Cardinal's Rule (24 page)

She realized he wasn’t serious but played along. “I like how you think.”

His intense eyes never left hers. “Do you, now?”

“Oh, I certainly do.” She crawled across the bed and watched Cris working Landry’s cock. “I

don’t mind letting him fluff you for me. It means I’ll have an even harder cock fucking me, a real man’s cock.”

Landry sucked in a sharp breath. “My sweet, vicious little wife, I absolutely love your evil mind. I think that’s rather ironic, having slave fluff me before I fuck your pussy. Why would I ever want to fuck his ass again when I can be with such a beautiful woman?”

She flicked Cris’ bound cock with her fingers. “Look at that. He likes it. He likes knowing one of his jobs now is getting you ready to fuck me.” The head of Cris’ cock, engorged and purple, peaked out beyond his bindings. She knew damn well he was hard because of how Landry tied him up, because of his training, and because he hadn’t been allowed to come in weeks, not so much because of what they were doing to him.

“You’re right, love. Guess what, slave? I think one of your new jobs is just that. To make sure that when I want to fuck my wife, my cock is nice and hard. Then after I get done, lucky you, I’ll let you suck me clean.”

He pulled out and she realized he’d grown fully hard again, whether from Cris’ actions, genuine desire, or perhaps prescription medication in the form of little blue pills.

Honestly, she didn’t care why. She rolled onto her back and spread her legs. “Whenever you

want me.”

She’d quickly come to recognize the evil gleam in Landry’s eye. “Scoot closer, love,” he said.

She did.

He slipped two fingers inside her well-fucked pussy and gently stroked. “Look how wet you

are. Did I get you that wet?”

“You fucked me damn good.”

“So I see.” He withdrew his fingers and shoved them in Cris’ mouth. “See what a real man

does, slave? A real Master? He takes proper care of his lover.” He repeated the motion, slipping his fingers into her, liberally coating them with their mixed juices, then pushing them into Cris’ mouth again. “See how well I fucked her? It’ll be a long damn time before I think about fucking you again when I have such a beautiful woman wanting me to fuck her.”

He knelt between her legs and pushed into her. “Ah, love, you feel magnificent.” He fell still and reached over to Cris’ cock. Wrapping his fingers around the rope harness binding it, he squeezed, hard, drawing a low, pained moan from Cris.

“What do you think, love? Should I let him come?”

“That’s up to you. I say if being a cuck gets him hard, let him enjoy it.”

He pumped Cris’ cock. Tilly suspected Cris was close to subspace, if not already tipped into it.

If so, Landry might not have much trouble getting him off. “All right, cuck. If watching me fuck my wife and cleaning my cock are what get you hard, then come for me.” He switched to French. “If you don’t come, I’ll take a fucking cane to your balls.”

Cris groaned as he stared at Landry, his hips working in time with his Master’s hand.

“Come now, slave!”

He let out another groan and she watched him climax all over Landry’s hand.

Landry laughed and wiped his hand on Cris’ stomach. “Look at that. What a pitiful man you

are. Needing to watch your Master fucking his wife—your ex-girlfriend—to get off. You are a natural cuck, aren’t you?”

Tilly felt her stomach turn a little. She knew damn well it wasn’t the situation that got Cris off, but Landry’s careful training and conditioning. While at first this seemed like a grand idea, maybe they’d gone a little too far.

Landry turned to her and kissed her. “Can I coax one more out of you, baby?”

“No, I think I’ve had about as much fun as I can stand for one night.” Plus she knew Cris had been bound like that for over an hour and she worried he might lose circulation in his feet and legs. The Domme in her couldn’t turn that worry off once it’d clicked on. Sliding her hands down Landry’s back to his tight ass, she wiggled her hips. “Time for you to have some fun again.”

She loved his playful smirk as he slowly stroked. “He’s good for at least another hour tied up like that.”

“That’s fucking spooky.”

He nipped her neck. “You glanced at the clock.”

