Love Slave for Two Collection [Box Set 7] (Love Slave for Two .5-4)

by Tymber Dalton

  In a few minutes she had him ready. She slid him inside her and met his eyes as she took a few deep, hard strokes over him. “I want to make my masters happy. Whatever I have to do, as long as they love me and they don’t hurt me and they don’t share me with anyone else, and they don’t want anyone but me, I’m theirs.”

  Both men moaned. Nevvie smiled.

  Thomas placed a hand in the center of her back and gently pushed her down. “Ass in the air, girl. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Then my master better get what he wants.”

  “Goddamn! You’re gonna make me come before I even fuck you.” He grabbed the bottle of lube and took his time. A little looser than before, she relaxed on Tyler’s chest while Thomas took a moment to massage her with his fingers, ensuring she was ready.

  Ty spread her cheeks and whispered into her ear, “Get ready for your masters to fuck you again, sweetheart.”

  She gyrated her hips against Tyler. Thomas waited until she settled and gently pressed the head of his cock into her. He didn’t want to hurt her, resisted the urge to push harder until he knew she was ready. But she surprised him, thrusting back and impaling herself.

  He laughed. “Damn, girl.” He slowly seated his cock deep inside her, taking less time than Tyler now that she was more ready. The men found a slow, sultry rhythm.

  She tried to help, finally looked down at Tyler. “Let me, Master. Please.”

  He reached around and patted Tom on the hip. Tom seated himself inside her and then let her thrust against them. Both men moaned. Nevvie felt more than lust surge through her.

  She felt power.

  She fucked them, slowly at first as she got used to Thomas’ larger cock inside her. Then as she got more comfortable she picked up the pace and felt a deep burning in her belly. She might not come, but she’d damn well make sure her boys did.

  Both men closed their eyes, making noises she’d never heard either make before. It energized her, and she increased the tempo and force, adding an extra little push at the bottom of each stroke, feeling both men deep inside her.

  Then Tyler reached up and rolled her nipples in his fingers while Thomas found her clit. Not expecting it, she exploded, like a supernova ripping her apart from the inside out. She screamed, “Yes! Fuck yes! I’m coming for my masters.”

  The men groaned, thrusting, climaxing with her.

  The three collapsed to the bed, both men still inside her, and as their gentle twitching and throbbing finally settled she smiled and closed her eyes, happy.

  The men took her into the shower, and all three sat under the spray, holding each other without speaking, nuzzling each other and enjoying the feel of skin on skin. Then the men washed her and each other, not letting her do anything. Tyler changed the sheets while Thomas carried her to their bed and gently laid her in the center. They cradled her between them, falling asleep, sated, satisfied.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Time?”

  “Jesus, Tyler,” Thomas yelled. “Would you please lay the fuck off?”

  “Well I’m a little anxious,” he yelled from the bathroom.

  “No, it’s not freaking time yet. I’ll tell you.” He winked at Nevvie.

  Nevvie sat on the counter and watched him, returning his smile. If the boys were like this now, she could only imagine…

  As ever, Thomas was laid back and rolling with it. Tyler tried to plan it to the nth degree.

  The past four years had been breathtaking. She’d let them push her to mental and physical limits she never dreamed. Professionally, getting her college degree, and sexually, always with the understanding they would never betray, hurt, embarrass, or share her with others.

  Like wearing nothing under her graduation robe when she walked across the stage to accept her diploma, then fucking them in the backseat of the Ridgeline in the parking lot immediately after. The book signing tour in London that, unfortunately, Thomas couldn’t make, and Tyler fucked her from one end of the British Isles to the other. Then the architecture conference in New York, alone with Thomas, where he took her late one night on the top of the Empire State Building while Tyler talked on the phone with her, whispering in her ear for her to come for him.

