Sean: Quintessence The Sequel: Part IV

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “What? For you to spank me and shit?”

  His lips curved. “And shit.”

  There was a gleam in her eye. “Rules are made to be broken.”

  “Brat.”

  “Always.” Laughter tinkled from her, breaking and making his fucking heart. “Look, I’m not saying I want you to boss me around. I don’t. But I kind of needed those rules, I’ll admit. I didn’t want to eat, and you guys made it so I had to. I needed you to handle that, and it makes me feel like I’m Tin’s age to admit it, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

  “Do I feel like I need that at the moment? No. I don’t…”

  “This is a swift change of heart, Sascha,” he cautioned. “In the space of a few months, you’ve gone from—”

  She lifted a hand and pressed a finger to his mouth to hush him. “I’ve never miscarried before. Never been stalked before. Never had one of my men be under threat of jail before. Never been a party to kidnapping, never had a murderer work in my home… It’s been a time of extremes, and I felt that. I felt the need for control, just as you do, and I do honestly believe that you need this from me.

  “So, yeah, I want this. Not just because I feel like you need it, but because I enjoy it. I like the pleasure and the pain. I like how it makes me feel like I can… as you said, fly. I don’t want to go to a club or a dungeon or anything like that. I don’t want it to get extreme. But as it stands, it’s sexy, you’re sexy when you’re in Dom mode, and I’m not about to say no to that when you make me as wet as you do.”

  It was his turn to laugh softly. “Ever eloquent, my darling,” he rasped, the words smoky as he reached up and fisted her hair. Rolling it around his wrist, he tugged her head back until her eyes flickered wide in response to the bite of pain. “You’re sure?” he asked, for what would be the final time.

  “I’m positive,” she hissed. “If things change, if I change, then I’ll tell you. I have a mouth, Sean.”

  “And a very fine mouth it is too,” he purred, then he said, “You scared me, Sascha. That will never do. You need to be punished for that.”

  Another flicker in her eyes. A flash of desire, a flare of need.

  “As you were,” he told her, not releasing her hair as she maneuvered to drape across his lap again.

  He eyed her, studying her ripe curves once more, but this time, it was as though he’d taken a deep breath after hours of shallow ones. On the brink of hyperventilation, his lungs relished the oxygen flooding them as he stared at his one and only.

  She was his everything.

  His world.

  And it was time he showed her that.

  ❖

  Fuck!

  Sascha gritted her teeth, gritted them then buried her face into the silky cotton pajama pants Sean wore. She was so tempted to bite them, to bite him, take a nice piece of his calf and grind down on it because fuck, this spanking?

  The worst she’d ever taken.

  He was intent on hitting the backs of her thighs, the tender areas that would make anyone flinch after a sharp slap to the ass, never mind an all-out spanking session.

  How could a hand make her butt ache so much? A cane? A paddle? Sure. But a hand?

  Yikes.

  Her face was hot and flushed, sweaty as she tried to take each spank with composure. She was trying not to shriek, trying not to cry, and then, even as she processed that, she asked herself why.

  Why the fuck was she trying not to shriek?

  Why was she trying not to cry?

  Sean hadn’t asked her to do either, and he could be specific when he so chose.

  She pressed her face into his leg, no intent to bite this time, and when his hand soared high and it connected with the fleshy curve of her butt? She released a yelp as all her nerve endings rebelled on her, almost as though if she hadn’t decided to cry out, they’d made the decision for her.

  Two more sharp spanks and the tears began to fall, and they weren’t nice tears either. Not diamond globules that gathered in the corners of her eye, no crocodile tears.

  They were raw.

  They were gritty—they even stung her damn eyes.

  These hurt her. Even as they poured from her, she felt them, felt the pain in her body diminish into nothing because it was nothing. The spanking? Yeah, it hurt. But the pain inside? Deep, deep inside where nothing could get to it, where it could fester away and cause her untold agony? It was like this was the only way for anything to touch it. Only through this, could she get access to this one particular spot.

  And it was a nasty spot.

  All the negatives in her life, all the fear and confusion, the concern and anger, it gathered there. Like a goddamn boil in need of lancing. And each fucking spank was like a direct hit to the very core of her emotions.

  He began to rub her butt, almost like he knew how she was feeling. But how could he? How could he understand what she was going through?

  Her brow puckered as she inhaled some ragged breaths, tried to get her breathing back into some semblance of order before he began again—she knew him well enough to know that when he rubbed her butt, they were only halfway through whatever he intended on doing to her.

  But her thoughts swirled. Sean said he felt out of control, was this how he regained it?

  With each spank that sent her emotions careening, did he somehow feel fortified?

  Did elation soar through him as she experienced something that allowed her to feel?

  Wasn’t that, in its own way, how he felt too?

  Her brain was a big puddle of goo, and she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to even be thinking about shit this heavy, but it was something she’d be pondering later on.

  She’d never thought of him dominating her in this way. She’d only thought it was something he got off on, but had never thought about the hows and whys.

