Shackled (23 page)

“That’s one option. The final say is Bethany’s, of course, but we need to work this part out between us, first.” Jonathan drank from his own cup, a long, fortifying draft, as the sound of morning birds serenaded the trees. “Last night just felt so
right
.” He met Peter’s gaze. “We both know the Fitzpatricks and the Grants. We lack one dimension they share. Neither of us is bisexual. I understand how
their
family dynamic works. The question is, could the three of us make it work with a different kind of dynamic?”

“The responsibility to make it work, to ensure Bethany never feels torn, is ours,” Peter said.

“Agreed. What you said last night, about us likely having been brothers in a previous life? I agree with that completely. We’ve clicked, right from the start. But is it enough, this friendship, to share Bethany for the long term? Well, provided we can get her there.”

Peter smirked. “I might be able to help with that, because I have something to report on the Constance front. And I’m thinking this is the opportunity we need to get her to let go.”

Jonathan nodded. Restless, he got up, paced to the edge of the deck. The future stretching out before him was slightly different than the one he envisioned when he’d opened Jordan’s door and claimed Beth. He totally understood what Peter had just said about control and karma. He was
so
there. Turning, he leaned against the rail and faced the other man.

“Is anyone ever certain their relationship is going to last forever when they start out? I mean, really, that’s the hope, and that’s the mindset going in for everyone who’s in love and wants to get married. I guess we both have to admit something that for two Doms is slightly sobering. There is a limit to the amount of control we ourselves can exercise. Some things are not totally ours to mandate.”

“Hell of a thing, isn’t it?” Peter said.

“It is. So that’s my answer to you. Like I said, the final say will be Beth’s.” Jonathan felt a sense of rightness.

“We’ll just have to convince her,” Peter said, “that her particular happy-ever-after includes both of us.”

“Agreed. Now, tell me about the sister-in-law.”

Peter’s expression immediately darkened. “I can give you the facts and the conclusion I’ve drawn. If you agree, I think we can come up with a plan.”

“In other words, she’s trouble?”

“Oh, yeah. Beth was intuitive not to like the woman.”

Jonathan straightened. “Tell me.”

* * * *

Morning sun streamed in the window, and the bright light increased the pounding in her head. Constance moaned and tried to roll over.

It felt as if her body was on fire. Pain, a mixture of achy and sharp, radiated out from her pussy and her ass and several points in between.

Vague impressions of the night before flashed in her mind.

Like freeze-framed pictures in a ghoulish photo album, she recalled going to Trey’s friend’s house. There’d been a party going on, she thought at first. A lot of people crowded into the fairly small space, with loud music and the scent of cannabis in the air. Someone put a drink in her hand, a glass of gin and tonic. And then—the photos changed. Her dawning realization she was the only woman in the room. A sense of being off…and then Trey kissed her, touched her, aroused her. He’d undressed her, laid her out on the dining room table in front of everyone, fucked her. And then…

Constance sat up in bed, a sense of dread mixed with nausea washing through her. She focused her gaze on the man sleeping so soundly beside her. As she watched, he grunted, opened his eyes, and met her look head-on.

“What did you do to me last night?” She heard the shaking in her own voice and didn’t care.

“Nothing more than every other man in the place didn’t do. You were wild, baby, and you fucking loved it. You took us one at a time, two at a time, three at a time. The perfect little whore.”

“You drugged me.” He had to have. The sense of disorientation, and then euphoria that she recalled, had to be the result of some sort of drug. The images came hard and fast, and she saw herself, begging for more, begging for everything. Getting everything. She reached down, and her hand encountered a welt, one that stretched from her hip to her ass. She saw herself begging, saw Trey borrow a friend’s belt…

Trey’s sneering voice cut into her thoughts. “We just gave you a little something to help you relax and get into the mood.”

“My God.” Constance tossed the sheet aside, swung her legs from the bed. Dizziness nearly made her puke on the spot. She lowered her head into her hands and battled to settle her head and her stomach. “Get out.” She swallowed hard and raised her head. “Get the fuck out of my bed, and out of my house, and don’t ever come back.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,
Connie
.” Trey reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked.

Constance screamed. Her eyes watered and her stomach rolled as he pulled her back down on the bed. She fought him, but it took him no time at all to subdue her. He stretched on top of her and flexed his hips. His cock, hard, ready, nudged the opening of her slit. Her body betrayed her, her pussy leaking juices, preparing itself for him.

“Funny, but that X I gave you last night also made you chatty.” Trey cuffed her wrists with one of his hands and stretched her arms above her head. “So I know all about your little sister-in-law and your plans for her five million dollars…or should I say
our
plans.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Constance couldn’t control the shiver that wracked her. She turned her head away when Trey lowered his face to hers, but he used his free hand to jerk it back. His kiss was hard, brutal, and, to her disgust, she opened to him, giving him the submission he sought.

“And just to show you I’m not completely useless, I know of another doctor we can use. We’ll contact the guy today. By this time next week, we should be in business. All you have to do is invite your sister-in-law over for dinner.”

