Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (6 page)

Drake turned to Knox with tortured eyes. “I have to spend the whole evening as her date.”

Joss snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’re right, we totally forgot. You poor bastard. You’re going to have to front like you’re actually attracted to her, get to touch her, hold her hand, maybe even dance with her. She should absolutely cover up so you don’t have to look at all that sweet, soft skin.”

“That’s not it.” Knox had been watching Drake closely since he’d made the comment about being Remy’s date. “He’s going to have a hell of a time keeping his hands off her. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Drake nodded grimly. “Would you be able to resist?”

“No. And that’s exactly my point.” Knox walked over to the mirror to tie his bow tie. “Maybe it’s time we stop resisting.”

Drake drew in a deep breath to begin the usual argument, but Remy chose that moment to make her reappearance. All three men turned around again as her door opened and she came back out. She looked perfect to Knox. Kissably, suckably, fuckably perfect.

Drake visibly drew himself up and walked over to her, cupping her face in his hands. She stood stock-still, obviously uncertain as to what Drake was up to. “You look exquisite, Mrs. Joyce. I’ll be very proud to show you off tonight.” Drake leaned over and kissed Remy’s forehead, her eyes fluttering closed then opening back up to stare at him incredulously. Drake dropped his hands to his sides and turned away from her, going to check once more on the case of weapons they’d be bringing with them, disguised as a gift box for the host in case anyone noticed. They’d have to be careful with that box, since it would be impossible to take inside. It would have to stay in the garden with the hidden brothers until they needed it.

Knox understood the reason for Drake’s hasty departure. He could see the front of Drake’s tuxedo pants tenting from where he sported an enormous erection. Knox felt a twinge of sympathy for Drake since the poor guy really would have a hell of a time tonight. Knox shrugged mentally. Maybe things would get interesting if Drake tried to hump Remy’s leg before the end of the evening.

His musing was cut short as he felt nimble fingers go to his neck, and when he looked down, Remy was standing in front of him, her luscious tits pressed almost to his chest.

“You never were good at tying bow ties.” She undid the clumsy knot he’d fashioned and made quick work of tying it neatly. He’d almost reached for her when she took a step back to examine her handiwork but stopped himself at the last moment. She nodded, satisfied with his appearance, and turned her attention to his brothers. “Come on, boys, let’s have a look. It’s a tad difficult to pass you off as one another if you’re not really, really identical.”

That was the crux of tonight’s plan. Only one triplet would be seen at any given time with Remy while the others were working in the office to finish the job. They could trade places as many times as necessary, and no one would know there were three identical men instead of whichever one was with Remy. They’d used the same strategy before with great success, and it was often the first one Drake would consider for jobs like this one. It carried less risk than other alternatives, and it ensured that so long as they hid the presence of the other two they’d always have the element of surprise on their side.

Remy finished inspecting Joss and Drake, and after smoothing Joss’s hair and adjusting Drake’s cuff links, proclaimed they were ready.

All four moved to the table beside the door, picking up the last-minute items they’d need. Each of them grabbed a pen that doubled as flashlight, screwdriver, and Taser.

Knox took a last deep breath and felt the adrenaline kick in that always preceded a job. He smiled at Remy and adjusted a fold on her wrap, unable to resist the temptation of touching her one last time. He handed her purse to her and squared his shoulders, turning away. Go time.

Remy glanced around the ballroom, gauging the amount of alcohol consumed by the partygoers. It was around one in the morning, and while the party still raged around them, it was obvious most of the guests were tipsy. Some of them were beyond tipsy, Remy acknowledged, glancing at a pair of men who were snoring companionably on a settee at the side of the room.

It was too bad this hadn’t been a real party designed for fun, Remy mused. Not that she hadn’t had fun with Drake. Despite his surliness, he’d been awesome tonight. He’d even asked her to dance a few times. She’d loved the dances they’d shared, the way his big hand had rested on the bare skin of her back, stroking softly. He’d been a perfect gentleman, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back and showing himself to be surprisingly light on his feet for such a big man.

