Three of a Kind

by Skye Warren, Laura Kaye, Vanessa Vale

  “Well, I hate to break up our little party, but I’m supposed to meet Quinton soon,” Cass said. “It was really nice to meet you, Hartley.” She smiled as her gaze moved from the men back to her. “Hope to see you again.”

  “Same here,” Hartley said.

  Scarlett touched her arm. “We need to catch up soon. I have news.”

  “Of course,” Hartley said, hoping it was good news. Scarlett deserved it after everything she’d been through the past few years. “Though how am I supposed to wait to hear it? I’ll text you.”

  Moments later, it was just the three of them, settling into their table once more. And Hartley would’ve sworn the men shared some sort of meaningful look. But then Cruz was smiling, doling out spoons, and pushing the overflowing treat between them.

  “Tell me this isn’t one of the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted,” he said, arching a brow. When Cruz wasn’t being reserved and a little broody, he could be charming and sexy as hell.

  Smiling, Hartley tried a spoonful. And as the cold, rich sweetness exploded on her tongue, she couldn’t help but moan. “Oh, my God,” she said, hand in front of her mouth as she finished swallowing the bite. She took another. “No one has ever been more right about anything.”

  The sexiest smile she’d ever seen from any man slid up his handsome face, and he pointed his spoon at her. “I like you, Hartley. You’re good people.”

  “Let me in there,” Jonathan said playfully, diving in with his own spoon. “You two don’t get to have all the fun.” He banged against her spoon with his like he was trying to swat it out of the way.

  Hartley laughed. “Simmer down, Jonathan.” She knocked the ice cream off his spoon and stole it, bursting into laughter as his mouth dropped open and she swallowed down the sweet cream.

  He leaned closer. So close that her breath caught. “I promise you this, Hartley Farren. Somehow. Someway. You’re going to pay for that.”

  She arched a brow as her heart tripped into a sprint and tingles erupted over her skin. Because the way those words hit her was almost like a caress that proved Jonathan Allen gave good flirt. “You keep threatening that…”

  He leaned in closer. “I’ll have my revenge, darlin’. Count on it.”

  Chapter Four

  The next day, Jonathan was knee deep in interior demolition of Hartley’s catamaran, Cruz working right beside him. They had to be gentle in tearing out the damaged wood so that they didn’t create new damage in the tight quarters. Luckily, the larger hole they’d cut in the hull’s fiberglass helped with that particular problem.

  They wouldn’t know exactly how much this job would cost or how long it would take until they determined the condition of the electrical system. If the collision and water had damaged that, the repairs were a whole other ballgame.

  He really hoped for Hartley’s sake that wasn’t the case.

  Thinking of her had him smiling. The way her eyes had flared when he’d leaned in and issued his playful threat. The way her mouth had dropped open, sweet and kissable. The way Cruz had slowly but surely warmed to Hartley. Jonathan had been able to see it in his friend’s eyes, hear it in his words, and read it in his body language. Twenty years of friendship gave you that ability.

  “Any chance you’re gonna stop daydreaming?” Cruz said, amusement plain in his tone.

  “Some people can walk and chew gum at the same damn time, asshole,” Jonathan shot back with a smirk as he tossed a section of warped wood out the hole.

  Cruz rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t tell me your mind isn’t on her, too.” Jonathan nailed the other man with a stare.

  Cruz pulled another section of wood free and for a long moment didn’t reply. Then he stood upright and returned that stare. “What is it you want with Hartley, man?”

  “It’s damn early to want anything, specifically.”

  Arching a dark brow that called him on his shit all by itself, Cruz didn’t let it go at that. “Yeah, it is. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have an idea.”

  Jonathan dropped the tool he’d been using and braced his hands on his hips. “Okay, fine. I want to get to know her enough to see if she might be as great as she seems. To see if she might share even more interests in common.”

  “You’re that into her already?”

