Accidental Trifecta (5 page)

Carl knew he had probably startled CeCe, but Christ Almighty, there was only so much torture a man could take. He’d watched the interplay between Cam and his lovely sub until he’d started to worry he was going to make a fool of himself and come in his pants like an inexperienced teenage boy. The woman was beyond gorgeous. The pure passionate sensuality that surrounded her drew him in and he simply couldn’t wait any longer to touch her. After the first slide of his fingers, he watched as she arched her back giving him a world-class view of her waxed pussy.

Leaning forward he pressed a soft kiss against each of her ass cheeks and smiled when she moaned as she pushed back for more. The vibration of the sound brought a curse from Cam, “Holy fuck that feels good, pet. Your mouth is like a hot, wet glove made of the finest silk.” His head fell back and his groan let Carl know CeCe wasn’t showing him a moment of mercy. Sliding his fingers leisurely through the warm honey coating her labia, Carl could feel the sensitive tissues swelling as her blood rushed into the fluttering petals. Lightening his touch to keep her dancing on the edge of release, he had to bite back his smile when he heard her growl of frustration. Leaning down once again, he bit her—not enough to break the skin, but enough for her to carry the mark the rest of the evening. “Growling when you don’t get what you want is considered bratty behavior at Prairie Winds, sweetness.”

“And I swear I’d beat her lush ass if I had any desire whatsoever to pull out of her heavenly mouth.” Carl grinned at the man’s pained expression. And received a reproving look for a split second before his head fell back once again. “Christ, you’d better step up your game, Master Carl, because I’m not going to last much longer. Her tongue is playing a symphony on my cock.”

Carl looked up and merely arched his brow.
Seriously? The man wants to challenge me? Well, I’ve learned a lot in the years since we last saw one another
,
my friend. Game on.
“Is that a fact? Well, in that case, Cecelia, I have a deal for you. You get your Master off before I get you off and you get to choose what we have for dinner, keeping in mind of course, I’ll reserve the right to eat it off of your lovely bare breasts.” He felt her sheath clench around his fingers in response and grinned. “And if I win, I’ll choose. And just so you know, my fondness for hot fudge sundaes is almost legendary.” This time she shuddered and moaned around her Master’s cock as she redoubled her efforts.
Aha, so the little subbie has a competitive streak—good to know.

Pulling the chair up with his feet, Carl lowered himself on to it, putting his face at the perfect height. He didn’t waste a moment before leaning forward to cover her clit with his hungry mouth. The little nub had already been peeking out from beneath its hood begging for his attention. Flicking it with random speeds and pressure, he waited until he felt the first tremors quaking through her body and then he pushed two fingers into her depths. With the precision of the sniper he’d been, he drew upon all the experience he gleaned from years of practice with subs to press down directly on the spongy spot he knew would catapult her over the edge into a glittering abyss of pleasure. Her orgasm was so powerful he felt the flood of her release wash over his hand. Her scream took Cam over a split second later and Carl leaned down to press soft kisses against the sweet dimples at the top of her ass. “Perfect.”

When Cam fell back into his chair, Carl felt CeCe shudder at the loss. He wrapped his arm under her and steadied her when her muscles started quaking from the isometric exertion of her muscles. “Whoa, baby. Let’s get you up and settled a bit, shall we? I’m afraid we spun you up pretty fast, don’t want you to drop on us.” Carl had seen the effects of sub-drop and it had always reminded him of the adrenaline crash soldiers often experienced after a particularly challenging mission. It would be unsettling to her at the least and that wasn’t the way he wanted her to remember their first session.

There was something special about CeCe and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was yet, but he’d felt as if his soul had recognized her the moment she walked into the room. He and Peter had shared women for years, but he’d never felt the instant connection to any of those women that he’d felt with the sweet armful of curvy woman he held in his arms. When he turned to walk around the desk to place her in her Master’s lap, he saw Cam wave him off with a pointed look to the sofa on the other side of the room. Shrugging, he turned and made his way over, sitting easily without letting her go. He settled back, relaxing as the cool leather upholstery soaked through the fabric of his shirt. Carl was grateful for the distraction of the flickering fire in the fireplace, hell, anything to take his mind off his aching erection.

When he shifted CeCe ever so slightly to relieve some of the pressure her soft curves were putting on his cock, he felt her giggle. “Well, I see you have recovered nicely, sweetness.”

She looked up and he was struck by the depth of her dark eyes. He still couldn’t tell if they were brown or a midnight blue, they reminded him of the Great Blue Hole in Belize—stunning in its depth and mystery. “I’m sorry, Master Carl, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. Sometimes I’m just a little disconnected for a few minutes after I come that hard.” Carl watched as she seemed to be choosing her words carefully before continuing, “I think you won. I don’t supposed you’d be interested in hearing how much I was hoping for a nice bowl of room temperature soup for dinner, would you?” For the first few seconds Carl was too stunned by her words to determine if she was serious. But when she batted her eyes in that overly dramatic fashion that every little girl learns before potty training, he knew he was being played.

