Used by Marlee Wray

Chapter 13

Laurel

The sound of male laughter attracts me to the doorway of the game room.

“And you say to yourself, do I remind him he’s not a basketball? Or just go straight to calling the ambulance?” Trick says.

C responds; his voice is too low for me to make out the words. More laughter erupts from the room.

Leaning in, I wave to get Trick’s attention.

“Baby, come in,” C says. When I hesitate, he beckons me with his hand. “Yeah, come on in. You don’t have to be scared to walk in here.”

“I don’t want to interrupt. I just had a question for—” My finger extends to Trick who sets his cue stick against the wall and walks out to meet me.

“You all right?” he asks.

Nodding, I smooth down the front of my shirt. “I heard something and wanted to get your okay. Or your veto. Whichever.”

When I don’t say more, the corners of his mouth rise. “To render a verdict, I’m going to need a little more, babe.”

“You know…” I glance at the doorway and realize I should’ve thought through the timing of having a conversation about rumors that are circulating about us and how to deal with them. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“We’re going to play poker. Why don’t you come play?”

“Oh, no. I was going to finish—”

“I’d appreciate it.” His eyes are a dark sapphire as he watches me.

“And there will be no repercussions for me, if I clean all of you out?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I promise.”

“It’s your money—all of it, since you’ll have to stake me.”

From down the hall, Zoe calls, “Hey, Laurelyn, come to the media room. It’s time to watch regency porn.”

Trick strolls down the hall. “What kind of porn?”

“It’s girl porn. Not for you,” Zoe says with cheeky grin. Then she stalks over to me and takes my arm.

“I bet I know.” Leaning in, I whisper the name of a Netflix historical romance series in her ear.

Zoe laughs. “Yes. Rachel hasn’t seen it. I’ve watched some parts of it twice.” Then she lowers her voice. “And others, six or seven times.”

“Understood. The duke is extremely beautiful. But a challenge has been issued, and so, I won’t be available for a few hours.”

“What challenge?”

“Poker.”

“Strip poker?” Zoe asks.

“No.”

“Well, then my offer is better. See you though. Oh, wait—just thought of something. You go.” Zoe hurries away. “Rachel, I’ll be a minute! Start without me!”

C appears in the hallway. “Z, what did I say about yelling in the house?”

“Oops. I forgot.” She turns and walks backward down the hall. “But my excuse is really good. You’re going to let it slide this time, C.” She blows him a kiss.

“We’ll see,” he murmurs, returning to the game room.

My heart thumps in my chest; the thought of sitting at a small table with Connor McCann makes my nerves twitch. “Calming breaths,” I whisper to myself.

Trick follows me into the room, his hand on my lower back. “Laurel’s going to play.”

“Good,” C says.

Everyone in the house has obviously decided that my membership in C Crue is to be made official and apparent. I’m both touched and a little skeptical.

All three men gesture for me to take a seat.

“Where are you sitting?” I ask Trick.

His brows rise. “Wherever you want.”

I touch the back of a chair, and he drops into it. I take the seat to his left side, licking my lips.

“Who needs one?” C asks, walking to the bar. “And what for you, Laurel? I’ve got any kind of juice. Can I mix you something sparkling?”

“C, here!” Zoe says, rushing in with a silver tray that’s got a collection of liquids and purees in various small glasses and bowls. There are also several cuts of fresh herbs. “For mock-tails.” She holds up a small glass. “Fresh ginger juice. Trick said she likes ginger ale. How about the ginger citrus mock-tail? Rachel liked that one.”

C smiles at her. “What you said earlier? You were right.”

She smirks. “Letting me slide?”

He nods and gives her a kiss. “What about fresh blood orange? Did we have any?”

She points at two purees. “No, but these with a little more lime?”

He dips a fingertip in and tastes each, then nods. “Bring it in,” he says, holding his arms wide for her to step into and be hugged.

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. “I love you.” Then she sashays out.

C grabs a shaker and mixes several things and then strains them into a glass of shaved ice and adds some torn herbs. He brings it to me.

