Rafe watched him go, the other members parting before his bulk in waves, then shoved his beer away. “So, game plan?”
“Alice will be with Ishmael tonight. I’ll leave him a message and we’ll check in with them in the morning.”
“Not tonight?”
“And risk Ishmael’s wrath?” Connor snorted. “Alice’s would be worse. But she’ll share. She’s experienced in the Lifestyle and she likes our Maddy. We’re gonna call in all our markers. And I’ll sift through everything again tonight. Try out our new search engine. Give Maddy a chance to settle.” It sucked, because while he thought to strike while she was in emotional disarray, he wanted her to commit with a clear head. Conundrum.
“And we’ll head to Maddy’s place…tomorrow?”
Rafe was the action guy, Connor the planner. But he couldn’t fault Rafe’s logic. “As soon as we find out everything we can, we’ll see what our little subbie is up to.”
“You prepared to take her home with us? We might be able to ‘influence’ her a little easier. But only vanilla. Thomas would kick our asses.”
As rash as it sounded, Connor wasn’t about to argue. This was big. A fire in his belly had been lit tonight, and his intuition was never wrong. Rafe operated on sheer instinct, and that too had proven infallible. He figured if they waited very long, something bad would happen, and they’d lose an opportunity neither of them had ever believed would come their way. He was thirty-six and Rafe had just had his thirty-fourth birthday. The urge to find a full-time submissive and settle down had been wearing on them for the past few years, but until Maddy, no woman felt right.
Both of them came from childhoods where learning how to take control and do no harm to civilians—although he supposed others might see some of their BDSM activities in a different light—meant the difference between getting ahead in this world legally, and not being just one step ahead of the law. Connor had been raised as privileged, above the laws that governed others, and it took a tragedy involving a friend to disprove that pretense. He’d turned his back on his family and enlisted.
Rafe joined up to make something of himself and escape his circumstances, Connor knew, and his best friend would have either made an excellent criminal, or been incarcerated for much of his life, if he hadn’t chosen the military.
Their armed forces training had instilled much-needed discipline, but both he and his buddy were the leader types, and the only team he wanted to play on was when he and Rafe had a woman between them. Not just any woman. Maddy.
Debating about having another beer before he headed out, Connor decided against it. He’d need his head clear, and time felt like it was slipping away. Rafe rose with him and accompanied him to the door, acknowledging the farewells of other members as Connor got lost in the memories of Maddy.
“Who’s the little bundle in pink?” Connor nodded at the loose gathering of submissives near the foyer. The Dom tending bar squinted in that direction.
“Madeline. Maddy Powell. Accepted maybe three weeks ago.” A smile graced the older man’s face. “Nice little thing. She isn’t bratty, but has confidence, you know? Real respectful and submissive to the bone. Doing great in the training program. You’ve been away or you’d have been up.”
Jeff referred to Connor and Rafe taking their turn teaching and supporting the new initiates, and Connor regretted taking that last job. It turned out well, like all their missions so far, and was lucrative, but he’d have liked to have met this Maddy right from the start.
“You scene with her?” It was an absurd question, because all the unattached Doms at Vantage could approach subs for scenes. It was what happened here. But Connor didn’t particularly care for the idea and it rankled because it was so unfamiliar. It felt like jealousy and he’d just laid eyes on the girl. Well, he’d studied her for awhile, long hair in an interesting fall of blonde over dark brown, pale, creamy skin, and curves on curves. All vivacious movement and glowing smiles, then rushing to help a fellow sub when the man bobbled the tray he was carrying to where his Mistress waited on him. Instant connection, and it went past his usual preference of tall, slender, and meek. Connor was self-aware and didn’t question the intense draw, knowing better than to dismiss intuition.
“Not yet. She might have had some training before, but so far it’s been mostly show and tell. She helps out, wanders and asks questions when permitted. She’s well liked.”
“Limits?”