Trey thrust into her, and Constance cried out as a bolt of pure arousal spiked through her. With movements rough and hard, he took her, thrust after thrust that pushed her higher and higher. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust back, her submission so complete, the battle between her mind and body a total rout. Her body had won, and she knew there would be no going back.

Trey stopped moving. His gaze seared hers. “If you like, we can arrange for her to have a night like you just had, and you can watch. Would you like that?”

Bethany humiliated? Used? And then put away? Something dark inside Constance began to bloom, and she felt a pleasure that had nothing to do with sex—or maybe it did—spread throughout her entire body.

“Yes.” Constance let go, gave over, and smiled. “Yes, Trey. I’d like that very much.”

* * * *

Bethany opened her eyes, the morning sun lighting the bedroom and warming her back where it fell. She knew she was alone in the bed, and stretched. Images from the night before came back to her, and she smiled.

After that first time, she’d been roused twice by her men, whose demands on her body had been absolute and absolutely delicious. No doubt about it, Jonathan had begun the process of turning her into a nymphomaniac, and Peter had helped him finish the process.

She was one very lucky lady.

She could smell coffee and bacon, and she was ravenous. When she sat up, she saw her white robe laid out on the bed. She scooped it up and bounded for the shower.

Minutes later, she entered the kitchen. Both men worked together making breakfast. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” Jonathan said. He cracked some eggs into the skillet. “Just have a seat and the food will be ready in a moment.”

“This is getting easier,” Bethany said as she sat down at the kitchen table.

“What is? Letting others take care of you?” Peter asked.

“Yes. I’m beginning
not
to itch to do things myself all the time.”

“Because you like being waited on?” Jonathan asked.

That was part of it. Bethany looked down at her hands. The white line where her wedding ring had been for so many years had begun to fade over the last couple of months. She’d taken the thing off the day the children left to return to their own homes after their father’s funeral.

“Look.” She held out her hand. “You can barely see now that I wore a ring, and yet I had it on for twenty-five years.” Since both men looked, then looked at her with such patient expressions, she knew she needed to share her thoughts. “In our society, the wedding ring is looked upon as a symbol of respectability. But his ring, on me, turned out to be a shackle, of a sort. And rather than freeing me to become a fully contributing member of society, that ring bound me to a man, and a life, that ground away at me, eating away my self-esteem, and my soul, day upon week upon month, upon year.”

Bethany looked up and met Jonathan’s gaze. “You put a different kind of shackle on me that first day, and that was the beginning, not of imprisonment, but of emancipation.”

She laid her hands flat on the surface of the table. “I had to do it all or suffer the consequences of it not being done. But here, with you, it’s so totally different.” She blew out a breath, laughed. “So to answer your question, I do like being waited on, but more, I trust you to do what needs to be done. I trust you.”

Jonathan left the stove and came over to her. He cupped her face and kissed her gently. “Thank you. We’ll eat, and then we’ll talk. About a number of things.”

The old Bethany would have hounded the man to talk first and eat later. She liked not being the old Bethany anymore. “All right. Let’s eat.”

Bethany had never seen so much food for breakfast. Bacon, sausages and ham, scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, and pancakes filled the kitchen table.

Peter obviously noticed her look of shock. “Jon and I are growing boys. We have big appetites.”

“I noticed that last night,” Bethany said. Both men chuckled, and both men seemed determined to put food on her plate. Normally, she would have protested. As it happened, the night’s activities had given her a healthier than normal hunger, too.

Peter brought the coffee carafe over to the table and then sat.

We’re like three points of a triangle
. For several minutes, conversation surrendered to eating. Bethany noticed that her delicate bites were no match for the shoveling technique both men employed. She made a mental note to remember this moment whenever it was her turn to fix a meal.

She sat back for a moment and let that thought settle. At the beginning of the evening, she’d been prepared to experience something new. And now that she had, she wondered if it had been a one-off or the beginning of the rest of her life.

How could her self-confidence have grown so much in little over a week? How could she have changed so much in so short a time?

The obvious answer—at least obvious to her—was that she hadn’t changed at all. She’d just finally uncovered her true self.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Jonathan asked.

Bethany blinked, and looked from one man to the other. In turn, they sent each other a quick glance. Something in the way they did that, in the expressions they wore, begged her to take a chance.

“There’s a furniture maker in Mapleburg,” she said. She picked up her cup, took a delicate sip. “He specializes in custom orders. I remember reading about him in the paper a month ago.”

Jonathan and Peter looked at each other then focused on her again. “What is it you want him to make for you?” Jonathan asked.

“Not for me. For us.” She set her cup down. “I think we’re going to need a bigger bed.”

“That thought crossed our minds, too,” Jonathan said. He sat back. “But first, we have some hurdles to jump.”

“What sort of hurdles?” Bethany sat forward and wondered at the expressions each man wore.

“You know that Peter’s a P.I. Well, he’s learned a few things about Constance that are unsettling. We have an idea what she’s up to. And we have an idea of how to deal with it. But there’s something you need to do, first.”

Bethany had never seen Jonathan look so serious. Bracing herself, she said, “What do I need to do?”

“You need to sign power of attorney over to me. Relinquish control of every legal aspect of your life, into my hands.”

“This is bigger than sorting the laundry or getting my car fixed,” Bethany said.