Four to Go (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

She took the empty seat at the conference table and looked at those around her. Her husband sat in his high-tech, motorized wheelchair in the back of the room, talking quietly with the heads of his security team, John Givens and Mike Malone.

While not stereotypical muscle-bound bodyguards, they exuded an aura of dangerous, lethal ability. They were each a few inches over six feet tall, and except for hair and eye color, they could almost be twins. John’s hair was midnight black, which set off his arctic blue eyes, and Mike had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Each provided a foil for her husband’s curly blond hair and hazel eyes.

There was no way around the fact that they were three very appealing and attractive men. Wild sex on a stick, she thought with a guilty blush as she remembered the night in the pool room three weeks ago. She could recall the expressions of love, affection, and lust on their faces as John and Mike made love to each other. She could still see their beautifully naked bodies pressed together. To say she had been stunned was a gross understatement. She had met several of the beautiful and charming women Mike and John had dated over the past few years and had never seen any indications that they were gay. In fact, if she was absolutely honest with herself, she had sometimes felt a surprising sense of jealousy toward those women.

Before she and Tom were married, she had thought of them as the three musketeers, partly because when you found one, you normally found all three. Since Tom’s accident, John and Mike had become not only her best friends as well as Tom’s, but her only friends. Kate had come to depend on them more and more. Most of her friends had married and moved away while she was getting her business started. When she and Tom had married and moved to the mountains, Kate had become tied up in the legal problems associated with the sale of her business and had little time for socializing.

Kate had become more and more isolated, first while Tom was in the hospital, and then even more so when he finally returned home. If it hadn’t been for Mike and John, she didn’t know what she would have done.

Tom was scheduled for multiple surgeries on his arm and leg in about six weeks, and she knew he wanted to get some urgent business matters settled before then.

Carter Jamison, president of the local bank, and Scott Thomasson, her husband’s financial manager, sat on either side of her. Across from her was Anna James, Tom’s attorney, and Walker Newland, president of her husband’s company, Martins Enterprises, Inc.

“What’s up? Do you know?” whispered Scott as he scooted his chair closer to her.

“Not an inkling,” she replied, moving her chair away from his. He reeked of liquor. From the smell, he probably drank his lunch today. He must have tied one on last night. The smell of stale liquor seemed to ooze from his pores. His face had mottled red blotches, sagging jowls, and was framed by thinning, dirty blond hair. At one time he had been attractive and still thought he was.

“Bitch!” he mumbled beneath his breath as he caught her expression of disgust.

“Did you just call me a bitch?” Kate asked, her voice tight with anger.

“No, of course not. I was just clearing my throat,” he replied with a smirk.

Kate looked up to see John and Mike angrily glaring at Scott. She smiled and shook her head when they glanced at her. They seemed to have an uncanny awareness of when she was upset or in difficulties, and had literally saved her life shortly after Tom’s car accident.

* * * *

She and Tom had only been married for two years when a car thief ran a red light and smashed into the driver’s side of Tom’s car as he was returning home from a meeting. The seat belt kept Tom from being thrown out of the car. However, in the last few seconds before impact, as he saw the car hurtling toward him and realized he couldn’t escape the impact, Tom frantically tried to release the seat belt and twist his body away from the tons of metal bearing relentlessly down on him. He failed. His left leg and arm had multiple fractures and his spinal cord had been injured. The car that hit him had been stolen, and the driver had disappeared before the police arrived.

Kate virtually slept at the hospital next to his bed after the emergency surgery. He was in a coma for nearly two weeks, and no one could predict his future, or if he even had a future. When he awoke, he was in terrible pain and adamant that she be banned from his room.

Tom told her it wasn’t personal, just that he couldn’t bear to have anyone around watching him suffer. He preferred to be alone to deal with it. Additionally, he said his pain medication was so strong that he was unconscious more than he was awake and the thought of someone watching him as he lay unconscious creeped him out.