  Under their love and attention she thrived, bloomed, and the more she submitted to them the freer she felt. She was their life, love, and work partner in every way. Most of the time they didn’t engage in the slave play, either making tender love or simply curling up together and falling asleep. If she wasn’t in the mood, which happened rarely, she was happy to watch the men at play, frequently helping out, loving how aggressively tender they were with each other.

  Thomas patted her leg. “This’ll be okay, sugar.”

  She nodded, spreading her legs so he could lean against the counter and put his arms around her waist. She hooked her legs around his back and leaned on his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his hands on her through her shirt. He was her solid rock, real and earthy, her plain folk man who could soothe her out of a nightmare with his soft drawl. Not that she had many bad dreams anymore.

  Thomas glanced at the kitchen timer. “Time,” he yelled to Tyler. Then he looked at her. “It doesn’t matter. Okay? No matter what, it’s what should happen.”

  Tyler appeared in the hall, his face a mask, which wasn’t like him. He was the yin to Thomas’ yang, his quick wit and deep intellect and sensitivity always able to soothe her from the worst of moods or steady her with the perfect word and tender touch when she felt like the world had gone crazy around her.

  If Thomas physically anchored her, Tyler grounded her soul. She could sense his moods, able to calm him after a scathing review or settle his mind when he suffered from writers block. Then she could go out to the garage with Thomas and help him work on the 1967 Mustang they’d bought her last Christmas, completely comfortable using her hands and enjoying an easy working rapport with him in a way she didn’t share with Tyler.

  She felt like the luckiest woman in the world, with two men who complemented her the way she complemented them. She didn’t take it for granted. To lose either would create a gaping, devastating void in her soul she didn’t want to contemplate.

  Tyler walked over to the counter and Thomas stepped to the side so they could form their triad, usually with Thomas on her left and Tyler on her right, each with an arm around her waist, and the other around each other. They leaned forward, heads touching. Nevvie finally broke the silence.

  “Well?”

  “What do you want it to be?” Tyler’s voice was unreadable.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She didn’t. She loved having these two beautiful men to herself, able to run around naked all day if she wanted or if they asked it of her, to jump on a plane and take off to a conference or book signing or romantic weekend getaway. But she’d been so sure of what she wanted, and now she wasn’t.

  And of course, Tyler had sensed her conflicted emotions.

  Not that she’d ever admitted her most secret fear, that if their delicate, stable balance was tipped, her attention pulled too much from either, would one or both leave? She was the fulcrum on which their relationship now balanced.

  “Tyler, please.”

  He kissed her forehead. “You’re not. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s negative, love.”

  How crazy was it that she broke down, wishing she was pregnant? They’d already decided as a family to let nature take its course and choose not to find out which man was the father.

  The men held Nevvie, cradling her, letting her sob against them. Eventually Tyler scooped her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Both men cuddled her, consoling.

  Tyler looked at Thomas and read the sadness in his eyes, sure it mirrored his own. A baby, fine, wonderful, but not at the expense of Nevvie’s peace of mind. She was the center of their universe, their princess, their Goddess.

>   Their wife.

  No matter what games the three played, the men knew the truth even if she didn’t: Nevvie wasn’t their slave—they were hers.

  * * * *

  She was still mopey later in the day. Thomas gently suggested reconsidering her decision, maybe waiting another year to try. It had only been five months, but each time it was harder on her, more agonizing for the men to watch her distress.

  Three days later she still felt depressed, barely eating, staying home and doing little more than stumbling through her daily routine before going to bed early, curled around a pillow. Her grief was theirs and each night they protectively held her and each other, finally drifting to sleep.

  Tyler wanted to cancel a four-day press junket promoting his newest book. Thomas insisted he go, that he’d stay home from work while Tyler was gone and take her to Dr. Aston, get a referral to a psychologist, if necessary. Tyler sat with her in bed before the car arrived to take him to the airport, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead.

  “Sweetheart, please, don’t do this to yourself. It’s not worth it if you will go through this. We want you to be happy.”

