Chains and Canes (6 page)

She sank into the cushions of the couch, one hand up in front of her although her eyes were just as bright with excitement. This was a respite. A little break. Daniel wrapped his forearm around her upper shoulders. Remy layered his fingers over the other man’s forearm.

He wasn’t sure who was giving reassurance and who was taking. Daniel bent over her, whispering in her ear. Naya nodded. “
Sí,
sí
. Fine.”

Remy coiled his hand around the warmed leather of his belt and blew out a harsh breath. He was running hot. Overcharged. He was torn between apologizing and barking out an order that they tell him what had gone wrong. Rather than the latter, he drew from the source of patience he found when trying to get a new routine just right. He wanted to get
this
right. That meant paying attention to what was obviously a practiced event for them.

The back of his neck prickled. “Sorry,” he finally said.

“It’s me. Kind of.” Naya shook her head, pushing damp hair back from her face. Her cheeks were damp with tears. “I mean, gimme a minute.”

“All the time you need.” He wanted to be able to chuckle, to laugh it off and play this as casually as they did.
Not happening.
Not with how tight his chest pulled, the way it was almost impossible to get a breath. He managed a stiff smile, the best he could do when he expected to be kicked out within the next few seconds.

Sorry, boy. Not what we’re looking for. Enjoy the elevator ride back down to real life.

He expected Daniel to explain the situation, but that didn’t happen. He was too focused on Naya, on stroking her head, her shoulders—all the soft skin he could reach. The look he shot over her head was full of doubt and…disappointment?

As if they’d known each other long enough to develop expectations. That was enough to piss a guy off. They wouldn’t expect him to bring his bags up and move in. Who would? So why did the millionaire businessman get to have hopes and complain about his shorts being in a twist when they weren’t fulfilled?

Because he’s a millionaire businessman.

Kids who ran away from home at thirteen could have all the hopes in the world, but the world never gave a shit if they got trampled.

Remy rocked on his heels. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually,
chère
.”

“Have you ever beaten a woman who giggled?”

“Yeah, a few of those. The whole bratty act, wanting punishment. Can be fun.”

He took a deep breath. His want for the girl wasn’t abating. Probably because she was a tousled, fuckable mess. The curves of her body were a wonderland. Gorgeous tits with tight tips heaved with every harsh breath. Her legs pressed together, displaying the smallest hint of dark hair.

Jesus, she’d been wet. Soaked. More liquid gold than the glass of champagne Remy picked up and held to her lips. She took a sip. “I don’t giggle for play,” she said. “It’s part of my high. The crest right before it all goes.”

He gave a short nod, feeling the weight of what she wasn’t saying. “And I blew your high.”

“Yeah.” So straightforward. “You did.”

Fuck, she was an amazing sub. Vocal and self-aware and she’d taken an entire flurry of belt blows as if she’d been made for it. Her skin had flushed pink, with perfect stripes to decorate the graceful sinews of her back, round ass and strong thighs.

She was an amazing sub supported by a sexy fiancé who didn’t give her what she needed every night.

Maybe Remy had dropped into some alternate universe. Or maybe there was something under the surface of this setup, something he didn’t understand yet. The way Daniel had licked Naya’s taste off Remy’s finger hinted at more possibilities—maybe ones they’d never explored.

That’d only be possible if he could get everyone back on the same sheet of music.

“Is it too far gone?” he asked. “Can’t catch it again?”

Dark hair streamed past her shoulders, a lock curling around her beaded nipple. He traced the path with his softest touch, circled her nipple with his nail, then pinched.

Even his gentlest touch usually came with a bite of pain. Such was life.

She shuddered. Her head fell back into the cup of Daniel’s shoulder. “Not gone. Please. Take me back up, Sir.”

Remy’s toes clenched inside his boots. He stalked around Naya’s prone body, admiring, planning—so goddamn turned on. She had relinquished all control, and Daniel was well on his way. The options were thick and demanding. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know where to take a session. Beat or kiss or fuck or force begging, breathless pleas.

They watched his every move. Both of them.

Fuck yeah.

Instinct took over. Letting his higher brain do the thinking was a stupid idea. Like when he danced, Remy knew what to do when he just let go.

