Loyalty’s Betrayal

by Mari Carr

  “You don’t have to believe it. Not yet. But you have to say it aloud. Now.”

  Dimitri looked at Mateo. “We barely know each other.”

  She reached up and cupped Dimitri’s face, drawing his attention back to her. “And yet we’re going to be married. You’re going to give Mateo and me a gift tonight.”

  Dimitri’s jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. “What gift?”

  “A leap of faith. He’s not a traitor. Say it.”

  “He’s not a traitor.” The four words came out too easily, too smoothly. Dimitri was an accomplished liar, but he’d given her the words she’d asked for.

  “You’ll say that again to us one day. And the next time, you will believe it,” she assured him, even as his mask fell slightly, revealing his doubts.

  “Now,” she said, her gaze moving from Dimitri to Mateo. “Kiss.”

  Mateo started to lean down to her, but she placed her fingers on his lips, halting him.

  “Not me. Each other.”

  Mateo reared back. “Cecilia, I don’t—”

  His refusal was cut off when Dimitri gripped the back of Mateo’s neck, pulling him forward to place a hard kiss on his lips.

  The entire action—from grab to kiss—lasted mere seconds, but the impact shook Cecilia to the core.

  “I want the same gift,” Dimitri demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Mateo asked, clearly flustered by the unexpected kiss.

  “A leap of faith. My intentions are honorable.”

  Mateo frowned. “What intentions?”

  “Say it back to me.”

  “Your intentions are honorable.”

  Cecilia sucked in a deep breath. Mateo was as smooth a liar as Dimitri. And then, Mateo sealed that leap of faith in the same way—grasping Dimitri by the neck and giving him a kiss as well.

  Cecilia noticed this kiss lasted longer and—God have mercy—included tongue. The temperature in the room spiked.

  Watching her lovers kiss was the ultimate turn-on. She took advantage of their distraction, reaching down to resume her earlier masturbating. She had managed one quick stroke of her clit before Dimitri’s iron-clad grip encircled her wrist.

  Both men were looking at her with dark, hungry, predatory eyes. She shivered in response.

  “Be careful, Cece.”

  It was the same warning Dimitri had issued a few minutes earlier.

  “Of?”

  “You’re playing with fire.”

  She pondered that. It was apparent he wasn’t referring to their bedroom play. Was he referring to her request for trust? She was perfectly aware that trust wasn’t something that could be offered blindly, yet that was what she had done.

  Because, while they were still oblivious, she had seen the obvious.

  This trinity wasn’t a mistake, wasn’t a punishment, wasn’t falling apart.

  They were hers. And she was…theirs.

  “I’m not afraid of fire,” she said, dropping her own mask, letting both of them see her fully, revealing her hopes, her fears, her desires.

  Dimitri pulled back a few inches as he studied her face. He even shook his head a couple of times, just a slight movement, a tiny attempt at denial.

  “We’re all going to burn,” he said at last, just before he bent his head and kissed her. His lips were just as rough, just as wicked as his fingers. He took her mouth hard, his tongue pushing in to stake a claim.

  That kiss was powerful enough it should have blocked out everything else around them, but Mateo was not happy to merely observe. The mattress shifted and his hands tugged her thighs apart as he bent down to kiss a much more intimate place. Like Dimitri, his tongue conquered, stroking her clit several times before he dipped it inside her empty, needy pussy.

  She gasped, attempting to turn her head away from Dimitri. She was suffocating on pleasure, everything coming at her too fast. It was too overwhelming.

  “Please,” she said, but Dimitri didn’t give way. He gripped her face in his large, calloused hand and reclaimed her lips, stealing even more air from her lungs.

  “Ours,” he barked when he finally moved away to give them a chance to breathe. “You’re ours.”

  She nodded, barely restraining from pointing out how obvious and unnecessary that comment was.

  Be kind, not right.

  Cecilia took her mother’s words to heart. “Always,” she said instead.

  Dimitri moved to the side, allowing Mateo to come over her body. Her legs were open, ready to welcome him inside.

  He slid in without pause, without hesitation, burying himself fully, deeply.

