Sexual Healing for Three (30 page)

He sounded like he was trying to convince her. Or maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Is that so?”

Chance nodded, totally serious.

Donna blinked and felt like the ground had shifted under her.

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She was in control? The very dynamics of her relationship with Russ said otherwise. Was she missing something?

Chance slid his hand up to her nape, gently collaring her neck.

“You’re okay with that, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t help thinking that Russ didn’t ask, wouldn’t. He just stated what was and would be, and that was that.

Her body trilled at the idea of following his lead, his directions.

Russ came back down the path from the house just then, steps jaunty, his olive-toned complexion flushed as he rubbed his hands together. “We ready to get this show on the road?”

Translation—was she ready for her punishment?

No, what she was ready for was to have her head examined.

236

Gracie C. McKeever

His heart pounded so hard in his ears, Chance felt like he was underwater and sinking fast. He was drowning again.

He’d only been three when he’d, technically, died, but he remembered everything now as if he’d been much older, acutely aware of what had happened to him, feeling different, lighter somehow, once he’d been revived by Russ. Most importantly, he remembered how frightened his brother and their mother had been at almost losing him.

Russ’s sense of guilt and failure had been a pervading force back then, as much as his hunger and passion permeated everything in Chance that wanted Donna now.

It made him wonder if he was going along with this scene out of his own desires and hunger or because he had something to prove—to Donna, to Russ—and didn’t want to run away from who and what he was, couldn’t run away from what he wanted anymore.

Chance looked at his handiwork now, Donna with her wrists bound behind her back, kneeling in the middle of the king-sized bed, ass pointed at the ceiling, and a cheek resting on one of Russ’s down pillows, totally naked and powerless, totally accepting so far.

He looked at her face, searching for any clue that this was too much for her and she wanted out. Chance focused on her eyes, saw his own doubts mirrored in their mink depths, and turned his back to her, swallowing hard.

He wasn’t sure he could go through with this, despite his arousal.

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Yes, he was totally hard and more than anxious. The only things keeping him put were his traitorous libido and his promise and loyalty to Russ.

“Remember, no matter what happens, unless she uses her safe
word, we don’t stop.”

Maybe he needed a safe word too if things got too intense.

But this scene wasn’t about him, never had been. From the beginning this had been all about Donna—pleasuring her, giving her what she needed, disciplining her.

He didn’t even know
why
she was being disciplined, only that this scenario was necessary to “clear the air,” as Russ had put it.

“Chance?”

He turned at the sound of her voice—trembling and hesitant, so unlike what he was used to hearing from her.

Whenever he’d see her at the hospital, she was always in charge, fiercely protective, had to be. And the only other arena he had seen her in so far was with her family, and with them she was the rebel, the loner, the hard-ass about whom all her sibs worried.

She cleared her throat. “I want you to touch me.”

Goddess, she was bossy for someone bound and helpless.

Chance grinned, went to the bed, and sat beside her, keeping his hands folded in his lap, to himself. Maybe she wasn’t so helpless after all since just being near her without being able to touch her almost destroyed him, and she didn’t have to lift a finger to accomplish it. “I want to touch you. You don’t know how much.”

“Then do it.”

He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to touch her for the enjoyment and comfort it would give her—the shelter she thought he could provide from Russ’s kinky attentions—or if she genuinely, at that moment, desired him. He didn’t think it was possible that she wanted him as much as he wanted her or that she was as turned on by all this as he and Russ were.

“Is there some rule that says you can’t?”

238

Gracie C. McKeever

Now she sounded miffed and demanding, like any minute she would make him untie her and get her clothes so she could get dressed and leave.

“Actually there is. Don’t you remember?”

“You and Russ torment me with deprivation until I’m in such a sexual frenzy that I’m forced to beg you to get me off.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Did you hear me say Safe Haven?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not having second thoughts.”

Liar.

She’d be a fool not to have second thoughts. He was having them, second, third, and fourth thoughts.

“How’s our girl holding up?”

Chance jerked his head to the bedroom door as his brother breezed into the room clad in only a pair of well-worn blue jeans, poker face firmly in place and a riding crop in one hand.

“Your girl is uncomfortable and bored and—Ow! What the—”

Russ had brought the riding crop down against Donna’s ass so fast, Chance had no time to react, and by the time he realized what had happened, Russ was already caressing the reddening spot with his fingers.

“Did I address you?” he demanded.

“No,” Donna murmured.

“No what?”

“No…sir.”

Chance didn’t miss Donna gritting her teeth before she expelled the address of respect. He would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. He had been so near grabbing the riding crop from Russ’s hand and putting an end to the scene before it had even begun, it wasn’t funny.

Russ climbed up onto the bed behind Donna, sliding the head of the riding crop between her legs, an expression of such cool, grim
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239

concentration on his face that belied a sensitive and gentle human being dwelled behind it.

“You liked that, didn’t you, slave?”

Donna didn’t respond, and Russ removed the crop from between her legs to strike her across the ass again.

She yelped. “Yes, damn you!”

Chance stood to intervene, and Russ gave him a warning glare that stopped him in his tracks. He paused, balled his hands at his sides instead, returning the glare, not even appeased when Russ showed him the head of the crop dripping with Donna’s female juices as if to prove that she was turned on.

“Tell me something, slave.”

“What?”

Chance heard her peevish tone and grinned. He thought his Dom brother had met his match.

He was surprised that Donna didn’t object to the “slave”

designation.

“Why so tough?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. You heard me the first time.”

“Because I…I
have
to be.”

“That’s not a good enough answer. Why?”

“Because I don’t trust anyone to take care of me as well as I can
take care of myself!”

