Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

“Yeah,” sighed Cleo, her eyes going dreamy, “that man surely did put the ‘butt’ in ‘butler,’ the way he filled out those pants. You planning to tap that or what?”

“No, Cleo. For some reason, MI6 frowns on its agents ‘tapping’ their handlers. I can’t imagine why.” Jessie rolled her eyes.

“I’d let that man handle me any day,” Lila interjected. “I bet he gives a hell of a spanking.”

Now this was the part of the conversation Remy knew they all looked forward to because, in addition to their career choices, they shared in other choices as well. Each woman at the table was a closet submissive.
Well, perhaps I’m really the only one in the closet on that one...

Women like them didn’t have the luxury of living out their sexual fantasies, or at least that was what Remy told herself when she got frustrated. She reminded herself of how hard they’d all had to work to get people to take them seriously. It’s not like there were oodles of women joining the Marine Corps every year, and she and the girls had had to work twice as hard to feel half as accomplished as their male counterparts. She had ruthlessly taken the submissive part of her, the part that melted and got soft when she was around a man she sensed could really take her for a ride, and she had squashed it. She squashed it as hard as she could, as often as necessary, until she’d persuaded herself she didn’t need to submit anymore.

Remy stopped brooding when she realized the girls were looking at her expectantly. “Sorry? Did you ask me something?”

Lila stretched like a cat, allowing her long, red hair to hang toward the floor. “I asked if you’re still living with those incredibly hot triplets.”

Remy flushed. This was the one thing she hadn’t wanted to discuss. “Yeah, they’re still my team, and we find it’s just practical if we live together between jobs.”

Silence fell around the table.
Uh-oh, not good.

“Remy,” Prue breathed, her voice almost a whisper, “are you saying you haven’t told them yet?”

Remy squirmed. She thought it might have been a mistake to have mentioned her crush on her partners during the last vacation with the girls. Not that it was really her fault. A game of truth or dare combined with—how many?—rounds of margaritas had loosened Remy’s tongue. “No, I haven’t said anything.”

Jessie was frowning at her. “Why not?”

Remy sighed. “Jessie, what would I say? ‘Hey guys, you know how we’ve been living together for the last three years? Well, during that time I’ve developed a major crush on each of you. That’s right, each of you. So I was thinking...maybe we could, you know, have a foursome some time? Oh, and by the way, all the stuff about how tough I am is a total front because I’d love for you to spank my ass and tie me up before you fuck me.’ Is that what I should say?”

Damn, now Lila and Prue were frowning, too.

“What on earth makes you think you can’t be tough and submissive at the same time?” Cleo asked. “All of us are. And besides, those boys know you earned your rep. They know you busted it to get where you are. What makes you think they wouldn’t go for it? I bet those boys have a serious side of kink, and I, for one, think it’s your job to coax it out of them.”

“Coax? Really, Cleo?” Lila asked with an eye roll.

“Coax, lick, fuck, nibble, suck...whatever it takes!” Cleo said enthusiastically. “Really, baby, we’re all here for you one way or the other. But can you imagine the looks on their faces if you waltzed into the living room wearing nothing but an evil smile?”

The rest of the girls groaned and laughed at Cleo’s enthusiasm, and the seriousness of the moment passed. Remy was secretly grateful for that since the conversation had been going somewhere unpleasant. If she was honest with herself, just thinking about the brothers made her hot. And seeing them...seeing them was worse, or maybe better, a little voice in her head said, because seeing them was all it took these days for her to get wet. If one of them touched her—little, innocent touches that meant nothing, like brushing by her in the hallway—her pussy spasmed, her stomach developed an infestation of butterflies, and she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. But what could she do? She’d worked too hard to risk it all for a quick fuck, although she suspected it wouldn’t be quick with any of her teammates, and she didn’t want them to think of her as weak. Plus, she doubted any of those boys thought of her that way at all. After all, she was one of them. She stood so tall she fit right in. Never mind they were all monsters of men standing six feet five inches each. She was crazy tall and spent tons of time working out. They didn’t have to know she worked out so hard because she was trying to flatten her tits and ass. No, they could think she worked out to stay in peak physical condition, always ready for combat.

