Her Troika (51 page)

Derek’s hand caught her hair once more and he twisted her head around, kissing her hard, his fevered lips hot, searching, plundering her mouth just as her husband’s cock plundered her cunt.

Oh God! More!

“
Anytime I see you with anyone but us, Breanna, it’s agony. Kurt and I, we see it the same — you’re only for us. This mouth, this cunt, this body, all of it. Only ours.”

“Yes, Sir! Oh God,
yes
…”

Derek grasped her arms, pinning them tightly behind her back, Kurt’s grip on her hips tightening, his fingers reaching back to spread her buttocks wide. She knew what Derek could see then, and for the first time felt no shame at her exposure. It was all for them, all of her, and she didn’t need to feel shame anymore because she loved it so, loved being theirs, subject to their lusts, their possessiveness, and most of all, their love.

Cold wetness was spread along the crevice of buttocks, more of it swirled around her anus. Derek’s finger pressed, softly at first, then more insistently.

“Open, open now,” he whispered behind her ear.

Then his finger slipped inside, and she gasped softly as he worked her, relaxing the muscle, awakening those nerve endings and those forbidden, confusing sensations, all the while Kurt’s cock relentlessly thrusting within the spasming clutch of her sex. His breathing grew heavier as she bounced up and down upon him, her heavy breasts swaying, her throbbing nipples crying out for the crush of lips, fingers, teeth.

Derek’s cock pressed to her anus, the pressure steady, insistent. She pressed back, relaxing that muscle, willing him inside her, where she most wanted, where she’d be one with them, the common vessel, the shared treasure. She wanted to be all that and more for them. And as Derek pressed forward, his cock deep within her ass, she cried out at the truth of it.

Ah God, so much. Too much!

Yet she’d gladly have died at that moment, as her men filled her so full, she feared she might split. They worked her between them, a woman reduced to an object of their lusts, the one place they could be who they really were inside, be that male animal that yearned to be unleashed. Their thrusts picked up speed, until they were ferocious shaking her to her core, and her pussy spasmed and her ass burned. Her orgasm built, closer and closer as her men used her as a woman was made to be used. Derek’s hands clasped onto her shoulders painfully, pulling himself even deeper into her bottom, Kurt’s hands a crushing grip on her hips, her clit grinding against him with each brutal thrust.

“Now, Breanna,” Kurt growled. “Come for us!”

The explosion of pleasure ripped up through her body, tears pouring forth as she spiraled higher and higher, the riot of sensation too much for her consciousness to contain. She threw her head back with a long, soul-deep moan, her vision graying out. The sodden weight of her hair draped over Derek as he pounded into her, roaring his pleasure, his seed blooming hot deep within her. His final hard thrusts, shook Breanna’s body as if she were a mere doll, a toy, and that last movement set off Kurt as well, his hands gripping her hips so hard she groaned with the pain of it. His orgasm shook all three of them together as his hips bucked up into her over and over, his grinding groan going on and on as he poured himself into her, their combined fluids soaking their thighs.

They fell forward onto Kurt, Breanna sprawled between them, her head and arm draped across Kurt’s broad, sweat-slicked chest, Derek’s big body curled around behind her, his still half-erect penis a wet, comforting presence against her soft bottom. Deep, satisfied sounds rumbled from Kurt’s throat as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling under her. Breanna’s senses were numbed, the warm, heavy cloak of exhaustion wrapping tight around her. Derek’s inchoate whispers in her ear made her smile deliriously, his lips and tongue tasting her earlobe, the soft flesh behind her jaw. They lay that way for a long while, Breanna luxuriating in being close to her men, surrounded by them, drifting in and out of consciousness. Her men weren’t done with her that night though, for soon she found herself wakened by rough, demanding hands, those low, male voices rumbling. For hours more they used her, showing her what was possible when a woman laid with two men who knew a woman’s body, and what it was made for, what it could endure.

Crouched on bending knees, her arms bound behind her she’d served her husband with her mouth, her long hair wrapped about his fist like a rein, the SLAT-SLAT-SLAT sound of the flogger deafening as Derek beat its burning tattoo of pain across her soft, vulnerable buttocks. She’d lost track of time, waking in the night as big hands gathered up her breasts, squeezing them harshly as yet another hard cock slid deep between sore, swollen labia, their voices telling her to squeeze, to spread her buttocks for them.

To surrender.

Finally, their lusts slaked within her trembling, spent body, their seed dripping from her cleft onto her welted thighs, and soaking the rumpled, sweaty sheets, their bodies stilled. One by one, they drifted off to sleep, Derek first, his breathing growing deep and slow, Breanna still wrapped in those strong, muscled arms of his. Before sleep fully claimed her though, Kurt pulled her close, cupping her face in his big hands, and pressing a long, soft kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, wife. And I always will.”

He’d never let her go, and he’d always keep her safe. He was the one who’d opened all the doors, who’d showed her what was possible, who’d let her live a dream — and then made it come true. All roads led back to this strong, strict, amazing man. And he was all hers.

“I love you too,” she whispered, meeting his heated dark gaze with a sly smile. “Master.”

Then she slept, and dreamed, secure in the solid embrace of her Sir and her Master. She woke several times turning to one or the other, snuggling into hard chests, curling her leg over muscular buttocks.

Morning came too soon, the gray light of another Seattle morning slanting across the bed, and she turned over to hug Derek close, if only for a few minutes more. But where her strong Sir’s gorgeous body had been, she found only cool, rumpled sheets.

He was gone.