She dug her nails into his ass and squeezed. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“Not anymore.” He rested his forehead against hers as he thrust. This time when he came his

soft gasp as his body tensed was the only warning she had before his movements stilled. He pressed a gentle kiss to her brow. “I promise to be the best husband I can be, Tilly,” he whispered. “I’ll never leave you wanting for anything within my power to give you. I swear it.”

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his warm, strong body wrapped around hers. “I’ll hold you to it.”

* * * *

Cris silently watched them together, couldn’t hear their intimate whispers over the music.

Just a few weeks ago, that was him where Tilly lay, feeling safe and cherished. It felt like light years since then. If he’d simply let go of the past, let go of her, of all ties to her, they wouldn’t be here now. He had rarely gone more than a few days before he logged in to stare at the pictures of her, the only thing he had to remember her by other than his memories. How could he let go of her when he still loved her?

If it wasn’t for that selfish indulgence, Landry never would have known about her.

Finally, Landry stood and turned to him. He prepared for the next inevitable humiliation, but Landry untied him while Tilly pulled a sheet over herself and turned away, not watching.

Landry didn’t help him sit up after he freed him. He stared at Cris. “Did you enjoy that, slave?”

Cris didn’t reply despite knowing his silence might earn him another punishment.

Landry surprised him with a laugh. “Get your ass out of my bed, slave. You can go to bed in

your room, but keep the door open. I want you to be able to hear anything else we might do.”

Cris nodded and carefully climbed out of bed, mindful of the pins and needles sensation in his feet. He heard Landry softly talking to her as he left the bedroom. The walk to his room felt more like a death march.

He hesitated inside the doorway. Before this weekend, even if not in Landry’s bed, at least

they’d been in the same room. How long before he’d ever feel the warm comfort of his Master’s body again?

Or would he?

The empty bed mocked him. Yes, he could finally curl up on a mattress. Use covers to keep the chill away. Soft, comfortable pillows.

If given the chance, he’d take the hard floor next to his Master’s bed.

Slowly, he made his way to what to him amounted to solitary confinement and crawled under

the covers.

* * * *

Tilly couldn’t help but watch Cris when he left the bedroom. Landry slid back into bed with her and slipped his arms around her. His lips feathered along the back of her neck.

“What troubles you, love?”

“What’s his tat mean?”

“Hmm?”

“The Kanji character on his ass. What does it signify?”

Landry chuckled. “Why? Do you wish for one of your own?”

She knew her voice sounded sharper than she meant. “Quit kidding around.”

He sighed. “It means ‘slave’.”

“How long’s he had it?”

“Tilly, this is old—”

“Answer my fucking question.”

His lips hesitated on the nape of her neck. “Six months after he moved in with me, he saw

another slave at one of the clubs we frequented get marked by their Master during a formal collaring 

ceremony, and he begged me to mark him as well. By that time we were living full time as Master and slave. I had already formally collared him.”

“Mark him?”

“Well, that slave was branded. I’m sorry, while I admit I am a sadist, I do draw the limit

somewhere. I told him if he truly wanted to be marked, he could accept a tattoo or nothing at all. I was also realistic that if for whatever reason in the future we were no longer together, I wanted it to be something that would not be so instantly recognizable as to cause him grief, and in a discreet location.”

He snuggled her tightly. “May I ask why it is so important?”

“Because the other night at the club, when you first approached me, I saw it and it triggered a flashback. I didn’t realize it was him, just thought it was a very similar tat. He never told me what it meant. He always said he was drunk and couldn’t remember.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled. “I don’t know if I should punish him for that lie or not.”

“Please don’t. That’s not why I asked. I just wanted to know.”

He lay there quietly for a moment. “Are you all right?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound like a woman pleased with herself.”

She rolled in his arms and buried her face against his chest. “I’m not,” she softly admitted.

He nuzzled the top of her head. She loved it when he did that. “Regretting this?”

“Give me a day or two to get back to you on that.” She felt his body tense and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “I meant the revenge, not marrying you. I absolutely do not regret marrying you.” She might have many regrets in her life, but marrying Landry wouldn’t ever be one of them.

