Sarah’s Billionaire Doms (5 page)

Michael had invested a generous amount of his time and money in acquiring Sarah—breaking her and shaping her back to his needs. The last thing Michael would do was simply admit defeat. He finished his glass, and then pulled out his cock from his trousers to the best part of his video. Michael closed his eyes and took in the sounds. The breath hissed out of him when he came, shuddering and sighing.

It was time for this embarrassment to come to an end.

Michael stared at Sarah’s defeated face on the screen. “I’ve made the mistake of sending fools to retrieve you. I think it’s time I personally drag you back home, dear.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t have to come with us to the Lance tonight, sugar?” Bobby asked Sarah.

Dressed to the nines, with his large and muscular form encased in a complicated crisscross of leather strips in line with the club’s fetish-themed nights, Bobby looked good enough to eat. James came out from the master bedroom in a matching outfit befitting his status as Bobby’s Dom—in a leather vest and matching tight jeans.

The sight of the two of them made her smile. Tugged painfully at the need she tried to ignore and refused to quench. Two weeks had passed since she last did a scene with Damon and Jared. Fourteen days. No matter what Sarah did, she couldn’t take her mind off that lone evening.

Other scenes she did with faceless Doms and Dommes paled in comparison. Usually the high from one quick and intense session would fade when morning arrived. Daylight chased away her kinky deviances and hunger to play in the dark, but it was the exact opposite with Damon and Jared.

After Michael, Sarah constantly wore her armor over her heart. She allowed Doms and one-night-stands access to her body, but she couldn’t completely trust again. How strange it only took Damon and Jared a few minutes to create a dent on her shield. Even bound and helpless, Sarah felt free under their care.

“Sarah?” Bobby prodded.

She shook her head, about to shoulder the case containing her portable digital keyboard, but Bobby beat her to it.

“We’ll drive you to your gig,” James offered, a statement than a question.

Sarah gave him a wary smile, but nodded. “Alright.”

She knew better than to waste time arguing with James, and she owed both of them her life. When Sarah recklessly agreed to elope with Michael after only knowing him for two months, she never spoke to or saw Bobby and James again.

Michael spirited her away on his private jet and systematically began cutting her off from the few people she considered her family and friends. It had been one of his conditions. That Sarah relied solely on him as her husband and Dom during their marriage. Besides, he paid for her hefty music school fees, hadn’t he?

Remembering her old gullible self always made Sarah pissed, but she had been stupidly young and in love, despite knowing better. When she finally gathered the courage and found the opportunity to leave, she ran, picked up a phone, and called Bobby and James. Bruised and bleeding internally, she arrived, nearly half-dead, on their doorstep. They paid for all her medical bills, pushed her into seeing a therapist they trusted, and encouraged her to start taking control of her life again.

“You work too hard, sugar,” Bobby commented once they loaded her keyboard in the trunk and settled into James’s convertible. “Why don’t you take a break tonight?”

Sarah caught the sharp look James directed at Bobby. The two men knew better than to bring up her piano gigs. They felt incredibly guilty for trusting her to Michael despite Sarah’s insistence no one could have really known the monster Michael hid underneath the persona he projected in public.

Bobby and James kept offering to pay for everything until she got back on her feet, but Sarah put her foot down. Demanded how she could learn to be independent if they kept peering over her shoulder like a pair of overprotective fathers.

“I’ll be fine, Bobby,” she assured him.

With Bobby and James’ connections, Sarah could easily get gigs as a pianist in exclusive country clubs, hotels, or restaurants. Playing the keyboard at dance clubs paid less, but at least no one there knew her. Even if Michael somehow managed to narrow down her location—unlikely given all the measures she’d taken and an entire ocean separated them—he’d look at places where classically trained pianists would frequent.

“Well, if you change your mind, give us a call,” James offered.

He stopped the car in front of the club, and Sarah got out. Once inside the noisy club, Sarah eased the tensions in her shoulders as she set up her keyboard. God knew Bobby was right. She needed a breather, but going back to the Lance hadn’t been an option.

Besides, Damon and Jared would’ve forgotten her by now. Rumors said after the sub the two men shared died, the last thing both men were interested in was some kind of relationship. Why would a damaged sub interest them?