I take a sip. “That is delicious. Thank you, C.”

Trick leans over. “Let me taste.” I raise the glass to his lips and tip it. He swallows and nods. “Yeah, that’s good. Not my first choice for the last of the ginger root.”

C stops and turns to look at Trick. “Was that the last of it?”

Trick nods with a smirk. “She made ginger cookies day before yesterday.”

“None in the grocery delivery?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Hmm.” C turns back to the bar and makes three whiskey cocktails.

“Why is that a problem? About the ginger?” I whisper.

“I’ll tell you later,” Trick whispers back to me. “What do you say, C? A grand?”

“Sure.”

Four thousand dollars’ worth of chips are divided between us. Anvil takes the deck, shuffles the cards, and deals. He’s mostly silent, but when any of them talks, they are very polite. The play is, at first, decidedly unaggressive. I win the first two hands.

While Trick shuffles, I look up what ginger’s used for during sex. An embarrassed flush spreads from my cheeks to my chest. Trick had mentioned that there would be no spanking in the last trimester, but if he needed to punish me there were other ways. I’ve just figured out one of the ways he means. Closing the browser, I set the phone in my lap and check my cards.

I win the next two hands, but C and Anvil have figured out there’s no need to hold back out of fear I’ll be slaughtered and get sensitive about it.

Trick takes a hand, and so does C. Then I take two more.

Trick’s gaze cuts to me. “You’re playing better tonight.”

“Tonight I’m not worried about dying. Raise,” I say, tossing more chips in.

“You sure you wanna do that?”

I turn my head and stare into his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“I’m out,” C says, watching us.

“Me too,” Anvil says.

Trick raises again. “You don’t have the queen.”

“You sure?” I ask, raising again.

He studies me and shoves in a mound of chips to match mine. His eyes narrow. “Show me.”

I flip my cards. The queen of hearts lies on top of the stack. C and Anvil both roar with laughter.

“You didn’t count?” Anvil demands of Trick, then he reaches a hand across the table to me.

I shake Anvil’s hand. “Thanks,” I say softly. “For the record, he did count. He always counts. Can’t help it.”

Trick’s eyes scan the table, moving over the cards. “Okay, Laurel. Deal.”

C leans back in his chair, sucking on the end of his lime wedge.

My fingers stroke the cards and then I do a butterfly shuffle, and three sets of male eyes lock on my hands while all other movement stops. I turn my head a fraction of an inch, put my hand on Trick’s thigh, and whisper, “If you’re nervous, you can hold my hand.”

Anvil’s brows shoot up. Then he pulls out his wallet and looks in it. Getting up, he looks around.

“What are you doing, ‘Vil?” Trick demands.

“Nothing,” he says, walking over to the desk.

“Does she deal you in? Or are you going to tango around the room?”

Anvil pauses and his grin is priceless. “Maybe you should worry about yourself. She made you lose the count when her hand wasn’t three inches from your dick. What chance have you got of keeping count now?”

Trick flips him off and moves my hand onto the table.

“Do I deal you in, Anvil?”

“Yeah.” Anvil finds a pad of paper and a mechanical pencil and returns to the table. I decide he plans to keep track of the play, though I’m not exactly sure why.

I flick the cards to their respective places.

“You know,” C says, appraising me. “If you’re cheating, you’ll end up in very big trouble.” His voice is gentle, but there’s an undercurrent.

My voice is feather light. “No, I won’t.”

C leans forward, his hand resting on his cards. “No?” His gaze moves to Trick. “Trick?”

Trick’s hand covers mine to stop me from looking at my cards. “C, don’t play. I’ll pay you back your stake. Re-deal, Laurelyn. ‘Vil, in or out?”

“Fucking in.”

“No re-deal. I’m in too,” C says.

Trick moves his arm to the back of my chair and leans in to whisper in my ear, “If you’re cheating, that promise I made—”

“Don’t. Please don’t renege.” My voice is soft, pleading. I lean back, putting my hands in my lap. “You said no lies. No broken promises. You made me believe you.”

