Page 13 of Room Seventeen

I consider myself a soft Dom, but on the heavy-handed side. I like testing boundaries and accepting submission, but I’ll never demand it. Xander also has D/s tendencies, but he’s more of a primal Dom, a lot more interested in chasing her, throwing her over his shoulder or pinning her against a wall, but only if it makes her scream his name in pleasure. Not that we’ve had many submissives over the years. It’s hard to find a woman who has the same needs and desires as we do. Garrett is a pure hedonist, seeking and giving pleasure in any form available, but he’s been craving the one woman who likes to touch and be touched as much as he does.

She bites her lip as she looks over the selection. Her gaze keeps returning to the large leather paddle with the thin padding on one side, but she’s yet to point it out to me.

I place my hand on her flank, massaging in a slow circle with enough friction to warm her skin. With my mouth hovering over her ear, I whisper, “What do you find intriguing? What have you fantasized about before? What scene out on the dungeon floor made you drip with desire?”

She glances up through her eyelashes and presses her lips together.

I grab the paddle. “How about this?”

“Do you want to spank me, Sir?”

“The question is, do you want to be spanked?”

“I think I do.”

“Why?”

She drops her chin to her chest. “I’m not sure. I’ve seen some of the girls after they’ve been spanked, and they look like they are flying high. Drunk, even. It’s intoxicating to watch them.”

“Did it make you wet?”

Nodding, she moans as I slide my hand between her legs. She’s plenty wet just talking about it. “Not that I plan to take you far, but you need a safeword.”

“Cinnamon?” She offers.

I nod, curious as to why that particular word, but we don’t have time to go into it tonight. “Pick a piece of equipment.”

Xander walks up beside us and slides his hand onto the back of her neck. He tilts her face towards him and kisses her gently before pulling back with a smile. “Does this stuff get you hot, sweetheart?”

“I think it does. But I'm also scared.”

He shakes his head and runs his finger over her cheekbone. “You don't have anything to be afraid of with us. We’ll take care of you.” Xander exchanges a glance with me. “Always.”

I gave him an imperceptible nod, but my stomach sinks with the thought.

Always.

Yes, we will take care of her until the day comes that she’s no longer ours. Until the day some man puts a ring on her finger and takes away our ability to care for her. Because that day is going to come one day, and I dread it like I dread death.

Not my death, but the death of those I love.

And the list of people I love is very short. My momma, Xander, Garrett, and Carlisle.

Since we received our beautiful invitations inviting us to live out our ultimate fantasy—well… not our ultimate fantasy, but a taste of what that would be like—I’ve had a sinking feeling in my gut. Tomorrow is not going to be a happy morning. This is going to end badly. I just know it, but I don’t know what to do to stop it.

We’re here now, and like the greedy, selfish bastards we are, we’re going to enjoy every minute of now, and let tomorrow be what it is.

I understand her position. Admitting who she is might be scary, but I don’t know how to alleviate that fear without taking her choice away from her. She’s exactly what I want—what we want—and has been from the moment she walked through our door. I’ve given her multiple opportunities to pull off the mask, but she’s unwilling to do it, and maybe I need to realize it’s not fear holding her back.

Maybe anonymity is the fantasy, and we’d ruin it by telling her we know.

Regardless, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. And I feel that impending heartbreak is synonymous with the sun rising in the East.

“Maybe we could try that?” She points at the St. Andrew’s Cross. Then she points at the bench. “Or that?”

“Do you trust us, girl?” I clench a fist of her hair and lean into her ear, nipping at her earlobe.

She moans, her eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, Sir.”

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