Too bad the weights and cardio weren’t working, she thought ruefully. No matter how hard she worked, her breasts stayed big and her ass stayed rounded. Her only defense was to wear baggy shirts and combat pants in order to camouflage her curves. She figured she made it work. No doubt her teammates simply assumed she was just as macho as them.

Remy grimaced to herself. She really did miss wearing dresses. She used to love showing off her long legs and perky cleavage, but she just didn’t trust herself around her teammates. She couldn’t risk them thinking she was feminine. She didn’t want them to think she needed their protection on the ops they did.

Nah, she thought as she got up to fetch the next round of drinks from the kitchen. Better to stick with her vibrator because the things she wanted from her teammates would send them screaming for the hills in record time. At least, she thought with a secret smile, she still got to see them walk around without shirts. That would have to do.

Remy took a deep breath as she hauled her suitcase from the belt. Her vacation had been awesome, as usual, but now she was back, smack-dab in the middle of sexually frustrated reality. The parting shots from her friends continued to make her ears burn when she thought about actually doing the things they’d discussed. As much as she’d love to take a shower and “forget” her towel and have to ask one of the guys to bring her one, she knew she wouldn’t dare. Same went for getting down on her hands and knees to “look for an earring she dropped” under the sofa. Apart from her own insecurities and fear that such a move could end her career, she was pretty convinced none of the brothers would take too kindly to her screwing him senseless...then screwing his brothers as well. Nah. She’d just have to live with it.

With that grim thought firmly in mind, Remy squared her shoulders and set off to find whichever brother awaited her in the arrivals area. She wasn’t sure which one she’d prefer to see, since seeing one of them was the same as seeing all of them in some ways. With their wavy, dirty blond hair, warm blue eyes, and slow smiles, the triplets looked identical to people who didn’t know them. Remy didn’t think they looked alike beyond a familial resemblance since she’d spent so much time with them over the years.

Former Navy SEALs, the triplets had formed an elite team with Remy, and the four of them had gelled really well. They’d worked together on all kinds of ops—gathering intel, extractions, even the occasional assassination. Remy was sure part of the reason the triplets didn’t look identical to her was because she knew where each of them sported scars. Hell, she’d been there when lots of those scars had been created.

Drake Grantham was the oldest of the triplets, and his age was a fact he didn’t hesitate to throw in his brothers’ faces when they didn’t like a call he made. His extra two minutes on his brothers seemed to make him the alpha of their little team, and he took his role seriously. He made all tactical calls, and he was the strategist whose lead they followed when they were working a job. Remy’s mind wandered, thinking about Drake’s heavily muscled body, his six-foot-five frame that managed to make even her feel delicate and feminine, and his slow, knowing smile. God, when Drake smiled at her like that, it was like he knew—he knew—all about the things she tried to keep secret. Remy had to work hard to disguise her body’s reaction to him because each and every time he touched her, including during strenuous training sessions, her pussy wept with the need for him to touch her again.

Remy shook her head as she walked, trying to banish thoughts of Drake touching her. Unfortunately, no sooner had she forced Drake out of her mind than Joss, the middle triplet, took his place.

Joss was fun. That was Remy’s favorite thing about him. Where his brothers were dark and broody, Joss was always up for something lighthearted and silly. He loved playing video games and was a total geek at heart. But when it came to business, Remy thought with a small shiver, Joss was just as serious as his brothers. His areas of expertise were electronics and explosives, and she’d watched him keep his iron control many times when he’d had to defuse bombs or crack codes. She’d watched those big hands of his work delicate wires and couldn’t help thinking to herself about all the things hands like that could do to her body. She pictured his nimble fingers plucking her nipples, teasing her clit...

BEEP!

Remy jumped aside just as an airport transport rolled by her, carrying people to their departure gates.
Damn, I better get this under control
. She’d never hear the end of it if she got injured because she was busy fantasizing about her teammates and their skills—their skills on the job or in bed. She began walking again, but before she’d taken ten steps, her mind wandered over to the third triplet, Knox.