Chance hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d let down his shields, and the thought jumped out at him loud and clear.

He slid his gaze to Donna’s and caught her unflinching stare, the surface of her eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed.

“Don’t look to Chance for help. He can’t help you. This is between you and me for now.”

“I wasn’t.”

Crack!

240

Gracie C. McKeever

The riding crop came down again, knocking Donna off-balance and forward on the bed.

Chance motioned to help her, and Russ barred him with the riding crop, pressing it into his chest. The musky, sweet scent of Donna’s arousal wafted up, tickling his nostrils, making him painfully spike hard in spite of his fury at Russ.

“She doesn’t need your help.”

“Russ, this isn’t nece—”

“If you can’t handle this, then you can leave.”

“You bastard.”

“Do you hear our girl complaining? Have you heard her safe word?”

Chance wasn’t sure she even remembered what her safe word was. He didn’t think he would under the circumstances, not with all the adrenaline and pheromones flying through the air, clouding judgment. He was sure Russ was under the influence of the biological impulses and chemical reaction himself.

He peered down at Donna as she struggled to get back to her knees without the use of her hands, his throat tight with emotion. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t answer that.”

“Why can’t she?”

“If she hasn’t used her safe word, we are to assume that she’s fine.

Is that correct, slave?”

“Yes, sir.” She was back on her knees, one cheek on the pillow, ass pointing to the ceiling in an erotic invitation that made Chance’s cock throb.

How could Russ not want to pull her against him and stroke and hold her until she purred? Why would he want to strike that flawless smooth ass with a riding crop and risk damaging its sensual perfection?

He just didn’t understand what kind of “clearing the air” Russ had in mind.

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Hell, Chance could get what he needed using his gifts. He didn’t need to beat Donna’s thoughts and feelings out of her. But then reading her mind would be an unforgivable act of betrayal, stealing what was hers and hers alone.

There had to be an easier middle ground.

Chance met Russ’s steely gaze and dropped his shields.

“She has to admit that she needs us, that she wants to be
protected and cared for and knocking down her walls is the only way
to get her to do that.”

Russ nodded at him, acknowledging that he knew Chance was reading him. Then he turned his attention back to Donna.

“So you’re a strong and independent woman, slave?”

Donna didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”

“And you don’t need a man for anything, is that right?”

“Men serve their purpose…sir.”

Crack!

“I’m sure they do.”

Donna gasped. “What was that for?”

“Being a smart-ass.” Russ leaned forward and blew on her ass, then gently rubbed each reddened cheek. “Why didn’t you tell us about the police surveillance?”

“You mean the unmarked car that’s following me?”

“Are you trying to hide your vulnerabilities? Trying to hide that you need help?”

“I’m not trying to hide anything. I just didn’t think about it.”

“You thought we didn’t need to know. That we didn’t
deserve
to know.”

Crack!

Donna shook her head as much as she could in her position, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I thought I could handle the situation myself.”

Crack!

“You don’t need to do that anymore. You have us.”

242

Gracie C. McKeever

“What if you…what if you go away? I have to be able to take care of myself.”

“
That’s
a negative mindset, lone wolf.”

Crack.

“Fuck you!”

“Not until you beg me.”

“I can’t count on you or any man to always be there for me when I need him.”

“How do you know that? Did you even bother to ask?”

Crack
.

The tears were flowing, and Donna was outright sobbing, her slender shoulders shaking as she gulped big gasps of air in between.

Chance watched, immobile, mesmerized by the scene, by the emotions whirring in the air and the way Russ masterfully directed the scene and elicited Donna’s responses.

“Will you admit that you need me? That you need us?”

“I’ll burn in hell first. I don’t need any man.”

Russ slid the crop between her legs again, this time pushing it into Donna’s dewy entrance, slowly turning it.

She whimpered and squirmed on the bed.

She had to be uncomfortable kneeling in that position for so long, but something made her endure Russ’s treatment when she could have easily used her safe word and put an end to the scene. Was it the same thing that made Chance stay—to see how far Russ would go, how far he would push Donna, and how far she would let him push her?

She wants to be punished!
Chance thought.
Not just because she’s
enjoying the tactile sensations, but because she thinks she deserves it.

“You don’t need us, but you want us,” Russ growled.

“Yes.”

“You want more of this?” He inched the crop inside a little farther. “You want my cock? You want Chance’s?”

“One cock is the same as any other. They’re all attached to men.”

“And you don’t like men.”

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“I like them just fine. I just don’t need one in my life.”

Crack!

“Please…” She whimpered, pushing back against the crop. “I don’t want a man!”

“Why not, Donna? Why not!”

“Because men hurt women! I could never trust a man not to hurt me. It’s what they do! It’s what they
all
do. They hurt women, they betray them, and then they toss them away!”

“
Fuck
.” Russ dropped the riding crop to the carpeted floor, sat down on the bed, grasped Donna around the waist, and pulled her onto his lap.

She leaned her head on his chest, her shoulders still shaking as she cried and panted, babbling incoherently.

“It wasn’t your fault, Donna. You didn’t kill anyone,” Russ murmured, stroking her hair and tucking silken strands of it behind her ear.

“I didn’t use my safe word. I didn’t say Safe Haven. Why did you stop? I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted you to keep going. I wanted—”

“A break. You need to give yourself a break, baby.”

Chance watched them, not feeling as much like a magic number as he felt like an unneeded third wheel on a bike. He didn’t know what kept him standing there like an unwanted voyeur until Russ looked up at him and stood with Donna in his arms, reverently handing her over to Chance.

“Take care of her,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”