I pull in a long breath and release it slowly. “I need you.”
The words are barely a whisper, but the sharp intake of breath is all the confirmation I need that he hears them.
“You have me, Hannah. Always.”
I tip my head back, staring up into his icy gaze. He’s so fucking handsome that sometimes I can’t believe he’s real. The flicks of gray at his temples have only made him look more distinguished since the first time I met him.
I’ll never forget walking into that room and seeing him with his arm around my mother, a mask of indifference in place, but his eyes proved how little he wanted to be there. Then they met mine, and there was a spark.
At the time, I thought I’d imagined it. I thought I dreamed it because, honestly, if you’re not thirsting after a forbidden hot older man when you’re eighteen, you’re a better woman than me.
“I think what she means is she needs you to quieten the anxiety. She needs you to make her mind quiet.” Asher’s voice comes from behind me, the feeling of rightness settling over me, knowing we’re all safe.
Tonight scared me more than I can describe, but knowing Asher is home allows some of the worry to ease.
“Is that right, Little One? Do you need us to take it all away?” Rowan’s rough voice against the shell of my ear sends a shiver of need to my core.
The night we spent together at the club has been playing on a loop in my mind the last few days.
After the initial shock wore off that I’d fucked my stepfather, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I loved being between them. The way they worked together to give me all the things I never knew I needed.
My core throbs with anticipation, the promise of what’s to come.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Rowan pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting my head until I have no choice but to stare into his eyes. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
A soft moan tumbles from my throat. I’ve always had a praise kink, but there’s something about Rowan saying those words that almost makes me spontaneously orgasm every single time.
He smirks down at me as Asher comes to stand beside the chair, putting them both in my line of sight. “One day soon, we’ll take you back to the Scarlet Lounge and fuck you where everyone can watch. I’ve heard you look so pretty on stage, but I bet you’ll look fucking sinful being fucked by us both, your perfect ass red from the paddle.”
“Fuck,” I breathe, because the picture he’s painting is straight from my own personal spank bank.
Asher crouches beside us, his own fingers replacing Rowan’s and holding me in place. “You sure you’re up for this, Little Doe?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
“Do you need pain?”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “I’m going to go grab some things from my room. How about you give Rowan a little show taking off that pretty dress?”
I swallow, giving him a slight nod.
He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before pushing himself to his feet and disappearing down the hallway.
Submitting to Asher has always come so easily. From the first time he led me into a private room, it’s been as natural as breathing, and that was what worried me when he floated the idea of sharing me.
What if it didn’t come as easily? What if I couldn’t please them both?
Those same thoughts float at the back of my mind now, but they’re not as loud. Because how could they be when they look at me like I hung the moon just for them?
Rowan helps me to my feet, holding onto my hips until he’s certain I’m steady.
