Acres, Natalie - Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts [Cowboy Boots 3] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) (20 page)

“You won’t do her or yourself any good by being forceful. You know I’m right.” A beat later, he added, “I said let her go, and I didn’t ask.”

Kit released her arm. “Abby, I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” she said, her eyes watering.

Kit turned to walk away and then stopped. “You know tomorrow night will introduce you to a world you’ve never visited, don’t you?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No, Abby, I don’t think you can. But now I see why you’ve stayed alive all this time. You’ve had seven operatives willing to die to save you. Maybe you played a better game of chess than your father did.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“He didn’t want you to marry an operative. I never could figure him out, but I respected him, so I didn’t try. He got rid of me and Judson. He already suspected Ace would go dark soon. We talked about it.” He took a ragged breath and made a decision to share something with her he might later live to regret. “I told him not to put Ace in that situation. Would you like to know why?”

Her lips thinned. A lone tear finally drifted down her cheek. Ah hell, her tears still destroyed him. He wiped the fallen teardrop away. She knew. God bless her soul, she knew. He shook his head and finally forced the words to pass his lips. “I told him Ace would choose you.”

“You were right,” Ace said, entering the room with Brantley. “In fact, Conrad and I discussed options prior to his death. I was due for a transfer—I knew nothing about shadows at the time—or he was planning to let me walk in September if he’d lived to see his wishes fulfilled.”

“You were leaving our division?” she asked, obviously taken by surprised.

“Yes,” Ace said softly. “I chose to walk. Conrad had my resignation.”

“Why didn’t any of you tell me about this?”

Kit decided to answer for them. He’d certainly lived the reply she needed to hear most. He cleared his throat and decided there was only one way to explain. “We all have our stories. We each keep our secrets. We guard them.

“Abby, that’s why we’re paid so well. Our lives are not our own. Our happiness does not matter. We are who we’ve chosen to be—silent soldiers, agents, operatives, killers—whatever title you want to use. If you ask me, they’re all the same.

“We’re the dead men and women walking. We grab hold of what we have in front of us, and if we later leave an experience with good memories, we cherish those. We covet them. And when the time comes, we let them go. We have to. It’s the only way we can survive.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“What if we decided to break all the previous rules?” Abby asked as Kit wrapped up his eloquent speech. By the time he finished, seven men were standing in the room, each entering at various points during the conversation.

“What are you suggesting, doll?” Kit asked.

Abby sat on the bed. Her palms smoothed over the coverlet in a circular fashion. The past few hours, she’d been soul searching. She’d revisited what the Donovans had introduced, playing out fantasies in her head. “Tomorrow night, we’re attending a grand opening for a lifestyle camp, a resort rumored to be without competition in the States. Today, it occurred to me that I lack experience.” Her eyes met Kit’s. “I want some.”

Porter raised his hand. “I’ll volunteer to teach you what I know.”

“Put your arm down, loser,” Fowler said.

“Are you afraid you didn’t hear me correctly, Fowler?”

“No, uh, that’s not it.”

She smiled sweetly and averted her gaze. Ace cleared his throat. “What’s wrong, Ace? Surely you didn’t think I’d want to enter the lion’s den and be the only lost kitten there.”

“You’ve seen enough in your life to make do,” Ace grumbled.

“Have I?” she asked, tilting her head. Oh, this would be more fun and games than she’d ever imagined.

Brantley stepped forward. She fully expected him to put a stop to her crazy notions by calling them out as such. Instead, he said, “She has a point. We’re trying to pass her off as a willing submissive to three men. She needs some practice.”

Ace rubbed his jaw. “You know what? You’re right. What kind of submissive goes on display at a lifestyle resort and has no idea what to expect?”

“What other rules do you want to bend exactly, sweet thing?” Ace asked.

This time, she connected with Judson. Leaned up against the dresser located on the far wall, he’d barely said anything. He’d stood in the corner rolling the tip of a cigar between his fingertips. He peered through layers of bangs and said, “I know exactly what she has in mind.”

Casey said, “If my services are required then we only have about two hours—”

“They aren’t,” Ace assured him.

“Who watched your back today?”

Ace shrugged. “I wasn’t too concerned about it while I was having mine washed thank you very much.”

Casey grunted. “Abby?”

“Yes, Casey?” she taunted him.

“Do you want me to stay or not?”

Judson walked toward her. “She wants you to stay. She wants all of us here. Isn’t that right, Abby?”

This was the Judson she remembered. The man who became a sexual creature on a moment’s notice and could fuck all night and still get it up at half past four in the morning.

Her leg bounced. She swung her gaze toward Brantley. “So what do you say, boss?”

“Don’t call me that,” Brantley said, but he smiled as if he liked the title.

“You’re in charge,” she reminded him. “You make the rules.”

“Yes I do,” he said. “Question is whether or not you’ll be able to abide by them.”

* * * *

Oh, she was pissed. She fought against the restraints and wondered why in the hell Sydney Kane Donovan allowed her men to keep something like this blasted wheel in their basement.

Kit propped up his foot on a spoke. “Bet you’re wishing you’d been a little more cautious about what you wished for, huh, doll?”

She jerked her arms. “This is not a laughing matter.”

“You’re damn straight it isn’t,” Ace said. “But one fact remains. This is precisely what you’ll see tomorrow night, so you might as well enjoy the practice run.”

“What are you planning to do with this piece of machinery?”

“Abby, be quiet, doll,” Kit said, studying her bare pussy like he’d never seen a waxed mound before.

All eyes were on her, but instead of being embarrassed by her nudity, she enjoyed the attention. Her arms were overhead, her wrists tied. Her legs were parted as wide as they would stretch, and both ankles were secured.

