by Fiona Archer
She stared back. It was such a blatant act. So…earthy. A proclamation. His. Her heart thudded.
His eyes shone with a savage heat that burned a trail across her skin. Each breath was forced. He’d not touched her, yet she was a mess, ready to crumble at his feet.
He was…Sir. More now than just a title she uttered with due respect. When that deep voice, underpinned with steel, commanded her, he was no longer Noah—he was Sir. Her level of submission to him had deepened, her trust now given freely. She blew out a breath. When had she even crossed that bridge?
“Where did you go, little sub?”
She dropped her gaze. “I”—she licked her lips—“I just realized, you’re no longer Noah, not when I’m submitting to you.”
“And who might I be?” The challenge in his voice forced her to look up.
“You’re Sir, my Sir.” She put everything into those four words, her hopes, her trust, her love, and held her breath.
His face shone with approval. He fisted her hair and pulled down, forcing her head back. The bite of pain was delicious, firing off a spark of heat straight to her clit.
“That’s right. I am your Sir, and Flynn is your Master. Your submission is a power you give freely and which your Doms use for all of our mutual pleasure. We are the Doms who reward your obedience, same as you reward us with your trust. We tie you down, chain you, and strap you so you’re helpless to whatever pleasure we grant. We take you whenever and wherever we want, in your cunt, your bottom, and your mouth. We are the Doms who discipline you when you need to feel the safety of your boundaries, when you crave the sweet erotic pain that only Flynn and I can give you. All of this is only possible because you choose it to be so.”
His words ripped the ground out from under her. She locked her knees to keep from falling. Everything, she wanted him to do everything that he’d promised—right now. Control her. Tie her. Fuck her. Her heart thudded with the force of a thousand wild horses. The surge of feeling was all so new, and yet it was like coming home. She had no secrets from him. He and Flynn had ripped those away days ago.
Now she could only stand before him and offer the submission he hungered for as much as she did his dominance.
He stepped closer, framing her face with his hands.
“I’m a selfish bastard, sweetheart.”
She shook her head and turned her face to kiss his palm. “I don’t believe that’s true, Sir.” How could he say that? He’d always seen to her pleasure first, and her safety.
As he rubbed the sides of his thumbs across her cheekbones, she glimpsed something—vulnerability maybe—flicker in his eyes, if only for a moment before his Dom mask slipped back into place. “Tonight, I need to take you hard and fast. You’ll open for me, take my cock as deep as I want it to go. I’ll take you until I’m satisfied, and when I’m finished, I’ll hold you, cherish you, and keep you safe.”
Of course, it all made sense. He was a warrior, a man always in control. Tonight, an unseen hand had ripped that authority away from him and violated someone under his protection. He needed to reclaim that control.
Heaven help her, she wanted him to take her, every body-slamming thrust of the way.
“Please, Sir, I need you. I want to feel safe, protected. Only you and Master Flynn make me feel that way.”
He groaned and crushed her against his chest. “Chloe, you’ve said the very thing guaranteed to bring my beast roaring out of his cave.” For a moment, he held her in his arms, twin ropes of muscle binding her tightly against him. The buds of her nipples hardened against his cotton shirt. She rubbed herself against him like a hungry kitten begging for attention.
“Look at me.”
Lifting her head, she caught a glimpse of the determination in his eyes before his mouth captured hers. Licking the seam of her lips, his tongue pushed into her mouth, dueling with hers, teasing, flicking, tasting until she was on her tiptoes, her neck craned back from the force of his kiss. His evening whiskers grazed her chin, enticing her with their manly roughness.
By the time he lifted his head, she was panting to catch her breath.
He toed off his boots and pushed them out of the way with his feet. “Remove my jeans.”
Cheese and crackers, her hands were shaking and they’d only kissed. To hide the slight tremor, she hurried to unbuckle his belt, sliding the zipper carefully down over the impressive bulge in his jeans, and waited for him to step out of each leg before laying them over the clothes hamper.
He cradled her chin, lifting her face for inspection. “Don’t be afraid, little sub. And remember, you have your safe word.”
She might have known she couldn’t hide anything from Sir.