* * *

B
reanna stood straight and tall in the burning afternoon sun, the breeze moving the strands of her hair against her cheek. The girth’s brutal embrace seemed to squeeze her into two parts, the upper part with her naked breasts and bitted mouth, a feast for the male onlookers, the lower part weighed down, tasked with her duty, her use. To pull her cart, as fast as her legs, her fear, and the lash could drive her. The cart she’d been hitched to was a new one, two seats, side by side, the sight of it filling her with anticipation.

It had to be. Yes, it just
had
to be.

Elaina was with her, at her side, bound fast to her own cart, red ribbons tied into her long hair, her bit cruelly tight, Lino lounging in the cart behind her, playing the end of the carriage whip against her pale, trembling thighs.

Breanna scanned the edge of the track nearest the parking lot, watching the corner of the barn, where she hoped to see two men come striding toward her. Her men.

Her heart swelled with the possibility, even as her mind told her what she’d come to accept as the truth.

He might not come.

The night they’d rescued her, she’d ridden back to Seattle curled in Derek’s arms as Kurt drove, the vibration of the road and Derek’s strong steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

It had seemed so magical, that dark night of lust they’d shared, their marks upon her, both physical and emotional. It had seemed so … perfect.

But then the morning had come.

A day became a week, and then became a month, and he’d not come back.

Breanna had called, she’d texted, she’d e-mailed. Yet still he hadn’t come back.

“Give him time,” Kurt had whispered to her as she’d lain in their bed, her head resting on his chest, her tears wetting his shirt. “It’s got to be on his terms, in his time, Breanna.”

If she’d understood that on an intellectual level, her heart hadn’t listened. More than once, she’d pounded on his door, yelling for him. Telling him he was stupid to let this pass him by. How many times had she cursed the closed door?

Finally, the terrifying thought no longer a quiet voice whispering in her ear, but indeed a truth now staring her in the face, she’d slipped the note under his door. She’d lingered on his steps that day, dragging out every second, hoping that door would open, that he’d come bounding up those steps.

But he hadn’t, and all she was left with, a fading hope, would have to do. Driving back to Kurt, to her loving, patient, strict Master, she’d recited the words from that letter, over and over, as if the mantra would impart the power to them to bring Derek to her, to bring him to them, to open that door just one last time:

Sir,

I’ve missed you.

Kurt and I will be at the farm this Saturday at noon. Kurt says my training needs to begin again, but he wants you there to do it. To make sure it’s right. To make sure we’re right.

If you’re not there, then I’ll have my answer.

How I’ve missed you.

Always Yours,

Breanna

Now, as the wind moaned low in her ears, she watched the corner of that barn, wanting, willing, hoping. George stood down at the fence along the edge of the track, his intent gaze ever watching his Elaina. She thought of Quinton then, still seeing his smug grin, his clownish bloodstained grin. She closed her eyes tight, banishing him from her thoughts. He was nothing, and he’d remain that to her.

All that mattered was them, her Master and her Sir.

Please, God. Please. I need …

Then she saw it, saw movement.

Kurt walked around the corner, his stride long and confident, as always. She looked hard, knowing he was just behind him. He had to be.

But as Kurt made his way over to George, the realization sunk in, finally.

He hadn’t come.

No.

The tears welled, threatening to spill as she watched Kurt talk with George, the two shaking hands.

Why, Derek? Why?

Breanna wished the bit were between her teeth rather than dangling from her bridle. The taste of the metal would have been preferable to the taste of the smile she forced, while inside, she was falling apart.

“Hello, girl,” Kurt said, standing before her, his dark gaze intent, searching. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Master,” her voice broke. “I — I don’t know if I can.”

“Sure you can.” Her husband beamed a smile at her that had her heart racing, that beautiful smile he so rarely let anyone see.

“I hoped, and I knew.” Breanna dropped her head, her eyes stinging. “I was so stupid. To think…I don’t know how I’m going to do this now.”

Kurt’s finger raised her chin, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I think I might have something that will help.”

He moved behind her and she straightened, dropping her head, expecting the strike of the whip. Yes, this was right, this would
have
to be right. To run, to suffer, to cry, to obey. All thoughts banished but putting one foot in front of the other, faster and faster. More speed, more obedience, more surrender.

“God, I missed you, Breanna.”

Her eyes shot up. “Derek!”

She leaned toward him, the weight of the cart holding her back.

His warm palm cupped her breast, lifting it with a gentle squeeze. “God, I’ve missed this body too.”

“It’s all yours, Sir.” She looked up at him, looking into those eyes of his, hoping. “Please—”

“Shh,” he said, holding finger to her lips. “You need to be quiet and listen to me now.”

Her clit throbbed at the tone of his voice, at the way his hand tightened around her breast. Proprietary. Admonishing.

“You don’t know how many times I talked myself out of this. Out of coming here today. Because of what I had to say, the choice I … needed to make.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

“I do understand. I finally understand all of it.” Derek stepped close, his male scent washing over her, his shadow a comfort and a threat both. Just the way she liked it.

“What I have to do, what I should’ve done a long time ago. Let go.”

Oh God, no …

Derek inhaled a long shaking breath, the big Adam’s apple working as he swallowed. “After today, I’m going back home.”

“Oh, Derek.
Sir.
Please don’t do this …”

Her fear was irrational, and overpowering, the loss a twisting ache in her chest.

“I’m going back home, and I’m packing my things, Breanna.” He palmed her chin, a gentle, yet possessive caress. “And I’m moving in with you.”

“You — you are?”

She smiled, even as the tears poured forth. “Derek, I love you. I love you so much! Thank you. Thank you for saving me, for saving us. Thank you.”

He held her head to his chest, his voice thick, breaking on the words. “I don’t know how the hell this is gonna work, Breanna. But I’m taking that chance. I’m … not afraid anymore.”