  Even as she realized Sean was right, that Andrei and Sawyer enjoyed the kink but didn’t need it, she saw the difference because he needed it. He needed this. He needed her to be free.

  It was a revelation, and it made her feel so open, so raw, but equally, so needed.

  He needed her, and that wasn’t something she’d realized until now.

  She jolted when another spank came, and a sharp yelp escaped her in turn. The door burst open then, though, and she scampered upright, her hands clinging to his calves as she stared at the opening to see who it was—when Sean made no move to cover her, she knew it wasn’t a stranger but one of her men. And she was thankful for that insight because her eyes were blurry from tears and she couldn’t seem to focus.

  “Enough!”

  Devon?

  She blinked then reached up to rub her eyes. “Devon?” she questioned, blinking again as he slammed the door behind him and stormed into the room.

  He rarely got mad. Hell, he never went above agitated, but here? He was mad. His hands formed into fists, and those fists were shaking as he came to a halt before Sean. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but a part of her feared he’d punch Sean! Then he crouched down and his hands came to cup her cheeks.

  “Sascha? Why? Why are you letting him do this to you? Why are you letting him hurt you?” he asked, and there was such mournful worry in his voice that it hurt her.

  Hurt.

  Her.

  She sucked in a shaky breath, then jerked a little when she felt Sean’s hand on her thigh—stroking her. The move was gentle, caressing. He wasn’t priming her, wasn’t urging her one way or the other to say something in particular. If anything, it was just a gentle touch, a connection, a reminder that she was his and he was hers.

  Just as Devon was.

  “Devon, I need this,” she whispered. When he flinched, she reached for him but he staggered back. To Sean, she stated, “Help me up.”

  Within seconds, she was on her knees on the ground, and Sean was helping her stand. He didn’t move from the armchair though, didn’t say anything either. She shot him a look and likened him to a pasha watching his courtiers fight—ne
ither amused or entertained, just watchful. Wary.

  Devon was storming back to the door by now, but she grabbed him in time. It was kind of awkward, but that was what she and Devon did best—awkward—and she shoved him into the door and pressed him flush to the wooden panel.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” she growled, and she was suddenly grateful it was Sean behind her, Sean and not Kurt or Sawyer because they’d have been giggling behind her like loons at her standing there, squishing Devon into the door, her ass bright pink, and her body totally out on display.

  It was ridiculous, but fuck, it was her circus and she was the ringleader. She needed to own that shit, and own it she would.

  “Sascha, I need to get out of here.”

  There was panic in his voice, a panic that scared her and stabilized her at the same time. That made her feel like shit to admit something like that, but also, it didn’t.

  Sean needed her, but so did Devon. All her men did, just in different ways, and that was one of the hardest parts of her life and one of the easiest too.

  Men didn’t want to need anything. Just because she lived in an unusual household with more men than some women had in a lifetime, didn’t mean her men were totally different than the rest of the species.

  Just because they wanted to share her didn’t make them alien in other ways.

  They shared because five of them could tag team her. One of them would always have time for her, for Tin, where singly, they just couldn’t.

  Devon didn’t leave his office for days sometimes. If he was her lone partner? It would drive her insane. But with Kurt to tease her and Andrei to tie her up? Hell, it wasn’t a problem what Devon did. She could leave him to be free, to let his mind soar, because she had enough on her hands with the others.

  That was why it worked, and it worked so well.

  She wasn’t needy or clingy, but what was the point in being in a relationship if you were never going to see your boyfriend? Well, that was a question that never reared its head for her because she had five of them to love.

  But her men?

  Though their situation was useful for them, it didn’t mean they’d suddenly grown ovaries and were in touch with their feelings. Of them all, Devon was the most open with his words and the most contained with his emotions.

  To him, they were a whole other planet he had no intention of visiting, and that was saying something considering how repressed Sean was.

  Jesus.

  She pushed her forehead between his shoulder blades, rubbing back and forth as she tried to get her words together, tried to make him understand in a way that only he could.

  Blowing out a breath, she whispered, “You know when you don’t understand something, Devon?” He stiffened, so she knew he got her point. “When everything feels like it’s tumbling down around you, when you want to scream as you see everything fall into madness. You want to shore it back up, want to rebuild everything, but you’re only one person, and you can only do so much.”

  These were his words.

  Verbatim.

  One time he’d told her what made him break down.

  For a man who understood so much, who was capable of so much, not understanding was his true chaos.

  “This? It’s my way of rebuilding,” she ended softly.

  “Why?” he rasped.

  “Why do you shut down? Why do you freak out? It’s a coping mechanism, but more than that, it feels good,” she admitted.

  “How can it? He’s hitting you! I heard you. I. Heard. You!” he roared, and suddenly, he was no longer facing the door, but he was facing her. His hands were on her arms, holding her firmly but not tight enough to hurt. His beautiful face was red, bright red, a vein pulsing in his temple as he stared down at her, and she knew he wanted to shake her. Wanted to shake some sense into her.

  “I want him to do this to me. It frees me, Devon. I need that,” she murmured, staring deep into his eyes and wishing she could fall into them, fall into him, but that was the last thing he truly wanted from her. More than anything? He needed her to explain.

