by Zoey Marcel
“What if remembering would screw up your future?” Amber turned in her chair to face the other barista better. “What if it was let’s say, your ex-husband, and you were seeing these other men or man and you loved them, but then your ex walks back into your life and says you have amnesia and you belong with him? He offers you proof, kind of. You don’t know what to believe. There’s this file of evidence he wants you to look at, supposed proof of your history together. What do you do?”
Brenda’s brow popped up and she kept chewing her bubblegum with her mouth open. “Truth is stranger than fiction, huh? Hmm, I’d have to think about that one.”
“I mean on one hand you don’t want anything to take away from your future and the men, uh, man you love, but at the same time, the thought of never knowing about another life you lived…haunts you.” Amber knew the woman wanted to think about it, but quite frankly, she wished Brenda would come up with an answer for her on the spot. “Do you open the file, store it, or burn it and pretend it never existed?”
The bell dinged and Kyle Levitt walked in.
“Sorry, hon,” Brenda said with a naughty smile. “That one’s going to be a cop. I need to service him.”
She winked at Amber and grinned before going behind the counter to help him.
Kyle was beaming when he saw her. “Hey, Brenda.”
“Hi, toots. How you doing? Are you officially employed as a cop now?”
He puffed up a little, seeming glad that she remembered. “Nope, my first day is tomorrow.”
“Ah, very nice. I like to speed sometimes,” Brenda informed him with a playful smile.
Kyle looked bemused. “Good to know.”
“Sometimes I get feisty when the cops want me to get out of the car. If you pull me over you might need handcuffs. Wink, wink.”
He grinned. “I’ll remember that. I’ve got to keep those wild speeders in line.”
“Hell, yes. Your coffee is on me, Kyle. What are you having?”
Amber smiled a little. Brenda must really like Kyle to actually use his name instead of keeping him in the “hon” and “toots” zone.
After more flirty banter he left and Trish Albright, another of Brenda’s employees came into the coffeehouse.
“Hey, hon. Looking good.”
“Thanks. Did you hear the fire department got a new fire captain?” Trish asked.
Brenda was all ears. “Mmm, new blood. What does he look like?”
“Like a muscle-bound sex god.”
“Oh hell, yeah! Single?”
“As far as I know, and he’s older.”
“Mmm, those seasoned hotties. What kind of women does he like?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, damn, Trish. I thought you were on top of this,” Brenda teased.
Trish smirked. “He’s a got a great smile. I bet he bleaches.”
“I like him already. How old is he?”
“I’m not sure. Fifty maybe.”
Brenda slumped against the counter with her tongue hanging out. “Trish, you’re killing me. Does he like coffee?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Boxers or briefs?”
Amber laughed.
Trish giggled. “Brenda, you do realize I just talked with one of the firemen and happened to see the new fire chief in the background? I just asked about him. I didn’t ask what kind of underwear he prefers or what kind of women he likes in bed.”
“Well, damn. You know the higher up in authority those heroes go the hotter they make me. Did you at least catch his name?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a sexy name.” Trish looked cute and girly gabbing with the older woman. “It’s Grant.”
“Mmm, Grant. I knew a Grant once, the hot-ass bastard.”
“Maybe it’s the same guy.”
Brenda waved her off. “I don’t think so. The Grant I knew was a professor at a university back in New York. He wasn’t afraid of anything except for fires. It couldn’t be him.”
“That’s true.” Trish looked up at the clock. “Oh, I’ve got to clock on. You don’t pay me to be a slacker.”
“Hon, I pay myself to be a slacker. You might as well join the club.”
Trish smiled and headed toward the bathroom. “I told the guy to mention the coffeehouse to that new fire captain.”
Brenda laughed. “Ah, the power of subtlety. You did good, Trish. I need to settle down with some fearsome hotties one of these days. I can’t keep whoring myself everywhere. It’s not fair to the rest of you single ladies.”
Trish rolled her eyes and smiled when Brenda winked at her. “Hardy har har. I’ve already got a Dom who’s open to letting other people into our relationship once we get that couple on the same page.”
“You mean Sally and Josh? They like you guys. You and Dale should just talk to them. It could be a hell of a night for you guys.”
Trish blushed. “Naughty Brenda. Anyway, the guy said Grant Sexton would probably be in sometime this week to try some of your coffee.”
Amber didn’t miss the way Brenda dropped the bag of coffee beans, making them clatter and spread all over the counter and floor.
Trish called from around the corner. “You all right?”
“Yeah, everything is fine. Go ahead and get divorced. Changed.”
Amber got up and walked toward the counter to help. “Do you need a hand?”
“Nah, I’ve got it. Thanks, Amber.”
She blinked in surprise that Brenda had used her name. “Do you know the new fire chief?”
Brenda nodded, seeming unsettled. Her fingers trembled, and Amber’s tiger smelled anxiety in her.
“He’s my ex-husband,” Brenda said quietly while cleaning up the spilled coffee beans.
Amber’s eyes popped open. “Are you sure? They could just have the same name.”
