by Fiona Archer
“You what?” Mike exclaimed.
Reagan locked her gaze on his denim shirt, watching its steady rise and fall with his breathing.
“We’ve already had this conversation.” Quinn’s arms tightened, his muscles bunching against her skin as if he fought the urge to strangle her. “I made it clear that wasn’t the case.” He dropped a hand to scrape nails over her tender butt, still smarting from her earlier spanking. “I obviously need to reinforce that message.”
“Aaahh.” She clenched her bottom, trying in vain to get away from his fingers. “You don’t understand. It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” Mike’s voice sounded all growly. “What’s it going to take until you believe you’re beautiful?”
“I’m not. I’m fat. I’ve always been fat,” she yelled as the tears she’d managed to keep at bay now smudged her view of Mike’s glare.
Smack.
She was propelled forward under the force of Quinn’s slap, the cuffs of the spreader bar and his arm the only thing keeping her from falling forward. “We can do this again if that’s what it takes,” he threatened, rubbing the burn deeper into her skin. “Who told you that you were fat besides that stupid bitch and her friends?”
“Nobody.”
Smack.
“Who, Reagan?”
“Nobody.”
Smack. Smack.
“Who?”
“Nobody,” she shouted, sticking her chin out at Mike. “They didn’t have to.”
“What are you—”
“She left.” A sob tore from her throat. “If I was p–p–pretty and thin, she wouldn’t have left me.” Another sob, filled with a pain buried so deep and held on to for so long it had become a twisted version of the truth.
“Ah, hell,” Mike said.
All of her fight evaporated. Sobs racked her body. Her legs buckled, only Quinn’s arms keeping her from falling to the ground.
“Fuck.” Mike dropped down to undo her ankle cuffs.
Quinn lifted her and then carried her to the sofa. Sitting down, he cradled her against his chest. Mike wrapped a blanket over her, tucking the edges in close to her body.
Her sobs came in giant waves, wrenching up her throat and out in a gust of pain. She cried for the confused and desperately sad child she’d once been. She cried for her mother, who hadn’t abandoned her but had instead lay, lost and unloved, in the cold dirt for twenty years. Most of all, she cried for the time her family had been cheated and for the enduring love Sam Edwards had for his wife.
Years of silent anger toward her mother slipped away, releasing its invisible yoke from around her neck.
Reagan buried her face against Quinn’s chest. “She didn’t leave me.” Another sob. “She loved me.” Her hands, still cuffed, clutched the edge of the blanket, drawing it tight to her chest.
“No, baby, she didn’t leave you.” Quinn spoke from above her head. He stroked her hair, weaving fingers through the shorter lengths, stretching them out so they fell against her cheek.
Memories, long buried, came back to her. Her mother brushing her hair. So dark and thick, like your daddy’s. Sneaking into her mom’s bedroom before the spring social to practice putting on lipstick. Her mother’s soft, tinkling laugh as she removed the tube from Reagan’s fingers. Oh, honey, you don’t need that. You’re so pretty.
Reagan froze. Her muscles stiffened against Quinn’s warm body cradling her. Everything around her came into a sharper focus as if a muddy filter had been removed from her eyes.
I was pretty.
“Sweetie?” Mike asked.
Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed herself a few more tears as hands stroked her legs through the blanket. Hiccups replaced sobs. Slowly, with each jerky breath, she gained a little more control.
Quinn kissed her forehead. It was a gentle kiss, a healing kiss. “Feeling better?”
She nodded, words still a ways off.
“Your momma loved you. You know that, right?” Quinn squeezed her tight, more a demand to speak than simple reassurance. He wanted her words.
“Yes.” Her voice came out as a croak. She coughed and snuggled closer against Quinn’s warmth. “I know that now. I mean…” She sighed as another shudder left her body. “I’ve known it all along. I just…buried it.”
She blinked to clear away the tears puddled at the corners of her eyes, then grabbed the corner of the blanket to wipe them away.
Mike squeezed her leg as he sat next to Quinn. “If there’s one thing people repeated during the interviews we held it was how much Julie Edwards loved her little girl.”