He exhales like it’s his last breath and closes his eyes for a moment. “You can trust me. I promised you’re safe. You’re safe.”

Putting my hands on his cheeks, I kiss him. Then I turn to Connor. “Trick asked me to play, and I tried to say no. But he’s hard to say no to, so I agreed to play on the condition that there would be no consequences if I won all the money. He promised because he didn’t know what kind of player I am.”

“Did you cheat last hand?” C asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll need to cheat to beat him tonight. Maybe though.”

“And of course if Anvil or I spot you cheating you don’t have to worry, because the slayer of bud vases over there has laid down the law that he’s the only one who will deal with you if you do something bad?”

“Right. That’s the part he’s really upset about. He can’t protect us both at once.”

C smirks. “There’s still no cheating at a C Crue table. If I catch you cheating, you’ll be in trouble. And you, Trick, and I will have to figure out how to resolve that.”

“‘Vil, switch seats with me,” Trick says.

Anvil gets up and swaps with him. We play the hand, and I win, but then Trick collects the cards and throws them in the trash and sets a new unopened deck in front of Connor.

“C, you deal all the hands from now on.”

C smiles as he unwraps the new deck, and I try not to react. Now that Trick’s been alerted to the possibility of cheating, it will make it harder to even distract him during an honest game. I should not have shown off. Then I notice Anvil’s wide grin and glance at him.

“Good work,” he says, extending his hand to shake mine again.

I hesitate for a moment, not sure if he means I’m finished but it was a good effort or what he means.

Finally, I shake, my hand being swallowed up in his massive one. “That last hand, I just had lucky cards.” I lower my voice. “I don’t know if—”

Anvil leans close, his huge muscles straining the seams of his clothes. “You made him play defense.” He nods at me with a meaningful shrug of his brows. “You won more than the hand.”

I lick my lips and give a small nod, encouraged beyond measure since C and Trick are now gunning for me and that makes me feel like I’m in over my head.

When I glance back at Trick his expression is fixed on Anvil and it’s openly hostile. The only time I’ve ever seen him look that way was at a party where he got into a fight with the boyfriend I had after him.

Anvil simply smiles back at Trick.

“I’m uncomfortable. Maybe we should stop playing?” It’s just a game, and it’s already gotten out of hand. I don’t want to lose, but I also don’t want C or Trick furious at me for the foreseeable future if I manage to win.

Trick says nothing. C deals the cards. Anvil jots some foreign words on a notepad. My heart hammers, so I take a couple of calming breaths and a sip of my ginger juice mock-tail, which I’ll never look at the same way again.

The game is brutal. I don’t always get the cards I need and I have to force myself to focus, but at times I’m in a good rhythm. C and Anvil are good players and I don’t know their style of play, so I watch the way Trick reacts to what they do until I understand them.

Trick goes all in at one point to knock C out of the game. We both chip away at Anvil until he’s out too. Between dealing, C walks around, drinking and watching us. Anvil sits back in his seat, drinking and smiling.

I’m ahead, so when I think I’ve got the hand to beat Trick, I go all in. He folds. Connor stalks over and, as he gathers the cards, he looks at mine.

“You played smart. She had it.”

“I know she did.”

“That one hurts though,” Anvil says. He looks at me like he’s my coach and I’m an athlete who just won a race against the highest ranked runner in the state. “He can’t play his way because you are. It’s killing him.”

Trick rolls his eyes.

“How about a drink?” Anvil asks Trick, his grin widening. “No, you’re right. You’d better not.”

My eyes go to Trick’s drink, which is half full. It’s the one C made him when we started, and the ice melted long ago.

“No, I’ll take a new drink. Do you want one, Laurel?” Trick starts to stand, but C puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I got it. What do you say, Laurelyn? Another honey ginger drink or something different?”

“Anything. Thank you.”

“How about a side bet, ‘Vil?” C asks from the bar.