She hoped.

She felt him relax as a smile creased his face. “You scared me, Mrs. LaCroux.”

A pleasant shiver raced through her body. “I definitely don’t regret being called that,” she whispered. She ran her fingers over the wedding band that coexisted with her engagement ring. Both so new, and yet it felt right. The sight of the matching band on his finger sent another pleasant chill through her.

He belonged to her, and she belonged to him.

At least for the next three years, she wouldn’t have to face being alone, waking up to an empty bed.

She had someone to love.

He kissed her, and while her body had hit its limit for the evening, her heart and soul filled and swelled with emotions she hadn’t been able to feel in too damn long.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Because I absolutely do not regret marrying you, either.”

Chapter Thirteen

When she awoke early Monday morning, Tilly instinctively sought out Landry and didn’t have

far to move. She found him nestled behind her, his thighs pressed against the backs of hers. Her first night as a married woman, tightly cuddled in her husband’s arms, was everything she could have asked for.

If she didn’t count the sour presence pecking at her conscience.

Hurt Cris? Hell, yes, she wanted to pound the shit out of him. The softer side of her, the part of her that could still conjure compassion and empathy, felt more than a little sick at what they’d done.

After five years couldn’t she have just moved on? They’d been apart as long as they’d been together.

The devil on her shoulder said
fuck no
, that the son of a bitch deserved every single bit of it and more.

Siding with the devil made her feel less guilty, so she chose to listen to it.

Landry woke up and slipped his hand between her legs, not probing, just comfortably resting

his fingers there. “We need to run by the courthouse and file our marriage certificate.” Even the deep, sleepy sound of his voice filled her with need.

Choosing to make love to him over thinking guilt-inducing thoughts was a no-brainer. She

wiggled her hips at him, trying to entice him to do more. Earning a soft chuckle in reply, he kissed her.

“Let me have some coffee first and wake up. You completely wore me out last night.”

“Maybe I can completely wear you out again today.”

“Tempting woman.” His teeth grazed her shoulder, biting down with just enough force to send

bolts of need through her core.

She was going to get up to make the coffee when she realized she already smelled it.

Cris.

He always was an early riser. Another piece clicked home when she belatedly understood why.

Of course he was an early riser. He was used to getting things ready for Landry.

Landry headed for the bathroom while she pulled on her robe and walked out to the kitchen.

Cris wasn’t in sight, but the full coffee pot giving up its last gurgles was a sure sign he’d been up and about recently.

Part of her hoping he wouldn’t appear, she grabbed her usual mug and fixed herself a cup.

Landry joined her, naked, wrapping his arms around her waist as he ground his hips against her backside.

“What a beautiful way to start each morning,” he said.

She started to reply when she sensed Cris enter the kitchen behind them.

“Good morning, slave,” Landry said. “Did you sleep well?”

Tilly closed her eyes.

“Well enough, Master. Thank you.”

“My wife and I will take our breakfast in an hour. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs.” He playfully

nipped her earlobe. “Anything else you would like, love?”

She shook her head.

“Oh, and slave?”

“Yes, Master?”

“You shall address my wife respectfully. She is Mrs. LaCroux to you. I also expect you to stand when she enters the room.”

Tilly didn’t think she imagined the slight quiver in Cris’ voice. “Yes, Master.”

“Good. Her word is law to you, especially in my absence. If she ever tells me you’ve been

lacking, or have refused to follow her orders, or even if it’s just for her amusement, I will punish you more severely than you’ve ever known. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Excellent. Stay right there.” She felt Landry’s cock harden against her ass, through her

bathrobe. His hips provocatively rocked against her as his teeth nibbled her ear, draining every last ounce of will from her body. It hadn’t taken him long to figure that out about her.

His arms slipped around her and he untied her robe, letting it fall open. She kept her eyes closed as her hands clenched on the counter. Slow and hot, his hands roamed her flesh as she felt Cris’ eyes on them.

“My wife is very beautiful, is she not, slave?”