Page 186 of Unwrapping Deviance

The sitting area is a wide, open space with giant warehouse windows overlooking the main street. The floors are hardwood that matches the high ceilings and the rafters. Christian had practically giggled like a schoolboy when he’d seen that the solid beams ran through the whole space, including the bedroom.

I don’t let myself dwell on the playground the boys have built for us in the bedroom. It’s how I always end up naked across the sheets, arms and legs bound to the many attachments and hooks built into the frame.

Instead, I make my way quietly into the sitting room to find both my boys, each sitting on one of the two sofas facing each other on either side of a glass coffee table. Daniel has his head bent over the laptop open in his lap. Christian is sprawled across the other, an arm flung across his eyes.

“It’s been hours!” he’s groaning. “Doesn’t she need a break?”

“The publishers want the copies delivered to the event before this weekend. It’s already Tuesday. She has to get it done,” Daniel reminds him, never taking his eyes off his screen.

A thick patch of hair has slipped over his brow and hangs in his focused eyes. Since mentioning I like fisting their hair when they’re eating my pussy, Daniel has started letting his hair grow longer at the top. It’s still professional with the sides snippedshort, but there’s enough of his downy strands to bury my fingers in and ride his face.

The thought has me biting down on my lip. The aches of being stooped over my desk all day vanishes as I trace those perfect folds and try not to think of waking up just this morning with his tongue deep in my core.

It’s become a tradition, an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to leave the bed until we’ve all cum at least once, except me — three is my minimum.

Definitely not complaining.

They take way too good care of me. I know I’m fucking lucky. Every need and want is met immediately and without question. Every day is filled with more love than I ever expected to find. I’m so happy I want to just sit and cry some days.

But not today.

Christian’s right; I’ve been gone all day and all I want is to crawl into their lap and let them hold me.

“I bet I could forge her signature and help—” Christian states boldly, making my eyebrow lift the same time as the corner of my lip.

“That’s illegal, and Mira likes signings.”

My cramped hand disagrees but he’s not wrong. I love meeting people who have read my book and have questions or just want to meet me so I can sign their book.

“I miss her.”

His grumbling widens my grin. I understand his frustrations. Poor Daniel has to hear it from both of us when Christian is gone for work.

He’s not gone more than a week at the most a month and sometimes, I do tagalong, but it’s a long week for all of us when he goes alone. Same when I go for signings or events. I miss my boys like crazy.

“She’ll be done soon.”

Rather than hurry over to them, I turn and creep to the bedroom.

The bed, a sturdy block of solid mahogany takes up most of the space with a broad headboard and footboard cushioned across the back for comfort and noise. The center on both ends is carved around six iron spirals down the center with chunks of wood left over on either side for the four iron hoops.

I can’t reach both at the same time, but if I’m in the center of the mattress with ropes attached to my wrists and ankles, I create a very vulnerable starfish completely at the mercy of her tormentors, watching them do whatever they want through the mirror fixed to the ceiling.

I catch a glimpse of myself as I hurry to my dresser and pull the bottom drawer. I have to shove aside some of my sweaters to find the bag I’d stuffed towards the back.

I had been saving it for the boys’ birthdays, specifically Christian’s, but it’s still months away and I’m too excited to wait anymore.

Trying not to make a sound, I unpack my gift. Wash and clean it thoroughly. Then set it on the nightstand with a bottle of lube and a silk blindfold from the several we keep in the toy chest.

I strip quickly before yelling, “Boys, can I get a hand in the bedroom?”

I hear Christian’s excited, “She’s out!” Followed by hurried footsteps.

Both stop in the doorway and blink. Their surprise lasts a second before Christian has torn his top off. The fabric hits the corner by the door while his hands are already at his pants.

“Get on the bed.”

Christian grins, jeans at his knees. “I love it when you get bossy.”

---