He framed his hands on each side of her shoulders before lowering his face toward their mouths. He wanted them both. Man and woman. Matched set. He wanted their taste on his lips and the hit of power that would come with controlling them both.

Not yet.

There was no telling whether Daniel would let it happen—not without spoiling what he already offered by handing Naya into Remy’s care.

He kissed Naya. Her lips were tender, barely tinged with salt. He liked her kiss and he liked keeping his eyes open to watch hers close. He watched Daniel’s close as well, as if he were being kissed too.

“Your tears are drying up, sweetling.”

“They are, Sir,” she breathed into his mouth. Her exhalation was soft as a promise. “And my giggles have stopped too.”

“You want them both back.”

She smiled like the angel that Daniel kept calling her. “It’s why I do this. What I get out of it. The tears come first and last. In between I fly.”

“Then let’s go for a ride. Roll over.”

She obeyed instantly.

“Come here, angel,” Daniel said, his palms held up. His fingers folded over hers. Completely secure. He flashed Remy a look that was almost entirely a dare.
Try to stop me.
But a shiver worked up Remy’s back when he realized Daniel was waiting. It showed in the stiffness of his back and the tension around his eyes.

“Good,” Remy said. “Just like before.”

He knew what Naya’s reaction would be, which left him more curious about Daniel. Sure enough, the man relaxed. His body sank into the task of supporting Naya, and his gaze lost its sharp potential for disapproval. He wore that accepting, eager expression that kept tempting Remy with the possibility of more.

He’d always been an idiot for wanting more.

Remy started slow, as if they were back to the beginning. But he couldn’t take his time ramping them up because her skin was already tender. Marked. Claimed. During practice tomorrow, they were supposed to keep things aboveboard, but Remy knew himself. He’d spend hours in practice waiting for the opportunity to peek under her shirt and see her welts. Her bruises. Proof that he’d been given permission to fuck up a perfect girl like Naya.

Each blow, each smack, each stroke of the belt…they reverberated up Remy’s arm in a rhythmic jolt. Over and over. Watching Naya’s expression melt, watching the tears drip down her cheeks, it got him high as a motherfucker.

This time, when the grin started to spread over her mouth, he was looking for it. Anticipating it.

Then the giggle came. Out of nowhere.

“Fuck yeah,” Remy muttered. “Tell me what’s funny.”

“Him.” Her gaze was locked on Daniel.

The man smiled in response. “Me, huh?” He pulled loose hair forward over her shoulder. Baring her back even more. So open. They were relaxed even in the middle of this. “What about me?”

“You’re so fucking hot.” She leaned forward to kiss him.

Remy let loose another barrage of blows. These landed across her sweetly curved ass. Barely anything, compared to what she’d taken, but her moan seeped into her lover’s mouth. Their kiss was bound by the sound of pain.

Want.

He wanted that.

And he told his head to shut the fuck up.

Remy’s cock was an aching bar behind the trap of his jeans. He loosened his top button to relieve some pressure.

Daniel lifted his hands from the couch and curled them around Naya’s head. She was framed between them both. Remy should’ve cared that Daniel had disobeyed, but the sight of his big, tan hands deep in her hair made up for the disobedience.

Besides, Naya was the sub in this game.

“It’s funny that I’m hot?” Daniel growled, but there was plenty of humor behind it.

“Not funny.” She arched into another smack, her breath catching on a small gasp. “It makes me so damn lucky. Buy-lotto-tickets lucky. Leap-for-the-stars lucky.”

“You’re already a star,” Daniel said before taking her mouth again.

God, they kissed like they were dying for each other. Like they knew every bit, every secret, and still wanted more.

Remy coiled the belt around his hand. The biting leather was a reassurance. A reminder. He had a task, and fuck if it wasn’t a good one. Yet Naya and Daniel had one another all the time. Remy only got this one night. Maybe a couple more if his luck held, but good things disappeared from his life.

“This is it,
chère
.” He petted from her nape to the sweet, low curve of her back. She stretched into his touch. “One more burst. When I count down from five to one, you’re done. That’s it for the night. Daniel, you keep your hands in her hair. Pull tight.”

Daniel’s gaze flicked to Remy. Full of fight and fire. His lips parted. That pale brown, almost blond hair was slicked with sweat at his hairline. His masculine beauty was in the quirk of his lips, the expressive angle of his lean cheeks, and the narrow gleam of his gaze. He nestled his hands deeper into Naya’s hair and made loose fists. “Like this?”

