Oliver (3 page)

Merideth quaked inside. She plucked at the hem of her blouse.

“Stop fidgeting,” he snapped.

Instinct made her want to kneel before Oliver. She’d envisioned a man who’d rebuild her from scratch with gentle instruction, not this…this…

“Sit down, Lucas,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable. Unless you’d prefer to bend her over the back of the sofa rather than your knee?”

Merideth felt Oliver’s gaze slice into her soul. Who knew ice could be blasted with furnace-like intensity? The heat in his words churned in her belly. Her body went on high alert. She didn’t know if it was from fear or anticipation. Maybe a little of both.

“Over my lap is preferable,” Lucas said.

“Regrettably I have no instruments within easy reach. But there’s a good selection in the playroom downstairs.”

“My hand will do.”

Oliver gave a single nod of approval, and Lucas sank into the sofa behind him.

Merideth felt vulnerable without him at her back. Chills raced up and down her spine. Somehow she fought the urge to cross her arms to hide her erect nipples. It was the sudden chill, nothing more.

“This isn’t necessary. It’s not what I wanted or needed.” Her bravery shocked her and quickly faltered under the force of Oliver’s stare. She cast her gaze downward. Oliver hooked his finger under her chin, pulling up until she had no choice but to meet those green-brown eyes.

“You came to me for help. I decide what you need. Starting with a reminder of who you’ve placed in charge of your well-being. This will be done, or you will both leave.”

Merideth was beginning to think this was one of those
be careful what you wish for
things. “Very well.”

She turned from him without delay. Maybe she craved this more than she could admit to herself. Why else ask Lucas to bring her here?

Four steps brought her to Lucas’s knees. She slid into a facedown position over his lap. Lucas curled his fingers around her hip, adjusting her bottom for the perfect striking angle. She felt him shift as he lifted his other hand to deliver the spanking.

“Clothed? Really?” Oliver tsked. “We are out of practice, aren’t we?”

Lucas released his hold on her. “Undress.”

She dug her elbows into his thigh as she pushed herself upright, enjoying his grunt of pain. Her eyes flicked to his. In them she saw a fierce determination she thought had died long ago. She’d pushed him too far.

“Remove your clothing. All of it.”

Merideth almost defied him. Instead, she hopped to her feet and toed off her shoes. They’d see eventually anyway; better to reveal all now. Giving them her back, she stripped off her blouse and let them look their fill while she wiggled out of her pants and panties. Only then did she start to reassume position, keeping her eyes everywhere but on what she might see in theirs.

“Not so fast.” This from Lucas.

“Did you willingly request to be whipped like that?” Oliver asked.

Merideth jerked upright. “God, no.”

They leaned in from both sides. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know. It all went so horribly wrong.” It killed her to admit that. In her haste to recapture that certain something, she’d neglected very basic principles—like researching the club and its members. She’d been blinded by a pretty face and sugared charm.

“We’ll deal with that later.” Oliver sucked in the air around her as he stood. “Give her an extra ten for being stupid.”

She’d barely settled when Lucas’s hand connected with a stinging smack, then another, and another. Twenty in quick succession that stirred the warmth inside.

Oliver squatted down at eye level. “Discipline and control in every swat against your beautiful ass. Perfection.” He combed the hair away from her eyes. “In case there are any misconceptions on your part, Merideth, Lucas came to your aid for one reason, brought you to my door in the dead of night for one reason, spanked you for one reason only. Because he cares enough to do so. How could you think him incapable of helping you through this? What could I possibly do that he cannot?”

Tears flooded her vision as the truth seeped into her senses. Admitting it… “Because I need you both.” The words squeaked out. She maintained eye contact, hoping for some flicker of something in Oliver’s gaze. He guarded himself well.

“A pity you couldn’t be honest with him about that from the start.” He stood once more. “I expect you to make that right…now. I’m sure you can think of an appropriate way to both apologize and to thank him for coming to your aid.”

Lucas’s cock hardened against her hip. Neither man forced the issue. The choice was hers. Control in her hands. Rebirth. More heat bathed her hip and licked over her thoroughly warmed backside. Her body answered the pulse of Lucas’s erection with one of its own. Her clitoris was hard and slick, anxious for attention.