“Grant is fifty this year. It has to be him.”
“Is he dangerous?”
Brenda let out an uneasy laugh. “Oh yeah, but only in the best of ways. Maybe I should take the rest of the week off. Don’t you worry none. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, putting on a smile. “Go enjoy those kinky men of yours.”
Amber smiled and turned toward the door. “Okay. Have a good night.”
“I would do it,” Brenda called after her.
Amber pivoted to face her.
“I’d open the file to find out about my past and then examine my present. Whichever time I was happier in, I’d go with that path. But regardless, I would open the file.”
* * * *
Amber walked around outside all over town in the cold, brisk air, trying to come up with the answers. She still didn’t know whether or not she would ever put the ring back on again, but one thing was for certain. She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. The very thought of doing so haunted her.
The barrage of images that had flashed in her head during the brief seconds she’d tried the ring on at Stan’s house kept running back through her mind. Were they real memories or just a convincing spell to trick her into doing what he wanted?
She stood behind a building and pulled the small box from her purse. The ring gleamed when she gazed at it. She tried to search her heart or her better judgment as to whether or not she should put the ring back on, but both seemed to have deserted her. The only companion with her was silence and a strong, almost overbearing pull toward the beautiful jewelry.
Her hand trembled when she started to slip the ring slowly onto her finger. It was only halfway on when she paused and gasped at the flood of images surging through her head.
The words she and Stan exchanged in the visions were distant and echoed together like the flash of memories flickering through her mind. They seemed so happy together…as happy as she was now with Dane and Carson. Was it possible that she had ever loved another man as deeply as she loved her two mates now? Was there a chance she’d loved Stan more?
The racy memories made her fe
el warm. A part of her felt like she shouldn’t allow herself to go there or remember those things if indeed they’d ever happened, but there was an unexpected feeling of rightness about it that intrigued and scared her.
When she noticed her actual surroundings of Temptation had changed into London and her jeans and sweater became a Colonial style gown, everything slowed down to normal speed like she had actually transported back in time to relive her former life.
She shrieked in fright and pulled the ring off. Instantly the setting of London evaporated as did her historic clothing and once more she was clothed in jeans and a sweater and standing behind a building in Temptation.
What the hell just happened?
She put the ring back in the box and stuck it back in her purse. Curiosity and an almost supernatural pull toward the ring practically dragged her will kicking and screaming to put the jewelry back on and remember. She just barely resisted.
“You tried the ring on again, didn’t you?” Stan’s elegant voice stole a gasp from her and she whirled around to face him. He watched her with quiet knowledge in his eyes—too much knowledge. “I knew you would.”
Amber swallowed and took a step backward when he stalked toward her. “The setting changed and my clothes for a second. What happened?”
He paused in front of her. “If you wear the ring long enough the images will slow down and allow you to relive the memories in your head. You’ll be able to see and hear everything as if you were there again.”
She shivered but didn’t flinch when he brushed her cheek with his hand.
“You’ll remember every amorous word we ever spoke to one another.” His tone became a whisper as his gaze drifted from her face to her chest in a subtle glance. “Every touch.”
She felt warm, small, and torn over his words and the way his hand hovered for a moment as if about to touch her in a way he had in some of those memories. He heaved a sigh and lowered his hand without touching her in an almost schooled practice.
“Please take the ring back,” she pleaded.
“No. It’s yours. I want you to have it.” He hooked a finger under her jaw and tilted her face up toward his. “If you try to throw the ring away it won’t work. The ring will find its way back to you. I designed it that way. You can choose not to wear it, but you won’t ever be free of it. Those memories are your truth, Amber, even if you don’t want to face it.”
Her eyes stung. “I don’t know what to believe.”
His pitch gentled as it had in the memory of their wedding night. She tried hard not to blush, not knowing what to do when he stepped closer and bent his head down toward hers. “There is one more thing that might help you remember.”
Before she could figure out how to respond she felt someone’s hand tug her shoulder roughly to pull her away from Stan. Carson snarled and shoved him against the wall.
“Get your hands off her!”
Stan pushed him hard—very hard for an older man. “Do not make the mistake of putting your hands on me again.”
“Stop!” Amber got between them. “Carson, it’s okay. We were just talking.”
Carson glared at Stan while he spoke. “You’re so sweet and naïve you don’t even realize that he was about to kiss you.”
Her face burned and she squirmed. “He’s kissed me on the cheek before. Please don’t fight.”
The men gave each other death glares before Stan’s expression eased when he turned his attention to her. “Surely you won’t deprive your guardian of a good-bye hug?”
Amber patted Carson’s arm to steady him as she walked into Stan’s open arms. He hugged her and whispered into her ear. “Stay inside this Halloween, please.”
She pulled back slowly and gave him a quizzical look. Before she could question him on it Carson yanked her away and stood between her and Stan. “You’re done here.”
The darkness in Stan’s eyes and voice when he looked at Carson as he started to leave them scared her. “No, McCann. I’m far from done.”