They’d even had fun exploring the château, identifying Contois’s private office immediately and seeing what kinds of decorating the extravagantly rich did in their homes. She snickered to herself, remembering some of the design disasters they’d seen. One room had been full of clashing animal prints. Another had been decorated entirely in shades of mint. It had looked like a dentist’s office in Hell. Contois’s security staff had eventually started ignoring them, the annoying nouveau riche American couple who kept going places they shouldn’t. One of the security staff, armed with a semiautomatic, asked them with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice why they couldn’t stick to the ballroom with the other guests. Remy had put a hand on his arm and had leaned close to him, sloshing a little of her champagne onto his sleeve for effect. They were currently in a room full of clown memorabilia. It was without a doubt the most terrifying room Remy had ever seen.

“Y’all have such purty houses here,” she’d screeched at the man, who’d immediately tried to draw back. “We wanna have a good look around and take some of these here ideas back home so’s I can put ’em in my house and my momma’s house!”

The man looked at Drake with sympathy after Remy had moved away to look at a “‘purty paintin’” of a dancing elephant in a tutu, leaning conspiratorially close. “She eez, ’ow you say, still nice looking?”

Drake, to his credit, didn’t bat an eye or succumb to the laughter that was threatening to escape. Instead, he sighed dramatically and leaned close to the security guard. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous all right. Especially when she’s sleeping it off. She’s really, really nice looking in those moments, my friend.” Drake winked at the security guard, who grinned at him, and turned to Remy. “Poodle, I think it’s time to get you some more champagne, hmm?”

Remy ran back to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Yeah!” She hollered, “Let’s just do that!” She buried her face in Drake’s neck for a moment and whispered so only he could hear, “If you ever call me poodle again, I will break your nose.” Then she spun around, almost knocking the poor security guard over in the process, and tottered toward the ballroom...where the champagne was located.

Drake began to follow her but, before leaving the room, turned back to the security guard. “Sorry we keep getting sidetracked, but you can’t expect me to force people to put up with her all night. And besides…” Drake leered. “If she starts feeling...friendly, I want a private place so we can explore our friendship.”

The security guard laughed, shaking his head. “Oui, monsieur, I understand. Just make sure she doesn’t ruin anything.” The guard had moved off, still laughing softly to himself.

Now, it seemed to Remy the time had come to start doing what they’d been sent to do. She nuzzled up to Drake. “Wanna show me the gardens?” she asked seductively.

Drake’s eyes sharpened as he looked casually around the ballroom, noticing the same thing Remy had noticed—that the majority of the party guests were wasted. “I’d love to, dear.”

The two walked hand in hand to the huge doors leading out to the terrace, and Drake put a protective hand on her back as he guided her down the steps. They strolled out into the shadowy garden together, looking for all the world like a couple on their way to a tryst. Both Drake and Remy, however, were watching and listening for the other Grantham triplets. They hadn’t gone far when they heard a familiar tune being whistled, and they moved toward the sound. Joss and Knox emerged from the shadows close to the stone wall encircling the estate, looking like carbon copies of Drake in their tuxedos. Evidently their entries had gone without a hitch, and they’d been able to mill around the garden with the disguised equipment.

Drake exchanged places with Knox, letting him step up and take Remy’s hand. “Let’s do it.”

Remy led Knox back up the terrace steps, and the two quickly made their way to the office she and Drake had found earlier. They slipped inside and searched the room for any stray guests and prepared to wait for their teammates. Drake was indicating to Joss which window belonged to the office, after which they would enter through the windows along with Joss’s equipment. Remy made a mental note of thanks to ancient French architects who believed every room needed a window big enough to walk through, and to modern internet providers who weren’t willing to work on anything but the ground floors of these old castles. It certainly made their job easier. She also smiled to herself as she thanked Contois for the party, since his security was much more lax than it would ordinarily be. Apart from the front door and the prowling guards, the rest of the security seemed to have been relaxed for the evening.

After ten or so minutes, Knox went to the window and opened it. Sure enough, he had no sooner gotten it open than two sets of hands appeared on the sill, and Drake and Joss hoisted themselves up. Joss hauled on a cord he’d been pulling with him, and Drake hauled on another. In a matter of seconds the two men had the gift box of guns and Joss’s equipment in the room with them, and Joss went to work on Contois’s computer.

