Emma Holly (26 page)

At this demand, a shiver—simultaneously delicate and sensual—slid like rainwater down his neck.

He shook it off as he rose to answer the door, his white terrycloth robe brushing his shins. Eric and Charity entered as soon as he stepped back.

Unlike him, they were wrapped in thin silk kimonos of earthen brown. The pattern of each was different, but the knots in the belts appeared identical. B.G. had read that strongly attracted lovers often exhibited a

"twinning" effect, one that caused them to dress in similar fashion or unconsciously mimic each other's body language.

It seemed this effect was making itself felt on Eric and Charity. The pair formed a visually united front.

"What's this about?" B.G. asked. "You look as if you're about to stage a coup." Not entirely joking, he was unable to resist a primal urge to fold his arms defensively across his chest.

When Charity did the same a second later, his heart gave a little lurch. "Denial isn't the only thing that gets people off," she said. "The question is, do you trust us?"

"Trust you?"

"To look out for your pleasure. To be sure you aren't hurt."

"I—" Momentarily speechless, he turned to Eric. His old friend offered an unexpectedly sweet, slow smile. B.G. had never seen him wear quite that expression. It was… open, sure of itself, and very fond. If Charity brought this out in him, B.G. had chosen his path better than he knew.

"Yes," Eric said. "Do you trust us?"

B.G. examined him up and down, wondering what else might be different about his friend. He noticed something stuffed in the pocket of Eric's robe, something his hand was playing with.

"B.G.?" Eric prodded.

He met Eric's dark gray eyes. "Yes," he said before he knew he would. "I trust you implicitly."

It was no more than the truth, yet when Charity stepped forward to take his hands, the gentle pressure she put on his fingers spurred a touch of fear.

He was letting her turn everything upside down.

"You're ours," she said. "We're going to take care of you."

"You can choose where," Eric put in. "If you like."

B.G. didn't know why his heart was in his throat. This was nothing like Eric had threatened to do this morning—no harshness, no violence, just a soft insistence on having their way. He knew he could stop it any time he wished.

"Here," he said. "In my bedroom."

"
In your bedroom
," Charity purred, drawing out the words. "What a convenient choice."

She tugged him toward his four-poster bed with what felt like tottering steps. He sat on the mattress before his knees gave out.

"You do the honors," Eric said, tossing her a bundle of pink velvet cloth. B.G.'s mind quickly identified what it was. Cuffs. Quilted inside. With long, trailing ties. They must have been what Eric was playing with in his pocket.

Charity caught them neatly to her chest. "Thank you, Mr. President."

Eric chuckled at what B.G. assumed was a private joke. "No more of that. I don't need to pretend to be anyone here but me."

Her eyes glowed at Eric. Then she turned to him. "Where do you keep your personal toys?"

The part of him that always maintained control considered not answering. He couldn't see how this break with tradition would further his plans. He wanted it to play out, though, more than he'd known he could. To have the two of them take him, to give himself over to their lead was an invitation he could not refuse.

"There's a cabinet," he said, "hidden in the wall above my headboard."

He
sounded calm. She'd give him that. Only his eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness. They followed her, glittering, as she grabbed a mahogany bedpost and jumped onto the mattress. Pretty plaster flowers adorned a section of his wall, like she'd seen in pictures of chateaux in France. She ran her fingers across them, expecting one to trigger the release.

"The next one," Eric and B.G. said in unison.

"Turn it," B.G. finished. "To the right,"

Turning the plaster rose caused a section of the wall to swing silently to the side. The recess behind it was shelved, lacquered in Chinese red, and lit up.

"Cool," said Charity, appreciating the mechanism's cleverness. She stood on tiptoe to peer at the upper shelf. "And look, what a fine collection of dildos!"

Feeling a bit like Goldilocks, she began pulling them out. "Too big," she said, tossing the first one to the mattress's foot. The next had attachments she wouldn't have known what to do with. "Too complicated.

Yeesh. Too
green
."

"That one's jade," Eric said, the darker note that had entered his tone telling her to back up.

She considered her would-be discard more carefully. Its stone was very smooth, almost translucent in the subdued light. Not too large, she thought. Plus, the handle on the bottom could have been designed to fit her hand. She enjoyed the way both Eric and B.G. hissed through their teeth when she slapped the shaft against her palm.

Either she was threatening a valuable piece of erotic art, or they were imagining that slap against their own skin.

"This jade isn't brittle, is it?" she asked to be sure the latter was the case.

"Oh, no," B.G. assured her. "If it were, it would have cracked by now."

Eric and B.G. exchanged smiling glances. "Old favorite then?" she suggested.

"A good fit," Eric said, "and easy to maneuver."

"Good. Then it shouldn't be too hard for me."

"Oh, boy," B.G. said with a breathy laugh.

Charity totally loved being able to shake him up, though she didn't want to give this away. "Okay," she said briskly. "Let's get you tied."

She took stock of her surroundings with what she hoped looked like a practiced eye. Even though she was standing on the coverlet, the bed was extremely stable, probably bolted to the floor. The mattress creaked, but nothing else. The canopy, a rich silver and blue brocade, draped a similarly sturdy frame.

Overhead, thick wood slats formed a lattice stretching overhead.

"I'll attach you here," she said, pointing to its center. " 'Cause we definitely want access to you all around."

"Thoughtful," B.G. said with a small, wry smile.