Master Jeff scratched his cheek, looking left then right. A seasoned Dom, he was also an excellent bartender, and like bartenders all over the world, tended to hear confidences and overhear things the rest of the Doms didn’t. “No extreme pain. No blood, scat play, breath play. No anal. No threesomes or more.” Jeff frowned. “She’s refused penetrative sex, actually. Likes bondage and mild pain. But she’s only scened a few times that I recall. Finding her way, I imagine.”
No threesomes. No anal. No sex. Well, shit. Rafe wandered up, his arm around a lissom blonde, and winked at him. “Julie here sassed me when I requested she get me a drink.”
Connor looked at the sub, who, despite her downcast eyes, fluttered her lids just a fraction, confirming what he suspected. Julie was hot for Rafe, and while she probably accepted Connor too, it was primarily because she wanted his buddy. So she’d been impertinent because she needed a punishment. Well, Connor was up for the task. The blonde gave great head, especially after impact play, and Rafe would get her puss. He made himself focus away from the plump little subbie in pink, only to realize Rafe had tensed, his big body up on point as he stared at the foyer. If Connor had ever doubted fate, he cast those qualms aside.
“Julie.” Connor hurried to intervene. She was a regular sub at Vantage, and he wouldn’t let Rafe’s unprecedented lack of attention hurt her.
She raised her eyes, the dark blue iris already being absorbed as her pupils dilated in preparation for what she anticipated.
“Go to the medieval room, sub. Strip and stand against the wall beneath the shackles.” She visibly shuddered at his order and her nipples tightened exponentially. Connor pinched each nub, keeping her attention on him.
Rafe blinked and squeezed her tight. “You do that, girl. We’ll be right along.”
Watching as she hurried to do their bidding, high, taut buttocks barely moving beneath the tight skirt she wore, Connor chastised his friend. “Jesus, Rafe.”
“I know. Fuck me. Thanks for the save. But I just saw—”
“Something pretty in pink,” Connor suggested.
“Hell, yes.” Rafe’s eyes narrowed on Connor. “I told you we should have a drink first, but you figured on finding a room. And then Julie…”
Connor wanted to laugh. Sometimes it was like having a baby brother to deal with. They were always in one another’s faces. But even if Rafe wanted what he wanted right fucking now, he was still a damn fine friend. And a damn fine Dom.
“I couldn’t tear my eyes away, either. She’s new. In training. No threesomes or anal.” He conveyed all he’d found out.
Disappointment in Rafe’s eyes mirrored his own feeling. “Shit.”
“My word exactly, buddy. But limits change. Maybe we can help her consider going in a different direction over the next while.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’ll be on my best behavior, ’cause there’s something about her…”
“We’ll talk to Thomas later,” Connor promised.
Honest-to-God chemistry connected both he and Rafe to Maddy Powell. Chemistry. That’s how it’d been since the beginning of man meeting woman. You came, you saw, you conquered, and there was a whole lot more coming after that—until societal mores fucked it all up. Men and women didn’t know which end was up anymore. In the club, sometimes it was just play, where the Dominants asserted themselves and the subs surrendered for a scene. Sometimes it was more, and a long-term relationship developed. This was one of those more times. And he was getting ahead of himself.
With a snort that pulled him from his thoughts and drew a puzzled glance fr
om Rafe, Connor tossed his friend the truck keys. Famous last fucking words. They’d not only gotten ahead of themselves, they were so far out front he wondered if they were last. It had taken weeks of stalking their little prey, being in her space, observing her as she began to scene more with single Doms and with some of the training Doms, fighting down the urge to smack the men in the mouth and retrieve Maddy for themselves. Again he comforted himself with the realization that Maddy hadn’t yet graduated to penetrative sex. And had changed those limits. Maybe she had indeed been waiting for them. They could hope.
“What you thinking about?”
“The first time we saw Maddy. Then going off with Julie and playing out some fantasies that weren’t about her.”
Rafe shrugged and climbed into the driver’s seat of the big truck. Connor took his own place on the passenger side and latched the seat belt.
“Julie had a great scene, buddy. And who’s to say it was us in her head?”
“Give it up, Rafe. Julie wants you.”
“Uh-huh. And beneath that tolerant, beautiful exterior I smell a closet racist. And worse, a poser.”
