Star-Crossed Miracles

by Avery Gale

  Koi had seen it in her eyes and could hear it in the words she wasn’t speaking, but no one else knew Tally to the depths of her soul like he did. Hell, Koi suspected he knew her better than Karl Tyson ever had. The man had been absent far more than he’d been present during their marriage, and they’d been on the brink of separating when Koi entered the picture.

  He hated the guilt and indecision he could practically hear spinning through her thoughts. Koi suspected the only time she could set all the worries aside was when she was focusing on a patient during surgery. She’d work herself into an early grave if he didn’t watch her. Sending her into sub-space would also do the trick, but he was treading carefully in that regard. He wanted her to associate his touch and dominance with pleasure rather than as a means of escape from emotional pain. Hell, that would make him little more than a fucking opioid addiction.

  Koi had agreed to be Karl and Tally’s third—an extra in their relationship, someone to enhance their sexual experiences and help look out for her when the good senator was in Washington rather than with his wife in Montana. According to those who knew the couple well, the tension between them had been growing exponentially as Karl’s career began skyrocketing and whispers of a future Presidential bid went from rumor to prediction.

  Senator Tyson had needed his surgeon wife at his side in D.C. if he was going to make a legitimate bid as a candidate. She’d been adamantly opposed to moving back into a city filled with social circles bursting at the seams with venomous back-stabbing and rampant infidelity. Kodi had told him Tally hadn’t believed there was any way her marriage would have survived. If she relented and moved back to Washington, she’d have certainly withered to the point divorce was her only option, leaving her stranded in a city she hated, without the career she loved. Or she could divorce him now, retain her sanity and career by staying in the state she’d adopted as her own.

  When Karl’s plane went down on a South American mountaintop, it appeared fate had made the decision for her. The search parties had taken days to reach the crash site, and what everyone had hoped would be a rescue was quickly reclassified as a recovery operation. Predators found the site before responders and from what his contacts had been able to learn, there hadn’t been much left. Sharing those details with Tally had been one of the most difficult decisions he’d ever made, but he hadn’t wanted to lie even if it was by omission. What kind of Dom would he be if he insisted on her transparency while holding back himself?

  He’d spent many sleepless nights watching Tally vacillate between the relief she felt at not being forced to choose and the guilt that accompanied it. It had taken months for her to bounce back, and she’d only recently hit her stride and once again seemed genuinely happy. Of course, that was before the photos arrived and sent her spinning into the wind again. Koi hated seeing the uncertainty in her eyes when she considered the possibilities.

  “There are only two reasons he hasn’t let us know he’s alive after he was rescued. Either he isn’t allowed to, or he doesn’t want to.” And there it is, her whispered words confirming she’d drawn the same conclusion the rest of the team had come to before Koi and Tally returned to Montana. Most of the team leaned toward Stockholm Syndrome, but Koi had learned a long time ago not to make assumptions about politicians. In his experience, anyone with political aspirations was by definition, suspect.

  Karl had been held in horrific conditions for almost an entire year, so any improvement would probably win him over quickly, and the potential that presented was sobering. As a beloved U.S. Senator, Karl would be a valuable ally if he returned to the Senate and took a sympathetic stand with the drug cartel. If he became President, his usefulness would be off the charts.

  “Come here, ma poupée.” My little doll had always been his pet name for Tally. He might use others during a scene or at the club, but the French phrase would always be his favorite since it was laced with affection. He was pleased when she turned and started walking to him immediately. No hesitation. She simply obeyed the command without letting her mind get in the way. Brilliant, loyal, submissive, and a heart-stopping beauty. Dr. Tally Tyson was about as perfect as any woman Koi had ever met, and no matter how hard he’d tried to fight it, he’d fallen in love with her the moment he’d seen her walking across the room at Mountain Mastery.

