybe I'm just scared,” she whispered.
“Scared of what, girl?” Parker stood in the hallway entrance, her long black coat outstretched in a hand. “Time to go. I think we got all we need for now.”
“Oh.” Ashley stood, tucking a loose length of hair behind her ear. “Didn't realize … you got all of it? Already?”
“What we need anyway.”
“Can I go check? Real quick.”
Parker nodded. “I'll wait for you.”
Ashley dashed back to her room, scanning for anything else she'd need. Then she frowned. Seeing her drawers emptied, and her closet bare, did something to her. The fear she felt, completely irrational, came flooding back. Change had been something she'd grown to fear — even when it was the best thing for her.
But now, was this really the best thing for her? Putting herself, truly, in the hands of these men? It wasn't that she feared them — at least not in a BAD way — no, it was fear of ruining something that had seemed like a blessing from God. These two men, seemingly sent to her from Stud Central Casting, both of them wanting her — and wanting the same thing out of a relationship she did. It all seemed so perfect.
Perfect never turned out to be that way — and that was what bothered her. Living with them — even on a temporary basis — risked everything. At least what she thought of as everything. They'd formed almost a sort of fort around her, these men. A place for her to heal, and hide — and maybe even grow. She didn't want to fuck that up. As she walked back down the hall, to the beautiful man holding her coat for her like a gentleman, she resolved herself to it, to what needed to be done.
Temporary. All of this would be temporary.
She'd stay with them as long as she needed too — and that was it. No more sublimating herself into another man. No, first she'd fully learn how to be herself again. How to live.
But what if that's not what you want? What if that which you most want is to BE subjugated to that man? To those men?
“Then I have a problem,” she whispered.
Flashing a smile at Parker, she took her coat.
***
She'd wanted to make them dinner, feeling that it was the least she could do for everything they'd done for her. But Parker insisted on ordering in. Drake had gone to pick it up, and she'd found herself curled in Parker's arms on the sofa, the fire in front of them popping pleasantly, the warmth enveloping them, pushing away both the cold and — temporarily at least — her doubts.
“Thank you, again.” She nuzzled her head up under his strong chin, the beat of his heart comforting against her ear. “I don't deserve guys like you.”
Parker's hand stroked the curve of her hip, his fingers tracing the outline of the pocket of her jeans. “We're the ones who don't deserve you. Well, maybe Drake does — but I'm firmly out of the running.”
She patted his chest, smiling. “I'm a giving girl.”
“You're more right than you know, Ashley.”
“Can you tell me something though?”
“Sure.”
One of the logs snapped, startling her with a jerk. Parker's chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Tense?”
“A little.”
“Well, we've got you now. You're safe — you can relax.” He pulled her closer to him, the strength in his arm making her sigh softly. “Nothing can hurt you now. Not ever, Ashley.”
“I know, and it's such an alien — but great — feeling.” She closed her eyes. “I never really had that. Before.”
“What did you want to know?”
Ashley took a deep breath. “How is this going to work? Between … all of us?”
“You mean with Drake?” His hand squeezed her denim clad buttock, and she pushed her hips against him, wishing she could slot her pussy against the hard angle of his hip, but the angle was wrong. She squeezed her thighs together.
Soon, if she was lucky.
“Yes. I mean, I've never even heard of something like this. At least not in anything that wasn't a romance novel.”
“There isn't anything for you to worry about, Ashley—”
“I didn't mean that I was worried.”
“Let me finish,” he said, his voice deepening.
“Sorry.”
“Drake and I are going to be working this out, just like you are. We've never done anything like this before either.”
“You … haven’t?”
Parker shook his head. “We’ve talked about it plenty, sure. Honestly though, we never thought we’d ever find a woman who’d be right for it. But with you — we both knew. Maybe from the very beginning.”
She swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth. “How did you know?”
“I can't explain it — but it's gotten stronger every minute I’ve known you.” He pressed his cheek to her head. “I don't know — I didn't know it was possible for me to feel this way. I mean — when I got the message from Drake about the wreck.” Parker breathed in, deeply. “Fuck.”
She smiled against his chest, shocked and relieved that she could do so that soon after the terrifying
accident. “You want to know something?”
“Always.”
“The last thing I thought of before I was knocked out? It was you — and Drake.”
He moved his head aside, pulling her chin up so he could look at her. “You telling me the truth?”
“After my last whipping, I'm not going to risk another by lying to you.” She grinned at him, the thought of him disciplining her sending her heart racing and filling her with an excited energy.
He smiled back at her, the dark lines of his eyebrows quirking. “You understand don't you, that I might decide to discipline you even if you haven't done anything to deserve it?”
“Yes,” she sighed, the let down of moisture between the lips of her sex surprisingly strong.
“Good. As long as we understand one another.” His expression sobered. “I want you to be clear on that, Ashley.”
“I am — I think.” Was there really any further doubt, sexually anyway? She was fairly certain she could follow Parker anywhere he led her, no matter how dark the path. As long as he was there.
And as long as Drake is too.
“If this works out the way I want it too, the evolution of things, I — we — will be demanding things of you that you may not like at the time. This is part of what we want — in our woman. Obedience.”
Her breath almost moaned out of her at the word. Though it still hackled the liberated, modern woman she was supposed to have been raised to be, that small strident voice within her was nearly lost to the wildness, the power of her lust. Submitting to this man, to his will, was what spoke to her on every level — physically, intellectually, and emotionally. It was what she was — and probably always had been.
And she'd found the men who could help her — maybe even force her — to explore what that meant. In its own way terrifying, it was nonetheless a thought that stirred her, awakened the sense of adventure, danger, even rebellion that was within her.
Doing what she shouldn't, but what was so very right for her.
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