Kate spent several days pacing the hallway in front of his room. Finally, the doctors advised her to stay home and wait for them to call her with updates on his condition because Tom would fly into a rage, machines flashing and beeping ominously, whenever he heard her voice outside his room or spotted her peeking into his room.

When Tom finally regained consciousness, he called Mike and John to his hospital room. He told them that it was no accident that put him in the hospital. He said he was conscious after the crash and saw a man exit the car that hit his. The man grinned at Tom and pumped his fist in the air before running down a side street. Mike and John had already moved into the mansion to support Kate while Tom was in the hospital. They swore to Tom that they would stay until they found the asshole who caused the car crash.

* * * *

The months dragged by with monotonous regularity for Kate, except for the daily phone call from Tom. She would sometimes sit for hours in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the lake below and the surrounding mountains in the distance. One day, Kate found herself drifting from room to room in the huge old mansion Tom had bought just before their marriage.

Each room in the mansion held vivid memories for her. On their wedding day, Tom had told her that one of his gifts to her, and also his first goal as a married man, was to make love to his wife in every room in the house, closets included. Kate smiled at the memories.

Two or three times a month Tom would choose a “special” room with a specific theme in mind. The theme of each room was a different sexual position, a different sex toy, or a different sexual fantasy. And Tom allowed his imagination to work overtime when it came to pleasuring her. The wine cellar, basement, garage, pool room, library, office, conference room, dining room, bedrooms, hallways, staircases, and of course, closets galore all became their sexual playground. Kate smiled to herself as she recalled some of her favorite rooms.

They would go from rollicking, staggering laughter at some of Tom’s more outrageous sexual scenarios to an intense, overwhelming, emotional, and physical need for each other in the blink of an eye.

Tom had stripped her naked in the conference room and tied her to the table. He’d placed her butt on a pillow at the very edge of the table and tied her widely spread legs securely, so that when he sat in his chair she was spread out in front of him. He used a rope to tie her arms to the other end of the table, stretching and restraining her.

He tormented and teased her unmercifully as she lay like an abundant feast in front of him. That day he made use of several of his favorite toys for her, including a vibrating rabbit and an anal probe. He brought her to four screaming orgasms during her time stretched out on the conference room table.

When she had asked him why he hadn’t come himself, he said something that surprised her. Tom claimed that, for him, sex was not only a physical release, which he admittedly loved, but the mental thrill of planning her pleasure in excruciating detail, then executing his plan and watching her experience the pleasure he created for her. He said it was listening to her moans, listening to her begging for more, and watching her body’s frantic stretching and bucking in release that gave him the greatest pleasure.

But, she remembered with satisfaction, while he may not have climaxed in the conference room that particular day, she made sure that he climaxed several times once they left it. This house was filled with some spectacular memories.

They had almost made it. Tom had been in the process of renovating the attic for what he called his grand finale. He wouldn’t allow her anywhere near the attic while construction was
in progress. But at night he’d whisper wildly salacious hints of the sensual pleasures awaiting her when his “palace of sexual wonders” was completed.

The incredible, inventive sex was only one part of their relationship. She missed having his warm, strong arms holding her at night, his body curled around her. She missed the devilish twinkle in his hazel eyes and the way they could communicate with just a glance. She missed the simple warmth of his hand holding hers, and the way his smile could gently warm her soul or light the fires of ravenous sexual desire.

They complemented each other, particularly in their extremely high sex drives. Sex for them wasn’t a once-in-a-while thing, or even once a day, and it certainly wasn’t only the missionary position. They were both open to expressing their love for each other in many, many ways, including using sex toys and fantasies, role-playing and words. Particularly words! Tom had several times made her come without touching her at all, just by his inventive and erotic sex talk.

As she stood
looking out of the window, those happier memories flooded her mind, emphasizing the emptiness of her life without Tom. Kate doubled over in pain, one hand over her midsection and the other hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming aloud her rage and pain at his absence, and at the abrupt and devastating change in their lives.