  Karl had arranged the meeting, hoping Tally would agree to a third and Koi would be interested. Their chemistry had been electric, and it had blindsided him. Koi had done his homework—knew how gifted she was as a surgeon—and had seen her picture. But he’d been unprepared for how potent the whole package was, and he’d been leveled by the contrast between the lovely submissive and the fiery woman whose personality seemed larger than she was.

  Pulling himself back from the memories, Koi shook his head at the detached look he saw in her eyes when she stopped in front of him. Pulling her into his embrace, he implored, “Talk to me, baby. I want to hear what’s going through that brilliant mind of yours.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about how adamant he was about the fact-finding trip everyone else believed was too dangerous. No one saw any potential for it yielding valuable information, yet he was almost obsessed with going. Karl refused to even entertain the idea of calling it off. When I first met him, I wrote that stubbornness off as tenacity. But, during that last year… as the scuttlebutt about him running for President picked up steam, it seemed more and more like a power trip.” He felt the shudder that moved through her and tightened his hold. “We had a big fight about it, and I finally asked him if he was meeting another woman there.”

  Koi waited several long seconds for her to answer but her thoughts seemed to have drifted elsewhere, so he asked, “What did he say?”

  “He scoffed at the question but didn’t answer it. I’ve always wondered if I was right.” The note of sadness in her voice made his heart squeeze. Koi knew better, but now wasn’t the time for that discussion. He’d heard dozens of rumors since the plane crash linking Karl to any number of women and criminal organizations, but he discounted them as the usual D.C. drivel. For the first time, he wondered if he should tell Tally her sixth sense had been sadly accurate even if she had the information slightly askew.

  Her body stiffened in his hold, and he set her back from him to have a clear view of her expressive face.

  “What is it, ma poupée?” He could practically hear the wheels in her mind spinning as she mulled over something she hadn’t yet spoken out loud.

  “After the crash, I received Karl’s life insurance payouts, immediately. The company we used for our personal policies paid just a couple of days after I received the check from his government policy. Neither of those companies waited for the official determination. Hell, the ink was barely dry on the newspaper articles about his death when those checks were cut.” Koi raised a brow at her, quickly latching on to the track her thoughts were taking.

  He’d seen the file and knew how substantial those payouts had been; most insurance carriers would have stalled as long as possible before issuing those checks. At the time, he’d been too busy caring for Tally to question it, but in hindsight, he had to agree with her—it was damned odd. Often, in such cases, the surviving spouse was assigned a government liaison to help them navigate the paperwork involved. Tally hadn’t even needed an attorney because Uncle Sam had generously offered one of their own, free of charge—another abnormality.

  “It seemed like a blessing at the time. I wasn’t mired in one of the months-long battles I’d heard so many patients talk about when they lost their spouses. But now… in hindsight, it seems damned odd.” He agreed, but he wanted her to talk it through, so he stayed silent. Tally might not be a Nobel Prize winner like Joelle Morgan, but her common-sense approach and built-in bullshit detector added an extra dimension to her ability to work her way through a problem.

  Sheriff Brandt Morgan, one of Joelle’s two husbands, had laughed one night when they’d been sitting at the club’s bar watching the two women chatti
ng across the room.

  “Joelle walked away from Mensa because she thought it was boring; Tally would stay just to torment the members into livening things up. I’ve listened to the two of them discuss the medical ethics of pharmaceuticals and not understood a word they said. Honest to God, it sounded like English, but I was completely lost. It was damned humbling.”

  Brandt’s reputation as a SEAL team leader was still spoken about with a tone bordering on reverence, and Koi knew the man was no intellectual slouch. Brandt and Koi had never worked together, but he understood what the other man was trying to say.

  “Karl was intimidated by her. I know he respected her, and from what I could see, he loved her. But he always seemed to be trying to ‘one-up’ her, and over time, it took a toll.” Koi remembered feeling in his gut that Brandt had just handed him the keys to understanding Tally Tyson—and he’d done it deliberately.