Mike’s words wrapped around her like a big warm hug. So even if people guessed her parents had their issues, they didn’t doubt her mom’s love for her child. He continued. “It was why they never understood her running off.”
She nodded. “I guess, I just—I was angry. At her. And that’s unfair.” Shame heated her cheeks.
Mike’s eyes softened, showing a glimpse of the tenderness he hid so well from others. “You were a kid. Confused. Scared. Give yourself a break, honey.”
Quinn’s mouth firmed, matching the determination in his gaze. “A good cry won’t make it all better. You’ve been carrying around that self-image lie for two decades. Mike and I won’t hesitate to distract you the moment we see you slipping back into any bad habits.”
She breathed in a cleansing breath. There was so much to think about and thrash around in her mind. Later. When she was calmer, stronger.
Right now, she simply wanted to lighten the mood. “And how do you propose to distract me?”
“There’s always spanking.” He dipped his hand under the blanket and ran the back of his knuckles over the outer curve of her bottom.
She curled her toes in delight as his rough rub left a heated trail over her skin.
Mike leaned over, grasping her chin. “Or, we could kiss you until you’re falling apart at the seams, waiting for us to lay you down somewhere and ravage you good and proper.”
“We have a winner!” She risked a glance at Quinn.
His lips quirked, however his voice remained hard. “Captives don’t get choices.”
Their captive. A delicious shiver danced over her skin. Her nipples tightened. She ached to raise her cuffed hands and rub the pointed buds.
So far, they’d kidnapped and tormented her to orgasm. What more did these two Doms have in store? She caught Mike’s raised eyebrow.
The air crackled with expectation. Quinn’s tight embrace and the firmness of Mike’s grip on her leg reminded her of the men’s power, the strength of their domination.
Wasn’t there some unwritten rule stating a captive’s obligation to fight back? She lowered her gaze to the benign safety of the woolen blanket. Sure, her captors were in charge, but that didn’t mean everything had to go their way, right?
Testing her theory, she wiggled her bottom on Quinn’s lap, fighting down the urge to smile as his obvious arousal hardened in response.
“Careful, sugar, or you’ll find my flogger can be far harder than my hand.” Quinn once more scraped his fingernails over the deliciously abused flesh of her backside.
She bit down on her lip, barely smothering her yelp.
Maybe there was some kind of spank-friendly Kevlar panties she could buy? Did Amazon have a section titled Submissive Body Armor? She huffed a laugh. As if these Doms would ever allow her to wear panties.
Sometimes a captive just had to grin and…grin some more.
Chapter Ten
Quinn studied their captive as she lay, warm and appropriately cuffed on his lap. Her eyes shone in a way he hadn’t glimpsed since before she’d walked out on them in the diner. Hope fired in his chest. Yes, there were issues still to thrash out. His and Mike’s investigation might yet find her father guilty. What were their chances of developing any kind of a relationship with Reagan if that happened?
With a sigh, he gave himself a mental shake. One fucking roadblock at a time, buddy. You’ve
got the girl. Now set about convincing her.
And speaking of which, under some barely disguised pretense of kissing him, said girl nipped at his chin. His cock, already hard from their previous play, throbbed with need.
Little sub wanted to tease, huh?
He turned to Mike, whose intent stare had Reagan dipping her chin.
“Bedroom?” Quinn asked.
“Definitely.” His friend’s teeth showed with his grin.
“Time for our captive to pay her ransom,” Quinn said.
Without delay, he rose out of the chair. In one fluid movement, he threw their sweet bundle of woman over his shoulder. The high pitch of her yelp drew a chuckle. Fuck, he loved having her out of sorts.
“What are you going to do?” Reagan’s voice held a breathless, no, an excited, quality.
Excellent. Time they pushed her boundaries that little bit further.
He slapped her ass, grinning at the answering growl. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Quinn stalked across the main room, following Mike as he opened doors. Months ago, they had hired contractors to revamp the whole cabin. Instead of two small bedrooms and one tiny bathroom, the area beyond the main room now housed two bedrooms, one purposely built for three, a spacious bathroom, an office, and a laundry.
