Scorching Desire (15 page)

Damon wrapped his arm around Marco’s shoulders and kissed his temple. He did it without thinking, and it was only when he pulled back and saw Marco’s surprised expression that he realized what he’d done.

He started to move his arm, but Marco caught his hand. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “It’s nice.”

*****

Tasha watched them cuddling on the couch and smiled sadly. It was nice to see them physically expressing the feelings she knew they had for each other. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted—to be part of a trinity in which the other two were the core of the relationship and she was an add on. That was safest for all of them. Part of her regretted urging them to form a sexual relationship that didn’t involve her. She hadn’t expected them to be so comfortable together. She hadn’t wanted to be a sex-prop, existing only for them to have a way to touch each other. But in reality, it may have been her only way into their relationship. There was nothing she could do about it now—the hand was played.

She’d have to worry about it later. Right now she had less than three hours before the rendezvous. The email supposedly came from the missing redhead Sandra, but the trace she’d placed on the email had it coming from an IP in Singapore.

The address for the meeting was in the alley beside the BDSM club. There was no way that was a coincidence—clearly whoever was pulling the strings was going to use the fact she’d
IDed Jennie and been to the club to his advantage. Tasha had no doubt this was a setup, but she couldn’t see the end game yet and had no way to avoid it.

She’d been thinking about how best to approach tonight and decided they were going to go back in the same personas they’d used before. There might be some protection in the fact they would be noticed—Damon was probably barred from coming back, meaning there would be a scene when they tried to enter. Until she knew what was going on, Tasha wanted to give them the kind of protection eyewitnesses could provide.

She wasn’t sure they’d realized where they were supposed to rendezvous yet. Despite their race to the airport, neither man seemed overly concerned with what was supposed to happen.

Giving them space, she went to the spare bedroom and grabbed the gear they’d used before. She set out Damon’s leather pants and
vest on Marco’s bed in the master bedroom and then selected a suit from his closet and laid that out too. She’d packed club-appropriate clothes for herself, including her favorite corset. Though it looked stiff it was actually fairly malleable, meaning she’d be able to bend and run if needed. And in the best spy tradition, there were pockets hidden along the boning that allowed her to tuck in a small knife, a high-powered audio recorder and a vial of LSD. It was nice to be prepared. She put on a long-sleeved high-neck fishnet shirt and then the corset. In contrast to her relatively covered top, she opted for black pleather panties that cut across the cheeks of her ass, leaving the lower curves exposed. She removed some of the heavy makeup she was wearing, letting the bruise on her face show, and then layered on gray shadow and black eyeliner.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she was satisfied with the mix of erotic and darkly feminine, but if she wanted to build on her prior persona and appearance she needed something else.

She left the bathroom, ran upstairs to the master bedroom and pulled the belt from Damon’s leather pants. As she came down, she called to the guys to get ready. Tasha retreated to the guest bathroom, turned on the shower and waited until she heard their footsteps pass. The noise of the water would help cover what she was about to do. Bending at the waist, Tasha braced one hand on the wall. Looking over her shoulder in the mirror, she raised the belt.

*****

Marco followed Damon into the master bedroom. Tasha was in the shower on the first floor. He hadn’t realized how late it was. They needed to leave and quickly.

“Shit,” Damon muttered when he saw what was out on the bed. “I was just thinking it was wifely of her to pick out our clothes. Not these clothes.”

“What the hell?” Marco looked at the leather outfit Damon was meant to wear.

“Did you check the address where we’re supposed to meet?” Damon asked him.

“No.”

“I did. It looks like it’s an alley behind the club.”

“We can’t go back there. They kicked you out.”

“I know. Maybe we didn’t tell Tasha that.”

“Why would we need to go into the club anyway if we’re meeting behind it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll ask her. You should get dressed just in case.”

“Takes me twenty minutes to get into the damned pants.”
Damon’s mutterings faded as Marco went downstairs to the guest bath.

As he approached the door, he heard an odd noise—almost like a slapping sound.

“Tasha?” He approached the door slowly. Having never lived with a girlfriend, he had no idea what she might be doing in there.

He heard the slap again, this time followed by a soft cry. The sound was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it over the noise of the shower.

“Tasha.” Heart beating fast, he threw the door open.

In the instant before she realized he was there, he saw her face—her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth gritted. She was dressed—from the hips up. Her legs and the lower curve of her ass cheeks were naked. She held a belt in her right hand and was whipping herself with it. Her skin was crisscrossed with faint red welts and lines.

Her face smoothed out as she realized he’d opened the door. “You’re not dressed.”

Marco was too shocked to say anything—both from what she was doing and by how easily she’d masked her pain.

“Tasha.” His voice was hoarse. “Beautiful, what are you doing?”

“What I need to.” She examined her reflection in the mirror.
“Almost done. Please close the door.”

“What? No.” Marco grabbed the belt and yanked it out of her grasp.

“What’s going on?” Damon, dressed in the same leather outfit as before, joined Marco. He looked at Tasha and then cursed. “Damn it, Tasha.”

“Why are you upset? I didn’t ask either of you to help me since that was clearly a problem last time.” She motioned to her face.

“Why are you hurting yourself?” Marco asked.

“Because, just like last time, we want to attract attention.”

“And why does that mean you have to be hurt? You’re more than this—than sex and violence.” Marco was struggling to keep from yelling.