  Brushing back the long, blonde tendrils of hair that drifted around the edges of her face, Koi smiled down at Tally as she worried her lip, trying to focus on the questions rearing up in her mind. As a kinesthetic learner, Tally problem solved best when she was moving. He’d seen her pace for hours as she worked through the details of how to best treat a particularly challenging patient.

  “Come on, ma poupée.” Grabbing her hand, he headed to the door. “Let’s go for a walk, it’ll help you think, and moonlight is good for the soul.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mia let Tucker and Brock lead her from the room, grateful they weren’t going to watch another scene. She would spontaneously combust if she had to watch another ménage. Sweet Mother Mary, she’d almost come watching Master Cam flog CeCe, and now, she was embarrassed to have been crushing on her new friend’s man. She could try to blame the alcohol, but the truth was easier.

  It wasn’t Cameron Barnes who’d mesmerized her, it was the Master… the confident sexual Dominant who’d kept her totally enthralled during the scene. The catlike grace of his movements, the set of his shoulders contrasting against his complete focus on CeCe had riveted her. No wasted movements, every breath appeared to be choreographed for maximum efficiency and impact.

  Dating had always been such an incredible disappointment for Mia, and now, she was beginning to suspect why. She’d never dated an alpha male because she’d only dated men her grandfather had previously approved. Her last date had interrupted their make out session to take a phone call… from his mother, for heaven’s sake.

  After that, Mia had decided to stick with the men in her romance novels and forgo the real ones who always seemed to let her down. Most of the men she dated were candid about their motives, wanting to get close to her grandfather for one reason or another. The only one who’d indicated any interest in sex for the sake of pleasure had wanted her to fuck him with a used strap-on he’d picked it up at a pawn shop. He’d pulled it from the trunk of his car to show her his bargain; she’d taken a taxi home. Years later, the memory still made her shudder with revulsion.

  “I don’t know what she’s thinking about, but it’s not how to best please her Masters. Did you see the look on her pretty face? Move her over closer to the railing, let’s see what we can do about bringing our sub’s sharp mind back into focus.”

  Brock’s words were spoken loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, and the words made her pussy convulse as if he’d stroked his fingers along the sensitive walls. A warm rush of cream coated the newly denuded lips of her labia, and Mia once again thanked the stars above she was barefoot, or she might have stumbled right over the edge into the dark rolling water.

  Mia looked out over the slow cresting of the waves and felt her breath catch. “It’s so beautiful. The light dancing over the surface makes me wonder if the forest fairies have come out to play on the water.”

  Brock smiled down at her. “Our mom always told us God scattered diamonds on the water at night to lead sailors home. I think that was one of the reasons we wanted to be SEALs.”

  Mia’s heart melted at the sentiment. Surely any man who spoke so sweetly about his mother wouldn’t embarrass her too badly out here in the open, right? The thought had no sooner floated through her mind than the two of them stopped abruptly. Shifting, so they were standing shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the open area where other couples were milling about, both men crossed bulging arms over their chests as they studied her.

  “We’ve reviewed the contents of your e-reader,” Tucker broke the silence first, “so we know you are familiar with at least the basics of the lifestyle, sweet cheeks. We’ll be using the stoplight system for safe words. Tell me what you understand that to mean.”

  Mia wasn’t sure if it was his commanding tone or her soul-deep need to please, but she didn’t hesitate to explain what she’d read time and again in the erotic novels.

  “If I become overwhelmed either physically or emotionally, I should say ‘red,’ and that brings everything to an immediate halt. And if I’m approaching my limit, I can say ‘yellow’ to let you know I’m getting close to safewording out.”

  Brock nodded, and she saw a shift in his posture that told her their charade was about to become much more real. His voice was quieter than it had been a few minutes earlier… when it had been obvious he’d intended for those around them to hear what he was saying.

  “Do you understand the difference between an erotic spanking and a punishment spanking?” He must have seen the flair of uncertainty in her eyes because before she could take a step back, his one-word, clipped command locked her feet in place. “Don’t.”

  “Answer the question, Mia. Stop thinking and just respond,” Tucker’s words were spoken softly, but their steel core was impossible to miss.