“No,” I say at the same time Anvil says, “Yeah.”

C scoops some ice into the shaker. “Fifty?”

“Thousand?” I gasp, frozen in my chair.

“Good,” Anvil says.

“Oh, my God, no.” Shooting to my feet, I take a step back from the table.

All the male eyes look at me like I’ve just done something inconceivable, like a backflip off a balcony. “I—can’t.” Exhaling, I take another step back.

Trick sets his cards down and comes around the table. “Come on, babe. Let’s take a walk.” He holds out his hand. Mine’s shaking when I set it in his.

He leads me out of the room. When we stop in the foyer, I look around, not sure how we got there. “It’s too much pressure.”

“C’s counting on that. Gonna let him make you forfeit?”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Absolutely not.”

Swallowing hard, I ball my fists and then open them and shake my fingers out.

After a moment, he says, “It’s not fifty grand.”

I look at him, confused, because I know they wouldn’t bother making a side bet for fifty dollars.

“How much is it?”

“You should think of it as something like five hundred bucks.”

“But it’s not. It’s fifty thousand, right?”

“Fifty thousand doesn’t mean the same thing to them that it means to you.”

“Even five hundred’s a lot.”

“Then think of it as five bucks.”

“I can’t.” I shrug dramatically with outstretched hands, which earns me a smirk from him.

“All right. Then forfeit.” The tone is casual with an undercurrent of derision.

Clenching my teeth, I draw in a shuddering breath through my nose. “I need a minute to think.”

“Take a minute,” he says, his tone amused. He extends his hand, and I start to reach for it until he says, “If you’re nervous, you can hold my hand.”

Bastard.My spine stiffens, and I jerk my hand back. Balling my fists, I nod. “I’ll be back in there in a minute.”

Trick winks and turns, walking away silently.

He’s a bastard, but a brilliant one. It takes less than a minute for me to follow him.

For the next few hands, I don’t play badly, but I don’t play brilliantly. He wins three consecutive hands, including one he shouldn’t.

My fingertips rub my forehead. “I’m tired. Can we go to bed and pick up in the morning?”

“Come on now,” C says, deeply skeptical of my motives and rightly so.

Trick looks at his watch and stands. “Yeah.”

C cocks a brow. “Exhausted at ten o’clock? Really?”

“Special circumstances,” Trick says.

C smirks. “She’s playing you, and you know it.”

“She’s pregnant, so she gets to call a game if she’s tired. And if she’s not tired, then she’s lying, which has consequences. Either way, it’s time to stop for the night.”

“Hmm. What time we gonna start in the morning?”

“When we’re all up.” Trick catches my hand to lead me from the room.

“Wait,” Anvil says. “How hard do you punish her when she lies?”

The blush feels like it consumes my whole body. My eyes jerk to Trick’s face, imploring him not to respond.

Trick’s gaze flicks to the table for an instant. “Point taken.”

I don’t look at either of the other men as we leave. We’re barely out of the room, when I whisper, “I don’t understand.”

“He meant that if you’re too sore to sit in a chair, it’ll disrupt the game, and you’ll be playing with a serious disadvantage because you’ll be in pain, which is a distraction.”

“How would he know what you meant by consequences? Did you tell them—?”

“No, you did.”

“Me?” My head jerks to look at him.

“He drove us from Boston to Coynston when you said you couldn’t sit down.”

Grimacing, I close my eyes. “I was worried about it that day, but so much happened I forgot about it. So does Rachel know too then?”

“I’m sure.”

Jerking my arm out of his grasp, I shake my head. “I never should have let them drive me that day. I should’ve gotten someone to pick me up. So C knows too, and Zoe? I’m so humiliated.”

“I can’t say what C or Zoe knows.”

“You don’t think Anvil or Rachel told them? Juicy gossip or whatever?”

“There were hotter topics of conversation. Like that I was arrested by the FBI because of you.”

I wince, nodding my concession that that was more important.

Trick opens the guest room door for me.