“It’s not fear, Sir. You just kind of rocked my boat.” She felt a smile break free. She couldn’t stop it, and why should she? It was true. She wasn’t scared—not of Sir. Only the kaleidoscope of emotions he could summon in her. That would take some getting used to. A part of her hoped she never would.
The corners of his mouth twitched even as his gaze remained cool. “Well then, we’ll just have to see what else I can shake up, won’t we, sweetie?” He tore his shirt over his head and started the shower.
Once he’d adjusted the temperature, he pushed Chloe forward until she was spluttering under a deluge of warm bliss.
There were so many jets in the shower, neither of them were left in the cold.
After squeezing a dollop of citrus body wash onto a sponge, Sir was methodical in washing the stench of smoke from their bodies. His rigid cock was already covered in a condom. Soapy trails cascaded down the length of Sir’s carved body, swirling and dipping along the ridges of muscle. Maybe he needed extra help in getting clean?
“Turn around and put your hands on the wall, shoulder width apart.”
She could only stare, but Sir’s iron gaze held no humor. Here? He was going to take her in the shower? She’d never…well…no, she’d never had sex in a shower. When he said earlier he’d take her, she’d assumed he meant on the bed, maybe tied up, but not—
He spun her around so fast her hands slapped against the tiles. Her pulse jackknifed. Hard hands gripped her waist and pulled her hips away from the wall. His leg thrust between hers, spreading her thighs wide. Deep inside, she clenched. Her mind spun under the sheer rawness of his onslaught.
She blinked. All she needed was a second to get herself sorted and then she’d—
A finger and thumb rolled her nipple, squeezing hard.
“Aaahh. Oh. Oh. Oh.”
“When I give you an order, you obey. Understood, sub?” Sir’s voice rumbled in her ear.
“Yes, Sir, I’m sorry.” On tiptoe, she panted through the pain, more so when it morphed into something darker and more satisfying. Her clit thrummed, begging for his touch.
Slowly, he reduced the pressure on her nipple but never released the bud. “Keep your hands pressed against the tiles, sub. If you move them, I’ll clamp your clit.”
Oh, fuck!
With her feet now flat on the shower floor, she licked her lips. Steam caressed her skin like a foggy veil. The angle of Noah’s body shielded her from the majority of the water’s spray.
His hard cock rode between her legs, sliding through the silky wetness of her pussy, the head grazing over her clit. Her soft mew amplified against the tiles. If she could just move her hips a little, then maybe—
Hands tightened on her hips. In one hard thrust, Sir drove into her, up to the base of his cock. She screamed, an inhuman sound that bounced off the tiles. Back on tiptoe, she lurched forward. The force of his thrusts pushed her forearms against the tiles, bracing the impact. He angled his hips and ground his cock to maximum effect, each stroke a shockwave of sensation, turning her into a quaking mess. She struggled to breathe. Her head flopped forward, the wet mass of her hair sticking to her cheeks, blinding her to everything apart from quick flashes of the indigo tiles.
Her sheath clamped around his cock, dragging each thrust into a new hyper-leve
l of acute pleasure. She turned her head to the side, resting her cheek against the cool tile.
“Chloe, you’re gripping me so hard. Your body tells me exactly what it wants. Like when I hit this spot…right here…aaahh, sweetie, you go so tight around me.” He chuckled at her scream as a shudder tore deep from her core. “God, I love it when you cry out. That’s right. Come for me, little one.” He drew out of her warmth only to slam back in, driving deep, pushing her breasts up against the tile.
Her release came so swiftly. A moment of toe-curling forewarning, then every muscle of her body strung tightly. There was an explosion deep inside, carrying her over from expectation to pure carnal joy. The muscles of her vagina clamped around Noah, refusing to surrender the moment. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her. Only Sir’s ruthless grip on her hips kept her upright.
“Oh, God.” Her voice sounded like a bunch of rusty nails rolling around the bottom of a tin can. She didn’t care. Her lungs burned. She started to sway. Had she been holding her breath? She dragged in a gulp of moist air.
“Sir, what about you?”
He must be in agony. So, so hard.
