Carter draws back enough to look down at me. “Hope you’re ready to go to sleep with a sore ass, pet.”
I grin. “I’m counting on it, Master. In more ways than one, I hope?”
The evil smirk of the bastard. “Count on it.”
I’m actually counting on coaxing our boy into helping me gang up on Carter to put Master in the middle tonight. It’s a permutation we haven’t enjoyed in a few months because of the election grind and work and being parents.
One night right before the election, we all literally fell asleep while I was in the middle of trying to give them both handjobs.
IwishI was kidding.
Saddest thing about that is I wasn’t even the first one to fall asleep. Which speaks to how exhausted we all were.
Yeeeahh.
He takes my hand, snags the duffel bag from the floor, and leads me toward the State Reception Room, which borders the library.
Since Owen’s “single,” I took over coordinating the decorating of the mansion every holiday season, and the Shell Tree is my favorite. Pastel lights, and it’s festooned with found and made items from beaches around the state, including a few ornaments we’ve made ourselves.
I hear Owen racing back down the stairs even before he makes it into the room. “Done, Master.”
“Excellent.” The bastard’s smile sends shivers through me, but at least I guessed right.
I suspected tonight’s festivities would happen here, and I pre-staged a little something earlier this afternoon that neither man has noticed yet.
Carter sets the duffel bag on the floor. “Loyalty.”
We both drop to our knees, heads bowed, backs rounded, left hand on the thigh, right flat on the floor.
A contented sigh from the bastard, and I watch as he toes off his loafers. “Such good pets,” he says, and another shiver races through me.
I love this, loveHim.
I love ceding control toHim, because he never forces it from me, except when I want him to.
He stands in front of us and I feel his hand settle on my head, fingers gently massaging my scalp and threatening to send me tumbling hard and deep into subspace. I’m sure he’s doing it to Owen, too. That means Owen’s there already, because he’s our good boy, and it takes literally nothing to tip him over the edge.
Tonight, however, I need to hang on, if I don’t want to forget.
He pats me on the head, the signal to look up, and I do. Carter’s brown gaze stares down at us, crinkled at the outer edges and signaling his amusement, his joy at watching us.
The hint that there is likely a plan rolling through his mind beyond defiling yet another spot in this mansion. A mansion we’ve already fucked in from one end of it to the other and back again over the eight years Owen’s been the official resident.
Multiple times.
“Strip the pet, boy.”
Owen practically tackles me, making me and Carter laugh. Owen knows what’s expected of him and I cherish every kiss, every nibble as his hands work mostly by feel to rid me of the pesky clothing separating him from my bare flesh. Once I’m naked and flat on my back on the floor with Owen over me and kissing me, Carter clears his throat.
I giggle as Owen sits back and seems to remember we’re not alone.
But the bastard extraordinaire wears a smile. “Your turn, boy.”
The man can stripdamnedfast. I can’t even explain it. Owen stands, and already has his shirt and undershirt peeling up and off as he does, then unfastens his belt and slacks to shove them down and off as he’s toeing his shoes off. No underwear, because the sadist didn’t give him any today. That leaves him in socks, which quickly join the growing pile of clothes before he drops back on top of me and kisses me again.
His hard cock rubs against my thigh and I fight the urge to spread my legs and wrap them around him and let him fuck me silly.
Because the sadist hasn’t given us that order yet.
