Get Off Easy (Noble House, #1) (24 page)

“Well, look who’s come back to us.” She lifted her gaze to find Boyce smiling at her over his shoulder. “How ya feeling?”

She swallowed, her throat dry and cottony. “Thirsty.” Saint handed her a bottle of water. “Thanks.” A brown paper bag stood at Boyce’s hip, just off the blanket, the handle of something visible. A bright flare of heat streaked across her skin, a phantom reminder of what had happened that had blown her mind. “You bought the crop.”

“Oh, hell, yeah. Vendor practically shoved it my way after watching me drop you into subspace.”

“Said he’d never seen anything like it even with thirty plus years of experience,” Saint added. “We bought a few more things too as thanks for letting us use the space.” Saint leaned over to brush a few strands of her hair out of her face before helping her sit up. “Doing okay?”

“That was...odd.”

Concern drew Boyce’s eyebrows together. “Odd good or odd bad?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered carefully.

“Never been that deep in your own head, have you?”

“No.” She felt energized now, ready to take on the world and all it had to offer. “Can we walk around some more?”

“Pretty little sub is anxious for more.” Boyce skimmed his knuckles down the side of her face. “Sure you don’t want to go back home and play with our new toys?”

As appealing as the thought sounded, she knew today was a special event that only took place once a year. If they left now, she may never have the opportunity to come back. “Please, can we stay?”

Saint and Boyce both chuckled. Boyce picked up his bag and the men fit her snugly between their bodies. As they walked, Grae forgot to feel ashamed of her position tucked between the men. In fact, she was proud of it. Here there were all manner of people, openly displaying their interests. Right now was the one place in the world she felt she wouldn’t be judged on her desires for a full triad marriage.

Other than Noble House.

After walking for about five minutes, they came to a jeweler, wares glinting in the afternoon sun. She broke away from the men, bypassing the necklaces and bracelets, to go to a display in a case tucked into the furthest corner.

“Shiny.”

Saint joined her. “Mmm, yes. See anything you like?”

“Many things. Nothing I would actually buy though. Just not practical.”

“This place is all about not being practical. Tell me what you like.” When she remained silent, he pressed. “You have no piercings to speak of, so nothing on the top shelf. Though I imagine anything in here can be modified.” The clerk nodded. “Maybe those?” She wasn’t sure how, but Saint had pointed directly to what kept drawing her gaze. She said nothing again, but he tapped his fingers on the glass. “Yes. Let me see those, please.”

“Excellent choice.” The clerk’s bony fingers plucked the small items from the case and dropped them into Saint’s palm. Without care for the fact they were very much in public, Saint pushed her shirt up, unclipping the clasp of her bra with deft fingers.

“Hey!”

He slid his thumbs against the underside of her breasts, openly fondling her. “Hush.”

Despite the apologetic glance she gave to the clerk, her core burned even before Saint finally touched her nipple. “Just the right size too.”

“Yes. Should do nicely. Squeeze there just above the hinge to put them on. They’ll adjust naturally once in place. Not too tight, not too loose. Just enough to give her the sensation.”

She inhaled sharply as Saint released the first clamp. True to the clerk’s word, the clip adjusted so she wasn’t in pain, but she knew the item was still there. Saint placed the other clip in location and cupped his hands under her breasts as he admired her. Held her. Weighed her. Measured her.

Somewhere along the way, her trepidation vanished, and all she could think about was how good Saint’s hands felt. How the clips pressing against her nipples made her feel. And how much she wanted for them to use that crop again.

The clerk handed Saint a mirror. “Gorgeous.”

Saint held it so she could see the clips covered her nipples, green gemstones glittering in the small spotlight the clerk focused on her. Once again, somehow, Saint had effortlessly made her look pretty. Made her pleasing not only to himself, but to her own eyes. The powerful urge to strip away her bra and walk away topless to show off how Saint had adorned her, rose up from somewhere deep inside her.

“Ah, yes, there you are, angel. Thinking how much you appreciate what a Dom just did for you. How much you want to showcase that gratitude.” He scraped his tongue against her slightly parted lips before turning to the clerk. “We’ll take them.”

The clerk clapped. “Excellent choice.”

Through her haze, what Saint said caused her to react. “Wait. No, I won’t let you pay for them.”

“Nonsense. Boyce bought the items at the leather vendor. Let me treat you to something.”

“They’re too expensive. I’ll buy them.”

“Miss Independent.” He gently touched the end of her nose. The bow of her lips. Her chin. “All right. I’ll go find Boyce while you’re checking out. He wandered off a few tents down where a friend of his works.”

She found them watching a demonstration involving orgasm denial. The submissive’s entire body was trembling and shaking from the strain as she held back. As she fought against the release despite the Dom’s fervent efforts.

Saint tucked her close to his body, her pelvis pressed against his hip. He touched the sliver of skin her shirt left exposed, reminding her how his fingers had trailed fire over her bare breasts just moments ago. She’d forgone her desire to remain topless for modesty’s sake. Some fantasies were better left as fictional.

Besides, during the walk over from the jeweler’s booth, she’d decided donning her bra and shirt again was far more torture. Every step she took caused her breasts to shift in the cups of her bra, the metal pressing against her sensitive skin to remind her they were still firmly in place.

Something hard brushed against her hip, drawing her focus away from her breasts and the denial scene. Whatever Saint wore beneath his clothing was hard and unforgiving. Curiosity finally got the better of her. “So, when will I get to see whatever it is you’re wearing under there?” She tugged at his shirt.

Saint clamped his hand over hers. “Boyce? Grae wants to know what I’m wearing under my suit.”

“Just a peek, please?”

