Chapter Nine
After a stop in the kitchen, Vance stepped out the back door, feeling more battered than after a college football practice. The moon was high, illuminating his way across the patio, down the walk to the lake. The muggy night air wrapped around him, making him shake his head. Back in Ohio, he’d still be wearing a sweatshirt.
The lakeshore frog chorus was silenced by the thump of his feet on the wooden dock.
Galen sat in one of the two chairs near the end of the dock, his sore leg propped up on his ancient upside-down canoe. Vance handed his partner his whiskey and dropped into the other weathered chair.
Glock, curled in Galen’s lap, looked up long enough to evaluate a possibly better resting area, but resettled where he was. Galen stroked the furry head before asking, “She asleep?”
As water lapped quietly against the pilings, one courageous frog chanced a croak, soon joined by the rest.
“Out like a light—after another crying fit.” Broke his heart too.
“She had it stored up.” Galen tipped his head back. “Bet her father threw her mother’s death in her face for every request she made. And whenever she displayed an emotion.”
“Not surprising she doesn’t ask for anything now.” Vance tamped down his anger, remembering the hurt in her big eyes. The incomprehension. A person might mature, but the vulnerable child inside would never entirely leave. “She told me her dad hadn’t wanted her. That her mother wanted a child, but he didn’t. Especially not a girl.”
“Hell.”
Not wanted. Actively put down. “Be a pleasure to beat the fuck out of her father.”
“We’ll take turns.” The softness of Galen’s voice didn’t conceal his red-hot anger.
A corner of Vance’s mouth lifted. He happened to like justice. Right and wrong. Protecting and serving. Law enforcement filled a need in him. But in Galen, the need to protect was…more. Deeper. It was that burning drive that had first attracted Vance’s attention. Had made them friends. Sucked that it was now starting to scar his friend’s soul.
However, the desire to beat the hell out of Hart? Sounded healthy enough to Vance.
And watching Sally sass his partner while she was stealing his heart was a true pleasure.
Vance stretched his legs out and drank his vodka. The moon’s glow was a blanket over the lake until a breeze broke it into choppy fragments. Like life—smooth sailing, then rough water. Excitement and disaster, then calm seas. “She’s more vulnerable than we figured.”
“Ayuh.” Silence.
Vance felt the burn of the alcohol as he swallowed. They’d always been careful to scene only with women who held the same expectations, those who agreed that play was for fun, sometimes for sex, never permanent. Who required nothing beyond the demands of the scene. “We agreed to help her, but…”
But they hadn’t realized the barrier to openness was because damage had been done. Helping a wounded soul wasn’t a short-term obligation.
“She trusts us.” Galen stroked the cat, his gaze on the darkness of the far shore. “I don’t like having someone here long-term, especially not while we’re on the Harvest Association case, but she might not survive what she’d see as another rejection.”
“Pretty much what I figured.” The scent of the gardenias growing on the bank drifted past, mingling with the green fragrance of the burgeoning growth around the lake. Sweet, clean, and alive. Like the young woman who had trusted him with her tears.
In the cabana, Sally had fit into his arms as if she’d been designed for him. She had a generous and spirited personality, brown eyes that could soften the hardest heart, and a brilliant mind. More than just her body fit him.
But it was fucking bad timing. Why did they have to find her now? He wanted a woman—a submissive—to keep and share with Galen. Eventually a family, if they could figure out how to make that work. But not for years. Not until he changed to a more settled career. Certainly not while he was hunting a vindictive bunch of bastards.
Galen tapped his finger on the arm of his chair. “We can’t let her get attached, Vance. Permanence isn’t in the plans.”
And there was where they differed. Galen didn’t want a real relationship again. Ever.
Vance had planned on beating that obstinacy out of him when needed. But the time was not now…wasn’t supposed to be now. But he was experienced enough to know how rare Sally was. Character, intelligence, strength…she was perfect for them.
And how many women could accept two men, could learn to care for them?