  “Maybe. Okay, probably.” It was crazy fast to be admitting that, let alone feeling it. Jonathan knew it was. But there was just something about her that had its hooks in him—just from the couple days they’d spent together. She was funny and interesting and smart, and all of that was in addition to their shared love of being out on the water. That had been fundamental to who Jonathan was going back to his childhood. More than a decade in the military taught him to listen to his instincts and trust his gut, and his gut was telling him there could be something worth exploring. “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. You interested, too?” he asked. Because though they hadn’t always shared sexual partners, they’d been doing it more and more. The first time it’d happened, it’d been totally organic. They’d met a woman at a club. Had great conversation. Danced with her. And then she’d invited them to come home with her. Both of them.

  It had been a night that’d blown their minds. The thrill of it. The intensity. The courage it took to bare yourself in front of not just one lover, but two. In those early years, they’d both had plenty of solo dates and relationships, but they’d met more and more women who were open to sharing, and a few who introduced them to the BDSM lifestyle, where ménage scenarios were more accepted, common, and available.

  It had cracked something open inside of Jonathan, something that needed to please, to take care, to love, and that felt too big to share with just one person. It was hard to articulate, and that was the closest he’d ever been able to come to explaining it—even to himself. Cruz was more private about what it meant to him—which Jonathan got given how religious his family was—but one thing was clear: they’d been through so much together by the time they’d found the lifestyle that they could trust each other, implicitly, in being themselves, both in and out of the bedroom. No questions, no judgment.

  And then they’d met Hale O’Keeffe, Isaac Marten, Quinton Ross, and the other men who, with them, would become co-owners and the Master Dominants of Blasphemy, Baltimore’s most exclusive BDSM club.

  That was when not just playing at this lifestyle, but truly living it, first became more than a possibility.

  Cruz released a deep breath. “You…you don’t want her just for yourself?” His voice was quiet in the confined space of the ruined cabin. And Jonathan didn’t think he was imagining almost a…regret in his tone.

  He stepped closer and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “We’ve talked about this before, yeah? If the right woman, the right situation, presented itself…” Jonathan let the words hang there. “I’m thinking, maybe we’ve found her. Especially now that we know she’s long-time friends with a woman who’s a submissive at the club. That shit didn’t feel like a coincidence.”

  His friend’s gaze was dark and intense, and suddenly flared with a heat Jonathan had seen in the other man’s eyes many times. The heat of interest. Hell, yeah. Jonathan smiled, because Cruz was on board. This wasn’t just him getting caught up all on his own.

  Cruz swallowed hard, and the sound was thick and a little tortured. “Maybe we have found the right woman.”

  “Then you’re in on seeing where this might go?”

  “I’m in, Jonathan.”

  Satisfaction stirred in his gut. “Good.”

  “But the fact that Hartley knows Scarlett doesn’t mean she also knows Scarlett’s a submissive. Or even what that fully means.” Cruz arched a dark brow.

  Jonathan nodded, allowing him that much. “True. But maybe she does. And if so, that could be useful.”

  Cruz’s expression went thoughtful, his gaze distant. “It would certainly make broaching the whole topic of BDSM easier if she already knew a
bout the lifestyle.”

  “Damn straight,” Jonathan said, grinning.

  “Then I say we find out from Scarlett exactly what Hartley knows.” His friend’s dark brown eyes narrowed as his mind turned the situation over and looked at it from all angles. That methodical, analytical mind made Cruz an excellent sailor, a fantastic business partner, and an intriguing lover. Many times, Jonathan had witnessed Cruz drive a partner crazy with the workings of his mind as much as with the touch of his hands.

  “Now you’re thinking,” Jonathan said. “That’s exactly where we start.”

  * * *

  Hartley found Scarlett sitting in the late September sunshine at an outdoor table of a cafe where they’d planned to meet for lunch. “I took the liberty of ordering us some wine. Mind sitting outside?” Scarlett asked, rising to give Hartley a hug. Her friend wore a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a royal blue wrap shirt—all of which highlighted her hourglass shape.