She let out a little laugh.
“Sex and violence? The history of mankind is littered with women being the objects of sex and violence. I hate that and I know I’m doing nothing to change it. I use it. I make myself a sex object. I allowed violence to be done to me and do it to others. I’m not trying to make a political point or do social justice work. My job is to be and play with the darkest parts of mankind. And I do it so that people like you can be good.

“I do it so you, Damon, will sit on the federal bench and make sure there is justice. I do it so you, Marco, will make music that brings people joy. I understand and I appreciate that you want to protect me, but you have to let me do this. You have to let me be who I am.”

She held out her hand. “Now give me back the belt. I will be done in a few minutes. Then we’ll go.”

Marco passed the belt back to Damon, who chucked it away. It thumped on the floor.

“No.” Marco took two steps, caught a hold of Tasha’s arms and turned her to face him. “You were those things, and you are an amazing, fascinating woman. But now you’re more than the darkness. You are ours. Our wife.”

She shook her head. “You have each other.”

“Yes,” Marco said. “We have each other, and we also have you. We all have each other. If we’d had more time this afternoon, we would have shown you exactly how much you are ours.”

“I thought you might use me to have sex,” she admitted. “Neither of you seemed like you would be up for male intercourse. But you’re fine by yourselves. You don’t really need me.”

“You think we should have been using you in order to have sex with each other?” Damon sounded outraged.

Tasha shook her head. “I shouldn’t have started this conversation. We really don’t have time. We’re leaving.”

But Marco wasn’t ready to walk away. He needed her to know how much he cared about her. “Do you understand I hate seeing you in pain? I don’t care if you want to parade around naked in front of a bunch of people. I don’t own you. Neither of us does, and we absolutely respect your right over your own body. But as your husbands, we have the right to stop you from hurting yourself. The same way you have a right to protect us.”

“I know it must be hard to understand,” she said. “But this is normal for me. This is me prepping to go to work.”

“You never have to do this again.” Damon’s voice was thick with conviction. “You don’t ever have to be someone or do something you don’t want to in order to protect or help someone else. I don’t care what we have to do to make that a reality. I’ll find a way to make sure you never have to do this again.”

Marco nodded in agreement. “Let’s walk away. We’ll find a way to pay the blackmail. We won’t go to the meeting. We’ll just stay here. Stay here and have amazing sex.”

Tasha only shook her head. “There’s more at stake and more going on than you know.”

“Then tell us.”

“I can’t. We need to go. It’s getting late.” She looked in the mirror at her ass and sighed. “The marks aren’t dark enough to show up in the dim light.” She pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “I’ll figure it out in the car.”

Marco wanted to grab Tasha and shake her until she listened to him. He felt as if they’d lost her. The vulnerable girl she had been in that pretty yellow farmhouse was gone. Now she was the capable, slightly aloof woman who’d first shown up in his condo. He had to content himself with the idea that once tonight was over they would have plenty of time to work on their relationship. He was going to marry that woman, marry her at the same time he married his best friend. And nothing was going to stand in his way.

*****

“They’re not going to let us back in.” Damon pulled the door of the limo closed after he got in.

“They will.” Tasha stripped off the jacket she put on to cover up her outfit while they walked out of the building. “There was a noticeable upswing in their bookings and reservations after we were there. You did what they’re not allowed to do—really beat someone.”

“There goes my faith in humanity. It’s good for business having someone beating up women?”

“In a BDSM club it can be.”

“How do you know about their bookings?”

“I’ve been monitoring their systems remotely.”

Damon muttered something that might have been felony.

Tasha pulled items from the big bag she’d carried to the car. She handed a mask to each of them and then took out the collar, cuffs and two leashes. It was amazing to her what a difference a few days made. Amazing how much the three of them had been through since the last time they had been in this limo. That night Damon had been pragmatic and cold, willing to do what was necessary. But now she’d seen what was underneath that cold exterior. And Marco, who’d been so protective when they were in Las Vegas, was now even more so, and yet she knew he was angry with her. She could feel his frustration.

“Here, let me help you.” Damon held out his hand, reaching for the collar.

“No. I’ll do it.” Marco moved to sit next to Tasha, taking the leather restraints from the seat. She slipped onto her knees in front of him. Her ass and thighs hurt from the belting she’d given them. It had been a wasted effort, unfortunately.

Holding out her arms, she watched as Marco wrapped the cuffs around her wrists. As he fastened each buckle her breathing grew heavy. Her nipples tightened into points inside the corset, and her pussy throbbed. Now that she knew them, now that she’d kissed them and watched them touch and kiss each other, she was having trouble thinking of this as an op and distancing
herself from the physical reality of being dressed as, and acting like, their submissive.

Marco picked up the collar.

“Give me a second.” Tasha sat back licking her lips.

Damon shifted, moving closer to them. “Tasha?”

“I just need a second to remember the plan, to remind myself what’s happening here.” She felt like she was babbling.

Marco hooked his finger under her chin and tipped her face so he could look at her. “Tasha, beautiful, do you like this? I mean really like it?”

She licked her lips. Part of her wanted to lie, but a bigger part of her wanted to tell them her desires…and see what they’d do with that information. “I’ve always understood the sexual appeal of games like this,” she said haltingly. “But danger or the need to extract information has always distracted me and kept me from actually engaging on a real emotional and physical level.”

A slow smile worked its way across Marco’s face. The collar of his shirt was open, the tie dangling around his neck. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and in the recessed lights of the limo the planes of his face were smooth and strong. “So you’re saying that for the first time in your life you’re getting to actually enjoy some bondage play.”