“I’m not finished. You have another in you, sub. I won’t let you deny me.” His big finger rubbed her engorged clit and pressed firmly.
A bright flash skidded behind her eyes, blinding her as he ripped another orgasm from her shaking body. This one rolled on, joining the ebbing flow from the first to rise as one big tidal wave, crashing around her. She clawed the tiles like a desperate animal, her fingers sliding against the wet surface.
“Who do you belong to, Chloe?” He flicked his slick finger over her clit, each stroke a lash on the swollen bundle of nerves.
“You, Sir, you and Master.” She bucked against his hold. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks.
“How long for?” Flick. Flick.
“Forever, Sir. Oh, God, forever.” She sobbed.
“That’s right, little teacher, that’s right.” Sir lifted her off her feet and let the weight of her body push her down so he thrust right to her core. His own jagged cry rebounded off the tiles as the pulse of his cock signaled his own release. The hard column of his body shook against hers.
So deep and wonderful and brutal and…She couldn’t think anymore. Could hardly breathe. No matter. Here, in Sir’s arms, she was safe, and she was his. Taken.
“I love you, little sub.” Sir’s voice was rougher than desert stone, his breathing loud and labored. His cock twitched inside her, sending miniature explosions of sharp bliss along the walls of her pussy.
“I love you, Sir.” She clutched one of his hands and kissed each knuckle, his palm, the inside of his wrist.
“Sweetie, it’s about bloody time.” Noah grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger and turned her face to the side.
She closed her eyes against the spray as his lips crushed hers in a hard kiss. Then his lips were on her forehead, trailing a path of kisses down her cheek before releasing her chin.
Gently, he eased from inside her, her throaty moan heard above the patter of the water. Sir’s arms held her safe as she stumbled.
He cleaned them off and then wrapped her up in a plush towel. After drying her hair, he carried her to the bed and dressed her feet in a pair of thick socks.
Wow, he’d remembered she loved the comfy feel of socks at night. Her heart skittered a couple of beats. Cherished…just like he’d said. She’d take some more of that any day.
Now, snuggled deep in his arms, her back to his front, she lay quiet. The deep contentment that should have flooded her system after being well used by her Dom failed to appear. A part of their trio was missing, downstairs she assumed, deep in conference with Quinn and Mike.
She snuggled closer against Noah’s warmth. Okay, so she was a born panic merchant, and maybe that’s all this was, her mind running away from her, but still, her gut instinct screamed something was wrong. There had been that weird moment in the bedroom on Tuesday, and now tonight when she needed Flynn, he’d closed down.
She’d fight for her men. Bare-knuckled if need be. But she couldn’t fight an invisible enemy. Trent wasn’t Flynn’s enemy. Was it guilt over the young soldier who’d perished in Afghanistan? Or something else from his past, a far more vicious foe she’d yet to discover?
She yawned, the heavy cloud of sleep overtaking her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d sit Flynn down and get some answers. The alternative was to let him fester and hope he could heal himself. That was a risk she simply was not prepared to take.
* * * *
Noah detected Flynn’s approach long before he opened the door to the master suite. Not that Flynn was making any noise, but skills that had kept you alive didn’t fade away. He listened to Flynn’s quick shower and lay quietly as the closest man he had to a brother lowered himself into bed.
“How is she?” Flynn pitched his voice low.
He needn’t have bothered. Chloe had been out for the count for over an hour.
Noah forced back the growl that kicked against his teeth. Telling Flynn he should have been here to find out for himself served no purpose, and guilt would only push the man further away. “She’s been thoroughly fucked and is now wiggling her delicious little arse up against me in her sleep.”
Flynn’s soft chuckle drifted over the bed. Noah allowed himself a wry smile. Easy to laugh when you’re not the sorry bastard with a cock harder than a steel pipe.
Flynn settled on his side facing them, his movement slow, careful. He lifted a curl off her face and twined it around his finger. “She’s just magnificent, Noah. We’re the luckiest bastards on earth.” He said it with such awe, Noah didn’t doubt his sincerity. Flynn would give his life for Chloe in a heartbeat. He didn’t lack the courage to die for her.