Inside the room, I sit on the edge of the bed. “Why couldn’t you have just said that you were tired tonight too? Or something like that? When you said consequences, they obviously understood what you were implying.”

“When it comes to the things we do in bed or that I do to you as punishment, I’ll keep the specifics to myself. But worrying about what C or Anvil surmise from any little thing I say is not worth my time. If you’re worried about it, then police your own behavior so you never get spanked hard enough for them to figure out you’ve been punished.”

“But why do they know anything at all about what you do with women?”

“Because, for one, sometimes they were there.”

Leaning back, I stare at him wide-eyed. “You mean—what do you mean?”

“I mean what I said.”

“With other girlfriends—?”

“Not girlfriends. Let’s not talk about this right now.” He takes off his shirt.

I’m not sure if that’s meant as a distraction or if he’s just moving on with the night.

“I don’t want to have sex with you until we do talk about it.”

He laughs, and then turns his head to look at me. “Get undressed. Let’s go to bed.”

Standing, I glance at the bed. “How many guest rooms are there in this house?”

“Plenty.”

“Maybe I should use a different one.”

“You don’t want to play this game. You won’t win.”

“Because you’ll—how will you keep me from winning? Because you’re not punishing me for deciding to not have sex with you. That’s not acceptable.”

He frowns. “Don’t do it. Don’t put us in this stance with each other.” His grim tone gives me pause. He touches the base of his ring finger. “I’m gonna put a ring right here that means I’ll never let anything come between us. It means I’ll be there whenever and however you need me to be. Even if I have to threaten to kill my closest friend when he’s trying to protect me. You saw me pull a gun on C, right? I’m all in, so you’d better be too. Do not play petty games that could destroy us.”

My brows shoot up. “Destroy us? I don’t understand what you’re talking about right now.”

“You’re mine. You sleep in my bed. You have sex with me. You have my kids. That stuff is non-negotiable. Withholding sex from me as a form of leverage isn’t gonna be a thing. If you think you need to do that to your husband, don’t marry me.”

I arch a brow. “Having sex is non-negotiable?”

“There was no choice about whether or not you got my heart, Laurel. You took it and never gave it back. But the rest of what you get from me is up to me.”

“Is what I give to you up to me?”

“Not where sex is concerned.”

“Video games. Computer hacking. Hugo Boss suits. You seem so modern, but inside you’re like some sort of medieval warlord.”

He tips his head back and laughs.

I shove my hair over my shoulder. “I love you, but I really don’t know if I should sometimes. Seriously.”

“All right, let’s find out.” He takes out his phone and sends a text. “I’ve been hiding some parts of my life because I didn’t want you to be shocked, but I guess you’d better know straight-up.”

My brows rise. “What exactly should I know?”

“We’ll get there.”

I wait, thinking he’s going to show me pictures of himself engaged in wild sex, but instead he sets his phone on the nightstand. I chew the corner of my mouth, feeling unsettled by having to wait for whatever revelations are coming, and by feeling that sometimes I think I know him and sometimes I don’t know him at all. A little part of me also wonders if deep down he’s angry that I’m such a good card player and wasn’t forthcoming about it when he asked me to play with them.

“So I’ve got a couple questions for you.”

“Yeah, ask.” He takes off his watch and sets it next to his phone.

“Card shark fiancée… hot or not?”

“Extremely hot.”

“Scale of one to ten, how angry will you be if you don’t win the game tomorrow?”

“At you? Zero. At myself? Ten.”

“Scale of one to ten, how standoffish and mean will C be to me if I win tomorrow?”

Trick’s smile drops. “Zero. C’s not petty.”

“Unlike me?”

“No, Laurelyn. You’re not petty. Don’t misquote me. And more important, don’t misunderstand me. Girls sometimes get taught the wrong thing growing up. So do men, for that matter. If I thought you were petty, I’d never have dated you even in high school, let alone try to turn you into a warlord’s bride.”

I shake my head, but give him a small smile. “How high is your sex drive?”

“Medium.”

“So our first few nights together were unusual?”

