Page 111 of The More the Merrier

Pushing my thoughts away, I relaxed against Grant. He ushered Dalton inside, and set me on my feet. The two of them removed their jackets and shoes, talking about the weather or other mundane nonsense while I stared at them. I hadn’t technically broken any rules today since we hadn’t established them, but I was tired of idling.

Tapping Dalton’s upper arm, I giggled. “Tag!”

Before I could run out of the room, he immediately grabbed the ends of my pigtails in his fist. I had no choice but to cease moving. “Caught you.”

Smirking, I glanced over my shoulder and raised both my thumbs. “Good job.”

“Sounds like you need some attention, prancer.” Dalton released my hair long enough to bend me over his arm. He was taller than me, and I had no leverage. He immediately targeted my sit-spots, slapping his hard palm across them over and over again until my feet danced in the air.

“Eek!” I had vastly underestimated what a spanking might feel like from him. The swats he’d delivered over the past few days didn’t compare. His hand expertly delivered a harsh reminder of what would happen when I challenged him, playfully or otherwise. “I’m overthinking. Nothing you say is going to quiet the thoughts.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I no longer plan on just talking.”

Flipping me around to face him, he shouldered me in one smooth motion. I’d never, ever get used to him manhandling me. I was at least four or five inches shorter than him, but running crazy hours and eating junk food had made my normally curvy body bigger than I felt comfortable with. I was strong because of my job and my thick thighs stayed no matter what the scale read. No one had ever uttered a comment about it, but some days it bothered me. Dalton lifted me like I was nothing. Grant had done the same since the hard work on his ranch sculpted his arms and his abs. He towered over me, but was only a few inches taller than Dalton.

“Dalton!”

“For the rest of the time we’re at Grant’s house, you can call me Sir or you can call me Daddy.”

And just like that, I found myself the object of affection of not one Daddy, but two. I’d buy my brother whatever the hell he wanted for Christmas because he called it way before I realized what was happening, though I’d longed for the dynamic I’d fallen into.

“Yes, Sir.” Glancing up, I saw Grant smiling at me. It was the same look he’d given me the other night in his office; not pity but genuine consideration. “I’m not going to be able to sit comfortably tomorrow, am I?”

“No, sweet girl. But you already knew that.” Grant patted my head.

“Do you own a paddle?” Dalton strutted into the den like he owned the place, though I didn’t think he and Grant had hung out at his house before. Setting me on the oversized sofa, he kept me close to him. “Or any implement?”

“Yes, I do. Do you want leather or wood?”

“I do enjoy wood,” Dalton teased. “But I’m quite skilled with either.”

“I’ll surprise you. Be right back.” Grant waggled his eyebrows and left the room, leaving me perched on Dalton’s knees.

“Take your pigtails down, prancer.”

I went to do it, but my fingers trembled as I tried to unwind the braids.

“Relax, darling.” Dalton took my hands in his, setting them at my sides. He gently loosened each of the braids, running his fingers through my hair before lifting it to the nape of my neck and pulling it into a ponytail. “I want a handle to control your bratty disposition, since it worked so well for us the other night.”

“I’ve got so much going on in my head, Sir. I really should have talked to someone.”

“I’m no longer going to leave you to your own devices, and I have no doubt Grant will do the same. I’m not speaking on his behalf, but we seem to be of similar mindsets.”

Shifting around to face him, I touched his lips with my fingers. “I’ve wanted more than just a friendship with you for a long time.”

“No more dwelling in past shit, Kendall. If my words don’t sink into your brain, applying a paddle to your gorgeous ass will help.”

As if on cue, Grant strolled into the room, twirling an ominous looking implement in his hand. Dalton licked his lips as he watched, and it wasn’t only because of Grant’s looks. I’d watched Dalton play at the BDSM club, selfishly wishing that he’d been directing his attention to me. The look on his face meant bad things for my butt. His sadistic side wanted nothing more than to bring a person to climax by applying a certain amount of pain. The level varied, but I wasn’t spanked on the regular. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it.

“Yellow.”

“We haven’t started yet, prancer.” Dalton cupped my chin. “What’s freaking you out?”

Grant placed the implement out of my line of sight and joined us on the couch.

“You-you sort of looked like the cat who was about to eat the canary, Sir.” I stumbled over my words as I spoke to Dalton.

“Good thing you’re not a bird.” Dalton placed my hands on his shoulders and mirrored the action to mine. “Breathe.”

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