Merideth glided to the floor between his knees. The temptation to ride his leg on the way down was too great to resist. The rasp of combed silk shot sparks through her, set her heart racing, and left a trail of moisture in her wake.

Lucas shifted, widening his knees, and scooted lower on the sofa. Behind her, Oliver pulled the heavy maple coffee table out of her way. Nestled between Lucas’s thighs, Merideth cupped his legs and slowly drifted her hands upward. His muscles rippled under her touch. His breath quickened. A glance showed he looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. Then she dropped her gaze to the cock awaiting her, at her mercy. Her mouth watered.

She paused at the crease of his thighs and brushed her thumbs over the top of his balls through his pants. “Show me,” she whispered.

Lucas opened his trousers with one hand, but it was Merideth who grasped the waistband and peeled them down, down, down until trousers and briefs shackled his ankles. She licked and nipped her way back up his legs and thighs, loving the feel of the soft golden hairs under her tongue, the power each of his moans gave her.

Reaching her goal, she nuzzled his balls as she looped a loose fist around the base of his thick erection. She raked it to the tip, flicked the drop of precum onto her thumb, then sucked it between her lips.

“Mmm…I’m going to devour you.” The words slipped out of their own accord. Maybe she wasn’t as lost as she’d thought.

“I do hope so.”

Lucas cupped her head, burrowing those long fingers deep into her hair. He gently urged her to take him.

Licking her lips, Merideth leaned forward and closed her mouth over the head. She sucked and twirled her tongue around the crown, reveling in the deep groans she pulled from him. Another hard suck to the base jerked his pelvis upward. She pressed the flat of her tongue against the throbbing vein under his penis and worked her way oh so slowly back up. Halfway there, long, thick fingers tickled down the crack of her ass and plunged into her pussy.

“Nice and slick.” Oliver stroked deep and slow, then circled his thumb over her clit. “Hard and ripe.” A thrust. “I’m going to enjoy making you come.” Another thrust. “Fucking you.” Another.

She groaned around Lucas’s cock, taking him deeper while she pushed her ass higher. Oliver eased away only to press his naked thighs against hers. She heard the subtle tear of a condom package and froze in anticipation of him being inside her.

Lucas combed his fingers through her hair. “We would never hurt you, force you.”

He’d taken her stillness for fear?

Oliver leaned over her. “Did they?”

God help her, Merideth wanted to lie. Wanted to forget all of it. Instead, she gave a single nod.

“They’ll pay.” Oliver dropped a kiss to her shoulder and entered her in a long, slow, deep thrust.

She’d forgotten how deliciously huge Oliver was. How sweet it was when he pressed his fingers over her clitoris, when he was wedged in nice and tight.

Both men writhed into her at the same time. Momentum took hold. They moved in sync, liked they’d never been separated. Each seemingly dedicated to the other’s orgasm…or demanding it. It’d been a test of wills in the past to see who could last the longest. Merideth already knew she’d be the loser tonight. Oliver’s plunge into her body increased with every swipe of his fingers over her clit. She tried to focus on Lucas, on giving him the best blowjob he’d had in a long time. But Lucas had long since taken control of the action, moving in counter time with Oliver, taking her unaware, going shallow when Merideth would have deep throated him.

She gripped his thighs and enjoyed the ride, the feel of being between these men—
her
men. Climax rushed in with blinding speed and intensity. She sucked Lucas hard and deep, letting her moans do the work when her tongue and mouth were paralyzed with pleasure. He came seconds behind her, growling with the release. Oliver seated himself on one final plunge and came with them.

Gentle caresses drifted over her head, shoulders, and back. She’d always treasured the after-love cuddling. Tonight the whip scars latticed down her back made her increasingly self-conscious.

Someone sighed—well, they all did—and they slowly eased apart.

Oliver handed her clothes to her. She inhaled his scent. He smelled fresh, like he just came from the shower. Like he’d come
in
the shower. The image flashed through her. Her body tightened in response.

“For someone who has dedicated herself to restoring priceless works of art, you’ve sadly neglected yourself.”