“In terms of how many times I had sex with you?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, things weren’t typical at first, considering everything.”

“So what would be normal?”

“The other nights.”

My brows rise. “I’m not even sure how many times we had sex the first couple of nights. Three or four, I think. But more important, we’ve never had a night without it. Every time we’ve been together, we’ve had sex at least twice.”

His brows draw together. “Sounds right. So?”

“That’s high. You wouldn’t call that a lot of sex?”

He looks thoughtful a moment and shrugs. “All right, call my sex drive high then.”

“I will. Why did you call it medium?”

“Let’s table this. I want to have sex, not talk about it.”

“You want to have sex right now?”

“Definitely.”

Looking him over, I weigh my own feelings and realize that honestly, I do want to be with him much more than I want to fight with him. Deciding I can uncover all the mysteries that are Trick later, I shed my sweater and jeans, then my underwear and glance over to find him naked, beautiful, and fully erect. When he looks at me, his eyes are dark blue and intent. He crooks a finger, and I walk to him.

Bending his head toward mine, he says, “I’ll take a kiss.”

“So take one, warlord,” I tease.

The corner of his mouth rises, then he moves his lips close to mine. “Come on.”

Deep down I love that a kiss from me seems so valuable to him. My fingers touch his jaw, and I kiss him, tasting him and a hint of whiskey and Coke. His hand cups my breast and squeezes, the kiss turning rougher.

My breathing’s ragged by the time he pushes me back onto the bed. Within moments, his hand between my legs has me so aroused I tug on his shoulder, trying to bring him closer. His gaze rakes over my body, my beaded nipples, my stomach, and then where his hand disappears between my thighs.

My clit throbs under his attention, sending ripples of lust and heat through my body. He pauses, licking a finger, tasting me on it, and the corners of his mouth curve up. Then he moves on top of me, pinning my arms above my head and fucking me slowly until I come.

He stares down into my eyes as he thrusts harder and faster, the intensity of his gaze taking my breath away. I move against him and his mouth comes open, his groan deep. His hands slide down and grab my ass, squeezing and raising my pelvis so he can drive deeper. The thrusts against my womb cause me to gasp and grab his shoulders. It feels good to have him inside me.

He kisses me, bruising my lips. “Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“I’m gonna have you every way there is. And when I want you, what’s your answer?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He tongues my nipple, then sucks it. When he rises up, he grabs my breast and squeezes. “I love your body. Always have. It belongs to me now.” He moves his hand to my hair, gripping it until it hurts. Then he comes while staring into my eyes, and I feel the intensity of his love. It strikes at the heart of me and leaves a mark that feels permanent.

* * *

Trick

My next move is risky as fucking hell, but as stated, I’m going all in.

Every time I’ve withheld information from her, it’s backfired. So far when I’ve let her see the truth, she’s handled it better than expected. This is bigger, but she says she wants the full picture, so I’m going to give it to her.

It’s been a few minutes from the time C sent a text with a picture of some red braided synthetic rope and the message, the circus is coming to town.

“Get up, babe.” Getting out of bed, I stretch, then pull on my jeans.

Laurelyn looks at me for a moment, then rises. When she’s got underwear on, I almost tell her that’s enough clothes for her, but I hold off.

When she reaches for her jeans, I get to them first and shake my head. “We’re coming back to bed.”

Her sparkling green eyes study me a second before she bends down to her small suitcase. She pulls out a silk nightgown that’s a dusky rose color. She slides it over her head, and it flutters down to her upper thighs. The wispy straps rest on her shoulders, and her nipples poke against the thin fabric. My cock takes an immediate interest, noting the silk’s color matches her pussy.

“What? You were hoping for garter belts and thong panties?”

“If I wanted you in garter belts and a thong, that’s what you’d be in.” Walking over, I push her back against the wall and kiss her until I remember that if I don’t get moving, we’ll miss the show. Drawing back, I take a slow breath and grab her hand. “I like what you’re wearing.”