“Harder.”

He clenched. Her neck bent back, and she hissed.

Remy caressed her nape below the edge of Daniel’s hands. “Perfect. Good boy,” he couldn’t help but purr.

Daniel didn’t protest like Remy had expected. His gaze cut into Remy, half-lidded. Waiting.

Obeying.

Remy let loose a stream of blows, machine-gun fast. The rapid patter drew sharp sobs from Naya. She heaved with full-body shudders. Christ, too much and too quick and she was just fucking perfect because Remy hit that hyper-focused level and Jesus, he needed to bring them down.

Fast.

“Five, four, three, two.” With his arm jerking on the last smack and the belt biting into his palm, he growled the last count. “One!”

Naya’s sobs exploded into a keening scream. Daniel’s grip steadied her, held her still except for her kicking feet. Remy dropped the belt and stepped behind her. He locked his calves around the outside of her ankles, but there was no fighting that arching, pulling ball of energy she’d become.

“Good,
chère
. Perfect. There, you let everything go.”

“Fucking hell, Sir,” she said on a sob. “Oh,
Christos
. Daniel.”

“I’m right here.” He pressed small kisses across her cheekbones, which were dappled with tears, then nipped down to her chin and mouth. “I’m here for you.”

Remy coasted his hands over her back, where the skin was fire and new textures. She was marked. There were speckles and welts. He bent down and slid his lips over the worst ones, just below her shoulder bones. “We’re both here. You lean on your man,
chère
. He’s earned it. You both have. That was beautiful.”

She was still sobbing, though they were tapering off to little hiccups and sniffles. It had always been one of Remy’s worst perversions that he liked it so much when a girl cried. Especially when her pussy was as wet as Naya’s. He traced her lower lips.

She was mostly smooth but for a dark patch of curls at the top of her mound. He delved between with one finger and kept his other hand on her spine, pressing the worst of her marks. She was hot as fuck at both ends. Matching fire.

He stroked his middle finger in and out, stopping occasionally to tease with circles that never quite touched her clit. She didn’t seem to notice, while all he waited for was the moment when she would.

Her eyes went wide. She breathed Daniel’s name again. Her hands found purchase in her fiancé’s shoulders. She had short nails that she crammed into Daniel’s neck. He didn’t flinch. He kissed her.

“Daniel, he’s touching me. He might make me come. Fast.”

Daniel stared hard at Remy. Surprise lived in his gaze, along with a truckload of desire. “You’ve got the word, angel. If you don’t want him to, you make it stop.”

“And if I like it?” She tilted her ass toward Remy’s ministrations. “If I don’t want him to stop?”

It was all Remy could do to keep his hand rhythmic. He twisted his grip to trace his nail around her clit. A kiss of pain. She shuddered. Too much. He dipped into his jeans, unzipping them and drawing out his throbbing cock. “You better tell me soon, sweetling. I can come all over this pretty ass I’ve marked, or I can come in my hand. But I will come.”

Framing Naya’s jaw, Daniel kissed her deep. Their tongues plunged back and forth. His breaths rasped when he said, “If you like it, you like it, angel. Whatever you need.”

Except Remy heard the lie. “More. Say all of it.”

Daniel flinched. “And I…I want to see him fuck you.”

She moaned in reply, then found her voice. “Yes. Please. Please, Sir. Whatever you want.”

Remy fished a condom out of his pocket, where he’d stashed it on an earlier shot of hope. Even that foolish hope didn’t compare to where this night had wound up. He rolled it down with hands that trembled, but at least it was on.

Notching his cock at her opening, he purposely dragged his hands from her shoulders to her ass, over her welts.
Their
welts. He gripped the back of her neck, thumbs nestled at the base of her skull, and turned her face up. “Kiss your man,
chère
. Kiss him deep while I fuck your hungry cunt.”

Chapter Seven

Daniel knew the moment when Remy drove deep because Naya surged forward. If their kiss hadn’t been rough to begin with, it became an unrelenting plunder—just from momentum. The force of Remy’s thrusts rocked the sofa. Naya’s moans dug into Daniel’s brain, down to a place where the surreal lived.