Chains and Canes (13 page)

He choked it down. All of it. His frustration found a home in Daniel. “Did I tell you to stand, boy?”

“None of that
boy
shit. Not now.” As if the backtalk wasn’t enough, Daniel’s hands were fisted at his sides.

“You gonna hit me?” Remy’d been hit before. Plenty of times, and in dives much less fancy than these digs, but never by a man he’d face-fucked only moments earlier. His first week in New York saw the tables turned, when he’d been the one pummeled, but that was a memory he did his best to avoid. That didn’t take into account the things he’d done in exchange for shelter and safety—or before he’d left home, when his uncle first taught him the way the world worked.

“I will hit you if that’s what it takes.” Daniel drew in a deep breath of his own. His neck stretched against the black leather collar. Tendons and male strength and more resistance made Remy’s cock throb. “But I don’t think I’ll have to. Look at her.”

Naya was a mess. Freshly beaten. Sweaty. Shivering. She was giggling in the way he’d learned to anticipate during their last session. Remy crouched at her side and brushed a swath of hair from her cheek. Her eyes were…
gone
. Deep zones of gone.

She barely focused but didn’t say anything. Her mouth curved into a dreamy smile.

He traced those arcing lips with his finger. He kept from shaking somehow, despite the way his entire body had wrapped in on itself—a mental mirror of her physical fetal position. “How do you feel,
chère
?”

Her lashes fluttered. Remy thought she was going to gray out. But her gaze swung wildly before zeroing in on him. “You’re Sir. You touch me, I’m here.”

He glanced up at Daniel over his shoulder. “She’s talking.”

“Fuck that.”

“She could have safe-worded. Maybe someone’s feeling a little jealous? You’da got your turn, boy.” Despite his casual words, he knew his worry was leaking out.

“You ignored the safe word.”

“Because she didn’t give it.”

Daniel pointed at Naya, who nestled into the blanket he’d yanked from a console table. His eyes flattened into slits. “You really think she’s up to giving it? I know her. She can get to the point where she’s still verbal but nothing makes sense. I’ve never seen her this far gone.”

“What are you saying, Daniel?”

“Check her.
Really
check her.”

Fine. If lover boy wanted to be extra protective, Remy could humor him. This time. From a more serious part of his mind came real worry. This kind of play always held risk. It was better to be safe.

Underneath the blanket, her jeans were tangled around her knees. Remy tugged them down and pulled them away. A tiny mewling sound worked out of her throat. She clutched at him. Desperately.

Damn it.

Daniel might be right.

Remy cupped the sides of her head and forced her to look right at him. “Naya, I’m going to ask you a question. Answer truthfully.”

“Always,” she breathed. “Always tell the truth to my Daniel and always tell the truth to my Sir.”

“Did you want to use the safe word?”

She shook her head despite his grip, pushing unsteadily up to her knees. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest. “Course not.”

“There we go,” Remy said, shocked by how much relief cooled his burning tension. He looked up at Daniel, who
towered
over them both—powerful despite the black collar and the leash that dangled toward the floor. “Everything’s okay.”

“You think? Tell her to repeat a sentence back to you. Make it an order.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you can get the fuck out.”

Remy silently clashed with the man who’d been on his knees moments ago. Daniel was deadly serious. His fists hadn’t relaxed. Naked and collared or in a business suit, the man could bring it.

Whereas Remy was back to following orders. He didn’t want the night to end, but he wasn’t in charge. Only when he swung a paddle or a belt. To have so much control handed to him and jerked away was the worst sort of torture. Even spending time in decked-out places like this before returning to his apartment didn’t affect him as strongly.

Remy was the submissive. Doing what he was told. Hoping for a little more time.

He looked away from Daniel’s arrogant stare and lifted the back of Naya’s neck. She smiled up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Naya.” She drew out both syllables with the cadence of a child’s rhyme.

“Naya, you’re going to repeat what I say. Exactly what I say. Understand?” She nodded. This wasn’t looking good. “Say this back to me: I work at Club Devant as a choreographer.”

“You do, Sir. So good.”

“
Merde.
”

Remy didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong, but she became priority number one. Daniel crouched next to them both, adding his own touches to Naya’s face.