Her life was complicated enough. Hell, Sarah barely got through some days without wanting to curl into a tiny ball and disappear from the face of the earth. A memory of them was all she’d likely have of them. It had to be enough.

The evening wore on, the energy in the club never wavering until past midnight. Sarah finished her shift and packed her things after three A.M. Stepping out of the noisy club, Sarah breathed in the cool night air and zipped up her jacket.

She checked her phone while waiting for Bobby and James to pick her up. Sometimes Sarah felt like a kid during times like these, but she’d rather wait patiently than end up being on the receiving end of one of their lectures.

Stragglers, stoners, and druggies fumbled at each other in dark corners, while some sat on the sidewalk, looking dazed. It didn’t matter. Sarah had worked this gig a couple of times, and the club bouncer knew her on sight. Besides, after Michael, not a lot of things frightened her, although it seemed like an entire lifetime ago since Sarah did any of that shit—being a young adult who had no clue about her future.

She felt disconnected from the world sometimes, unable to catch up with it because it had moved on long ago without her.

Even after she started living with Bobby and James, she hadn’t attempted to connect with old friends or family. It was much safer that way. Michael was a prolific attorney with numerous connections, and Sarah had nothing to say to the people who presumed her dead. In a way, that old Sarah—painfully naïve and who thought herself invincible—had perished. The new her, survivor and stranger, felt newly birthed and imperfect, like the barebones of a sketch far from completion.

One fat drop of water hit her cheek. Sarah looked up and licked her lips, tasting rain. Unable to help herself, a laugh escaped her—carefree and unexpected. Cooped up in the Rivers’ estate for most of her marriage, Sarah started missing the urban sprawl of the city and the freedom to walk the streets without any direction in mind.

The wheels of a well-maintained and no doubt expensive black Rolls Royce Ghost hissed a few feet from where she stood, startling her back to reality. Sarah drew back, about to return inside, when a familiar voice came from the rolled-down side widow.

“Need a ride, little one?” Jared’s smooth voice rolled over her chilly skin like honey.

Sarah blinked to make sure she hadn’t been hallucinating. To Jared’s left, in the driver’s seat, Damon gave her an appraising look. Dressed in designer suits, both men looked like they just came from the office. Sarah suddenly felt like a drowned rat in her sneakers and drenched hoodie.
How did they find her?

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, shivering from the cold and their unexpected presence.

One look, lethal and damning, and Jared could gain access to her soul and her secrets. Sarah took a hesitant step backwards when Jared got out of the car, frowning, his large frame practically towering over her. Damn. He looked gorgeous in that tailored suit. It felt odd seeing both men out of club context. In her mind, Damon and Jared belonged to another world far separate from reality.

“Easy, Sarah. Honestly? We bugged Bobby and James until they told us,” Jared said, gaze silently assessing her.

Of course.
Sarah steadied her breathing. She had to stop jumping up at every little thing. Jared leaned against the car door, giving her some space while rain continued to hammer down on both of them.

“No ulterior motives. Can we drive you home? Or do you prefer I call Bobby and James to pick you up?” Jared asked gently.

The last time Sarah trusted a man, he ruined her. Marred and scarred her so completely, Sarah became certain no one would accept Michael Rivers’ leavings. Despite all that, the Bentley brothers wanted her. Damon and Jared made her feel desirable and sexy again after feeling so soiled and tainted. Even standing outside in the cold rain, Sarah’s chilled skin warmed under Jared’s dark but patient gaze.

Memories of their one night together leaped back at her in vivid color—the way her tits tightened painfully to points and moisture flooded to her pussy with one look. She never had a man, two men, reduce her to a stranger in her own skin. Stoke the dead fire in her back to life.

If she continued cowering in her shell, being distrustful of everything the world had to offer, where would that road lead? Nowhere.

“Okay,” Sarah whispered.

“Let me take that,” Jared offered.

Warily, she offered him her bulky case. Thank God she bought the waterproof case for the instrument. The second-hand keyboard had been one of the first things she had purchased during the first few days of freedom. It meant a lot because it truly belonged to her and not bought by Michael’s money.