“Always have been a sucker for a begging sub.” Though Boyce sighed and rolled his eyes, the touch of a smile curled up one side of his mouth. “Fine. But I show you. Not him.” Boyce tugged on Saint’s belt, sliding the thick strap of leather through a thin metal band. Saint continued to look right at her, his arm still banded around her waist as Boyce tugged at his pants, pulled free the single button, and dragged the zipper down. “Have a look.”

Glancing down, she gasped. A wide strip of black leather surrounded the base of Saint’s cock. Two other circles of leather lifted and separated his testicles. Boyce positioned himself behind the couple, touching Grae’s wrist before guiding her fingers between the cleft of Saint’s ass.

She gasped again when she felt the telling rectangle of a plug that had been seated snugly inside Saint. “You’ve been wearing this all day?” The drive. The walk. “Surely that had to be—”

“I didn’t notice it for the most part.”

Boyce pressed a kiss to the back of Saint’s neck. “Liar.”

“At first I didn’t. But when Boyce started using the crop...uncomfortable is not a term I use lightly. Didn’t think it could get any worse than that, but then you found the jeweler.”

She’d thought she’d detected a note of strain in his voice. Noticed his movements weren’t as smooth and controlled as they always were at the club. She’d thought it had just been the atmosphere of the street fair, the residual arousal he hadn’t been able to burn off from the scene with Boyce at the leather tent, but now that she knew the truth.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The last thing she’d wanted was to cause him any discomfort.

Boyce shifted, standing directly behind her and pressing his growing erection against her ass. “He was instructed not to.”
Oh, hell
. “Mmm, you like that thought, don’t you? Me in charge of you both. Working you both up and up, wondering when I’m going to grant both of you permission to come. If I even will at all. That orgasm denial scene gave me a few ideas.”

Saint growled quietly in her ear. “We’re in for a long night, baby.”

“While plans for a long night are all well and good...” Boyce took her hand as he came to stand in front of them. “I wanted to know if you would both do me the honor of being my dates for the fetish ball.”

Oh
.

The idea of being in that charged atmosphere thrilled her as much as it terrified her. As much as she wanted to agree, she suspected this was an event they normally attended together. They were only asking to be polite.

“I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Boyce’s smile fell. “You sure? For a moment there, you were excited by the idea. Unless my radar is completely off.”

“I was.” She winced at the disappointment she’d put on his face. “Maybe just residual endorphins.”

“Grae. You know I don’t like it when you lie.” Boyce pressed his lips to the joint where her thumb met her palm. “Please do us the honor of accompanying us.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Perhaps she should attend nude, Boyce? Wearing only the clamps she just purchased.” Her eyes fluttered closed as Saint’s hushed words caressed her throat. Heat zipped through her as he skimmed her collarbone, curving to wrap gently around her throat. The memory of Saint’s hand wrapped around Boyce’s throat, squeezing, controlling his breathing while he’d fucked him, played in vivid high definition through her mind.

When she opened her eyes, she found Boyce studying her intently. Way deep down, she knew she would accompany the men to the ball. And she wouldn’t wear a scrap of clothing if that’s what they ordered.

“No. I know just what she should wear.”

Saint chuckled in her ear as Boyce left them. “He’s on a mission now. You rouse something in him, Grae. Something I haven’t seen before. Well, maybe once before, but I was too damn young and unskilled to recognize it.”

“I don’t mean to step on—”

“You’re not.” Saint cradled her jaw, forcing her gaze to remain on his. “I swear.”

A
n hour later, a soft knock on Grae’s hotel room door had her rushing forward as she belted her robe. The guys hadn’t indicated when they would return, but surely they couldn’t have made it to their place and back already. Though Saint was already dressed for such a social function, Boyce’s jeans and tee weren’t allowed.

As she opened the door, she was still wondering what the hell she was going to wear. A rather short man smiled in greeting. She pulled the lapels of her robe together as she studied his clothing. He was simply dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a thick leather collar with a small disc dangling from a small loop the center. On that disc was the Noble House crest of three lions around a shield.

“Hello.”

The man said nothing, simply bowing his head and gestured toward her with a very large box. She accepted the soft ivory-colored item, nodding in thanks. He turned, striding away without another word or before she could offer him a tip.

Odd.

One of the house subs obviously, who’d been given instructions he was carrying out with military precision. But still strange.

Grae ran her fingers over the fabric of the deep-green bow and ribbon holding the box closed. She was afraid to open it. Not because she was fearful of what lay inside, but because she didn’t want to ruin the careful work someone had taken to wrap the present. But curiosity got the better of her and had her pulling the ribbon free so she could lift the top. A mountain of purple tissue paper greeted her. A cream envelope kept her from ripping the paper back to expose the box’s contents.

Boyce’s elegant scrawl read clearly on the center of the card.

She bit her lip.

For every second of trepidation she had when it came to these two, she had five minutes where she wanted them with everything she was. Today at the fair. The slap of the crop against her thigh. Her ass. Gifting her with a pain she didn’t know she’d like. Or needed. Then the nipple clamps. The ones that Saint had so carefully applied before admiring her as though she was the finest gilded artwork in a museum.

When she’d taken a shower, she’d felt the absence of the clamps and had replaced them as soon as she’d stepped out. Even before she’d dried her skin with one of the hotel’s fluffy white towels.

She shouldn’t continue this game she was playing with them. This give-and-take pursuit they were using to circle one another. Because every minute she did, the weight of false hope grew heavier.

As she pushed back the cloud of tissue, she unearthed a sea of sparkling dark purple. She pulled out yards and yards of the textured, slick fabric. Once she’d placed each item on the bed, she stepped back to take stock.