Her Mile High Mates [The Hot Millionaires #4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (22 page)

“Come here.”

She straddled Peyton and took his cock deep inside her. Clyde spanked her rear as she rode him, her unfettered tits bouncing against his mouth as she moved energetically up and down. She did all the work because Peyton sat stock-still and let her, dying a little more inside each time he thought about losing her.

“Thanks.”

Fabia accepted the coffee that Clyde placed in front of her the following morning, at a loss to know where she stood with the guys. Peyton’s lovemaking the previous night had been perfunctory, lacking his usual finesse, and was over quickly. Perhaps she was being unfair. After all, he
was
injured. Even so, her relationship with them had undergone a marked change in the last twenty-four hours.

And not for the better.

They’d kissed her good night at the door to the spare room and neither of them had joined her, either last night or for a wake-up call this morning. Okay, she’d got the message and wouldn’t cling.

“I might as well move back to the staff block this morning.”

Peyton looked up from the paper he was reading. “Why? Don’t you like it here?”

“I’m cramping your style.”

He didn’t deny it. “Stay for a while, until we figure out what’s happening with the resort.”

“I’ll get in your way.”

“No, you won’t. Besides, it’s a damned sight more comfortable here,” Clyde pointed out.

“There’s a meeting this morning to discuss the situation here,” Peyton said. “Higgins called a while ago and told me about it. Field, Anton, and the marina manager have all resigned.”

Fabia’s head snapped up. “Anton’s gone?”

“All three had to go,” Clyde said. “They were on the take. I guess they were told that if they resigned quietly, no further action would be taken against them. The resort’s in enough trouble after what came to light yesterday.”

“I’d better cover Anton’s work until they appoint someone else, then. I guess another week or two won’t make much difference.”

Peyton nodded. “That’s what I was going to suggest.”

She noticed Peyton share a significant glance with Clyde and wondered what that was all about. By holding the fort at the tennis centre it meant staying for a bit longer, but so what? She’d keep a low profile and try not to show jealousy if they brought other women back to the playroom. She couldn’t let the resort down. Besides, if they felt awkward about her staying, they wouldn’t have suggested it. Just so long as they didn’t expect her to join in their games with other women.

Hell, what was going on here? She felt moody and irascible and downed her coffee so quickly that it burned her throat.

“I’d best be getting off, then.”

Both guys stood to kiss her good-bye. They were being kind, letting her down gently, and she couldn’t stand it.

“Let me know how the meeting goes?” she asked over her shoulder.

The next few days were crazy busy for Fabia. Not only was she dealing with all the coaching single-handedly, but her junior-coaching scheme was oversubscribed and proving to be a huge success. She got back to the loft each night and fell into bed, exhausted but fraught with frustration, unable to sleep because the guys didn’t lay a finger on her. She told herself they were being thoughtful. They knew how hard she was working, and as far as she could tell, they weren’t seeing anyone else. But there had to be more to it than that.

They’d told her that an American consortium was already sniffing round the place. The same ones who’d been in communication with Asimov were still interested in buying out the Russian’s majority share. That share had been seized by the government, who were anxious to off load it as fast as possible in return for much-needed cash.

Hastings was temporarily running the place and making a damned sight better job of it than Field had managed. People liked him and responded well to his management style. Even so, there was an air of trepidation about the place. Jobs were hard to come by in the current climate, and since change was in the air, no one knew quite how secure they were.

Hastings had promised an assistant to help her at the tennis centre, which she thought was odd.
She
was the assistant. What they needed was a new manager, but so far no adverts had been placed as far as she knew.

On a brighter note, she’d heard from Sonia. She and Sergio were going back to London to get married. Fabia’s heart sang for them, and she promised to be there for the wedding. At least one of the sisters was happy.

A week after the catastrophic events on the gala night, Fabia arrived back at the loft, tired and at the end of her tether. Both guys were there when she got in, which was just as well. She could tell them what she had on her mind without having to repeat herself. She took a quick shower, changed into a flimsy sundress, choosing comfort over glamour. She took a deep breath and joined them on the terrace. Clyde handed her a glass of wine.

“Thanks.”

She sipped at her drink, delaying the moment, enjoying the tranquillity of Clyde’s lovely garden for possibly the last time. She listened to the noisy melody created by the cicadas and breathed in the fragrant perfume of the jasmine she so loved. No one spoke, but she became aware of both guys frequently glancing at her and of the heavy weight of expectancy that hung in the air between them.

“I’ll give Hastings until the end of the summer holidays,” she said.

“Pardon?” Peyton’s head shot up. “What do you mean?”

“Precisely what I say. I’m surplus to requirements here.” She wasn’t referring to the tennis centre and suspected that they knew it. “I have a life in London to get back to.”

Peyton stood up and towered over her. “Is that what you really want? To go back to that rat race?”

She shrugged, unable to get any words past the lump in her throat. Peyton sent Clyde a considering look. When he nodded, Peyton extended a hand, grabbed Fabia’s, and pulled her to her feet.

“Come with us.”

She had to scurry to keep pace with them as Peyton virtually dragged her along by the wrist. Her heart soared when he stopped at the door to the playroom.
At last!
Whatever she’d said, it appeared to have got through the veneer of polite neutrality he’d projected since the night of the gala. Clyde opened the door, and Peyton propelled her inside. Finally, he dropped her wrist.

“Take your clothes off.”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell. He’d ignored her for an entire week and now seemed to think he could order her around. One glance at the set to his features, at the glimmer of desire she thought she detected swirling in the depths of his magnetic eyes, and she capitulated. Besides, there was something about the authority in his rasping midnight voice that sapped her will, replacing it with an overwhelming desire to please him.

