At His Throat, a Promise (63 page)

Ellis knew his face must look ridiculous—his eyes were wide, his mouth gaping, and a blush streaked his cheeks even though he didn"t really do that anymore.

“Are you—?”

“I"m sure!” Harte shouted, laughing, and then laughing harder when William and Ellis both groaned because the laughter caused him to tighten up. “Ellis, it"s okay. I want it. Make me yours.” Truthfully, Ellis hadn"t even really thought of denying Harte.

He wanted it just as much.

Ellis worked one more finger in alongside William"s dick, satisfied when Harte seemed to stretch generously—no hint of tearing.

He pulled his fingers out, hoping Harte didn"t clamp up before he got himself inside. Shifting into position, he pressed the head of his cock against William, as he"d been instructed, not putting too much pressure on Harte"s straining hole. The feeling was so intense it was approaching painful as he bore forward. They were 545

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all tense, though William"s hand worked Harte"s erection, obviously trying to keep him relaxed.

When the head of his cock moved through the barrier, collected breaths were released.

“It"s okay,” Harte said, sounding only a little strained.

Ellis moved forward, thrusting in. It was tight. Too tight.

Almost wrongly tight but it was so
good
. That he was sharing Harte in this way, in this primal, basic way. Harte was
theirs
. He had them
inside
him.

He couldn"t get in as deep as he normally would have, the sheer force around his cock was more than enough to make up for a lack of depth.

“Just let him move,” William said to Ellis. Their eyes met again, and there was love there, easy and uncomplicated and just as primitive as the rutting Harte was doing between them.

Ellis leaned over Harte, holding himself up on his hands. In this position, he could see both Harte"s and William"s faces, and there was such lust there, such need. To see both his lovers at once as they approached climax was a beautiful thing.

To his shock, Ellis was the first to come. He hadn"t even realised how close he"d been until Harte had given a little whimper, William had grunted, and everything had gotten even
tighter
—and then he was coming.

By the time he was back to himself, Harte"s cries reached his ringing ears, and he felt wetness on his belly. He moved to slip away from Harte"s impossible grip, but William"s hand gripped his ass and held him steady. William thrust up, and all three reacted—

Ellis gasped, Harte sighed, and William came.

The only sound was that of their laboured breath. Harte was a mess, but a happy one. He looked contented in a way he hadn"t 546

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

since before Develyn. Ellis smiled to himself—he"d done as he said he would. He"d fixed Harte. Maybe not the way he"d expected to, but still. It counted.

“Easy,” William cautioned as Ellis began to pull out.

Heeding him, Ellis moved slowly. A trickle of come followed him out, spilling down over William"s balls and lower.

With all the tenderness in the world, William shifted himself and Harte onto their sides. Harte"s hand clenched the sheet as William pulled away from him, and he grunted a little when he turned onto his stomach, but he looked satisfied.

“Thank you,” he said into the pillow. He patted the bed, looking for a cover. Ellis provided one, blanketing him with the coverlet.

“He"ll need the salve,” William said.

Ellis slipped from the bed and found it in the bathroom. He brought it back with a washcloth and together they tended to Harte, who wasn"t asleep but wasn"t quite awake, either.

“No tears,” William reported after examining Harte"s anus. He kissed one of the dimples on Harte"s lower back, then cleaned himself with the cloth and Ellis, who groaned, too sensitive for the heavy hand.

They bracketed Harte, who sighed in pleasure.

“I love you,” Ellis whispered in Harte"s ear, pushing the light blond hair out the way.

Harte smiled and, without opening his eyes, said, “Crazy about you, too.” He turned and kissed William on the mouth and then seemed to fall right asleep.

To William, Ellis said nothing. They couldn"t. If they said it there, it would be too easy to slip up in public. They would do nothing to risk any of them splitting up.

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They would be perfect slaves and a perfect master until it was time to be themselves.

“Goodnight, Master,” he said, the love he felt and couldn"t say in his words.