Despite everything, despite doubt that must’ve been rolling off Remy in waves, Daniel didn’t push him away. He folded along Remy’s side. That warm reassurance said maybe Remy hadn’t fucked up too badly—not a point of no return.

“Naya, angel.” Daniel’s voice was low and calm. “Why didn’t you want to use the safe word? Were you enjoying the beating? Or were you trying to make Remy happy?”

Remy’s hands tightened on the side of Naya’s head, but not roughly. Connection. He needed the connection, just like he’d needed Daniel’s warmth pressed against his side. Words weren’t enough.

“For Sir.” She licked her bottom lip. “For Sir. Happy. You happy too. My rock. Granite.”

Daniel made a soft, hushing noise and stroked her neck. “Yes, angel. I was happy too.”

“Okay.” Remy nodded. “Okay, okay.” Trying to find another store of calm was a losing battle. He had the score now. He understood. He… “Fuck,” he whispered.

After hooking his hands under Naya’s arms and knees, he hefted her off the floor. It was harder than lifting her without the momentum of dance or help from her, but he pushed to his feet. Daniel pointed to a door over his shoulder.

Behind it, Remy found a room that was something between a library and a study. Maybe in Rich Land, it was an office. Hell if he knew. He was too shaken up to find reason to care. All he knew was the wide leather sectional against a bank of windows was just what Naya needed.

“White couch the first time. Brown couch the next. I’m gonna get a complex. You two don’t think I rate a bed?”

Daniel followed behind him. His voice grated like pebbles in a shoe. “At this moment…”

“Glad you didn’t finish that thought.” Remy’s heart wasn’t in the threat. He held an armful of proof that their evening had taken a chilling turn.

He laid Naya down and peeled back the blanket, revealing a golden prize. Her bronze skin glowing and hot and marked fresh. She curled into a half-moon shape, knees to her elbows—beautiful, but as ethereal as a ghost.

Daniel lifted a single eyebrow. His arms were crossed over his wide chest. He didn’t say anything, but Remy knew he waited. Not for permission or for a new set of commands. He waited for an acknowledgment. Remy had fucked up. For now, he only gave a solemn nod. They’d need to talk this over, at a minimum in pairs but preferably as a group. A trio.

Trio?

He shoved that word from his mind.

Daniel didn’t budge. Not a move. Not a sound. A long minute trickled between them, and fear crawled up the inside of Remy’s forearms.

Across years of doing what got him off so hard, Remy had learned one thing. Partners came and went. He’d been worked over pretty rough by a few, sometimes for fun, sometimes for pay, sometimes when he hadn’t been given a choice. Then he’d discovered that holding the whip was a helluva lot better.

Power and arousal.

That history meant he understood how far was too far.

He’d been so damn lost in the moment. He should’ve checked her more frequently. And in his arrogance, he’d argued with the man who knew Naya best. Just because Remy could get her off didn’t mean he knew her, could read her, meant anything to her.

Meant anything to
them
.

There was no coming out of this without marking each other with experiences and new truths, but he couldn’t stand the idea that he could crack their happiness by taking too much.

The words took another minute to conjure. “I’ll take care of her. I will. She’s done with the hard stuff tonight. But first…”

Daniel’s pale eyes were angry slivers. “First what?”

Remy worked to keep his spine loose, his hips curved. He stroked Naya’s shoulders, her back, her hips. She snaked out her arm and wrapped slender fingers around the back of Daniel’s thigh.

I’ve ruined the chance to stay.

Remy’s stomach crunched down hard.

He would need to earn his way back.

“I need you to get my bag from the other room,” he said. “Will you do that, Daniel?”

More endless waiting. Only pride kept Remy from glancing away from Daniel’s cold challenge, until…

Daniel nodded. Just an inch. Just enough that Naya caught her breath, smiling with happiness but beginning to shake. She was coming back down to earth.

“Yes,” said the tall, imposing man of empire. “I’ll get your bag.” He glared at Remy before walking out of the room. His ass was tight with each stalking step.

Remy sank into his body as if into a pile of feather pillows. Relief.

He eased onto the edge of the couch and curled over Naya. “I’m sorry,
chère
.”

She settled her palm along his jaw. Her fingers dipped to caress the divot behind his ear. “It’s okay, Sir.”

“We’ll talk about it more later.”