“Sheriff Quilter rang. Jessop and Wagner both have alibis.” Flynn’s flat tone chilled the air.
“Tell me they’re not simply backing each other up?” There was no way he’d accept that as evidence.
“No such luck, mate. Both bastards attended Thanksgiving Day at a friend’s house. There’s multiple witnesses.”
“So we’re back to Trent?” Noah shook his head against the pillow. “There’s something off with this scenario. Burning the house achieves nothing for him, only makes everyone more aware of the danger for Chloe, more alert. Why would he purposely make his mission harder?”
“I agree. It wasn’t Trent. Wagner could have arranged for anyone to start the fire. And unless we get the bastard alone in a back alley, we’ll never know.” Flynn unwound the curl from his finger and lay back down against the pillows. “Thanks for earlier, with Chloe. I know you covered for me.”
Noah studied the ceiling before answering. “She told me tonight she loved me. I’m sure it was meant for you, too. Chloe’s a smart woman, Flynn. She knows something’s up. I reckon you’ve got maybe twelve hours at the max before she hunts you down and demands some answers.”
“Fuck.”
“Time’s run out, mate. Think about it, we demanded she have the courage to live her life, face her fears, and trust us enough to stand by her. Don’t you think we owe her the same?”
Flynn didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Noah could smell Flynn’s desperation from here. And it scared the shit out of Noah.
Chapter Nineteen
Flynn hunched his shoulders against the icy wind. It snuck under the thick sheepskin of his coat collar, ruffled his hair, and trailed across his face. A mean wind. It sliced into a man’s skin, reaching deep to his bones and crystalizing his marrow. Good. It might go some way to dousing the hot panic inside of him burning way out of control.
A quick glance at his watch. Ten o’clock. A couple of hours, that’s about all the time he had left until Chloe raised that pert chin of hers and demanded some answers. His strategy? Yeah, working on it.
He braced a boot against the bottom rail of the fence and scanned the horizon. At the far end of the corral, the skeleton limbs of the trees waved in a chaotic dance
.
This land, this white, snow-crusted land, was so different from the rich red ochre of the outback, and yet it was home.
“Hey there, Chloe, I see the boys finally let you out for a breather.” Jeb’s voice carried from the stables.
Chloe’s giggle whipped against Flynn’s ears. “I’m out on good behavior. Noah’s a most gracious jailor.”
Flynn whirled back to face the stables. A supercharged volt of anger shot up his spine. She was outside. On her own? His boots crunched on the gravel as he stomped back toward the barn. Christ, when he got his hands on her she’d need a pillow for that sweet arse.
He shoved against the partially open stable door. His hands itched inside his gloves. He’d tie her to the spanking bench and maybe use a paddle this time. Oh, yes she’d—
There she stood. In the middle of the breezeway. With Noah.
He froze. “What the fuck? Noah, what were you thinking?”
Noah, his arm slung around Chloe’s shoulders, met his gaze with cool indifference. Flynn didn’t miss the way Chloe snuck a little closer to Noah’s side.
“What does it look like, Flynn? I’m escorting Chloe on a break out of the house. You got an issue with that?” Noah’s calm tone poured fuel on his already simmering temper.
“Yes, I have a fucking issue with that. Do you have any idea of the risk you’re taking?” Flynn snapped his gaze from Noah’s bored features to Chloe’s wide-eyed stare. He yanked open his jacket. Christ, it was warm in here. “For a trained SAS trooper, you’re acting like an idiot. Get her back inside.”
“No.” Noah didn’t blink, his tone flat.
“No? What kind of a bloody answer is that?”
“The kind your attitude deserves.” Noah’s chest heaved under his sigh. “Flynn, instead of acting like an obtuse bastard, we’re going to discuss what’s forced your head so far up your arse you can’t see straight.” He nodded to Jeb. “Mate, I’d appreciate it if you could steer the men away from the barn. Ignore the yelling. Though, since I’m sure Flynn’s armed, I’d appreciate it if you came running at the sound of gunfire.” The wry tilt to Noah’s mouth made a mockery of his concern.