Cardinal's Rule (33 page)

Conflicted feelings raced through her as old memories struggled to mash her composure into a bloody pulp. She couldn’t honestly say she minded Landry using Cris like that.

But the longing she felt and couldn’t clearly identify truly troubled her. Did she miss Cris? Did she wish she was a part of their lovemaking? Did she, in fact, want Landry all to herself?

Did she wish she was bound to the bench with Landry in charge?

She couldn’t answer any of those questions.

* * * *

The night before his next round of chemo was scheduled to start, he made love to her, leaving

her thoroughly sated and ready to go to sleep. As she started drifting, he kissed her. “Would you mind if I spent a little time with Cris?”

Almost asleep, she mumbled her assent and rolled over. It wasn’t until she heard the
click
of the bedroom door softly shutting that her brain caught up with his comment and her eyes popped open.

Now that she thought about it, she realized he hadn’t climaxed.

She sat up, sleep driven from her system. After a few minutes, she climbed out of bed, grabbed her robe, and quietly opened the bedroom door.

Down the hall, she heard soft voices from Cris’ room. Landry had left the door halfway open.

After fighting and winning over a bout of guilt, she silently walked down the hall and stood just outside the doorway. She couldn’t see the bed directly without pushing the door open farther, but she could see everything reflected in the dresser mirror from the light of the full moon flowing through the open blinds.

They lay on their sides, Landry’s back pressed against Cris’ chest. Cris had his arms around Landry. The men kissed and she realized Cris was fucking Landry.

“That’s my good boy,” Landry softly told him. “You take good care of me, don’t you?”

Despite her earlier session with Landry, where he pulled three strong climaxes out of her, she felt her clit throb as she watched them together. Landry still might have been Cris’ Master, but she watched two men in love making love.

Cris arm slid down Landry’s abs and grabbed his cock, slowly stroking as he fucked his lover.

“Jesus, Lan, I love you.”

“Show me how much you love me, buddy.”

She leaned against the wall, her heart racing as she listened to them. Part of her wanted to crawl into bed with them.

That’s a dangerous thought.

The look on Cris’ face couldn’t be any different than the submissive mask she’d gotten used to 

over the past couple of months. He kissed Landry again, his hips flexing as he thrust. “You gonna come for me?” He squeezed Landry’s cock, slowly stroking it. “I’m not gonna come till you come for me first.”

Her knees weakened. He even sounded like her old Cristo. She grabbed onto the wall when her

knees threatened to give out.

“Fuck me,” Landry urged. “Give it to me.” His voice bore a needy edge she’d never heard from him.

Not even at their most passionate of times together.

“Oh, I’ll give it to you, all right.” He kissed Landry again, fiercely. Landry let out a low moan she knew all too well before he cried out.

“That’s it,” Cris gasped as he thrust harder, before he too let out a familiar cry and fell still.

The men lay there, entwined, kissing as they recovered from their lovemaking.

Tilly almost forgot to move when he heard Cris softly say, “I’ll go get a washcloth for you, Master.” Back to slave.

She ducked into the office, behind the door, and listened as Cris ran water in the bathroom. A moment later she heard the men talking in the bedroom again.

On silent feet she raced back to her bedroom and quietly closed the door, tossed her robe into the closet, and dove into bed. Hopefully her pulse would slow before Landry returned.

* * * *

Landry smiled as he waited for Cris to return with the washcloth. It’d been a struggle for him

not to meet her gaze in the mirror as she watched them. He’d hoped she’d come join them, but that was a point he couldn’t press her on no matter how hard he wished he could.

He hoped she’d enjoyed the show.

Cris knelt next to him on the bed and wiped him down. Landry crooked a finger at him and Cris leaned in for a kiss.

“I love you, Cristo. Always and forever, love. You know that, right?”

He’d kill for the smile Cris gave him. “I love you too, Lan.” His smile faded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not throwing me out when you found out.”

He motioned for Cris to lie next to him. “I love you. Was I tempted? Honestly? Yes.” He

stroked Cris’ cheek. “I love you beyond measure. You have more than proven yourself to me. Please don’t think I don’t see that.”

