Willful Violation (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 3) (11 page)

T
he hay barn
was connected to the stalls via a small courtyard.

Raphael turned on the lights.

“Suspend her from the rafters,” he said.

He picked up a long, thick coil of rope and tossed one end high in the air. It sailed over a beam and dropped down the other side.

“Suspend me, sir?” she asked.

“Yes. You tried to run away twice. Now you will be restrained so that we can fuck you at our leisure.”

Trent was already looping the end of the rope around one of her upper thighs. She stared down in confusion as he worked.

Then Ethan jumped in to assist him.

Maisie couldn’t help giggling, because it was so weird to be in here, naked, with these men who looked like they were dressed to receive an award.

But their expressions, and the expert way they were trussing her up, like a prize calf… There was nothing refined about any of that.

Underneath their expensive suits, they were strong, horny men.

And like they’d said, she was a naked woman. They wanted to fuck her, to punish her, and they would.

She was now suspended a few inches above the ground, face-down, her arms bound behind her back.

The rope supported her chest, stomach, hips, and just above her knees, which were bent—her heels nearly touched her buttocks.

She could open and close her knees, she realized, but she didn’t dare move.

“Bring her up,” Ethan said.

They raised her into the air, the movement as easy as if they were using an established system, not something they’d rigged up on the fly.

Maisie was in such shock that at first she didn’t react at all. Then, she stopped breathing.

Relax
, she told herself.
They’ve done this before.

“I see you still love being tied up,” Trent said with a teasing grin. “Don’t worry. Soon, you’ll be used to it.”

“No,” she whispered.

Ethan grabbed her face with one hand, his fingers squeezing around her jaw. “What did you say? Did you tell me
no
?”

His dominance chased away her fear, and sexual need surged into its place.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said.

He looked at Trent. “This won’t do.”

Trent nodded in agreement.

“Well,” Ethan said, “I was going to give you the option of sucking our cocks here, or moving this into the city and restraining you on the rack.”

The rack
.

It was the most frightening thing Maisie had ever seen, and her sole sexual goal was to avoid being at its mercy.

“But I’ve changed my mind. Your choices are to remain suspended here for fifteen minutes while we use your hot, naked little body. After which, we’ll deal you five lashes with the whip. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t understand what my choice is, sir,” she said.

Every word, every breath, made her swing slightly on those awful ropes. And the wooden beam overhead was creaking.

Ethan smiled. “Would you like us to whip you before or after?”

Both.
“Neither, sir.”

“Fuck her, then whip her,” Raphael said, his muscled arms crossed over his chest. The dark edges of his tattoo poked out of the waistband of his jeans, but Maisie still couldn’t see what it was.

“Seconded,” Trent said. He unzipped his pants, and when he took out his thick, darkened erection, he no longer looked like a sophisticated businessman.

Maisie stared hungrily at his shaft as he guided her mouth toward it.

Ethan stepped behind her. He adjusted the ropes, and then her legs were opening for him.

He slid his cock into her heat at the same moment that Trent penetrated her mouth and throat, and Maisie shook all over.

They fucked her, letting the rope swing her back and forth. She wondered what Raphael was doing, what he was planning.

“Don’t bite me,” Trent said.

It was a strange warning, and if Maisie had been able to look around, she would have.

But then something seared her nipple, and she went rigid.

Now she understood.

Her bosses had elected to whip her
while
they fucked her.

And damn Raphael and his master control of that whip. At first she’d felt the biting, stinging heat, but a few seconds later, her entire body was in extreme agony.

She choked on Trent’s cock, and he was kind enough to ease up a tiny bit.

“This is better,” Raphael said. He stood with his arms apart, the whip’s lash trailing on the ground. “Whipping you while we fuck you.”

He worked her breasts for several minutes. Each flick was perfectly placed.

It felt… good. Awful, but good.

Soon her body was wrung out, her muscles exhausted. Raphael tossed aside the whip. He knelt beside her and traced a finger over the tender weals on her chest.

The bulge in his jeans pulsed, and Maisie cried out as Ethan slammed his hips harder against hers.

Squeezing one of her breasts, Raphael pulled her toward him, taking advantage of the rope system. His tongue licked her abused peak, then he sucked it into his mouth. He bit gently, but it was too much.

She gasped, and Trent pressed himself deeper into her mouth.

Raphael released her nipple.

“Let’s lower her,” Ethan said.

Was that Raphael’s zipper she was hearing? There was too much noise: the creaking of the rope and the beams, her bosses’ grunts, the roar of blood in her ears.

Trent stepped away, giving her a chance to catch her breath. “Why not lie down on a bale of hay?” he asked.

“Good idea.” Raphael dragged over a large, twine-bound chunk of hay. He positioned it underneath her.

Ethan remained inside her, his hands roaming possessively over her back, hips, ass, and legs.

Then the men adjusted the ropes, lifting her a little higher, and Raphael stretched out on top of the hay.

He stroked her throat, her breasts. One finger teased her clit, and she writhed in the restraints.

“Be still.” Ethan slapped her ass, then stepped back. Her pussy clenched desperately, wanting him to return.

Instead, her hips were positioned over Raphael’s waiting erection.

Trent and Ethan lowered her.