  This was the worst. The other times she’d bounced back to her normal self within a few hours, willing and eager to give it the old college try. Maybe it was because she wasn’t on the Pill anymore to even her hormones out.

  She shook her head. “I’ll be okay. Please don’t worry. Go have fun. I’ll record the interviews—” She bolted for the bathroom. He made it to her side to hold her hair away from her face as she dry heaved into the toilet.

  He called for Thomas, who grabbed a damp washcloth to wipe her face. Tyler looked at him. “I want her to see Dr. Aston today, Tom. Maybe I should stay.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I took a Tylenol for my headache around four this morning, and I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday. That’s all it is. I should have had a piece of toast or something. Please, go.” She squeezed his hand as they heard the car honk.

  “I don’t feel right leaving you.”

  She kissed him. “I want you to go. I’d feel horrible if you canceled because I’m a dork.”

  He stroked her cheek. “You’re anything but a dork, darling.” He kissed her one last time. “Call me this afternoon, let me know what Dr. Aston says. If she says you need to talk to someone, then you will.”

  Nevvie nodded and Tyler stood, kissed and hugged Thomas. “Stay safe, love.”

  Thomas squeezed his hand before returning his attention to Nevvie. “We will.”

  * * * *

  They sat in the Ridgeline in Dr. Aston’s parking lot after Nevvie’s appointment. Nevvie cried on Thomas’ shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed. It was all he could think to say. Tyler was the one with the right words, and he was in New York by now. Thomas dealt with his spinning crush of emotions, never imagining a diagnosis would flip his world on its axis.

  “No, it’s not okay. Dammit, this isn’t what I wanted!” She punched the dash.

  “Sugar, life is rarely what we want.”

  “This isn’t how I planned everything!”

  “Watch it, honey. You’re starting to sound like Tyler.”

  She sat back, wiping her eyes. “We can’t tell him over the phone. It’ll break his heart he wasn’t with us. He’ll feel guilty.”

  “I agree.”

  “If we tell him over the phone, he’ll insist on canceling his trip and coming home.”

  “You’re right.”

  She stared out the windshield. “He’ll know we’re hiding something. He’s goddamned spooky.”

  “Right again.”

  “Any ideas?”

  He started the truck. “When we get home, I’ll make some phone calls, you pack our bags.”

  “Fly up?”

  “With any luck we can be there in a few hours.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve loved him a lot longer and know him better than you do in some ways. We have to tell him in person, because you’re right, he’ll insist on coming home even though there’s nothing he can do, and if we try to keep this from him, he’ll know something’s up.

  Nevvie nodded and stared out the window, Thomas holding her hand on the way home. She was in shock, Dr. Aston’s words still sinking in. There would be tests to schedule, a dizzying flurry of doctor appointments. She knew Tyler would want to take charge and direct everything, channeling his energy into the process to avoid dealing with his own emotions. It would probably be more stressful on him than on her. She knew Thomas would be there for both of them, their rock, their calm in the storm, holding them and keeping the peace, taking care of the big picture while Tyler focused on her.

  “We’ll need to call Bob,” she said. “Find out what we’ll have to do, paperwork and stuff.”

  Thomas squeezed her hand. “Let Tyler and me handle that. All that matters is keeping you comfortable.”

  Thomas booked them on a flight, non-stop to JFK. He rented a car and negotiated the late-day traffic to the hotel. Tyler should have checked in already but he was being interviewed by NPR. They sat in the lobby and awaited his return.

  He didn’t see them at first. When Thomas stood, Tyler stopped in his tracks. He rushed to them, sitting by Nevvie’s side on the sofa while Thomas retook his seat. Huddled together she whispered the news, and they held Tyler as he sobbed.

  * * * *

  “Would you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.” Nevvie had received medicine to help with the pain and fought to stay awake.