C’s got Zoe in the guest room down the hall, so I lead Laurelyn to it. The door’s ajar when we reach it, and I give it a small push so it drifts all the way open, giving us a better view.

Zoe’s on her back. Her arms are tied to the corners of the bed on either side of her head. So are her legs, which means they’re spread open and hoisted up. She’s gagged and blindfolded. C’s got the night locked down for himself. He can do whatever he wants. At the moment, C’s sucking on her tits while he rubs his cock over her clit.

I pull Laurelyn in front of me, so she can watch.

She sucks in a little gasp, then whispers, “What are we doing?”

My left hand covers her mouth while my right slides under her nightgown to rest on her stomach.

She stiffens, but doesn’t pull away.

Moving my hand up to fondle her breast, I pinch the nipple. The big soft breast fills my hand and spills over. My cock’s hard as stone now. She pushes back against me, which my cock loves.

Zoe’s flexible of course because she’s a dancer. I picture Laurel in the ropes. Might have to train her muscles to stretch as far as I want. Like another little muscle between her ass cheeks that needs attention soon. I kiss the side of Laurelyn’s neck.

My other hand joins the first, so I’m cupping her breasts and kneading them. She leans back against me, rubbing her ass against my pelvis. I slide a hand down into her underwear and stroke her soft pussy. She feels like flower petals, ones I want to open with my fingers.

Her breathing gets huskier as I touch her. Her head tips back until Zoe starts to make uncomfortable noises.

We both look back at the bed. C’s big cock is driving slowly into the little brown star of Zoe’s asshole. She struggles, pulling against the ropes.

C’s voice is soothing, but he doesn’t pull out. He bends his head and licks her skin.

“You’re so beautiful, Zoe,” he says in a husky voice. His triceps contract and he rocks back on his hands. “Relax that ass. You know you gotta take this.”

Her long limbs strain and she writhes, trying to inch upward.

My fingers curl into Laurel’s slippery pussy. She’s drenched and quivering.

C rocks his hips forward, and Zoe cries out from behind her gag. He adds some lube and moves in and out about an inch. She’s stretched taut around him.

“Mmm. You’re so tight. You feel so good wrapped around my cock. Relax, beautiful.”

C starts to fuck her in slow strong strokes. Zoe settles at first, then starts to struggle again. He stops to rub her clit with his thumb. Her back arches.

“That’s gorgeous,” I whisper against Laurelyn’s ear while I rub her clit with the heel of my hand and fuck her with my fingers. “Want me to fuck you like that?”

She shakes her head, but she’s dripping like a honeycomb.

The clit action sets Zoe’s body ablaze. C fucks her faster and harder. She’s crying out with every deep thrust, but she’s not trying to escape. Her big brown nipples dance as her breasts bounce. C’s got to love that. Big nips, especially brown ones have always been a favorite of his.

“Mmm. I know, baby. Hard to take all of me. I’m gonna fill you up soon,” he says.

She whimpers and cries.

“Shhh. Fuck, you feel good. Yeah, angel. Milk me. Take all that.” He groans and fucks her with sharp deep thrusts. His breath is harsh and so is hers.

“Yeah,” he says with a few more pulses of his hips. He bends over her and whispers to her, kissing her face and neck before he climbs off. “Another minute, Z. Then I’ll turn you loose.”

C gets off the bed, leaving Zoe open and exposed, with fluid leaking from her well-used body. It’s a pretty sight.

Laurel pulls my hands away from her. She shudders and then turns and escapes past me.

C releases Zoe, covers her, and then comes out of the room and closes the door.

“So, is it your girl’s turn soon?”

“Let’s see if she stays my girl.”

“Hmm. Taking a chance?”

“She’s asking questions. She’s got a right to know what I’m like before I marry her.”

“Where is she?”

“Media room.”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll come.”