Connor didn’t answer. Julie’s continual reference to Rafe’s heritage, even if in a sultry, sexy way, coupled with her apparent fascination with cowboy play had made him wonder too. And his friend was right. She didn’t really want a ménage, not even in play, refusing to take them both at once, at least not their preferred act of anal and vaginal penetration. Connor had toyed with the idea about manipulating her to do it to please them, but figured it would create more issues down the road, and it wasn’t above board, anyhow. As well, they were skilled at DP, and women tended to come harder than most other times, or at least in a different, memorable way. Giving Julie a taste would make her that much clingier.
“I remember our one scene with Maddy like it was yesterday, buddy. It almost takes away the bad taste of tonight,” Rafe admitted. “Not that I don’t still relish how great her cunt tasted.” He cranked the engine over, then tuned to a rockabilly station, the cacophony filling the cab and precluding conversation.
Connor didn’t want to think about tonight either, but he had to, and so would Rafe. Maddy had given them plenty of information despite denying them. He needed to think on every nuance and compare notes with Rafe. It was what made them such a great team in the field. His cock ached behind his leathers, and he shifted himself in the seat to get more comfortable. It felt right to tell Rafe to drive straight to their little sub’s house tonight, but then he was also thinking with his little head. Tomorrow for sure. Better to be prepared and all that.
****
Rafe Mason focused on the road. He’d leave Connor to the hearts and flowers. It fucking hurt too much to go there, even in his head. His friend was ass over heels, all that methodical planning eroded away because of one small, curvy armful. Fuck. He was ass over heels too, fortuitous, because he couldn’t imagine not living with Connor Gillespie for the rest of his life. They were blood brothers, a bond forged stronger than steel. If he swung that way, Connor would be his first pick to fuck, but what they had was different, deeper than Rafe could explain.
It had taken a long time to trust his buddy, but after what they’d gone through together overseas…ah, he wasn’t wasting time on that either. They’d cautiously talked about finding a woman to share, forever, covering up their need, even to each other, with cracks and jocular comments about the likelihood of that ever happening. Threesomes in the clubs? Sure. With a few women they met in other, more vanilla places? Sometimes. But beyond a couple of nights, maybe a week? Highly unlikely. The difficulties were too much to fathom. Until they’d seen Maddy. The difficulties just melted away and nothing felt insurmountable. Margaret Madeline. He tasted the name, much as he’d tasted her tonight. All that tart sweetness. As fast as he’d lapped it up, she’d made more, so wet for them despite the circumstances.
He wished he’d given her an orgasm tonight, some kind of succor for the obvious emotional pain she’d suffered because of their so-called interrogation, procedure be damned. Maddy had come on Connor’s fingers during the scene where they’d established her immediate pain limits, and she was so beautiful when she went over. He’d dreamt about climbing right inside her head the next time, binding her spirit to his.
Slowing for a red light about to change to green, he gritted his teeth. When was the last time a sub had ever needed to use their safe word with him? Or with him and Connor? Maybe once in the early days while they were learning. Hurting their sweetheart tonight, the pain he not only saw, but felt as his own…it sucked the big one. It wasn’t going to happen again.
Right. Feeling powerless, out of control, made him nuts. He had to be in charge, couldn’t cop to any vulnerability. Connor was softer and could talk the talk. Rafe had history he’d buried so deep he doubted he’d recognize it if the memory surfaced and bit him on the ass. Connor grew up in such luxury Rafe could never conceive or understand, but had taken a stand against the entitlement. Himself? Well, he came up pretty much on his own, immersed in the dysfunction of a once proud people brought low with poverty, drugs, alcohol, and porn. He was never going to be fully dependent on another person again. Not that he’d actually experienced dependency. Nope, it might take a village to raise a child, but not when the villagers weren’t able to take care of themselves. He was just fucking lucky to have found his way to the recruiter’s office before he ended up dead or worse.