The exposure wasn’t the key element behind her trickling juices. Oh no, her lust spiked because of the men admiring her with bridled control.

 
Oh, but they would soon slip. The desire ran too deep. The anticipation would take over and drive them into throes of passion like they’d never experienced before.

“What do you think?” she asked, looking down at her body. “Is the outfit too much?”

“You’re perfect,” Ace assured her.

“I’m glad you’re such a willing submissive doll,” Kit taunted her. “What if Ace here had dragged out the harness tomorrow and couldn’t figure out the diamond-shaped patterns for himself?”

“I knew you had my back, Kit,” Ace said, leaving his comment loaded.

Abby caught his underlying meaning. Kit may have kept his dick zipped, but he’d been known to visit lifestyle clubs. When their relationship was still new, Kit used to take her to the clubs. He got off seeing women hog-tied by their Doms.

Some of the girls who tried to seduce him once told Abby he was considered the hopeless romantic, the untouchable Dom who visited the clubs, ordered a drink, and watched a show—generally between two committed Doms and their sub. Abby always assumed Kit had his preferences and fetishes like everyone else.

Staring down the length of her body, she studied the harness. It wasn’t what she would’ve considered a full restraint. The diamond patterns were straight down the middle, and an oblong cut exposed her breasts with the rope holding them up like a support bra. The largest opening framed her pussy, and the ties binding her weren’t painful. In fact, she was quite turned on by what she wore.

The entire experience was remarkable, sensual, and completely new. She’d cherish this moment all the days of her life.

“You aren’t zoning out on us are you, Abby?” Judson asked, caressing her right calf.

“No, am I supposed to?”

His laugh was throaty, carnal in every way. “Not quite. You’ll enjoy this more than you could ever imagine.”

She wouldn’t argue there.

Fowler fiddled with his phone. “Listen to this. At Juraz Mendete’s Lifestyle Resort, pain and pleasure meet Domination and servitude in the gymnasium, recently converted into a public forum for exhibitionists. Couples are invited to rent their own cages for one evening or for the duration of their stay.

“Each cage is equipped with various treats.” He mumbled a few words to himself and said, “There is something called ginger play, guaranteed to stimulate arousal and make the submissive eager to fuck.”

“Orgasms are more intense,” Judson informed them, acting as if he were the pro in Domination and submission. Maybe he was. Years had separated them. Abby had no idea what he’d been up to since she last saw him.

“I think the reservations need to be changed. Judson may know more than the rest of you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ace said, grabbing hold of the wheel. “We need Abby upright. Lend a hand if you can.”

The guys followed Ace’s lead. In a matter of seconds, the wooden platform was perpendicular. Now they could give her a spin and view her body from various angles.

“Is this equipment supposed to be used for punishment?”

“Shh,” Kit whispered, caressing the side of her full breast.

“Flogger please,” Porter said, extending his hand to Casey, who immediately placed a leather handle in his palm. The lashers on the end were silken strands similar to horsehair.

“What are you doing?” she asked, stretching her neck.

“Give her a spin,” Porter called out, dragging the flogger over her throbbing nipples.

“Oh God,” she whimpered, alarmed when the wheel started its rotation with a sudden jar.

After one full cycle, Porter stopped the motion. He popped the crop, and the lashers whispered over her mound. She gasped as he brushed her folds with gentle caresses. A dose of arousal shot through her body.

Her breasts were highly sensitive. Her nipples painfully sore. As the lust continued to build, she longed for two mouths suckling her tender points.

Porter handed the erotic tool to Casey who immediately flipped the flogger upside down. Tapping her mound with the solid end, he grinned as he rubbernecked. Staring at her cunt, he said. “She’s already damp.”

“Damp, hell,” she grumbled.

“No complaining,” Kit said, slapping her pussy.

“What the fuck!” she screamed.

“Liked that, did ya?” Kit asked, winking.

She swallowed as she considered the stroke of heat inside her folds. Her channel burned like fire and was as slippery as ice.

A blend of sensations pooled at her entrance until her pussy clenched. Her cunt vibrated. She desperately wanted to house a long, rigid cock inside her trembling walls.

Porter bumped the flogger against her center again. Using his fingers to stretch her, he dragged the knotted, rough leather around her opening. He didn’t insert the piece, and she might have gone into spasms if he’d tried, but man, this was some kind of feeling.

With the lust sparkling in their eyes, she felt empowered, like she was on some kind of pedestal. Ironically, even though she understood how they could somewhat control her orgasms—or prevent them entirely—she quickly realized she actually held her share of power, too.

Obedience was the ticket. If she practiced defiance, they’d spank and punish her until their arousal and hers would border along the lines of pain more than pleasure. She wondered then. Would the orgasms be more intense, stronger than anything she’d ever enjoyed?

A rabbit-style vibrator was brought out and shown to her. Brantley took pleasure in demonstrating the various speeds and control options. “This button here is designed to stimulate your clit.”

“Shucks, Brantley,” she drawled. “Can’t you think of a better way to arouse me?”

“I can,” Casey volunteered, wiggling his tongue.

She immediately trembled. Chill bumps scattered over her arms. “You really should have a permit to show that thing.”

“You think that brought you pleasure,” Casey said, grabbing his package in the front.

Men were so predictable. Abby should’ve figured they’d all want her to look at their crotches and just ooh and ahh and make a real fuss. They had the wrong woman if they wanted praise and such.

She’d worked with these men. She’d watched them crawl to the finish in training, whine like babies when a bullet grazed their skin, and act like children when they didn’t get their way.

Still, she loved them in spite of their flaws—all seven of them.