  Tyler paced around her hospital bed. As predicted, he’d taken charge once he received the news and recovered from his initial shock. She and Thomas stood back, knowing it was what Tyler needed. It got to the point where Tyler treated her like a china doll, forcing her to beg him to make love to her because he was afraid of hurting her.

  She settled for sneaking vigorous quickies with Thomas in his office or when Tyler was gone to the store, able to moan with passion as he gave her what she wanted, to be vigorously fucked, screaming as she climaxed. These grew less frequent as she grew more uncomfortable. She settled for him burying his face between her legs, using his fingers to gently massage her, still a wonderful sensation but she wondered if she’d ever again have what she once did with her boys.

  Neither man failed to make her feel beautiful and cherished and loved, but she wanted to feel sexy. In the last weeks she felt anything but. Worried about her and with growing anxiety, the boys even stopped making love to each other, focusing on her.

  The bright spots were stunning moments of pure joy and laughter shared by all three. But when the decision was made to take her to the hospital that final morning, a deep current of anxiety and fear ran through them.

  Thomas stood in the corner with his arms crossed, staring at the floor. He knew his role. He frequently caught Nevvie’s gaze across the room and winked at her, trying to keep her spirits up. He knew she was scared even though she hid it well throughout. As her face twisted in pain he stood at her side, Tyler on her other, crowding around her to support and hold her.

  She gripped their hands. “No matter what, please don’t leave me,” she groaned. “Promise? Both of you. Don’t leave me alone.”

  “We promise, sugar,” Thomas said, kissing her forehead. “You know that.”

  “Don’t let them run either of you out.”

  Tyler smiled. “Sweetheart, do you think they could if they tried?”

  She fought another wave of grief. Everything she’d read, everything Tyler had found out, the classes, all warned of this. Emotions and hormones swinging all over the pendulum. Her life as she knew it was about to end. How would her boys be once everything changed?

  Hours later, both men held her hands when the doctor came in to check on her. He nodded to the men. It was almost over.

  Weak and tired, Nevvie wanted to give up while both men encouraged her to hold on a little longer. The pain meds had worn off and it w
asn’t possible to give her more without knocking her out. All three agreed they didn’t want that.

  Thomas carefully climbed into bed to sit behind and hold her. She lay against him, weak, trembling, and scared.

  Tyler sat beside her, her hand in his, holding her gaze, talking to her, trying to keep his own emotions at bay.

  She didn’t hear the doctor instructions, focused on Thomas’ soothing voice in her ear and Tyler’s calming look. When the end came she tried to hold on through the pain, squeezing their hands, closing her eyes and finally screaming.

  Then it was over.

  She collapsed against Thomas, his arms around her as he looked down the bed at the doctor. Tyler held his breath and prayed.

  All three sobbed at the small, keening cry.

  “Congratulations,” the doctor said. “It’s a boy.”

  * * * *

  Three days later, Nevvie laid in bed at home and nursed their son. Tiny fingers and tiny toes fascinated the men. While she had no proof of which was the father, the baby’s intense blue eyes and wispy blond hair provided a hint.

  Secretly, she was pleased. Next time she knew Tyler would help ensure their baby had Thomas’ brown eyes. But the few deep wounds that still scarred Tyler’s soul seemed miraculously healed with the arrival of their baby, and it had been Tyler’s idea to name him after Thomas’ father.

  When the little guy finished and fell asleep, Tyler carried him to the nursery, the bedroom next door. He returned to find Thomas and Nevvie curled together.

  “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

  “Tired. Sore. Happy.”

  Now that Adam Kinsey-Paulson had arrived, trepidation and anxiety had disappeared. Tyler sobbed with joy when they broke the news in New York, upset he hadn’t been with them to hear it and mad at himself the home test was wrong, causing her days of grief. She couldn’t imagine not having him there with her every step of the way. She’d always dreamed of them getting the news together, holding hands and rejoicing as one, but that minor disappointment was soon overshadowed by their preparations.