“But you love Tilly.”

He nodded. “I do. I love her very much. Why?”

Cris looked troubled. “What if she orders me gone?”

He propped himself up on one elbow. “Then I supposed I’d have to lobby her as strongly for

you to stay as she lobbied for you to keep your cock and balls, wouldn’t I?”

He was glad he could leave Cris laughing. He climbed out of bed and made his way back to

their bedroom. Tilly had arranged herself in the bed as if asleep, but when he slipped his arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck, he felt the tension in her body, the way her pulse still raced.

He suspected if he plunged his fingers between her legs he’d find her even wetter than he’d left her from what she’d witnessed.

“Good night, love,” he whispered to her.

“Good night.”

Slowly
, he thought.
Patiently. It’s well worth the wait.

* * * *

Landry’s next round of chemo stripped away what little remained of his good mood even as it

worked to kill off the cancerous cells in his body. Tilly fought the urge to intervene between the men on Cris’ behalf as Landry took his bad mood out on their resident slave. As Master Grouchypants turned into Master Major Assholio, she realized fully what Cris had suffered through—alone—the first time around. Landry occasionally acted terse with her when he felt particularly bad or tired, but he always immediately apologized for it.

Unlike with Cris, who took the full brunt of it head-on, usually without question or complaint.

Two weeks into his chemo, Cris was in the kitchen with his laptop, trying to multi-task between fixing dinner and handling a crisis at the office, where it was only three in the afternoon. Tilly volunteered to take over dinner, but Landry, stretched out on the couch, heard her offer.

“Don’t you dare do it, slave!” he yelled. “I told you to fix dinner, goddammit, and that’s what I meant.”

She watched Cris close his eyes, recognizing that old expression of his as he tried to rein in his irritation. “Yes, Master,” he called back before looking at Tilly. “Thanks anyway,” he whispered, offering her a half-hearted smile.

She returned to the living room. “Lan, listen, he’s busy. Let me do it, sweetie. I’m not doing anything.”

“No.” The petulant look on his face meant he’d dug in his heels on the principle of the matter.

No amount of wheedling on her part would probably change his mind.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She knelt beside him and forced a sultry smile. “Please? I promise I’ll do a little modeling for you later, if you’d like.”

His eyes flicked her way, then returned to the TV. She might be making ground. “No. He can

handle it. You don’t need to do his job. I don’t want my wife to have to work. That’s slave’s job.”

From the kitchen and out of Landry’s line of sight, Cris anxiously shook his head at her,

warning her to drop it, but she couldn’t. She understood Landry felt like shit, but he’d hardly paid Cris a single kind word in days.

She took a deep breath. “I really think I should take care of dinner toni—”

“
Goddammit
, Tilly, I fucking said no. Now drop it.”

Tilly blinked, shocked at his tone as much as his words. She was about to let him have it, but Cris raced around the counter before she could come up with a response.

Cris stepped in front of her. “Landry, goddammit, don’t you
dare
take that fucking tone with her!”

Landry sat up, his face red with rage. “What the
fuck
did you say to me,
slave
?”

Tilly tried to get between the men, but Cris gently pushed her behind him. “You fucking heard me. Lay off her, she was just trying to be helpful. You want to be pissed off, take it out on me, not her, goddammit.”

Landry stood, although she saw the effort pained him, and got in Cris’ face. “How dare you, you ungrateful bastard!”

“Ungrateful? You’re the one treating her like shit right now, and you’re calling
me
ungrateful?”

“Boys, please, stop! It’s okay.”

Landry ignored her and stepped forward, but Cris refused to give ground. “No, it’s not okay, Til,” Cris insisted. “He’s just being a pain in the ass.”

“I’m going to beat that attitude out of you, slave,” Landry growled. “Need to remind you who’s in charge. Teach you respect.”

Tilly didn’t like how pale Landry suddenly looked. She stepped around Cris and resurrected her own Domme-y voice. “Stop it,
both
of you!” She forced herself between Landry and Cris. “
I
am going to cook dinner, and that’s all there is to it. Cardinal’s Rule, remember? It’s
my
fucking house.
You
are going to sit your ass back down on that couch and watch TV, and you’re going to let him get his work done. That’s a fucking order!”

