“I’ll go clean up.” His buddy strode to the panel and punched in the code. Anann and Hannibal slipped in past him, their heads lowered, and Rafe wondered if the room was soundproofed well enough to preclude dogs’ hearing. He made a mental note to ensure the animals were in the yard when they played with Maddy outside of the playroom, or risk possible dismemberment. Anann was regarding him suspiciously.
He held Maddy close. She was damp to the touch, and smelled enticingly like sex and wildflowers.
“I can walk.” She clearly couldn’t, as boneless as Jello, and she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open. He ignored her assertion and toted her into the master suite, the dogs at his heels. He stepped into the shower behind Connor and they stood their submissive between them, quickly soaping her up and rinsing her off. She leaned against him, passive and relaxed, while Con got a towel.
****
Connor was beat to hell, the orgasm denial maybe as hard on him as it’d been on Maddy. It had been a long freaking time since he’d gotten any, since that day he and Rafe had been so incredibly dense, and tonight felt like he’d given Maddy a lifetime of his seed. His cock retained the incredible impression of such tight, delicious heat and his balls felt hollow. Rafe didn’t look to be in much better condition, the fatuous smile on his buddy’s face something Connor didn’t think he’d ever seen.
Opening her eyes against the rubbing of the towel, Maddy favored him with a sweet smile. He hoped she remembered promising to marry him, because they were going ring shopping. Rafe would probably want a collar, although the tattoo was his friend’s way of saying I take this woman to be my lawfully surrendered submissive. Connor nearly laughed out loud and tugged Maddy into his arms.
“Bed, honey.”
He swept her along, an arm around her waist, and lifted her onto the mattress, where she curled up, wet hair trailing. Connor cursed under his breath. Maddy was particular about her hair.
“Here.” Rafe tossed him a towel, anticipating Connor’s needs as usual, and he plied it against Maddy’s mane until it was merely damp. He chucked the soft terry, reminding himself to pick it up in the morning before she got up.
“Lots to think about, some compromises and accommodation, what with having a woman in this house full time,” he commented, satisfaction warming his belly. Their woman.
“No problem.” Rafe dropped, facedown, on the other side of their submissive, clearly spent.
Connor remembered Maddy saying something about them being the death of her. One of those little memory fragments that no longer held such terrible implications. And if fucking her killed him, what a way to go. Maddy could be the death of them, in the absolute best way.
The End
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The Death of You Page 22