Having placed some of their earnings in shares of MacKenzie Corp long before it was considered investor gold had sure paid off. In truth, he and Mike didn’t have to work to keep themselves in a comfortable lifestyle. However, sitting on their asses didn’t comply with their code of life.
A man contributed to his home and his society.
Quinn dumped her in the middle of the gigantic custom-made bed. She bounced, her hair flouncing around her face. Outrage at the method of her landing firmed her mouth into a tight line.
He didn’t bother to hide his chuckle. Her blue eyes sparked with the ire of a woman who knew she’d been outgunned. Damn, she was fun to play with.
He crooked his finger and pointed to a spot on the carpet at the end of the bed. “Stand.”
Was it his imagination or did she sway her hips with extra emphasis as she wiggled off the bed? Christ, his hand itched to warm her backside again.
Earlier this evening, he and Mike decided for Quinn to lead tonight’s mission. That included in the bedroom. Mike was a skilled warrior, a killer, one who if needed, could go ahead of the team, stake out his target, and take him down. But he wasn’t a leader. Quinn had been second-in-command in their SEAL team. His natural instinct to take control meshed with Mike’s desire to fit into a particular slot and play an integral role in that team.
This evening would be no different.
As Mike moved to stand behind Reagan, Quinn strode over to the oak chest of drawers that stood against the dark blue walls of the main bedroom. A flogger, blindfold, two types of gags, vibes, and a paddle lay on top of the cleared surface, ready for use on their sub.
Quinn glanced back to study Reagan. Mike ran the back of his hands down her sides. Her shivers drew a chuckle from Mike. And her answering frown earned her a hard pinch on one nipple.
Sooner or later she’d learn not to push either man. It was the whole learning process that could prove entertaining.
Grinning, Quinn turned back to study the implements they’d picked out for tonight. No doubt they’d find an excuse for a gag sooner rather than later. The shine in her eyes warned Reagan’s sass level had reached new heights. And the fact she was comfortable enough to feel that way? Fucking awesome.
He mentally shrugged. No harm in reminding her who was boss.
He picked up the leather paddle, felt its weight in his hand before setting it back down. No, too much too soon. Reagan’s earlier realization of her distorted self-image and how she’d related that to her mom’s disappearance had been a cathartic moment, one filled with tears and a shitload of courage. Right now, she needed something to lift her up, like one giant kinky-laden breath of fresh air to cleanse and recharge.
As if by instinct, Quinn’s hand stopped over the black and blue deerskin flogger. A mild thud. Perfect for beginners. His fingers closed around the handle automatically.
He turned to face Reagan. She stood, one foot turned in, teeth sinking into her lip and her still-cuffed hands clenched together. He felt his lips twitch.
Mike stepped away, leaving her exposed.
Quinn stalked closer, purposely crowding her space. His cock twitched as her eyes widened, pupils dilated. Nervous, yes, but not scared.
“Reagan, tonight’s been an evening of breaking barriers. Such a brave girl.” He skimmed his fingers along the softness of her cheek. “We’re going to keep pushing you, testing those limits.”
He moved behind her, trailing the ends of the flogger’s falls over the back of her legs. She skittered away.
“Back here,” Mike commanded, pointing to a spot in front of his feet.
Wide eyes gazed up at his buddy. Mike met her silent plea with a cool stare. No words of encouragement. He’d given her an order, not an invitation.
Biting her lip, Reagan stepped back in front of Mike.
“Better,” Quinn said. “Stand up straight, shoulders back and legs apart.”
Without comment, she obeyed. In this new position, her breasts were forced higher and seemingly too much of a temptation for Mike. He traced a finger around the areola of one breast, smiling at her jolt. The nipple hardened into a point.
Mike cupped both breasts, massaging their fullness, which fit perfectly into his hands. As he kneaded the white globes, Quinn stepped in front to stand beside Mike and studied her face, the way the muscles around her mouth tightened as Mike squeezed harder and how she caught her breath as he flicked his fingernail over the tip of a nipple.