  “Not at all. It’s gorgeous today.” She slipped into her seat and smoothed the white linen napkin over her own jeans. “It’s been too long since we did this. I’m glad I ran into you the other night.”

  “I agree,” Scarlett said, adjusting the twist of her long, black hair over her shoulder. She had the most gorgeous hair of anyone Hartley knew. Like black silk. “To you, sister.”

  “Right back atcha,” Hartley said.

  Smiling, they toasted and then made small talk as they decided and finally ordered a bread-and-fresh-mozzarella appetizer and salads for lunch. And then Scarlett leaned forward. “Okay, I literally don’t know where to start.” The big smile she wore encouraged Hartley that Scarlett’s news was good.

  “Well, start at the beginning, woman. What’s your news?” She sipped at her chardonnay, crisp and bright.

  Scarlett waved her hands. “No, no. We’re not starting there. We’re starting with Jonathan and Cruz.”

  Hartley blinked. She’d absolutely planned to ask more about how Scarlett knew the heroes saving her life by taking on her boat repair so quickly, but that hadn’t been why her friend had asked her to lunch. “Uh. Well…” She chuckled, because Scarlett looked like she might burst with excitement. What the heck was that about? “I hired them to repair the Far ’n Away. It got damaged in the hurricane last week and my friend, Linda, introduced me to Jonathan. He agreed to take a look when no one else was available. Which was a lifesaver because I have commitments lined up in a few weeks that would kill me to miss.”

  Now Scarlett was the one blinking as she swallowed a drink of wine. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “You guys looked very flirtatious.” Scarlett arched a brow.

  “Flirtatious? With which one?” Hartley asked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about when she’d noticed Scarlett at the restaurant.

  “Hon, with both of them.”

  “Oh, my God, no!” Hartley laughed, nearly choking on the drink she’d just taken. “We’re just friends. New friends, at that. I don’t even know them that well.”

  “Well, I guessed that much,” she said, her tone full of innuendo.

  She sat forward in her seat. “Okay, what does that mean? What is this club where you’re all members?”

  “We’re gonna need another round of wine for this conversation,” Scarlett said, holding up her hand and gesturing to their half-full glasses when she caught the waiter’s eye.

  “Oh, God,” Hartley said, putting her hand to her head. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Trust me,” Scarlett said. “You do.”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Okay, hit me.”

  Scarlett’s expression was alive with amusement. “Do you remember the club I talked to you about? The, um—” Her voice dropped into a whisper. “—BDSM club? The one you encouraged me to go for it and join?”

  One beat passed, then another. “That’s the club you all belong to?” She took a long gulp of her chardonnay as her friend nodded.

  Scarlett had told her about the club after her divorce had been finalized. Her husband hadn’t been happy at all when Scarlett had expressed a desire to explore the more risqué sides of her sexuality, and he’d become so cruel to her for revealing what truly interested her that she’d been forced to leave him. Hartley had been only too happy to cheer her friend on when she’d discovered the existence of this club and tell her she had nothing to lose by giving it a try. As far as Hartley was concerned, anything two consenting adults agreed to do was no one else’s business.

  Scarlett gave her a long moment to process that news before she continued. “Yup. That’s the club. Blasphemy. You know that dance club called Club Diablo over in the warehouse district?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You actually go through that club to get to Blasphemy. It’s located in a restored church behind that building. You wouldn’t know it’s there without knowing about the club, which is kinda the point. They’re very private and exclusive, for obvious reasons.” The waiter arrived and filled Hartley’s now much less full glass.

  Hartley took another big sip and tried to make sense of her thoughts. “Okay, so, what? Are they like you?”

  “A submissive, you mean?” When Hartley nodded, Scarlett said, “No. They’re Dominants. They like to control the scenes and their partners’ pleasure. Master Jonathan and Master Cruz are alphas through and through.” Scarlett gave her a teasing smirk.