  Dimitri knelt next to them as Mateo took her. Both of them were nearly at the brink when Dimitri reached between them, stroking her clit before leaning closer to bite Mateo’s shoulder.

  Mateo jerked in obvious unexpected pain. The sudden thickening of his cock inside her told Cecilia that Mateo had liked the sting.

  “Pull out of her,” Dimitri commanded.

  Mateo narrowed his eyes, but did so.

  Cecilia hissed, her body trembling, unsated.

  Dimitri shoved two fingers inside. She was soaking wet, slick with her arousal. “That’s right, koxaha. Coat my fingers. Make them nice and wet, so I can put them in our Mateo’s ass.”

  Cecilia’s pussy tightened.

  “Dimitri—” Mateo began.

  “Just my fingers,” Dimitri interjected, not bothering to let Mateo finish. “This time.”

  Mateo remained still as Dimitri stroked in and out of her, pushing her to the edge once again. She lifted her hips, trying to get there before he withdrew, but Dimitri was too astute, too in tune with her body.

  How could he learn that so quickly?

  He pulled his fingers free, leaving her unsatisfied, aching.

  “Please,” she repeated. Last night, they’d told her they would have her begging. It had taken them only twenty-four hours to achieve that goal.

  Mateo, however, shared her pain and, bless him, was ready to put them both out of their misery.

  He slid back inside her, intent on fucking them to completion, but Dimitri placed his hand on Mateo’s back.

  “Wait.”

  Mateo was buried to the hilt, but stilled. Cecilia attempted to wiggle her hips, Dimitri’s demands be damned.

  “Cece,” he warned. “Stop now. Or you won’t come tonight at all.”

  She froze briefly, torn, trying to decide if she should call him on his bluff and risk it or—fuck—obey.

  She was still mentally debating with herself when Dimitri said, “Good girl.” He’d mistaken her stillness for compliance. Cecilia possessed enough pride that his praise, the words making her feel like a child, almost had her thrusting her hips upward.

  That idea was wiped away when Mateo hissed. Dimitri had moved behind him, pushing Mateo lower, his upper body flush with hers, chest to breasts. She tried to look over his shoulder to see what Dimitri was doing, but Mateo had other ideas.

  “Distract me,” he murmured, his lips against hers.

  Their first kiss.

  A distraction.

  She didn’t care. Cecilia wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed his lips to hers. The touch was hot, but brief.

  Mateo pulled away with a gasp, and she knew Dimitri had made his move.

  “Fuck,” Mateo murmured.

  “I can’t see. Tell me what he’s doing,” Cecilia demanded.

  Dimitri chuckled at her request. “Dirty girl.”

  “I don’t…this isn’t…” Mateo was struggling to speak. “His fingers are in my ass. Two of them. It’s fucking tight, stretching me.”

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  He nodded, then hastened to add, “But I want it. The sting feels…”

  She lifted her head, placing a quick kiss on his jaw. “Your descriptive skills need work.”

  Dimitri reached between Mateo’s legs, finding the place where they were still connected, Mateo’s cock filling her.

 
; Dimitri ran the tip of one finger around the base of Mateo’s cock and the rim of her vagina before sliding lower. He pressed inside her ass one knuckle deep and wiggled.

  “It feels like that. And you’ll get your turn soon enough.” His finger was gone in an instant, and she was sorry it wasn’t her turn now.

  “Fuck our lady, Mateo,” Dimitri said. “You take care of her while I take care of you.”

  Mateo moved slowly at first, almost gingerly. Cecilia assumed he was trying to become accustomed to the stretch, the burn of Dimitri’s fingers pumping in and out of his ass, the rhythm matching that of Mateo’s thrusts into her.

  He adjusted quickly. Mateo lifted her legs, placing her knees over his shoulders, the position allowing him to press in deeper.

  She wasn’t sure who was determining the pace. Given the speed and force, she suspected it was Dimitri. The man fucked like his life depended on it.

  “Take her harder,” Dimitri demanded.