Groaning, Raphael slid into her slick channel. The ropes fell partially away, and she almost orgasmed as his muscular arms wrapped protectively around her.

“Kiss me,” he rasped.

As she did, Ethan pressed his cock against her pucker, and she whimpered into Raphael’s mouth as Ethan claimed his place with a long, slow thrust.

Her body was stretched and full even before Trent grabbed a handful of hair and forced her head up.

His cock angled into her mouth, and he held her head and fucked her hard.

Raphael groped her breasts. His earlier handiwork had left her skin sensitive.

She cried out.

A crop slapped against her buttocks. Her muscles squeezed reflexively, and Ethan throbbed inside her.

Even though she’d gone still, all three men continued their frenzied thrusting.

“Come!” Ethan growled. The crop struck her ass again.

She came, screaming, her eyes rolling back into her head. Raphael was squeezing her nipples while pushing up on her to give Trent easier access to her throat.

Everything hurt. She couldn’t believe she still had tears left to cry.

“Come!”

This time, when Ethan slapped her ass, her pussy got so slick and wet that Raphael moaned, “I can’t hold out.”

The men orgasmed within a few seconds of each other, filling her with their hot seed.

Maisie wished it could go on forever, but she knew she needed a break from her bosses’ physical demands. Happy, she grew limp in Raphael’s arms.

* * *

T
rent carried
her into the house, where the men bathed and dried her.

Ethan rubbed a calming lavender salve over the places where the whip had bitten her, and also over the areas where she’d been suspended by the ropes.

She was taken to a bedroom. It was rustic but cozy, and the bed seemed to have been carved from a single enormous tree. Other than the fireplace’s stone hearth and the burgundy sheets and pillows, pretty much everything in the room was wood, most of it dark.

Even the windows were covered in wooden slats.

Ethan laid her down on the sheets, kissed her forehead, and then left.

She couldn’t get comfortable. On her stomach or on her back, it was impossible to avoid distressing her punished skin.

“What about Ethan?” she asked as Trent and Raphael settled in on either side of her.

“We’ll take turns,” Raphael said.

“How can you sleep like that?” Maisie asked.

Trent’s cock was already hard, nudging into her buttocks. “Who needs sleep?”

But they did sleep. Eventually.

When Maisie woke, she was curled against Ethan’s right side. He had replaced Raphael, she remembered, though the other men weren’t currently in the room.

In the morning light, she could see the rough seams along Ethan’s jaw where the scar knitted into unblemished skin. It must have hurt when it was fresh.

She wanted to kiss him there, to trace the edge of his scar with her tongue.

He turned toward her and brushed his lips over her forehead.

“Good morning,” he said, and he gently freed his arm from underneath her. He was naked, and for the first time ever, she got to appreciate just how massive his carved chest and arms were.

She stared brazenly as he pulled on a robe and rubbed a hand through his dark blond hair.

“We’ve never spent the night with a submissive before,” he said.

He seemed a little surprised, and she concluded that sleeping in the same bed hadn’t been part of the original plan.

The door opened. Trent entered, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was damp.

“You’re up,” he said to Ethan. “Good. We need to go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?” Maisie asked, even though she was sure they wouldn’t tell her.

Ethan started to say something, then stopped. He shook his head. “Plan B is that you marry one of us.”

She must have misunderstood.

She looked from face to face and saw they were serious.

Her stomach curdled as she remembered what she’d overheard about Plan B. All the excuses about family obligations and getting disowned.

No one
wanted
to marry her.

And even though she’d only known them for a few weeks—thinking about marriage would have been completely inappropriate—it hurt. Especially after that whole conversation about how she wasn’t meeting her potential and needed to earn the relationship.

Raphael entered wearing only jeans. He looked at Maisie, then said to Trent, “I’m guessing from her stunned expression that you told her.”

He took a shirt out of the dresser. The powerful muscles in his shoulders flexed as he pulled it over his head.

He turned to Maisie again. “Byron has escalated matters. He’s decided to enter the tape into evidence. It will hurt his family, but it will hurt us more.”

“Fuck,” Ethan growled.

Raphael glanced at him, then turned his attention back to Maisie. “He’s going after you, too; he thinks pressuring you will get us to break, or to give up our client. If you’re married to one of us, you’ll be protected.”

“Spousal privilege,” Ethan said. The words had an air of finality about them. “So long as we do it in the next week, the timing of when you learned specific details can be… fudged.”

Raphael nodded. “It’s the only safe path forward.”

A funny, erratic heartbeat fluttered in her chest, and now the room was swirling. The colors had become impossibly bright. Everything seemed to slow as she tried to think.

“Maisie?” Trent touched her arm.

She couldn’t tell her bosses why she was upset without revealing that she’d eavesdropped.

“I don’t know how I could possibly choose,” she said angrily. “You’re all so perfect.”

Ethan’s eyebrows dipped into a frown. “You’re not choosing. We are.”

Maisie’s breath hitched in her chest. “Um, don’t you think that’s offensive?”

“No.”

“Fine. No prenup.”

He stared steadily at her but said nothing.

That decided it.

“I know this will make your head explode, but I don’t want to marry any of you.”

Fire flashed in Ethan’s eyes. “We’ll see about that.”