  “Master…” Hartley murmured, trying out the word. Aided by her friend’s commentary, her brain offered up all kinds of unhelpful imaginings. Her, on her knees, Jonathan standing over her. Or would it be Cruz? Being pulled over one of their laps, her ass in the air, hands stroking her. But whose hand? Gah. This was a full-on trip to crazytown. “Um, okay.”

  Just then, the waiter arrived with their appetizer, but Hartley was too gobsmacked to think about food. As Scarlett forked a piece of mozzarella onto her plate, she looked like the cat that ate the canary. “There’s more.”

  “How can there be more?” She almost didn’t want to know. No, scratch that, she really wanted to know. “What kind of more?”

  “Take another sip,” Scarlett said, chuckling and tapping at the rim of her wine glass.

  Hartley didn’t resist. She took a big drink, her heart racing, her head spinning, just a little, because she’d skipped breakfast this morning.

  “Hartley, Jonathan and Cruz do scenes together.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders fell. “So they’re a couple?” Man, that was…kinda disappointing. She totally got it, though. They were beautiful men. Best friends. Had served in the military together and now were business partners. It made sense that they could be together romantically. But, damn, she’d read that flirtation all wrong, hadn’t she?

  And hell if that disappointment she was feeling didn’t reveal a thing or two…

  Scarlett shook her head. “No, well, maybe. I don’t know. There’s some speculation around the club that there might be something romantic between them. But what I mean is, they do scenes together. Both of them with the same submissive. At one time. You know, like, ménage à trois.”

  It was a good thing Hartley had just swallowed, because otherwise she might’ve done a cartoon-like spit take. Heat roared through her body. Because those imaginings she’d just done…that question she’d just asked herself about which one would be starring in those fantasies with her…now she had her answer. They might not make her choose.

  “That is the…hottest, craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Hartley managed, her brain possibly shorting out at the thought. Both of them. Together. At the same time. Jonathan’s golden-boy good looks. Cruz’s dark, intensity. At. The. Same. Time.

  Scarlett burst out laughing. “Hot, for sure. I’ve seen them do a scene together, and trust me when I say, no one complains afterward.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But it’s not as crazy as you think. After the last year of exploring things in my own life, I can tell you that there’s a whole culture out there—both with
in the BDSM lifestyle and outside of it—that’s a lot more open-minded and fluid.”

  For a long moment, they sat quietly and enjoyed bites of the warm, smooth mozzarella, tangy tomatoes, and flavorful pieces of basil atop crostini.

  “But…I don’t think I’m submissive,” Hartley said. “I mean, how do you even know?” And then she shook her head, peered around at the other diners to see if anyone was eavesdropping, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “And that’s all beside the fact that I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to try being with two men at once.”

  Scarlett gave her an appraising look. “First of all, you’re not ruling it out, and that already tells me you’re more open-minded than the average bear.” She winked. “And, second, and you don’t have to tell me the answer, but imagine being with them both and ask yourself if the idea turns you on.”

  Hartley swallowed hard as goosebumps raced across her skin. The attention of two men at once. Two pairs of hands. Two mouths. Two…other things. Had it gotten warmer outside?

  “Actually, you really don’t have to tell me, my friend, because I just saw it in your eyes.” There was a little teasing in her tone, but mostly Scarlett’s expression was full of understanding.

  Blowing out a long breath, Hartley chuckled. “Okay, well, I have no idea what to do with any of that. Especially since it’s not like they’ve asked me for anything. So maybe we should talk about your news now.”

  Scarlett grinned. “Okay, I won’t push. But let me just say this one last thing. If you decide you might be curious, there’s a masquerade party at the club in a few weeks. Masks required. You could just observe if you wanted. You wouldn’t have to participate. I could get you in on my membership. All you’d have to do is fill out a few forms.”

  Actually attend a BDSM club? Hartley’s racing heart told her that, at the very least, the idea excited her. Even if some of that excitement was fear. “I’ll think about it.”