Scorching Desire (13 page)

Tasha smiled at Damon’s serious words. She wanted to see him in a courtroom. She bet he’d be great.

“Thank you. I won’t tell you everything. Actually, I won’t tell you much, but if we’re going to do this—”

“We are,” Marco said.

“Then you should know that technically I’m a virgin.”

*****

Damon leaned forward and peered at Tasha. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. For a minute I thought you said you were a virgin.”

Tasha blinked those big blue eyes at him. “I am.
Technically.”

Marco moaned quietly. Damon swallowed hard and sat back.

That was the fucking sexiest thing he’d ever heard. His dick was iron hard inside his pants. Right now Tasha looked innocent enough to be a virgin—she had no makeup on, her hair was back in a braid and she wore a tank top and leggings that showed off her body without being sexy.

But this was the same woman who’d taken them to a BDSM club, who’d played his submissive so astutely he’d felt like he owned her.

Silence stretched out, and Tasha started to look worried.

“Are you two okay?”

“Processing,” Damon said. “Trying not to jump across the room and grab you.”

“You…like the fact that I’m a virgin?” She tipped her head to the side.
“Of course. Once I turned twenty-two I stopped doing the virgin schoolgirl, so I forgot what kind of reaction that could get.”

“How are you a virgin?” Marco asked. “And what do you mean technically?”

“I was trained in tradecraft—that’s basically spy school. I learned all kinds of technical and computer-based hacking and development, how to hide who I am and what I was doing and sexual behaviors and manipulation.”

Damon was trying and failing not to imagine her in some sexy schoolgirl uniform.

“I was fifteen when I started.”

“You were a minor?” Damon’s arousal died a hard death. “That’s despicable.”

She shrugged. “I stopped being a child when I turned in my parents.”

“That doesn’t mean they had the right to manipulate your sexuality at such a young age.”

“There was a need for someone who could attract targets whose sexual interests ran to children. They taught me how to be innocent in a way that older men found attractive and also how to keep myself from actually being touched.”

She sighed. “Almost all my training was about how to look or act like
a fantasy without ever letting anyone get close to me. I attended PhD-level classes with a human sexuality expert and apprenticed with a dominatrix. It was a very thorough education not only about the physical actions of sex, but the mental and emotional impulses. When I was seventeen, I went to Istanbul to a famous brothel. They taught me how to play a sexual submissive and about the different kinds of kinks and subcultures. I was good at what I did—I’ve played the little girl in pigtails for many men. I was even sold at auction in Beirut.”

“Sold…as a sex slave?” Marco’s hands clenched. “You could have been killed.”

“True.” She looked between them and the horror Damon felt must have shown on his face. “If it makes you feel better, for six months I was the mistress of a whorehouse.”

“I’m not sure if that’s hot or horrifying,” Damon said.

“My feelings exactly,” Marco added. “Tasha, if you did all this, why do you think you’re a virgin?”

“I told you—I was the fantasy. My skill was in keeping the target engaged and wanting. If I had sex with them then there was no allure. If I gave them what they wanted then they might lose interest.”

“But if you were a sex slave or a submissive, how did you manage?”

Tasha smiled. “I know how to top from the bottom—how to make the owner or daddy or Dom feel like they’re in control when really I’m manipulating them. I’m not
saying that I’m inexperienced sexually or that I’ve never gotten a spanking, whipping or had a variety of toys used on me, but I always managed to hold back that last piece. Always managed to keep them wanting more.”

At the mention of a whipping, Damon’s stomach rolled. He was trying to ignore her bruised face, trying not to focus on how much he hated himself for doing that to her. But hearing this, all he could think about was that he was no better than the men she’d known before.

“So you’ve never…” Marco seemed to be struggling with what she was saying.

“I’ve never had intercourse with another person.” She shrugged. “That probably doesn’t
matter, I mean what’s the difference between a man’s fingers or a dildo and a real cock?”

“Uh, there’s a big difference,” Damon said.

She smiled. “That’s always what I told myself. It’s stupid to think that just because I’ve never let a man fuck me that I’m virginal.” She laughed softly. “Virgin implies innocent. I’m not.”

“I want to say something profound and meaningful,” Marco whispered to Damon, “but I can’t get the image of her using a dildo on herself out of my head.”

Damon understood his friend’s problem. He was an uncomfortable mix of horrified and aroused. He wanted to drag Tasha to the floor and fuck her until her toes curled, but at the same time he wanted to wrap her up and promise her that no one would ever touch her again.

“Marco? Damon? Are you okay?”

Damon realized they’d been sitting there staring at her for five minutes. “We, uh, are taking some time to process what you said.”

She nodded and looked away. He could see the hurt in her eyes.

“Tasha.” Damon got up and sat on the coffee table, close enough to touch her. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I don’t want to hurt you again, and right now I’m terrified to even touch you.” Damon let his hand hover over hers but didn’t make contact. “I don’t want to be like anyone you’ve been with before. I’m your husband. You’re my wife. Do you know what that means?”

“I have no idea. I never have.”

“It means that I, actually that we—Marco and I—will protect you, love you and care for you. That includes satisfying you sexually, whatever that means. All we need to know is what you’re comfortable with. Not what you were trained to do. Not what you think we want. What do you, Tasha, desire?”

She looked startled. Then she started to blink rapidly. Before he knew it, a tear rolled down her cheek. His previous hesitation forgotten, Damon scooped her up and carried her to the couch to set her down on his lap. Marco scooted over, taking her legs onto his knee and stroking her calves.