“Oh, Katie, luv. How can we help you?” Mike asked softly as he and John entered the living room.

Kate quickly turned away from them, placing her forehead against the cold glass of the window. Struggling to regain her composure, she could only stutter, “S–sorry, s–sorry. I…”

Then, like a burst dam, the wracking sobs erupted and she slid to the floor, her head still against the cold glass. Her sobbing became so violent she was almost gagging. She curled into a tight ball on the floor, her body shuddering in spasms as her sobs increased.

Kate was so lost in her misery and pain that she never felt the arms that lifted her from the floor and surrounded her with strength and warmth while she cried. She was barely aware of the cool washcloth wiping her tears away or the tissue wiping her nose. When the hiccupping shudders began, the warm arms around her held her tighter and rocked her gently.

She swore she felt a kiss on her temple and one on her cheek at the same time. Kate vaguely recalled being undressed and having her nightgown pulled over her head before she was put in her bed.

And, on some level, she was aware that she was watched over throughout the night.

The next morning she opened her eyes and, through the pounding in her head, saw that a light snow was falling. She could hear the clinking of dishes and the muted sound of male voices. There was a quick knock, and then her bedroom door was opened.

“Good morning, sunshine. We brought breakfast, as well as a few aspirin.” John smiled as he pushed the tea cart into the room.

“Shouldn’t it be Ms. Rain Storm or maybe Ms. Crybaby?” Kate replied with a wry lift of one eyebrow as she gratefully swallowed the aspirin John held out to her. The emotional overload of last night had left its mark in the dull, throbbing headache this morning.

“Nah,” Mike said as he walked into the room and moved the chair by the window closer to the bed. “You were holding too much inside for too long, and it had to come out. That’s all.”

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate all the help you gave me last night. I’m so sorry…”

“See, John, I told you she was going to be all apologetic and embarrassed this morning.”

“Okay, okay. But at least let me say thanks. I owe you both,” she continued seriously.

“Fine, put it on our tab and let’s eat while it’s hot.” John smiled at her as they set out the breakfast.

Later, finding herself alone and wandering from room to room again, Kate decided to get some fresh air and clear the cobwebs from her head. She dressed warmly in her down-filled
coat, boots, woolen scarf, mittens, and a heavy knit cap and stepped out into the frosty air, breathing deeply. She quickly slipped her sunglasses on for protection against the glare of the snow. The snow continued to lightly fall as she made her way down the twisting path through woods to her favorite spot overlooking the lake and sat on the trunk of a fallen tree.

A few minutes later the lightly falling snow quickly changed into heavy, blowing snow mixed with stinging ice crystals as the wind suddenly began whipping around her. She looked back but couldn’t see even a vague outline of their huge house through the trees. Everything was a white blur.

Kate knew she was in serious trouble. She’d lived in the mountains long enough to know that the weather could change in a matter of seconds. It could also get worse, much worse, and stay that way for hours or even days.

She noticed that the increasingly heavy snow and ice had almost obliterated her footprints. There was only a slight indentation to show she’d been through there just minutes before, and even that was filling up quickly. Kate pulled her scarf up over her nose and lower face, leaving only her sunglasses visible.

Indecision had her hesitating. If she tried to get back to the house, she could, and probably would, lose her way and never get back. Her sense of direction sucked! If she stayed here and tried to construct some cover for herself, she might be able to wait out the storm, at least until Mike and John could find her.

Riiiight.
Ms. Mountain Girl would have no problem finding some sort of “cover,” or maybe she could make an igloo. Sure she could.

Kate’s mind was going a mile a minute. Then a thought hit her. Hadn’t she read that snow itself could be an insulator? If she could push up mounds of snow around a small tree or bush, she could get into the center under the foliage and have the brush and snow mounds provide, at the least, a bare minimum of protection from the stinging ice pellets and wind. What the heck. It was worth a try.