  Mateo shook his head, even as he obeyed the order. “Can’t. Hold. Off. Too…”

  Three thrusts later and he came, filling her as he grunted out the intensity of his feelings. “Fuck. God! Yes. Hurts so fucking good.”

  He’d asked Cecilia to distract him, but she’d been the one distracted, so in awe of Mateo’s face, his responses. Belatedly, she realized he’d gone ahead without her.

  Reaching down, she stroked her clit, anxious to catch up. God knew it wouldn’t take much.

  Dimitri, as always, took the control out of her hands.

  “Grab her hands, Mateo. Hold them beside her head. And don’t let her touch herself. I’ll be right back.”

  She gasped, shocked by his unexpected departure.

  “Mateo—” she started.

  He lifted his hips, his softening cock sliding out. He shook his head. “Don’t try to sweettalk me, Cece. It won’t work.”

  Since when did he call her Cece?

  And since when did she start liking that silly nickname?

  The sound of running water told her Dimitri had gone to the bathroom to wash his hands. She wasn’t sure what that meant for her. It wasn’t really his hands she was interested in at the moment.

  What she needed was someone between her legs, pounding hard.

  When he returned to the room, Mateo resumed his previous position on her right.

  Dimitri reached for her waist, drawing her toward him. “Facedown,” he demanded.

  She started to turn, but he took over, using his strength to put her in the position he wanted. Her legs hung over the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the chilly floor. She only had a second to assimilate before Dimitri bent over her, tugging her legs open.

  “You want to come, koxaha?”

  She nodded.

  “No. Say it. Ask for it.”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “Sweet, stubborn girl,” he cooed as he ran his fingertips along her slit. “Always taking the hard way.”

  She tried to push closer to his hand, foolishly thinking she could get his fingers inside her somehow.

  He gave her a quick, sharp slap as a warning.

  Mateo had been quietly watching them, but he moved closer, running his fingers through her hair. She lifted her head to look at him, surprised to see such a serious look on his face.

  “Leap of faith, mi cielito.”

  “What?” she asked, perplexed by his words until he explained.

  “We won’t hurt you.”

  She blinked, trying to hide the tears his words provoked. Cecilia had asked them to take a chance, to trust, to leap.

  She turned around, looking at Dimitri over her shoulder. Mateo’s words had affected him as well.

  “We won’t hurt you,” Dimitri repeated.

  Every last vestige of fear and confusion and anxiety melted away. “Take me, Dimitri. Hard. Please. God…please. I need—”

  Cecilia’s plea was cut off when he slammed into her.

  She clenched the duvet in her fists, pushing back on every inward swing of his hips. He took her the way she wanted, needed.

  She came within a dozen strokes, but he didn’t stop, didn’t acknowledge the first orgasm…or the second.

  Over and over, he pounded deeply, and as he did so, he rained a litany of Ukrainian words. She didn’t understand the meaning, but there was no mistaking the tone, the tenor.

  She responded in Italian. Like him, she needed her native language to be able to express everything written inside her.

  This wasn’t love. She was too pragmatic to believe anyone could fall so fast. But there was no denying that was where this was headed.

  Her heart could love these men.

  They wouldn’t hurt her.

  9

  Cashtal Ny Tree Cassyn—literal translation, The Castle of Three Legs—was on the north shore of the Isle of Man, on roughly the opposite side from Douglas, the capital city. The castle, called Triskelion Castle in English, despite that not being an exact translation of the Manx name, was actually a fortified manor house. Like many such houses in various parts of Europe where landed lords had controlled the countryside, Triskelion Castle was not just a single building, but an estate with land, multiple residences, and a working farm.

  From the deck of the small ship, Dimitri couldn’t see the wall that surrounded the grounds. They’d decided last night, somewhere in the wee hours, that their next logical move in the investigation was a trip to the Isle of Man. That revelation came after two hours of cuddling and pillow talk.

  Dimitri still couldn’t quite believe—or maybe understand was a better word—all that had happened in Cecilia’s bedroom. One moment, he’d felt like he’d had a grip on himself, on his mission, the next, she was stealing his room key and he was following Mateo upstairs.

  As they approached the shore and the small, sheltered docks used to access the estate by sea, all he could see was the castle.