I wait, giving Laurel more time to process things. My life has been the way it is for so long I can’t really be objective about it. I think about when she asked me about my sex drive. By Crue standards, my sex drive is average and that’s my only frame of reference. But then we’ve always had access to women who are eager to please us. I don’t know what a normal sex drive is for a normal married guy. I would think anyone with Laurel would want her all the time, the way I do. But maybe Schager and whoever else didn’t want sex every night? Thinking about him with her makes my jaw creak from how hard I clench my teeth. He’s dead, and I’m still jealous. Like a lot of things, that’s something she’s got exclusively. I’ve never been jealous over anyone else.

C returns showered and wearing black boxer briefs. We go to the media room where Laurel’s sitting cross-legged on a couch. She’s wide-eyed when she sees C and quickly looks away, her cheeks turning pink.

C drops onto an ottoman in front of her and pops the top on a bottled water. He drinks, then speaks. “So, you all right?”

“Did Zoe know we were watching?” Her eyes dart from my face to C’s. “I should’ve made sure we had her permission.”

“I don’t need her permission for things. She needs mine.” C rests a forearm on his thigh, leaning forward. He’s still shirtless, with shoulder muscles that could double for bowling balls these days.

Laurel looks at him, then away again.

“Zoe’s known since the first week we were together that I consider her body my property. I show it off when I feel like it. And sometimes when she gets in trouble I take care of her without clearing the room. She knows the score. I love her, and I own her.”

Laurel stares at him, clearly taken aback. “And she has no choice?”

“She’s got a choice. To be with me or to be with someone else. And she’s been mine quite a while. If she had her way, the arrangement would be permanent.” C glances at the diamond ring on Laurel’s hand.

Laurelyn’s silent, but follows his gaze and twists the ring, like it’s worrying her finger.

“Don’t take my word for it. Better if you talk to Zoe alone. Then you can ask things you’d only ask another woman.”

Laurel nods.

“Anvil’s way with Rachel is different,” C adds, his gaze cutting to my face, waiting to see whether I want him to stop.

I nod for him to keep going. No more peeking in the bag. It’s open now. Time to dump out what’s inside.

“He’d never punish her or have sex with her publicly the way he did with other women. I wish he would because just the geometry of the two of them together would be interesting to see.” C finishes off the bottle of water. “Zoe’s a performer, and she’s pretty uninhibited. You don’t have to be that way. But you should know how things are, so you’re not blindsided if some random woman tells you that the guys who founded C Crue once took her to a hotel and took turns fucking her with the others in the room.”

Laurel’s soft gasp makes C smile. “What woman let you guys take turns like that?”

“A lot of women did. Usually call girls, but sometimes women who just like to be in the middle of a gangbang. Ones who want the thrill and release of being dominated and fucked.”

Laurel winces.

C gives me a pained look. “Haven’t you talked to her at all? Because it seems like all of the sudden, you’re more buttoned-up than ‘Vil. He doesn’t do it front of other people, but in private, he owns his girl.”

“To each his own.”

“Mmm hmm.” C stands and stretches. “So, this beautiful girl who said she was tired is still up at midnight. She hasn’t been spanked or she’d be in bed. There’s no ginger in the house, so I’m curious. Gonna tell me?”

I lean back, and stretch my own arms. The tug in my left bicep sends a sharp pain through it, so I massage it before I stand. “Maybe, but not tonight.”

I’m not interested in discussing my decision making where punishing her is concerned. She’s been hit with a lot of about my lifestyle tonight. I’m not looking to overwhelm her. Besides, my promise to Laurel is that I’ll keep what we do private, so my days of being an open book about sex are over unless she relieves me of the gag order. “Time for bed.”

“Goodnight, Laurelyn,” C says.

She looks up. “Goodnight, C.”

I’m proud of her for saying goodnight without a disapproving tone. He leaves us alone, and I put out my hand. She stares at it.

“You said you wanted details. Was I wrong to believe you meant it?”

She looks up at my face. “No. It’s just shocking to learn how unconventional your life is. On every level.”

For a second, I think she’s going to start talking about sleeping in any bed but mine, but she doesn’t.

If she’s still in the compound by morning though, I’ll be surprised.