This was always the worst part, as far as Remy was concerned. She hated waiting. She knew Joss could do this kind of work faster than pretty much anybody else on the planet, but she still hated the feeling that all she could do was wait.

At least she could look at something pretty, she thought to herself. She let her eyes wander over the tuxedo-clad bodies of the triplets, appreciating everything she saw. Damn those boys looked good dressed up. Not that they didn’t look good in jeans, she thought, but seeing all three of them wrapped up like presents complete with little bow ties really put the cherry on her sundae.

Joss’s hands flew over the keyboard, too fast to watch. He worked quickly since they needed to get in and out, but his work also needed to be precise.

Knox had positioned himself by the door, keeping half his attention on Joss and the other half on what was happening outside in the corridor. To lock the office door would be to call attention to it since it had been unlocked all night, especially since security had been patrolling the halls and would notice a locked door with lights on.

Joss was working even faster now, staring intently at the computer screen. “I’ve got it,” he said quietly.

Drake let out an explosive breath where he was standing, close to the window, and Knox relaxed visibly.

“I just need to copy it to my hard drive and replace the security protocols. Five minutes.”

Joss had just unplugged the hard drive and packed up his equipment, continuing to replace security protocols when Knox snapped his fingers sharply, drawing their attention to him instantly.

“Footsteps. Someone’s coming,” Knox breathed.

* * * *

“Fuck,” Drake grated between his teeth. It couldn’t be anyone but a security guard, and those bastards were all armed. Drake looked around the room, assessing the situation and running through alternatives with lightning speed. “Joss, how long?”

“I’m done, but it needs to be restarted. We need to cover the noise of the hard drive booting up.”

Drake took a deep breath and settled on a plan. He only hoped Remy would forgive him. “Joss, under the desk. Go.”

Joss slid from the desk chair under the desk, tucking himself out of sight.

“Knox, stay where you are, gun trained on the door. The door will open toward you so get ready to move, but you need to cover us.”

Knox moved to obey, pulling a gun from the gift box and screwing on a silencer with quick precision.

Remy was already on her feet, ready to do whatever Drake asked. Well, Drake corrected, she probably wasn’t ready for this.

“Two minutes, maybe a little longer,” Knox said quietly.

“Remington,” Drake barked, his whisper audible only in the room. “Here. Now.”

Remy was clearly confused but didn’t waste a moment. She moved quickly to stand beside Drake at the window. Drake didn’t hesitate. He spun her around, leaned over, and lifted her skirt above her waist. With a firm hand on her back, he bent her over the desk in front of him.

* * * *

Remy was really confused. In an instant she’d been bent over the desk under which Joss was hiding, and Drake was behind her and her skirt was above her waist.
Oh, my God, my skirt is above my waist. What the hell is he thinking!
She only had a moment to wonder because in the next instant she heard the sound of a zipper being undone. She scrambled to see what was happening behind her, but a sudden sharp slap to her ass had her squealing and scrambling forward on the desktop.

“Noise, Remy. We need noise to cover the sound of the computer.” With that, Drake spanked her again. And again. And again. He spaced the slaps all over her tender flesh, rubbing the burn into her cheeks before spanking her again. Her pussy was creaming in no time, shocking her, the warmth spreading from her pink flesh to the pinker flesh between her legs. She parted her legs a bit, hoping Drake wouldn’t notice. The cool air hit her hot cunt, and Remy squirmed again, trying to find a way of easing the tightness in her clit. It felt twice its normal size, and it pulsed with the beat of her heart. She opened her legs a bit more and heard Drake’s low chuckle behind her.

“You like being spanked.” The low, gravelly quality of his voice matched the stroke of his hand along the overheated skin of her ass. He rubbed that callused hand back and forth, his movements hypnotic as he alternately spanked and stroked her burning cheeks. “Look at your poor little clit, all shiny with your cream and begging to be touched. Does your clit need some attention, sweetheart? Is that why you opened your legs to show it to me? Or maybe it’s not your clit that needs attention, maybe it’s this hot little hole.” Drake’s finger rimmed her, skimming across her pussy lips. “Damn, honey, you are wetter than wet.” He buried one hand between her legs, keeping her labia spread while his other hand continued to spank her ass.