This woman needed a dash of pain with her loving, just enough to raise her temperature to a slow boil. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Her spine lost its rigidity as she relaxed into Mike’s touch.
Without a sound, he stepped to the side and then flicked the ends of the falls on her bottom.
Her eyelids snapped open, but it only took one look at his face for the protest to die on her lips. Good girl.
Quinn held up the instrument in his hands, allowing her to see its full length. “Sweetness, if you haven’t already guessed, this is a flogger. See these strings?” He fingered the long, thin strips of hide. “They’re called falls. These are made from deer hide. Now, we could chain your arms like before but I want you feeling us close. Mike will hold your hands above your head.”
Mike’s actions followed Quinn’s words as he drew her arms up high and then lifted the strands of her hair over one shoulder, leaving Quinn an unobstructed view of ivory skin.
He moved silently to stand behind her and watched her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing. Deep, long breaths. Not hurried. However, this was a whole new level for her. Reminders needed to be given.
“Sub, what’s your safe word.”
“Spaghetti.”
“Good. We’re still using the red, yellow, green system of before. You need us to stop, say red. Slow down and check is yellow. If you’re okay to continue, use green. Apart from that, you don’t have permission to speak. Nod if you understand.”
She acknowledged his order as required. No hesitation.
Quinn wasted no time.
The falls flicked across her bottom with a soft thwap.
He knew her sharp intake of breath came from shock not pain. He flicked his wrist. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Soft pink streaks decorated her skin. Higher up now, across her back, careful to miss the kidney area. A moan, full and heavy with pleasure, filled the room. Fuck, he’d known she’d take to flogging like a natural.
Higher still now, over the top of her back. Her hair billowed with the breeze of the falls as they caressed her flesh. Quinn remembered his breathing, checked his stance before glancing at Mike, who’d been watching their little sub’s face. His nod of reassurance was all Quinn needed to know.
He
lowered his voice, letting the power of seeing her submit to them so beautifully carry through in his tone. “You like the flogger, don’t you, sugar?” Back down to her thighs. A little harder on her backside. He chuckled at her gasp. “Sometimes it’s a thuddy massage, and at others…” He let his wrist do the talking, giving her a sharp snap of the falls on her right butt cheek.
Her loud hiss drew smiles from both men. But that was enough of an introduction. It was time to step up her education. After retrieving some new items from the top of the dresser, he motioned with his finger for Mike to turn her around.
Her soft lips still formed a pout from his last twist of the flogger.
Well, his next plans would have her stomping her feet. Which she better not, if she knew what was good for little subs.
After tossing the flogger onto the bed, he lubed up a small vibe before thrusting it deep inside her hot wetness. Smiling at her sudden intake of breath, he dropped the lube onto the bed and then snagged his flogger.
With deliberate slowness, he slid the falls over her breasts, watching the dark-stained hide glide over her pale skin, the edges of the falls catching on her pointed nipples. No amount of lip biting could hide her resulting shiver.
Mike scraped his stubble-covered jaw over the soft inner skin of her upper arms. She closed her eyes, literally sinking deeper as her knees began to bend slightly.
Reaching into his pocket, Quinn pressed the remote and a vibe buzzed to life.
Her mouth formed an O as she sucked in a gulp of air.
“You didn’t think we’d let you get away with just a flogging, did you, little captive? Teasing your kidnappers is a risky move, with a punishment to match.”
Ah, there it was. That light in her eyes. Kidnapping. Captive. All ignition words in the subbie mind of Reagan Edwards.
“Head back, buddy,” Quinn said and lifted the flogger. He started with soft thuds on the front of her thighs. Next her stomach. And then her breasts. Jesus, they pinked up beautifully. The hard pebbles of her nipples practically stood out and begged for the smack of the falls.
Quinn tapped a finger on the remote, moving it up to medium. Her breasts jiggled with her body’s answering jolt. He held back his chuckle and kept flicking his wrist. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.