Charity decided if he was amused, he didn't completely get who was boss. "Take off his robe," she said to Eric by way of fixing this. "And anything else he's got underneath."

He had nothing underneath, of course, nothing but smoothly muscled skin. Someday she'd get him to explain how he removed his body hair without leaving stubble. For now, she let him off with offering his wrist. The simple act of wrapping the cuff around his wristbone had soft bursts of heat rolling through her sex.

He offered his second hand just as obediently. She stood in front of him to secure his arms above his head. As she did, her breasts brushed his chest through her robe. The ointment Eric had rubbed on them kept her nipples tight. Struggling not to get distracted, she left enough play in the ties so B.G. could kneel.

"How about a bolster for his knees?" Eric suggested, holding one out.

"Why, thank you," Charity said. "That's most helpful."

B.G. snorted at them, but Charity took the sound with a grain of salt. The great B.G. Grantham wasn't as cool as he pretended. His cheeks were flushed, and his fingers opened and closed compulsively on the long pink ties. These little betrayals spurred her appetite for bigger ones.

She let her eyes drift to his erection, just as a man might stare at a woman's breast. He looked good as he was, ready, but she was convinced she could do better.

"Comfortable?" she asked, one finger tapping her chin.

"Quite," he answered, but she thought his jaw looked tense.

"Ties not too tight? Room not too cool?"

"I'll start a fire," Eric offered before B.G. could respond. Wood had been laid already, and he soon had it crackling. B.G. watched him work with fascinated eyes. Charity knew he hadn't missed this shift in who Eric answered to. This, more than anything, seemed to rock him back.

"Better?" she asked when Eric returned.

B.G. could only nod. She knew how he felt as if she were inside him: the nervous excitement, the weird sense of complete freedom. Emotion closed her throat, a sympathy so potent it could have been love.

She hadn't anticipated how much she'd want to give him this gift. Temporarily speechless herself, she laid her hand flat against his chest. His muscles were spread and lifted by the position of his arms. She could see what swimming did for his physique, how it sleeked and tightened everything. His skin was smooth as velvet, hot as sunbaked stone. Beneath his ribs, his heart was beating fast.

"We've unnerved you," she said. "I hope you're not afraid."

Slowly he shook his head.

Eric murmured something blasphemous, obviously enthralled by his response.

"We're going to pleasure you," she said, making her voice even softer. "You won't have to do a thing.

On the other hand…" She began to circle him, dragging her fingers around his narrow hips. "If I can't inspire you to fight at least a little, I might feel as if I've failed."

He was shorter than her now. She had to lean down to breathe the last part into his ear.

"Fight?" he whispered back.

His bottom clenched, inviting her, daring her. Surely he had to have guessed what they planned. Rather

than answer in words, she underscored her meaning with a brisk, hard spank.

"Charity!" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely shocked.

"Sylvia took more than that," she said with a touch of scorn, plunging into her role with unexpected ease.

"And Eric told me he promised you I'd do this."

"Eric… promised… a lot of things."

She adored the way his chest heaved for air. "Your safe-word is 'green,'" she snapped, adding another smack. "Say it and everything stops."

"Got it," he gasped. "Won't say it by mistake."

She had to laugh at the pure joyous triumph of taking charge.

Charity
was a revelation, a strange, ferocious force of nature. She knelt behind him now, steadily smacking his buttocks with her hot cupped palm. His skin blazed with every blow, the sensation spreading like wildfire. The strength she used sent the deep, tingling vibrations straight through his cock.

Eric never would have hit him as hard as this. Considering how gentle B.G. was himself, Eric wouldn't have dared.

B.G. groaned in a reaction he could not control.

"There," she said, fiercely approving as she caught him beneath one cheek. "Feel what it's like to surrender."

He thought he might weep, despite being unable to think of a reason for doing so. Like his body, his emotions seemed to be rocketing off their tracks.

She smacked his other cheek, then up and down the backs of his thighs. He was hot all over, pulsing, as if his borders were expanding and contracting unpredictably.

"Sweet," she crooned, the sound as blurry as a dream. "Sweet, sweet Benjamin."

A sob caught without warning inside his throat.

She stopped then, laying her face against the small of his back. When she kissed his buttock, her lips felt cool.

"That's enough," she said, murmuring it against the blaze. "Now you need to feel something nice."

He opened his eyes, only realizing then that they'd been closed. Eric knelt in front of him, smiling. Was the look in his eyes amusement? Wonder? B.G.'s judgment was too jangled to say. All he knew was when Eric clasped his face and touched their lips together, no gesture had ever been that sweet. His kiss was as gentle as Charity had been rough, the contrast perfect, as if they'd planned it between them ahead of time. Maybe they had planned it, or maybe they'd grown so attuned it happened naturally.

Which possibility was more unsettling, B.G. could not have said.

He moaned as Eric's mouth pulled away on a last, slow lick.

"I'm going to help her take you," he said from an inch away. "She's never used a dildo on a man before."

The disclosure that he would be her first struck a small erotic blow, one too many on top of the rest.

B.G. couldn't answer, either in praise or protest. He was a fair hand at biofeedback and meditation, plus a few methods of physical control he'd invented for himself. All his tools were useless now. He couldn't call on a single one. He
felt
—no more than that—as if feeling were a state of being as real as liquid or gas. He was at their mercy. If they wanted him
to come
, he would.