  “I understand the concept, but I’m not sure I believe there is a difference.”

  Brock’s nostrils flared, and the feral grin that spread over Tucker’s face probably should have worried her. She’d read so many stories where the Dom claimed to be rewarding his or her submissive with a spanking, Mia had almost decided the word was code for something else.

  How could anyone consider being smacked on the ass a reward? It didn’t make any sense if you asked her. But then, CeCe looked like she’d certainly enjoyed the flogging, so maybe there was something to the whole erotic pain concept.

  But how much is too much? The whole thing sounds awfully intimate for role-playing, and I’m not very good at hiding my emotions, so maybe I’d better skip anything that’s going to muddle up my mind. These guys are being paid to deliver me to their bosses in Texas, then they’ll be done. I’ll feel like I did something wrong, and they’ll feel like they have to avoid the clinging Colombian vine. Holy shit, can this get any more convoluted? How do I know what I’m supposed to do? I’ve never been any good at this, and now, my life and the life of a man I’ve only met once for a few short minutes may depend on me pulling off this ruse.

  “And this nonsense is why you need a good paddling,” Brock’s stern voice brought her out of her musings. “Where on Earth did you go?” When she blinked at him in surprise, Tucker used his fingers under her chin to direct her attention in his direction.

  “Contrary to most people expect, my brother has the heavier hand, so you’re going over my lap instead of his. I’m not going to give you a number, you’ll have to trust me to know when you’ve had enough.”

  Enough? Oh dear, this sounds ominous.

  “No, sweet cheeks. You’ll recognize ominous when you see it.”

  Just fucking dandy, now my subconscious is talking out loud.

  *

  Tucker scooted the nearest deck chair aside since the thing was six inches off the ground. Hell, even as petite as Mia was, her chin would probably scrape on the ground if he pulled her over his lap that close to the wood plank surface. There was a bench a few feet from a glass-paneled railing; she’d be able to look over the water, adding another dimension to the experience. Even in the dim light, he could see her mind was already spinning off in another direction, so he didn’t
waste any time on preliminaries. Pulling her over his lap, Tucker scooted her forward until her ass was peaked perfectly for the fall of his hand. He smiled at her squeak of surprise.

  “Hold still, Kodak. I’m going to see what I can do about your little focus problem.” Her dress had already risen far enough to bare the bottom half of her ass cheeks, and he used the calloused pads of his fingers to push the light fabric up to her lower back. Slowing the movement gave her mind time to process his touch as a caress rather than letting her stumble over her embarrassment at being exposed.

  Tucker loved the way her skin looked in the moonlight, the way the soft glow highlighted her beautiful curves. Fuck, he’d keep her naked and bathed in pearlescent light if he could—she was absolutely glowing. He trailed his fingers through her slick folds and chuckled.

  “I think our little sub likes having her bare ass upended to the breeze. She’s soaking wet, and I’m looking forward to feeling all that slippery sweetness coat my fingers when she comes.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brock rearrange himself, and Tuck understood his brother’s dilemma since his own cock was straining the confines of the pants Cam had given him. Without giving her a chance to worry about what was to come, Tucker landed a swat on the fleshiest part of her perk ass.

  She jerked in his hold and gasped, but he knew her reaction was more from surprise than pain. The swat he’d given her had been solid, but it hadn’t been harsh.

  “Stay still, sweet cheeks.” He rested his palm over the heat from the first swat for several seconds, giving her body a chance to register the warmth spreading to her nearby pussy. Another swat, this one more stinging than the first, made her gasp, and he admonished her, “Don’t clench your muscles, Mia. Let go of your fear and breathe.”

  “Easy for you to say. Your pink bits aren’t waving in the wind for everyone parading by to see, and somebody twice your size isn’t using his baseball sized mitt to paddle you.” Her indignant response earned her three sharp swats, delivered in quick succession. She’d certainly notice the difference between these and the two she’d gotten before.