Fabia lowered her eyes and removed her dress. Then she took off her bra and panties, too. She removed the clip from her hair, shook it loose, and then stood before them both, hands demurely clasped over her pussy. She could see that they were both rock hard, but neither of them had taken anything off or made any move to touch her.

“We have a gift for you.”

“What is it?” Peyton quirked a brow and said nothing. “What is it, Master?”

“Turn round.”

She did so and gasped. Was that what she thought it was? It had to be. She’d heard about them but had never tried one.

“A St. Andrew’s Cross,” she said in a breathless whisper.

“Correct,” Clyde said. “We can bind you to it with your face against the structure, the better to whip your sweet ass.”

Fabia swallowed. That sounded just fine to her.

“Stand against it with your back toward it.”

Peyton’s commanding tone caused her to react all the way to her pussy. She could feel liquid leaking from it and didn’t even consider disobeying, despite the shameful way in which they’d neglected her needs for the past week. The two guys bound her to the cross by her wrists, feet, and waist. The used smooth rope that wouldn’t chaff and then, must to her disappointment, moved away. They sat on a sofa a few feet in front of her, not close enough to touch her, even with a cane.

“Who am I, Fabia?” Peyton asked in a soft, lilting voice that echoed inside her head, reaching places that an ordinary sound couldn’t plummet. “And what am I to you?”

“You’re my Master,” she said without hesitation. “And I will do whatever you ask of me.”

“Am I your only Master?”

“No. I also obey Master Clyde.”

She felt dizzy and had no control over the words that spilled from her mouth. Was this an out-of-body experience? It certainly felt like one. It was as though her mind was no longer her own, even though her sense of purpose had never been stronger. She desperately wanted to please these two, no longer caring what their motives were. It was as though she’d been put on this earth solely to do their bidding and needed to assure them of that. Nothing was more important to her, but she couldn’t do it, because she mustn’t speak unless they asked her a question. No one had told her that. She simply knew that’s the way things were. She was their submissive, and subs didn’t think or act of their own volition.

“What about your previous Master?”

“The connection is no longer there. I only serve the two of you now.”

“Then why are you leaving Tosca Brava?”

Fabia licked her lips. The tug of the lie was compulsive, since a flicker of pride had broken through her connection with Peyton. It as quickly evaporated. Her desire to please him overrode everything else.

“Because you no longer desire me, Masters.”

The two men exchanged an incredulous glance. “Why do you say that, Fabia?”

“Because you no longer fuck me. You wish me gone from here so you can have other women.”

“Is that why you withdrew from me on the night of the gala?” She felt herself flailing in the depth of Peyton’s scorching gaze. “You removed yourself to a place where I couldn’t reach you.”

“Yes. I worship you both.” She shook her head. “I need to be loved, Masters, truly loved for myself. I know you don’t share that feeling.” Her voice broke. “I would rather be alone than see you every day and know my feelings aren’t returned.”

“Oh, Fabia!”

Peyton’s voice returned to normal, and Fabia instantly snapped out of her trancelike state, unsure what she’d said to them and why they were smiling like idiots. They released her from the cross and led her to the sofa they’d just vacated. Peyton pulled her into his arms and offered her a deep, drugging kiss.

“We told you often enough that we loved you,” he said softly. “Why didn’t you believe it?”

She answered his question with one of her own. “What did you do to me just then?”

“Took you into subspace. Your mind was mine for a while there, a bit like you’d been hypnotised, and you were incapable of answering my questions untruthfully.”

“Why did you do that?”

Peyton shrugged. “Because you wouldn’t tell us what was on your mind. We kept asking but knew you weren’t being truthful. So we gave you some space. Thought you needed time to get over what happened to your parents and sister.”

“You could have just said that you loved me.”

“We did,” Clyde reminded her. “Frequently.”

“I suppose.” Fabia shook her head. “I just thought it was said in the heat of the moment.” She glanced at them both. Clyde was running his hand up and down her naked thigh while Peyton gave a lot of attention to her left breast. The right one felt left out. She touched it herself, but he swatted her hand away. “Is that why you stopped fucking me?”

“We’ll never fuck you again,” Peyton said, kissing the erogenous zone beneath her left ear.

What! Fabia was thinking coherently again and had had about enough of their games. “But you just said that—”

“But we’ll make love to you night and day, if you’ll let us.”

“Stay here at Tosca Brava with us,” Clyde said softly. “Take the job as tennis coach.”

“The job isn’t on offer.”

“We know.” Peyton looked a bit sheepish. “We kinda suggested to Hastings that we thought you might take it, so he didn’t advertise.”

Fabia tried to look cross but knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Why do I feel like I’m being manipulated?”

“No, babe.” Peyton’s lips were now grazing her nipple. “You’re being loved. There’s a huge difference.”

“I can’t afford to live here,” she pointed out. “The rent on the apartments in the development is out of my reach and—”

“You’ll live in the loft with us.” Peyton’s words were muffled as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

“Stop doing that!” She pulled her nipple free. “I can’t think straight when you distract me like that.”

“What’s to think about?” Clyde asked, the hand on her thigh drifting closer to her saturated pussy.

“I can’t just live here with the two of you. Your reputations wouldn’t withstand the fallout.”

“Ah, well, you see.” Peyton finally left her breast alone and stroked the curve of her face instead. “I was rather hoping that you’d agree to marry me.”