Carl knew his easygoing personality often kept people from taking him as seriously as they should—hell, he’d used it more times than he could count during enemy encounters. It was always a sweet moment to see the realization dawn in a target’s eyes when they discovered his duplicity. Of course, it was always too late at that point, but he enjoyed that split second of awareness. But the mischief dancing in her eyes let him know she’d known exactly how far she could go to lighten the moment, and damned if she hadn’t gotten it exactly right.

“Hmm, I’ll take that information into consideration, but I have to tell you, lukewarm food of any kind isn’t going to sound appealing to any soldier I know.”

“No, I guess that would be true enough. Well, I guess I’ll just have to let you handle it and know that you’ll have my best interest at heart.”

Cheeky sub.

*****

Cam ordered a quick snack from the deli on the club’s main floor and smiled at Carl’s surprised look. “I found that members are often so rushed they don’t get to eat dinner before coming in to play. Having food available helps them out, and working there gives subs a way help defray our hefty membership fees. It’s turned out to be a win-win, and judging from Tobi’s enthusiasm, I’d be surprised if Kent and Kyle don’t do something similar in the future.” Enthused was an understatement, Tobi West had literally been bouncing on the balls of her feet while he’d explained the details of Dark Desire’s “Work to Play” program to the petite ball of fire married to his friends.

While they’d enjoyed the sandwiches, Cam realized the sexual tension between the three of them was still almost palpable. The moment Carl had put his hands on Cecelia the air around the three of them had nearly crackled with an attraction so powerful Cam swore the hair on his arms had stood up. He’d hoped there would be an attraction between his former friend and his wife, but he’d never expected the sizzling chemistry he’d felt during their earlier scene. Now the only problem was, he wasn’t entirely sure how to manage the situation.

If he let it play out, without any input on his part, there was a good chance they’d all get scorched by the fireball that was sure to erupt. He’d seen these situations play out in the club several times over the years and the results had usually been disastrous. Without careful management, he worried when the smoke cleared there would be little left except ashes. But on the plus side, if he was careful, the potential for the future was phenomenal.

He didn’t feel like he knew Carl well enough anymore to predict his behavior, but since circumstances had provided him the opportunity, Cam planned to exploit it. He’s settled Carl and Cecelia in the small private room off his office. They’d be able to see and hear the interview. Before he’d left them, Cam had pressed a kiss against his lovely slave’s forehead and reminded her to treat Master Carl as she would him. When Carl had raised a brow at him in question, he’d merely nodded and hoped his friend understood the implied message.

Cam was grateful Carl would be with Cecelia during the interview because he was certain the other man would understand exactly what was happening when he set off on the unusual path he planned to take with the questioning. He had been absolutely thrilled when he’d seen Lara’s name on the candidate list the employment agency had provided. The woman he’d spoken with had been shocked at his choice, and he’d gotten the distinct impression she wasn’t Lara’s biggest fan—something he planned to check on during their upcoming chat.

Looking at the large bank of security monitors mounted on the wall of his office, Cam watched as Lara paced restlessly in the reception area. He hadn’t left her waiting intentionally, but he had to admit having the beautiful sub a bit off-kilter would work to his advantage. Leaning back against his desk, he watched for a few minutes wondering how long it would take her to realize she was being studied by Fischer and Peter Weston.

*****

Lara felt like she was going to pass out. She’d never been this nervous before a job interview.
But you’ve never been interviewed for a day job by someone who’s seen you naked, either. Oh God, now I’m talking to myself. This can’t possibly end well. Master Cameron will probably drop a net over me and have me locked in a padded cell in the dungeon. Is there one down there?
She took a deep breath trying to banish all the crazy talk floating through her head.

She’d been on pins and needles since she’d received the call yesterday from the agency. And then when they’d called again this morning moving the interview up, she’d nearly panicked because she’d already been at the deli downstairs working. Sure, Master C had chosen her work uniform, so it probably wouldn’t make any difference but, holy shit Sherlock, it seemed beyond weird to be interviewing in a bustier and fishnet stockings. Even if the outfit did cinch in her waist so she looked like some old time movie maven, and offer up her breasts in a way that was almost impossible to ignore, it wasn’t anything even close to business attire. Damn it all, the skimpy cups barely covered her nipples, and there had been several occasions when she’d been so busy she hadn’t even realized “the girls” were actually playing unencumbered on top of the lacey cups. And her skirt was so short her ass cheeks were visible—her very bare ass, since every Master in the club seemed to have some sort of strange hatred of undergarments.
Don’t they know that walking around in public without anything covering your girly bits is breezy? Damn, this place is right at the water’s edge and that fucking gulf wind blows right up
where it isn’t welcome.