“Why are you crying, beautiful?” Marco asked softly.

“I’m scared.”

“Of us?”

“Yes.
Of all of it.”

She was shivering, and Damon hugged her closer. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t put me in the middle,” she pleaded. “It’s too much pressure. I won’t be able to do it without pretending to be someone, something, else.”

Damon looked at Marco. Don’t put me in the middle.

Did that mean what he thought it did?

*****

Marco stroked Tasha’s legs as he processed her whispered plea. After everything she’d said—her extensive sexual training, her fear that she’d become manipulative because that’s how she protected herself—it made sense that she was scared of being put in the middle. It was a lot of pressure. Marco hadn’t even realized that he’d assumed Tasha’s place in their sexual relationship would be between them.

He met Damon’s gaze, and for the first time he looked at his friend as more than a companion. He looked at him as a lover.

“If you don’t want to be in the middle,” Marco said to Tasha, keeping his gaze on Damon, “then we won’t put you there.”

She looked up, her head resting on Damon’s shoulder. Marco liked seeing them together. They would have beautiful blonde children.

He’d have to come back to that idea later.

“You mean…” Damon’s face was set, his eyes stormy.

“Yes.”

Tasha looked between them. “You’ve been lovers?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Do you want to be lovers?” she asked.

Marco didn’t answer. He feared admitting that he did want to be Damon’s lover would scare his friend.

“We’re friends,” Damon said, sounding frustrated. “We’ve never…I mean, we’ve had sex with the same woman, at the same time.”

“That’s what you thought you’d use me for.
A way to be together without touching.” She sounded tired.

“No,” Marco assured her. “We both knew there was a possibility that we would be part of a trinity with another man. Bisexuality is practically a requirement of the Trinity Masters.” His gaze met Damon’s. “But this is complicated. Like you said, we do love each other—as friends and companions. I’m always happiest when Damon’s with me. Adding sex to that is daunting.”

Damon looked embarrassed, but he nodded in agreement.

Tasha’s face lit up. “So you’re like a romantic comedy. The kind where two friends realize they’re meant for each other.” She looked excited.

“We are not a romantic comedy.” Damon’s teeth were gritted.

“It sounds like a romantic comedy.”

“I’m starting to worry that you have terrible taste in movies,” Marco added.

“I love romantic comedies. And Nicholas Sparks books.”

“That’s it. Forget it. I’m not marrying her,” Marco declared, lips twitching.

Tasha smiled. “I think you’re stuck with me.”

“Does that mean you’re agreeing to the marriage?” Always the lawyer, Damon was trying to close the deal.

“Yes…maybe. If you two promise that you won’t put me in the middle. I don’t think I can handle it. Not right away. If we’re going to do this, then I want to be me…just me. I’m not even sure I know how to do that, but I’d like to try.”

“And that’s what we want too.” Marco stroked the outside of her thigh and then laced his fingers with Damon’s so she was cradled between them.

“Damon?”

His friend nodded and then rose while still holding Tasha. “Where’s the bedroom?”

*****

Damon followed Tasha’s directions, carrying her up the stairs, which creaked under him. Marco opened the door.

The bedroom was like something out of a country calendar. The bed was a large four-poster with a white crochet cover. There was a large dark-wood armoire against one wall and simple armchair in the counter. He set Tasha on her feet. She pulled the sweater around herself.

“This is the master bedroom,” she said. “I never use it. I don’t have guests. But there are sheets. I like making up the room. It makes me feel homey.”

“It’s a nice place.” Damon felt like an idiot. He had no idea what to do, what to say.

Tasha looked at him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Marco slid his hand across his back and Damon froze. Desire flooded him, unexpected and exciting. He closed his eyes.

“He needs time to process this,” Marco said. “He’s a bit of a straight arrow.”

Damon didn’t respond. The reality was that as far as sex with a man went, he was a virgin—and as far as he knew Marco was too.

Marco stepped up behind him, his chest against Damon’s back. Tasha’s gaze was fixed on them, and she was biting her lower lip.

One by one, Marco undid the buttons of Damon’s shirt. Damon held still, struggling to understand his feelings. He was aroused and nervous. He had this terrible feeling that if he didn’t keep himself still he would turn and devour Marco. He’d always been a careful lover—his size made that a necessity. It was easy to be gentle with women. Their femininity automatically triggered that. But he was about to have sex with Marco—his friend, his companion in debauchery. There was no need for gentleness.

“Damon,” Marco whispered in his ear. “It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled.

“Hurt me?”

“Yes, damn it.”

He saw Tasha leave the room, but right now he couldn’t focus on her. He was focused on Marco.

Turning, he fisted his hand in Marco’s hair. His blue eyes were heavy with arousal. “I never thought we’d do this,” Damon admitted.

“I hoped. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was the point? We were going to be married to other people. Starting a relationship would have just made that harder.”

“I don’t find men attractive,” Damon said.
“Except you.”

“I’m glad you think I’m pretty.” Marco grinned that teasing half smile that normally made Damon roll his eyes.

Damon kissed him. He kissed that smile he’d seen so many times. Marco was stiff, surprised, but then he grabbed the back of Damon’s shirt. They fought for control of the kiss. As Damon feared, they were not gentle with each other. Sex demanded that someone submit, but neither was willing to do that—not yet.

Damon ripped Marco’s shirt open, sending buttons flying. Marco undid his belt, tossed it aside and fumbled with his pants. Urging Marco back toward the bed, Damon shoved him, causing him to lose his balance and fall back. Stepping out of his shoes, Damon shucked everything but his underwear.