  “How can you need it? You sounded just like her.”

  “I’m not your mother, Devon,” Sascha whispered. “Sean isn’t your dad. We’ve talked about this.”

  His teeth clenched and his jaw gritted down so hard that she knew he’d give himself a migraine if he didn’t watch out.

  “You sounded just like her,” he repeated, but this time, his words were dull, pained, and fuck, she hated that.

  For the first time in her relationship, she asked herself what she was doing.

  This was breaking him.

  Breaking. Him.

  She saw that as clear as day. Her pain, the way Sean, Andrei, and Sawyer were treating her, it tormented him. But Sean needed this. And so did she.

  She juggled five men with an ease that astonished her, mostly because they allowed it. They weren’t all in her face every day, and they weren’t making demands on her body, her time, every damn day. That was because they were busy, and they had their own shit to do as did she.

  Their relationship had worked for so long until she’d introduced something that could damage it. That could damage Devon.

  For a second, panic filled her, and she truly knew how Devon felt when he believed his world was caving in, because hers was.

  Everything they’d built together, she was smashing to pieces. And Sean was helping her do that too, with his needs. But they were just as vital in the mix as Devon’s.

  She took a shaky step back from Devon, and the move had him whispering, “Sascha?”

  Licking her lips, she retreated a few more steps, knowing the bed was close. When it hit the back of her legs, she released a shuddery breath and sank to the floor. Curving her arms around her knees, she huddled into herself and tried to process everything that was happening.

  It felt too big.

  Too much.

  On top of everything with Horowich, Jane, and now this?

  Existential crises were something she didn’t need to be dealing with at the moment, and yet, the warring needs of two of her men tugged and pulled at her in a way that left her lost.

  Adrift.

  In a way she hadn’t been since her men had come into her world.

  Chapter Six

  From where he was sitting, Sean saw the scene for what it was.

  A battlefield.

  He hadn’t anticipated this, just as he hadn’t anticipated a lot these past few weeks. Fuck, this past year, he admitted to himself.

  Life had a habit of doing that to you. Just as he’d believed he was at the top of his game, life had thrown him a curveball and suddenly, his pregnant wife had lost their baby, an accident became manslaughter, and then… Jane. There were no words to sum up the level of insanity she brought to their world with her doings.

  But seeing Sascha fight for something she needed when those desires of hers hurt Devon?

  There was no lying about this—Sean didn’t know what she’d do.

  She had a habit of letting Devon get his own way. None of them minded. They were just as bad. Devon needed things they didn’t. Everything in its proper place, and only he could decide what was proper and what was a ‘place.’

  He wasn’t like Andrei who was neat as a pin and liked things in order.

  Devon preferred papers everywhere, dust on his desk, and utter bedlam in his office, so much so that Sean wasn’t sure how Sawyer coped with all the mess. But that’s what Sawyer did—cope. And that was what they all did.

  They bent so Devon wouldn’t break, and that was fine. That was their role in this world. To shield him, to protect that great mind of his because to be close to Devon was to realize how precious he was.

  There were some men in this world that created for the sake of creating. Not the need for money or power. They wanted nothing other than to be free to go where their heart and their mind desired.

  That was Devon.

  He was an Einstein of his generation, a
Tesla. The magic he made with his mind was for the good of the world, and the money that came with it? That was where Andrei came in. Devon had enough so that he would always be secure—Tesla had died in poverty, and they’d all made sure that would never happen to their brother. Come what may, Devon would always be protected.

  He’d have food in his belly, a roof over his head, and there would always be someone to care for him.

  That was what they’d all determined back when he was in his twenties and they hadn’t been sure if—

  Sean broke off from that train of thought when Sascha staggered back from Devon, not stopping until she was crouched on the ground, hugging herself.

  Anger whirled inside him, but he tamped it down enough to say, “Devon, are you happy now?”

  Devon’s head whipped around to him. “Am I happy?”

  “When you came in, Sascha was crying, and yes, her butt was hurting, but did you see her look like that?” Sean pointed at their woman. “Was she defeated? Was she beaten down? Was she caving in on herself as she was torn between right and wrong—right and wrong for her?”

  Devon’s mouth worked, and he shot a look at their woman, their suffering woman. His study wasn’t something Sean would ever understand. Devon’s mind worked like no other, so while Sean could see just how torn Sascha was, he didn’t know if Devon could.

  “Your mother was defeated. She was beaten down. She was caving in on herself because deciding to leave your father was more than she was capable of,” Sean stated, hitting each word home with a hammer, and seeing each hit stagger Devon in a way that Sean hoped would make him see sense.

  “I-I did that,” Devon rasped, his hands shaking as he reached up and grabbed a hold of his head, his fingers tugging at his hair.

  Sean reared up and stormed toward his brother. Before Devon could make another move, Sean slid his arms around Devon’s waist, and hauled him against him in the tightest hug he could give him. He squeezed Devon, held him fiercely and didn’t let up until Devon stopped shaking, until his hands dropped, until he was hugging Sean back.