* * * *
Amber was left alone when Carson had to go tend to his duties at the restaurant for a few hours before heading home. He said he didn’t want her around Stan, but not seeing him again bothered her. Lover or guardian Stan meant something to her. She just didn’t know what.
She would stay with the McCanns since they were her mates and she couldn’t bear to part with the two men she adored, but Stan’s words and the supposed memories the ring had triggered still haunted her.
When she walked into the McCanns’ house and saw both her men, she had her answer. She didn’t need to know. All she needed was her mates and the love they gave her.
The savory aroma of homemade stew littered the air with its unmistakable association with autumn. The windows were fogged from the humidity the bubbling stew on the stove gave off and the chilly air outside. They sandwiched the glass in, making the windows steam…as her men had promised to do to her tonight. Double penetration—she couldn’t wait.
“Mmm, it smells so good.”
“Thank you. It’s homemade stew,” Dane said proudly. “And not homemade biscuits.”
She smiled. “Well, you can’t win them all.”
He tickled her, stealing a shrill giggle.
“I love canned biscuits actually. Thank you.”
Carson came over with a small green velvet box. “We have something for you.”
She bit her lower lip, doing a little bounce.
Please be a ring. Please be a ring.
A jaw-dropping ring that glowed like fire took her breath away. The silver band cradled a large amber stone in the middle that glistened and brought tears to her eyes.
“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful. Thank you.” She hugged them. “The answer is yes.”
“Was there a question?” Carson teased, winking at her.
“We want to collar you, too, but we’ll let you help us design it to your taste,” Dane told her.
“I get a collar, too?” She did a happy dance and made them chuckle.
“You look good enough to eat.” Carson stalked toward her.
“Dinner first, since it’s ready,” Dane decided. “We need our strength.”
Amber’s pussy moistened and her stomach growled, both hungers gnawing at her from within, neither one wanting to wait to be gratified.
* * * *
Amber lay on the big bed with her mates, groping their muscles and stroking their cocks while they covered her body with kisses and used their hands and mouths to stimulate her clit. Her slit was drenched with liquid and fluttering with hot vibrations from the orgasms they’d given her.
“Fuck her pussy with your tongue, Car. I’ve got her clitoris,” Dane said.
His callused finger met with her clit at the same time Carson’s tongue forked into her vagina, wiggling and exploring her channel with enthusiasm.
They overwhelmed her, flooded her with heat and cold until she became lost in extreme measures of fire and ice.
She was caught between the seductive power in Dane’s finger and the lewd pleasure of Carson’s tongue. She was no match for them. Her body shut down its defenses, making room for the designs these two men had on her.
In her mind they had already taken her. And they would take her, stretch and fill her to accommodate their cocks. Use her body to sate their lust and hers.
She knew she would die of ecstasy when she felt her orgasm coming. “It’s so strong!”
She gasped as searing heat flooded her body, making her convulse in response to their wishes and skill. The sweet vibrations hummed in her body. Her cunt gripped Carson’s tongue as it would his cock once it filled her, or whoever of them it was that intended to bury himself there.
She couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t contemplate anything but the hot rush of energy that swept through her like a scorching desert wind. It took everything from her and when it passed, her organs felt alive as they throbbed inside of her, their awareness heightened and gifted with knowledge. The k
nowledge of what these two men could do to her. What they had done to her already.
Amber’s heart pounded in her chest when she opened her eyes and looked up into Dane’s dark, intimate ones. He watched her the whole time, saw her lose control at his hand and the mouth of his brother.
He caressed her cheek with his hot palm. “My girl.”
Her heart swelled at his words and she felt a lump in her throat. Dane was so sweet, so gentle and caring. She drew closer to him and initiated a slow kiss, running her fingers through his amazingly soft brown hair.
Her guts twisted when his head lowered and his mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking it ardently and tugging on it. He worked her breasts over with his mouth until they were slick and messy like her pussy, which they plagued with primitive needs she couldn’t shake.
When Dane’s head lifted, she buried her nose in his hair. It smelled like him—a unique scent that couldn’t be described in words. It was masculine and completely his own. How could hair make her think of sex when it was so normal and nonsexual?
How could a mind-blowing orgasm leave her peaceful and content when it had been so powerful and intense?
“I’m glad you waited for us, Amber,” Carson said in a husky pitch. “It ought to be illegal for a beautiful woman to be alone and untouched for so long. It thrills the hell out of me that no one else has ever seen you this way.”
She felt a stab of guilt when she recalled what Stan had told her earlier, but then she dismissed it. He could have been lying, and even if he hadn’t been, she belonged to Dane and Carson now.
Still, despite her sense of completion with her mates she couldn’t help feeling a troubling sense of loss when she recalled the heartfelt sincerity in Stan’s eyes when he spoke of their supposed former life together. Those eyes had glistened with anguish even as they’d glowed with feeling and fire. The look had said he needed her, would die if she refused him. The emptiness that had settled in his eyes at her rejection had reflected deep heartache. Could anyone really lie that good?