“Goodnight, Ellis.” In a whisper, it was returned. A promise.

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Ellis woke up to the sound of his own name. He cracked his eyes open and his vision was filled with eyes too light brown to be William"s and hair too dark blond to be Harte"s.

“Carter? What"s wrong?”

Ellis"s slave grinned and whipped the covers off Ellis, who noticed that the other regular occupants of the bed were long gone.

“They at breakfast?”

“Master William left for work early because he had that meeting with the Whitfords. Master Harte went with him because—” Carter seemed to cut himself off, but he had a sly grin that suggested he knew Ellis would pursue the broken-off sentence.

“Because why?” Ellis threw his legs over the side of the bed.

He still had quite some time before he had to get to work, which 549

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

meant Harte was there
really
early.

“Because he said he wanted to get there alive.” Ellis eyed the clothing Carter was arranging on the bed. His slave had
very
good taste, which was a blessing because Ellis was used to Harte or William choosing his clothing.

“I"m not
that
bad,” he grumbled. He slipped off the slave sheath that he still slept in—for comfort and a bit of nostalgia, though there was no denying the
look
that William gave him when he did—and tugged on the black boxer-briefs.

“I think you"re a good driver, Master,” Carter chimed in, placing the chosen tie on the bed. Red, today. With an all black suit and light grey shirt, he was sure to look sharp.

“Thank you, Carter.” Ellis gifted his slave with a squeeze of his shoulder and continued to get dressed. Carter left him, presumably to finish his morning duties.

Carter was a complete surprise, unexpected to an intense degree. Once Ellis"s servitude had ended, William helped him with the transition from slave to employee. It wasn"t as difficult as he"d feared it would be—not until Harte was also free, but that was another story.

Ellis worked for William at his firm, and while Harte had still been a slave, it had taken some delicate manoeuvring to regain his balance both in his job and in his relationships. Things with William changed the most. They were equals now, or at least more equal than they"d ever been. Ellis had found it extremely difficult to voice his opinions when not asked for them; he"d had trouble falling out of the slave role.

Eventually, though, things had become easier. It was a very gradual transition and only really completed once Harte was also free. They learned together.

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

Ellis had, while he"d been a slave, expected to become a master one day. Once he"d been freed, however, and William began to train him for owning a slave, the appeal had lost its shine. Being responsible for another person like that was just too much. The chances that he"d fuck it all up were too great. He didn"t say anything to William or Harte, but he"d decided he wasn"t going to take a slave.

And then… he"d met Carter. What better place than at the Cohens" annual costume ball. Even though they were all free, Harte insisted they attend—just for fun. Since they no longer went to the Lounge, they didn"t get out of it as much as Harte might have liked. It didn"t take much to convince William—he was still happily wrapped around Harte"s finger, and Ellis"s spot was wrapped up there with him.

There was a boy. Not new to slavery—he seemed about eighteen years old—but not comfortable with it, either. With dirty blond hair and light brown eyes, he was a study in pale shades. On his knees beside a negligent master, the boy"s eyes never lowered in the submissive way all slaves had been taught. He stared at people until even masters were forced to look away, embarrassed, flustered, and often angry.

As Ellis watched, an older mistress had approached the boy, possibly to remonstrate him for his uncouth behaviour. Ellis had laughed out loud when the slave snapped his teeth and snarled at her.

The boy had looked up at his laugh, and the snarl that had twisted his features shifted and fell, and his
smile
. Ellis still got warm thinking about it. His smile was so real—there was nothing slave-like about it. He smiled like he"d seen Ellis at a bar or a dinner party with friends. Like there wasn"t centuries of disconnect 551

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

between Ellis"s position as a free man and his as a slave.

Ellis had been enchanted, of course. He approached the slave—

not the master, already breaching etiquette—and got down on his haunches before the slave, whose smile had turned wary at his approach.

“I"m Ellis,” he"d said.