“He can’t talk to me like that! I refuse to tolerate that behavior from him.”

“What,” Cris taunted, “you mean calling you out for acting like a dickhead and treating her like shit? At least I never treated her like that. I
never
raised my voice to her, you fucking asshole! You want to abuse me, fine, I’ll take it, but you treat her like shit and you and me
will
get into it, because
I
won’t tolerate it.”

Tilly winced as Landry roared, enraged, and lunged around her trying to get at Cris. She refused to budge and that’s when Landry’s face went from pissed to pained and he gasped.

Cris didn’t miss it either. “What? What’s wrong?”

He doubled over in pain. “Sick…”

Cris raced for the kitchen garbage can as Tilly steadied Landry. They got it under him just as he vomited bright red blood.

Stunned, Cris froze.

“Call 911 right now, Cris.” She was too busy holding the garbage can under Landry and trying to get him back to the couch.

When she realized he hadn’t moved, she looked at him. “Cris! Get the fucking phone and call

911! Get an ambulance!”

That broke through his shock and he bolted for the phone. She rode with Landry in the

ambulance while Cris secured the house and followed in Tilly’s car. He caught up with her in the ER

waiting room, where they stayed only fifteen minutes before Landry was taken back for surgery. A nurse showed them where to wait for word from the OR. Tilly led Cris to two vacant chairs in the room, which seemed unusually crowded for six o’clock at night.

Cris wouldn’t look at Tilly. “This is my fault,” he said, his pained voice little more than an agonized whisper. “This is all my fault. He’s going to hate me.”

She grabbed his hand. “Stop. This is not your fault!”

“If I hadn’t made him upset, he wouldn’t have yelled at me. This is just like my dad all over again. I’m sorry, Tilly. I should have just kept my mouth shut and not pissed him off more, but I couldn’t stand hearing him talk to you like that.”

Pushing back her conflicted emotions, she focused on comforting him. “Maybe that saved his

life. If he hadn’t thrown up blood, he could have bled a lot worse before we knew he had a problem.

You didn’t cause his bleeding, so just stop.”

He pulled his hand free and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to hug himself. “Tilly, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to spare my feelings.” His voice dropped. “I should have just kept my mouth shut. I’m so sorry. If you want me to, I’ll leave.”

She wanted to scream at him but the waiting room full of people prevented that. She squatted in front of him, grabbed his head in her hands, and did something she had never done to Cris before.

She scruffed the back of his neck.

“Listen to me,
slave
,” she whispered, “you did
not
harm your Master.” She gently shook him for emphasis. “You guys had a fight. It didn’t cause his bleeding.”

His eyes widened as he looked at her, his instincts at war inside him, hers at war within her.

She knew she had his attention and pressed the advantage. “If he wakes up and finds out I

didn’t snap you out of this, he’ll want to take a cane to
my
ass. Let me tell you something, I don’t plan on letting that happen. You’re the only whipping boy in our house.”

He slowly blinked before his lips curled in a faint smile. She stood and hugged him, his face pressed against her tummy as he wrapped his arms around her and softly cried. “Jesus, I love him, Til.

I’m sorry. I know this sucks for you. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stand hearing him yell at you. I’m sorry. I love him, but I can’t listen to him treat you like that and not stand up to him.”

She stroked his hair. “It’s okay. I love him, too.”

His body tensed as he looked up at her. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, duh. What do you think I’ve been saying the past couple of months? No job is worth

putting up with that kind of shit without love being involved.”

He looked hopeful. “Does that mean you might not leave after three years?”

“Possibly.” She stroked his hair again. “You know the rules. No bugging me about it.”

“Cardinal’s rules.” He laughed and rested his head against her again, his body relaxing. “I love you, baby girl. So much.”

He tensed again as he realized what he’d said.

“Til, I’m sor—”

“It’s okay,” she quietly reassured him. She leaned in and kissed the top of his head. “I still love you, too. I’m just not sure I like you very much yet. Give me some time with that.”