I love him, and I love Casey. I’minlove with both of them. I am now left praying they never force me to choose between them.
There isn’t a choice for me any longer.
Even knowing the darkness she and I share, even as deeply as I love her, and as much as I trust her, there is a part of her soul that will never trust me and let me in the way George so obviously can and does.
Does she love me? She says she does, and I believe her. I trust her, because she’s never given me a reason not to.
George hasn’t told me he loves me yet. Not in so many words, but when we’re alone—and sometimes, even when we’re not—his every action speaks to what I hope is love he feels for me.
I mean, he hasn’t gone down on me yet, or offered to bottom to me, but I don’t need that from him. Casey sometimes goes down on me, when she’s got me tightly bound and helpless and begging for relief. For her amusement, not my pleasure, even though I do enjoy it, obviously.
“I was hard most of the night, boy,” he whispers. “Thinking about you standing there with that locked on you. Knowing you were doing that forme.”
My brain is jarred by the memory of seeing that man sitting across the table from George tonight.
Ah, that is the only barrier between us, and for obvious reasons. I can never let him know about Junior, or our eventual goal. George might think himself a bastard, and in some ways he absolutely is one, but he’s also a man of the law. Personal ethics slips aside when it comes to me and Casey and what we’re doing.
Except this relationship we have is only the three of us. We’re consenting adults, and our weird little relationship has no impact on his job, or on the people of our state. If anything, what we havehelpshim with his job, helps him govern more effectively. Damn sure helps him function in a way he really wasn’t before.
But regarding our vengeance? He would stop us, even if it broke his heart to turn us in if we did something. Even if he agreed with us. Unless we could find a legal way to enact justice, which looks doubtful.
“I was hard, Sir.” Not really a fib, because yes, I was, at one point.
I gasp as I feel the teasing finger make its entrance and explore, gasping again as he seeks and finds my sweet spot.
That earns me Dom eyebrow, and a sexy, dark smile that means he recognizes what the hell he’s doing to me.
Another shiver wracks my body. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open against the pleasure. Ma’am has trained me well in this way, taught me to crave this kind of play over the years. She doesn’t milk me very often, but playing with my ass in general.
My balls brush against the fabric of his slacks as I involuntarily start rocking my hips. I hope he doesn’t mind he’s about to get some interesting stains on his tux.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy like this, boy.” His lips part slightly as he watches me while he withdraws his finger and replaces it with two. “Don’t youdarecome without permission, either, or you’ll be wearing this all night. I said I’d make sure you always go to bed satisfied, but I never said I wouldn’t lock you up. I warned you I’m in a mood to be a bastard. You come whenIlet you come, or you pay the price.”
I unabashedlywhimperand my eyes drop closed. Fuck turning it up to eleven, George just ratcheted everything up to afifty. One of Casey’s kinks is tease and denial, mostly because of how needy and submissive it makes me. After my recent weeks with George, and him wringing as much pleasure out of me as he’s able to—and seemingly being amused by that—he’s now taking a page from Ma’am’s playbook.
Between the two of them, I am absolutely and completelyfucked. Literally and metaphorically.
Again, not a complaint, just an observation.
“Eyes open, boy,” he orders.
I force myself to comply and tip my head forward, my forehead resting against his. I fist his jacket and hold on tightly, trying to make my body behave and obey.
“I’ve got you now, don’t I?” His blue eyes look darker in this light, closer to midnight than their usual vibrant light blue.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
Inside me, his fingers scissor, thrust, rub my prostate and make me gasp and moan and struggle to obey.
I want to be his good boy. I don’t want to disobey him.
“Has Ma’am ever played with you like this? Milked you?”
“Yes, but not lately.”
“I’ve been thinking about doing this to you all day, boy.”
“Really?”