Maybe Sally wasn’t the one, but damned if he’d go along with Galen this time. They’d see how this played out for a while—maybe Sally wouldn’t be happy with men in risky careers; maybe she wouldn’t be able to take how often they were away. But if she started to get “attached,” he was going to have a come-to-Jesus talk with his partner.
“Odd.” Galen swirled his drink and took a slow sip. “After being in the FBI so long, I forgot a woman can be destroyed by more than the fists and bullets.”
Vance pulled his mind back, setting his thoughts aside for a future time. “It’s amazing that she’s survived—and is who she is.” He grinned, remembering her blithe spirits earlier. “She’s definitely a treat when she feels safe.”
“Ayuh. Got some work cut out for us.”
“Think she’ll do her homework?”
A smile lightened the shadows in Galen’s face. “If she doesn’t, she’ll have to recite aloud for us.”
“Naked. Naked recitations would be good.” Maybe he should hide her notebook.
* * * *
In the darkness, Sally roused, wakened by the men’s voices coming from somewhere outside.
Amazing. She’d actually fallen asleep.
She still lay curled in a tight ball from when Vance had tucked her into the king-size bed. She huffed a laugh. Over the course of the evening, she’d bawled her head off on both Galen’s and Vance’s shoulders.
Poor guys. They’d had no idea of the consequences of letting her stay here. Then again, they were apparently like the other Shadowlands Masters. Tears didn’t bother them.
At her attempt to apologize, Galen had snorted and said she had a few years stored up. “Get it out, pet.”
Funny how comfortable she’d felt crying all over them. Sure, a little embarrassed that she couldn’t stop, but they hadn’t made her feel worthless or stupid. They’d acted as if they expected her to cry, and so it was okay when she did.
Scary guys.
Annoying too. She’d been expecting sex in that cabana, and instead she’d had her butt walloped red and been interrogated into a meltdown.
And she was sleeping alone.
Not fair. This was her graduation night and should be a celebration. She should demand her rights.
Shivers seized her as she considered how the men might react. With an ordinary Dom, she’d have no worries. But not only were Galen and Vance Masters, but there were two of them.
Nonetheless, she had rights. Right?
She slid out of bed, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering of her stomach. This might be a horrible mistake, but hell, what was one more?
Her silky gown floated around her, and her toes wiggled in the carpet as she took condoms from the well-stocked bedside table. The other submissives had extolled the Feds’ preferences in playing—one cock in a vagina, one cock in the anus.
God. It sure hadn’t worked that well the one and only time she’d tried double penetration. Talk about awkward. The two Doms hadn’t been used to playing together—not in that way, at least. She grinned. The one with the shorter cock had kept falling out. Not sexy at all.
Do I want to let Galen and Vance do that?
Heat started in her center and washed all the way to her fingertips. Hell, she’d already answered that question every time she’d let Galen bend her over and push in an anal plug. Okay then. She picked up the lube and whispered, “Happy graduation to me. I hope.”
She wandered through the downstairs rooms. All empty.
They were outside. She stood in the back door and felt her nerves increase. Could she lure them back in? What if they didn’t want to…or laughed at her…or— She closed her eyes and forced her feet across the patio to the dock.
Outside in a midthigh-length nightgown. How decadent was that?
At the first creak of warped boards, they turned. The moon was starting to set, and in the waning light, she saw Vance smile. Why did he have to have such a mind-blowing smile?
“What’s up, sweetheart?” Vance reached out and took her hand, pulling her onto his lap.
Ouch. Sore butt! She exhaled past the burn. “I woke up and—”And I wanted to have sex. “And…” Her voice died.
Galen leaned forward, elbows on his knees in his study-the-foolish-submissive posture. “And what?”
Like a frog sucking down a bug, she felt her throat close over the plea. Nothing escaped. With a shaking hand, she held out the condoms and lube.
Comprehension flashed in his face as he took them, and his expression gentled. “I won’t make you ask, pet. Just say please like a polite little subbie.”
Demon Dom. Still determined to shove her out of her comfort zone. Maybe he didn’t give her the impossible—just the unbearably difficult. She swallowed the sharp edges of fear, pursed her lips, and forcibly pushed the word out. Please.