The boy hadn"t said any of the expected things. No demure blushes, no sidelong glances to his master to indicate that he couldn"t introduce himself.

“Carter,” he"d said, like he wasn"t a slave at all.

Ellis had made a claim on an owned slave that night—the master must have been tired of Carter"s antics, for it wasn"t a week before Carter was signed over to him in exchange for some pro bono legal services.

Ellis had never used Carter.

None of them had. And not really for lack of wanting him—

Carter was sexy and very experienced, and he"d made it known that he"d have absolutely no problem with Ellis—or even William or Harte—making use of him.

Still, Ellis, Harte, and William were working on changing the slave laws. If they couldn"t show that the master-slave relationship could benefit from a less sexual and more equalised rapport, no one would ever think about changing the laws. And it had to be done.

At first, Carter hadn"t seemed to appreciate being made a guinea pig for a new way of mastering. And for his part, Ellis had been tempted a great many times. After a while, though, they became used to their roles. Carter had three teachers—he couldn"t have received a better education if he"d been able to pay for it.

Ellis was his mentor, however. The two shared a very close 552

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

friendship, and it was obvious that leaving sex and any sort of violence or neglect out of the picture was making Carter into a better developed young man. Ellis believed he"d be more ready for his career than a slave who"d been used had been.

It was almost like Carter was nothing more than the teenager he was. He had chores, both household and educational. He watched television and worked out in their home gym. He even babysat Nell"s daughter when she brought the tyke to work with her on rare occasions.

Ellis also had a fund set aside for Carter so that he had enough money to get himself set up once he was free. He wouldn"t be throwing Carter to the wolves—he was too important to Ellis.

Carter didn"t know about the money, but he"d be glad when it came. If Ellis hadn"t had William to return to, he had no idea how he would have survived until his first pay cheque from the firm.

That was something else they were trying to change—each slave had to be provided for, by law and not just by tradition, in the event of the master"s death
and
when the slave was freed.

Ellis finished dressing and combed his hair back. He loved driving, but he could admit that he wasn"t the greatest at it.

William had bought them both cars when their servitude had ended. It was the ultimate statement of freedom, being able to come and go as one pleased, having agency over one"s transportation.

Harte"s car sat in the garage, essentially unused.

Ellis"s, however… Ellis"s car was well-loved and well-used, if not well-driven.

“This looks amazing,” Ellis said when he followed the scent of from-scratch waffles into the dining room.

“I helped,” Carter said from his chair. Ellis never made him 553

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

kneel.

Nell patted him on the head as she passed him. Ellis was treated to the same action, and she loaded the table with syrup and butter and icing sugar.

They tucked in after Ellis demanded that Nell have a seat and eat with them. She was pregnant with her second and all the standing made her feet swell horribly.

Once finished, Carter helped Ellis slip into his jacket at the front door.

“Have a good day at work, Master,” he said in a teasing voice.

They"d explained that he didn"t have to call them
Master
if he didn"t want to, but he insisted he liked it—especially the way both Harte and Ellis blushed or stammered when he did.

“You, too, Carter, and don"t forget—”

“The Shivestone readings, yes, I know.” His smile was indulgent as he wrapped his arms around Ellis.

Ellis"s hand rested on his back, the slave sheath still so familiar to his touch. He knew that Carter wished there was more between them, something sexual. He"d offered to find another master for him, one who would use him, but Carter insisted, in that dramatic, put-upon way he was so fond of, that he wouldn"t trade Ellis as a master for all the sex in the world.

Carter kissed his cheek and gave Ellis the grin that had brought them together in the first place. There were times when Ellis was afraid it was only a matter of time before he gave in to Carter"s many charms. Harte and William certainly wouldn"t mind—they even encouraged it, in private.

Still… if he gave in to Carter, Carter might become attached.

Ellis"s own slave years had been riddled with uncertainty and angst—he wouldn"t wish that on Carter. No, it was simpler and 554