“That’s what makes it okay,” she said on a whisper. She smiled against his cheek and nuzzled there, trusting him more than anyone ever should.

“You won’t ever be unsafe with me. Not again.”

“Good.” Daniel stood in the doorway, defiant and vibrant. His eyes sparked fire. He strode to the leather sectional and dropped the duffel. “Your bag. Sir.”

His tone grated holes in Remy’s pride. He deserved that condescension…

Which meant what he witnessed next was beyond belief. Daniel surprised him, as the man had an uncanny habit of doing. His sharp-eyed suspicion added luster to the moment when he sank slowly, proudly to his knees.

“
Ai
, baby,” Naya breathed. “You look unbelievably hot.”

Remy heard her words but only had eyes for Daniel. “Why?” he asked, throat tight.

“Because we’re back on the same page.” Daniel hooked a thumb around the leash and brought it forward to drape down his body. “Aren’t we, Sir?”

That invitation to return to their game made Remy lightheaded. He needed a moment before he could lift his chin and accept the return of his authority. He found his center and that elusive calm by staring at Daniel’s cock, which was growing harder, thickening, lengthening.

“Looks that way, boy. Very nice.”

A long inhale shaped Daniel’s strong barrel chest, so much more robust than Remy. He looked as relieved as Remy felt.

Game on.

He wrapped his hand over Naya’s mouth, with his fingers covering her soft lips. “No more talking without permission, now,” Remy whispered. “I gotcha.”

Brown eyes blinked once, then hazed out again. She’d hit the downward slope of her fantastic roller coaster. He wasn’t going to let her fall just yet. After digging around in his bag, he found what he needed. Of the two dozen rubber-tipped clothespins he’d packed for the evening, he only pulled out six.

“These pretty, pretty tits.” He held his hand flat underneath the swell of her breast and plumped that sweet shape. “They need something. A little decoration.”

Daniel and Naya exchanged glances, as if they weren’t sure who he was talking to. Both, probably. And even to himself. “If you like, Sir,” Daniel said.

Remy put four of the clothespins on the couch next to his hip and held out two. “These. On your nipples, Naya. Do you want them? You have permission to speak.”

Naya bit her bottom lip—a flash of white across reddened flesh. “I do, Sir.” She swallowed with obvious nervousness, but her chest lifted in presentation.

He found Daniel’s icy, fiercely protective gaze. “I think our boy needs to put them on.”

“No. I don’t hurt my angel.”

“That’s what you said the other night, and look what came of that. A few bruises that definitely aren’t mine.” He held out both clothespins, then wrapped the leash around his wrist and over half his forearm. “You’ll do it, boy. You’ll do it, and Naya will thank you for the special treat.”

Chapter Thirteen

Daniel reached out for the clips with hands that shook. He hoped Remy and Naya knew he wasn’t trembling out of fear. It was anticipation. Even for how angry he’d been, he remained in a situation unlike any in his life.

Naya was safe now. Daniel had heard Remy’s soft apology to her, which was what he’d needed. Contrition. A dent in that arrogance. Proof Remy was a good man, not just a fantastic dancer and a mean-ass Dom. Daniel hadn’t needed to add a word of censure to the insults he’d seen pinging behind Remy’s unnerved, clouded eyes.

The clouds were gone now. Naya smiled softly, snuggled with Remy and waiting for more.

Daniel could indulge again.

A brand-new part of him was anticipating the idea of hurting Naya. Maybe not brand new. Maybe it was a place they hadn’t fully explored—one that walked alongside finding men attractive and art beautiful. It was exploration at his core.

Naya was his angel. He’d never been able to bring himself to hurt her. But with Remy’s obvious relish matching hers, Daniel wanted to be part of what she needed. No longer watching. Not even submitting. He wanted to participate.

The clothespins were made of wood, but the tips were covered with black rubber. He wasn’t sure what that coating would do: make them nicer or meaner.

It wasn’t his job to know. It was his job to take orders and serve them both. So long as Remy kept an eye on Naya’s limits, and accepted that Daniel had a hand in protection too, he could do that.

Trust achieved. Time to be bold.

Remy cupped Naya’s full breasts, presenting them, making an offering of Daniel’s fiancée. She was a woman so sexy that anyone would scale skyscrapers for just a taste—Daniel included.