  It rose above the cliff, piercing the gray, cloudy sky. The weather was calm enough that they’d been able to make the crossing by sea in a power boat rather than something with sails. Dimitri was not knowledgeable about ocean travel—something he would have to rectify. He could swim and do some basic scuba, but Kiev was far from the Black Sea, and there hadn’t been a reason to learn how to pilot—or was it captain?—a ship in open water like this. The Black Sea was large but calm, compared to the Irish Sea, linked as it was to the wild Atlantic.

  Cecilia clung to his leg and prayed for death in Italian.

  The lovely, take-charge powerhouse of a woman was terribly seasick.

  Dimitri looked back to where Mateo—a knit cap covering his hair and ears to protect them from the cold air—stood at the wheel of the boat. Dimitri was standing in the center of the small seating area, bent knees braced on the bench. Cecilia lay on the bench, clinging to his leg, her hair plastered to her face with salt spray. She was bundled in a black jacket that bore the logo of the Spartan Guard. Her own jacket had been a casualty of her first bout of seasickness and had been tossed overboard.

  Mateo throttled back the engine, slowing as they approached the Isle of Man. The slower speed made the boat rock more as it was caught in the choppy, wind-driven waves.

  Cecilia started to pray to the Blessed Virgin in Latin. Mateo’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. Dimitri’s gaze locked with his, and the amusement he saw there was a match for his own. Not that they enjoyed their future wife’s suffering, but instead enjoyed her thoroughly Italian way of expressing that suffering.

  They both grinned, in unison of expression and thought. What they’d done last night. The way they’d touched each other…that was fresh in his mind. Dimitri’s body felt both languid and replete and ready for more. The unspoken desire to touch Mateo again made the shared amusement almost painfully intimate.

  Dimitri faked a stumble as they hit a wave and used it as an excuse to look away, his smile fading. It was a mistake to get too close to Mateo.

  Mateo skillfully navigated them between the la
rge sailboats moored at the several short docks that stuck out into the water from the base of the cliff Triskelion Castle sat atop. Dimitri pried Cecilia’s hands from his leg and stepped out onto the prow of the boat, jumping onto the dock when they were close enough. Dimitri caught the line Mateo tossed him and looped it around a piling.

  “I’ll secure us, if you can get her off,” Mateo said.

  Dimitri nodded, waiting for Mateo to jump onto the dock, and then he climbed back into the boat, gathering Cecilia in his arms.

  Mateo had finished securing the boat using a proper nautical knot by the time Dimitri stepped carefully onto the gently swaying dock, Cecilia moaning piteously.

  Without waiting for Mateo, Dimitri carried her to the narrow, coarse sand beach, setting her on a sea-spray coated rock at the base of the cliff.

  “Breathe. Put your feet flat on the ground. Hold yourself still. Feel the earth.” He hadn’t dealt with much seasickness, but he’d helped his share of those who were airsick, especially after night-flight helicopter rides, which were difficult on the inner ear.

  Mateo stepped up beside him. His head was tipped up, scanning the cliff. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  He was anxious to get to the castle. A switchback path had been carved into the cliff face, and Dimitri could all but feel Mateo’s desire to race up the slick stone incline.

  “Hold her,” Dimitri murmured. “I’m not feeling so well myself.”

  Mateo’s attention immediately snapped to them, and he crouched by Cecilia, putting one hand on her forehead and one on the back of her head, holding it steady.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured. “That helps.”

  Dimitri felt fine. He’d used Cecilia’s sickness as an excuse to keep Mateo from going up there without him.

  If only watching them together didn’t make him feel so…

  He pushed away the feeling. Refusing to acknowledge it. To name it.

  Dimitri did his own scan of the cliff. It took him a moment, but he spotted multiple cameras. As at Craigencross Farm, the Spartan Guard would know they were here.

  Perhaps the fleet admiral would know as well.

  After ten minutes, Cecilia seemed to feel better, so they started up. By the time they reached the top, she was almost back to herself, though she looked rather pathetic. It was a look he hadn’t seen from her before, and the need to protect her was gnawing at him.