Maddy was scarred outside too. Not from shrapnel like Connor, but from what Rafe suspected was a knife, or something long and thin. Sharp. She must have been twisting away, fleeing, or her guts would have spilled. Nausea burned his throat at the vivid image the thought invoked. But he knew what happened to the human body when it was assaulted by cold steel. And those marks on the back of her shoulder—he shook his head involuntarily. Not exactly like a cigarette burn, too big. The other burns were on her fingertips, the first three on either hand. Old and well healed, but it would make taking finger prints from her a bugger.
“You think she disfigured her own fingers?” He snapped out the question over the din of the music.
Connor turned his way, clearly thinking hard and off in his own head. “What?”
“The burns on the end of her fingers. Do you think she did that to herself to avoid being fingerprinted?”
“Doubt it. Those alone would leave distinctive marks. Impossible to duplicate.”
Rafe didn’t know if he felt better about Maddy not harming herself, or worse, because some asshole had done it to her. No way were those anything other than deliberately inflicted injuries. He recalled taking note of her fingertips while securing her for their scene.
They’d cut her out of the herd with their usual precision that night, armed with the knowledge of her new limits, so tired of waiting. Rafe had felt her covert interest, just as his buddy had. It was like a tangible thing, some kind of coiling connection. Ticking off ménage in her file had given them further hope that she’d accepted the connection, or at least wasn’t opposed to it. Regardless, they capitalized on the changes. Anal play had been added too. To Rafe that was just one step away from anal sex, with the proper encouragement of intense pleasure. And no way would they inflict serious pain on Maddy, so he, for one, was really pleased that “no real pain” remained her hard limit. Connor had teased him about that, because Rafe hadn’t been averse to playing with the masochists from time to time. But that was about proving himself, his control, and while Maddy would no doubt earn her fair share of punishments, beating her bloody wasn’t in the cards, ever.
The injuries she’d sustained weren’t from consensual harsh play. He’d bet on it. Rubbing those delicate little fingers between his own had brought a flash of panic to Maddy’s eyes, the intriguing hazel flecks flaring to intense green, the color of fear. Neither he nor Connor had asked, figuring they’d save the more intense peeling back of her emotional layers for a later time. They’d really just wanted to get her used to their touch, get her of
f, and leave her wanting more and connecting with them. Those concentric circles on the creamy skin of her shoulder were harder to ignore, and Connor had traced them, as well as the whip thin slash bisecting her ribcage and right hip. Again, Maddy had withdrawn, as far as her binds would allow. More importantly, she’d retreated so far into her head that both of them had wordlessly agreed to back the fuck off. Too soon, too fast. But had it been? Connor kept going on about getting ahead of themselves, but what if they’d pushed her then? Maybe she’d have spilled and they wouldn’t all be where they were tonight. She’d have safe worded out and probably expelled her own self from the club, you idiot. Quit second-guessing. Fuck. She impacted his ability to think clearly, yet another indication she meant something far more than the other submissives.
However, she’d connected with them both that night. The scene had drawn the usual bystanders, but it had all narrowed down to her and them. The way she responded to the strokes of the flogger, her skin glowing to that deep rose to match her sweet cunt. The closeness afterward, the way she’d come for them, as well as a connection that rivaled the physical attraction… He’d cursed the bad timing, the club having to close at a certain time because of a new bylaw. Rafe literally hurt inside to think they might have lost that chemistry, for in a place buried deep in his black heart, he knew the spark of light signified something stronger than chemistry. He’d even admit to it if it meant Maddy would let them in.
“We aren’t gonna lose her.” Connor’s voice was firm, implacable.
Shit, he must have shared his fear out loud, subconsciously seeking his friend’s reassurance. Unable to risk a glance at Connor, the traffic too heavy and unpredictable, Rafe scoffed. “Optimist.”
“Realist. Since when have we ever given up? Or lost, when we really wanted something?”
That truthful assertion eased the icy sense of loss in his belly, and Rafe signaled, then pulled off at their exit, following the long, isolated lane to their custom-built home. A safe place with lots of room for their wife and children, and a special room built just for her and them. They’d been that hopeful of finding their One, despite the mounting odds against it, and planned accordingly. The gate slid open in response to the code he entered, and he checked the mirror to ensure it closed again. Rafe could be all about the details too.
The Death of You Page 4