Like that, he’d put her back in her place. They dressed in awkward silence.

“Come to the kitchen, and I’ll fix you both something to eat.” He walked away, expecting them to obey. Yet she remained statue still, clutching her arms around her midriff.

She and Lucas knew from the start that they’d made a mistake by leaving Oliver all those years ago. Coming back now might have made things worse. Their return stirred emotions long buried in all of them. The one thing that hurt the most was realizing how much their departure had wounded Oliver. He masked his feelings well, but his eyes never lied. He’d be doing good to focus some of the anger on himself, though. After all, he’d made his choices too.

Lucas pressed his hand against her lower back. “Come on. You wanted this.”

Still clutching her midriff, Merideth glanced up at Lucas. “So do you. Admit it.”

He gave a humorless snort. “Yeah. I do. May God have mercy on our souls, because Oliver sure won’t. But then”—he looked toward the kitchen area—“that is the point of being here, isn’t it?”

He walked away without another word.

Merideth slipped her arms to her sides, flexed her fingers, and followed. Oliver’s scent lingered around her, promising, threatening. Like the subtle kiss of chamois falls right before the flogger fell against her ass.

Pussy juices moistened her thighs. She was alive, real. Merideth wasn’t sure she deserved to feel that way. She prayed Oliver would show her differently. Prayed he wouldn’t use her vulnerability against her. He was a Dom, legendary for his control. Merideth was counting on that to make everything that was wrong with her right once more. Trusting it would override the anger blazing from deep within his eyes. She was asking a lot. Asking even more to hope their failed relationship could be healed.

Oliver felt like an ass. Words he’d said, meant to shock Merideth into realizing how much control she’d let these cretins take from her, tasted like acid on his tongue. This was what she wanted, needed. The reason she and Lucas had come to him in the first place. Lucas might be able to help her through the physical side of recovery, but it was the emotional crawl from the pit that needed Oliver’s touch. Maybe she was counting on old wounds to feed his barbs.

It was hard to hold on to his anger when he’d seen the whip scars against her beautiful back. Oh, rage had been there, and when he got his hands on the person or persons who’d done this—and he would—Oliver intended to flail the skin from each of their bodies, one lash at a time.

“I need you both.”

Amazing how much her confession empowered him. How damn hot the three of them were together. He’d never forgotten, never would. Awkwardness destroyed the sweet slide back into the real world.

He scrubbed his hand down his face. Control was difficult to master. Oliver had never seen anyone more broken than Merideth and Lucas. Defeat poured from their bodies. Next to Merideth, Lucas’s age showed. They weighed each other down, whether they realized it or not. Oliver would bet not. It hurt to see them this way. He’d imagined the two of them out conquering the world and everything in it.

Instead, the world had conquered them.

He was at a loss on what to do. Being a hard-ass Dom had never been more challenging. He wanted to wrap them inside a hug and chase the pain away, even though he knew it would take much more than a hug to fix whatever was wrong. Knowing that stirred the guilt inside. He should have kept tabs on them, made sure everything was all right. He’d let pride and hurt feelings get in the way of his responsibilities to a couple he’d brought into the lifestyle. The excuse of
I was new to the world myself
didn’t wash.

He sensed rather than heard Lucas’s approach. Oliver busied himself in the refrigerator, digging for something among the leftovers he thought would appeal to them and be easy to fix. It also kept him from watching them and agonizing over mistakes made.

The bar stool’s legs scrapped across the tile floor as Lucas took a seat at the cooking island. Oliver didn’t make eye contact, just kept shoving one container after another onto the counter.

“Quite the setup you have here.”

Oliver heard the weariness underlining Lucas’s words. How long since he’d slept?

“It’s made for entertaining.”

Oliver couldn’t take credit for the design, only the renovations made. He’d bought the place for the open layout on the main floor. Guests could flow from one area to the other. Small nests of furniture gave the illusion of privacy as well. The kitchen was the busiest—one of Oliver’s favored spots. The sage greens and bright reds were his doing. So was the addition of the cooking island, a refrigerator bigger than some closets, a walk-in pantry, two ovens, and enough cabinet space to give domestic divas multiple orgasms.