Lara knew she could change here at the club, but that would mean taking time to plan ahead, including packing a small bag and then remembering to bring it along. Sighing, she shook her head, it seemed like she was always running from one part-time job to the next like a chicken with her head cut off. It was a rare day when she had time to do any more than sprint into her tiny apartment, change clothes, and run back out the door. Half the time she didn’t have what she needed with her—she’d actually started clipping notes to the outside of her purse for God’s sake, how pathetic was that? Lord of all things logical, she needed a
keeper.

Countless nanny and personal assistant positions had been open at the agency during the past year and she’d applied for each one and never even gotten an interview. The employment specialist she’d been assigned to hadn’t bothered sugarcoating her explanation—Lara’s personal appearance was the problem. Oh, it wasn’t that she had a third eye in the middle of her forehead or that she was Martian green. No, this was an entirely different sort of prejudice. Expectant mothers took one look at her photo and moved her portfolio directly into the “never going to happen” stack.

At five foot five inches tall and one thirty, Lara had an hourglass shape that she worked hard to maintain, mostly because she really enjoyed food and found it easier to workout than give up any of her favorite treats. Her blond hair fell to her waist in soft waves that refused to be tamed despite all of her attempts to bring it under control. It unnerved her that strangers would often reach out and touch her hair—they always had the same glazed over expression as if it had just magically drawn them in—it was very odd if you asked her. Lara had been blessed with her mother’s flaxen hair and blue eyes, but her dad’s South American skin tone. She always looked as if she’d just returned from the Caribbean and her perpetual tan had boosted her confidence when she’d started playing at Dark Desires. The other subs at the club had teasingly complained that she had been overly blessed by the “looks fairy”. When she’d insisted it was a double-edged sword one night during a movie marathon, they’d peppered her with popcorn, boos, and hisses. It had ended up being an all-out food fight that had taken them over an hour to clean up at the end of the evening.

Her caseworker at the employment agency had referred to herself as a “voice of decency” when she’d warned Lara that her part-time position in “that den of inequity” would likely keep her from ever getting a
good
position. For an old bat with such a hang up about sex, she sure uses the word
position
a lot. Sighing, Lara felt as if she were caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. The friends she’d made at Dark Desires were the closest thing she had to family now that her parents were once again living on the other side of the globe.
You should be grateful they stayed stateside
as long as they did.
Lara’s missionary parents had honored their promise to her and stayed in Sealy until she’d completed high school, but they’d returned to the mission field the week after enrolling her in college. Giving up her job at the club’s small eatery would mean giving up the only support system she had, it was an option she’d sworn she wouldn’t consider, but recently she’d started to wonder if she wasn’t painting herself further and further into a corner. And to be honest, she was getting awfully tired of eating macaroni and cheese.

When she’d gotten the call yesterday informing her she’d been chosen to interview for a position, she’d been too excited to ask who the employer was. Then this morning, the woman Lara thought of as Ms. Screech called to say the client wanted her to meet him at his office in two hours and then recited the club’s address.

Lara had nearly dropped the phone when she’d been give Cameron Barnes’ name as her contact. At first she’d been thrilled because she’d known her boss certainly wasn’t going to look down on her because of her part-time job in his deli. But then she’d realized what she was wearing—and her excitement had waned considerably. And holy hellacious hairballs, being interviewed by someone who had seen you naked…and being flogged…and screaming the walls down when you came?
Nope, nothing intimidating about that!

“Fuck me, I’m going to wear a hole in this rug if I don’t stop. It’ll be okay. It’s just Master C. Nothing to worry over. Worry doesn’t alter outcomes.” Lara hadn’t thought twice about speaking out loud, after living alone for so long she’d gotten used to giving herself pep talks. “It’s not like a crazy lady who talks to herself is going to exactly stand out as odd in my neighborhood anyway. Nope, I’d have to step up my crazy-game several notches to even make the B-team on my block.”

“Well, darlin’, I’m definitely interested in fucking you, but we are going to be having a long chat about your neighborhood first.” Lara froze. Her entire body
always
reacted to that voice.
No. Not now. Please.
She didn’t know why in heaven’s name her guardian angel was always on break when she managed to get herself into these pickles. Turning slowly, her eyes rested on a man that looked like Fischer, but was just a little older if she was to guess. He sounded just like Fischer, perhaps just a hint more subtly in his tone, but they were definitely cut from the same cloth. This man’s hair was a bit darker, but his eyes were the same shade, somewhere between turquoise and green. She stood perfectly still, watching, waiting. Everything about him told her he was a Dom, but there was a gentleness about him that called to her. She’d often thought Fischer had the face of an angel, but this man looked like he’d seen too much—this man was a wounded angel. There was a sadness in his spirit she was sure most people didn’t see because they probably failed to look beyond the gorgeous exterior.
Fuckidy-fuck. I so do not need this right now. I
wait a year to get an interview. Then it turns out to be with my current boss,
a man who knows more about me than my gynecologist, and then
fate drops an angel in the room just in time to hear me chattering to myself like
I’ve got bats in my belfry.
Seems I’ve been promoted from hot mess to walking disaster. Go me!