Knox was badass. There was no other way for her to think about him. Sure, his brothers weren’t exactly made of peaches and cream, but Knox took it to a whole new level. Remy knew he could have his pick of any girl he wanted whenever he walked into a room and smiled his—as Remy liked to think of it—shit-eating grin. When he smiled that smile, like a wicked, horny Cheshire cat, there was no female who could resist. Look up “panty-creamer” in the dictionary, Remy thought wryly to herself, and a picture of Knox Grantham would be looking back at you, smiling that shit-eating grin and making your panties wet.

Knox was the weapons expert among them, and his proficiency as a Marine sniper was legendary. Remy also bet his patience would pay off in the bedroom. She’d seen Knox spend hours sitting on a perch, waiting for the perfect moment to take a shot. He never got sidetracked, never showed signs of fatigue or discomfort. Remy could only imagine what it would be like, having all that attention focused on her. He could probably gauge her reactions better than she could, and she bet he’d push her limits...

Her fantasy was cut short as she became aware of some sort of scuffle up ahead of her. She’d made it almost to where families and friends stood, waiting to welcome loved ones home. She craned her neck—sometimes being tall had its perks—and could see a multi-suitcase pileup ahead of her. Three women were scurrying around the pile, gathering up their belongings. All of them were blushing furiously, casting glances in the same direction into the crowd.

Remy only knew one reason grown women would have been so oblivious to their surroundings they’d have walked right into one another. She smiled as she watched Knox come to the rescue of the women, righting their suitcases and handing them back. Her eyebrows lifted in the next moment, though, as she watched Drake hand a purse back to one of the women. The woman was so stunned she stood, mouth open, looking back and forth between the identical hotties. Drake hooked the strap of the purse gently over the woman’s arm since she seemed incapable of anything other than goggling.

A piercing whistle sounded, and someone called out, “Say cheese!”

Remy watched, astonished, as Joss stepped forward and took a photo of his brothers and the dazed women they were helping. He was grinning viciously, watching his brothers try to hand everything back.

They’re here. All three of them are here.

She swallowed, squashed the floaty feeling she got whenever she was in their presence, acknowledged and disregarded the warm wetness she could feel pooling between her legs, and set off to meet the triplets.

Joss Grantham watched his brothers as they set the women in the airport to rights, handing back luggage and trying to extricate themselves with a minimum of fuss. Joss snickered at his brothers’ obvious frustration. He couldn’t resist taking one more photo, even though they’d probably try to kick his ass afterward, but it would be worth it when he showed the photos to Remy.

Remy.

Joss’s laughter stopped when he thought about her. He’d missed her while she’d been gone on her girls’ trip, and damn if he hadn’t been pissed every time he thought about what she’d been up to. They all had, imagining her getting picked up in a bar by some asshole.

He’d talked to his brothers yet again about their gorgeous teammate. It seemed they had that conversation every time she left the house, and damn if it didn’t end the same way each and every time. One of them would say something about her, something totally innocent—or totally raunchy, if Joss was honest with himself—about how hot she was, and then it would be on. They’d each brood over the things they wanted to do to her, and when one of them suggested maybe it was time to see how she felt about playing with them, somebody—somebody named Drake, usually—would get on his high horse about how a woman like Remy wasn’t the hot little pervert they needed. Drake would remind his brothers what they wanted to do to Remy in bed was illegal in some places, although Joss was almost sure she’d love it, and it would be so far out of her comfort zone they were almost guaranteed to send her screaming in the other direction.

Or, if they were really unlucky, she’d probably kick their asses. None of them would lay a hand on her, at least, not like that, so she’d be able to beat them bloody before they had her contained. She was a fearsome adversary, and as much as Joss wanted to turn all that fire and passion into sweet submission that had her whimpering and begging for cock, the odds of it happening were trumped by the odds of Remy calling them freaks and walking away from them. Since that was the last thing they wanted, they had forced themselves to act as though they didn’t want to fuck her into next week.