Her music was part of her, practically fused to her soul. It helped her keep her sanity through her captivity. Without it, part of her would wither away. When she feared she could never play again, Sarah thought death would be a preferable alternative. Thank God her fingers healed, albeit crooked. Her speed and coordination had dropped a little. Sometimes she’d wake up screaming, remembering the phantom pain, but she could still play.

Jared’s fingers brushed over hers, sending tingles up her arm. Sarah noticed she had been clutching at the case until her knuckles turned white. Something in Jared’s gaze shifted, like he understood her a little better than before. Sarah let go, breathing hard.

“Thank you, little one. I’m sure this was a hard step for you.” He tucked her keyboard against one broad shoulder, her in another, and they walked to the car.

Jared’s arm around her shoulder felt warm, comforting, like a mug of hot chocolate in front of a fire. Before they reached the car, Sarah grasped a handful of his soaked linen shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. An irrational move, but she needed assurance. Certainty what she felt back at the club hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

He didn’t disappoint. Jared tugged her closer, wrapping her in a cocoon of safety and warmth. His familiar scent hit her—cigarette smoke, rain, mint, and something distinctively masculine. She nestled closer, hungrily wanting more of the heat he thrust down her mouth. He caught her bottom lip, running his tongue across the expense of velvet skin, before pushing in deep. She opened for him, the feel of his tongue amazing as he slipped it down her throat.

The taste of him exploded in her mouth. Her head spun, and her heart raced. She wanted more—the absolute command of Jared and his touches, the certainty of their possession. All of it. Why not? Why couldn’t she be greedy? Her past abusive relationship had weaned her off her recklessness. Reduced her to a coward, but no more.

Sarah vaguely heard the car door opening. Damon took the portable keyboard from Jared. She felt Jared’s large hands sliding down her sides and circling her waist. Sarah felt the sheer strength there, in every bunching, rock-hard muscle, capable of breaking her bones and holding her down so his brother could have his way with her. The thought didn’t frighten her like she expected. Instead, it sent an electric current down her spine. She tingled with excitement.

Sarah always possessed an overactive imagination that took her to dark places, even before meeting Michael. A few submissives she knew sought that. Suspended time where they surrendered complete control of their bodies to someone they trusted, confident their Doms would catch them whenever they fell. Meeting Michael reduced those dreams to ashes, but Damon and Jared made the notion a possibility again.

Before she knew it, Jared swept her off her feet and placed her on the passenger seat. Somehow, he had a blanket there and bundled her in the thick cotton fabric. Damon and Jared returned to their seats.

“Don’t you owe me a kiss, Sarah?” Damon asked, poking his head between the seats to peer at her. “You’ve given one to my brother.”

“That’s childish,” Sarah said without thinking. She bit her lip, but Damon didn’t seem mad. He only patiently waited for her, and she couldn’t help but notice that in this light, his eyes appeared a shade darker. Black as night, but she knew Damon wouldn’t hurt her.

She shivered. A wolfish grin appeared on his lips.  Even in a suit, he looked a little rough on the edges. Possessed a flair of wildness, but underneath his steel he could be gentle, too. When their noses nearly touched, Damon flicked the hoodie off her head to clasp the back of her neck, taking control.

He slammed his lips over hers, the bristles of his slight stubble rubbing against her skin. The overwhelming taste of him mixed with Jared’s, making the combination potent. Heady. Underneath her clothes, her tits hardened. If Damon slid his hand down her skinny jeans, he’d feel a wetness gathering there.

He nipped at her bottom lip, held it captive with his teeth before biting down and drawing blood. She moaned into his mouth. Felt one large hand tugging the zipper of her hoodie, the motion agonizingly slow. Damon squeezed one of her tits through her thin shirt, the sudden jolt awakening all of her senses. She panted when he released her.

Sarah looked at him, lost, wanting, needing more instructions. She needed him to take the lead because she was certain whatever inner battle she’d waged inside herself, she’d lost. Damon’s expression softened, as if he knew the effect of the spell he cast. He brushed his scarred knuckles over her left cheek, the contrast of his rough skin against her softness a delight. Damon’s gaze remained locked with hers.