The Runaway Sub [Libertine Island 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (20 page)

“What about your job, Master?”

“I quit.”

“What?”

Jen knew that Caleb’s shocked expression mirrored her own.

“You needed me, and my job kept us apart. So once I made sure you were safe, I quit. So now you have an unemployed Master. We can decide where to live when your contract is up, and I can look for a job when the date gets closer.”

“Why did you quit? You love that job.”

“I love you more.”

Jen felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She saw Caleb dash away a tear, too.

He cleared his throat. “Pet is unemployed, too.”

Rey threw his head back and laughed. “My poor slave. You have to support your unemployed Master and submissive. Thank goodness you have a contract. We all will be able to eat.”

“Uh, actually, it’s only for six months. The permanent doctor’s going to be here in five weeks and I’ll just be needed for a few more weeks to help them get settled…”

Rey roared with laughter before turning to Jen.

“So, my pet. Where are you from when you aren’t hanging about on tropical islands?”

“Chicago.”

“Do you like it?”

“Love it.”

“So what do you think, slave? Want to move to Chicago with our pet and make a new home there together, the three of us? Since we will all be unemployed, we may have to live on love instead of food.”

Epilogue

Six months later, winter in Chicago.

Rey was complaining bitterly about the cold, again. Jen just laughed. They’d been in the Windy City since the New Year, and Rey had grumbled constantly about the weather all while smiling broadly and happily. They were all working. Rey had taken a job for the security department of Whelan Corp, which owned Libertine Island and the original Club Libertine in Seattle. They were in the process of opening up in Chicago, and Rey took a contract to help them set up their security and ended up as Vice President of Security for the Midwest for the parent company.

Caleb was working at a hospital again, three days a week, and volunteering in a free clinic two days a week. Once he knew that it wasn’t random violence, but a targeted attack, he seemed to slowly be able to put his PTSD behind him with the help of a good therapist.

Jen was working, too. She spent three days a week working as part-time legal counsel for Whelan Corp and two days a week volunteering at a legal aid office affiliated with the clinic where Caleb worked.

All in all, they were pretty damned happy and in love. And now they were together at the opening of Club Libertine Chicago. After the runaway success of Libertine Island, the owners decided to open another branch, and here they all were.

As part of the opening night festivities, they’d decided to have a formal collaring ceremony. They’d talked about marriage, but since Jen could only marry one of them, they decided that they would stick with a collaring. They would sign new contracts with no end dates, and then Caleb would collar Jen and then Rey would collar them both. But she did insist on one amendment to their Master/slave agreements that neither men argued with, although they all knew it would cause surprise and probably laughter when it was read aloud at the ceremony.

The clause she added provided for punishment if either Rey or Caleb tried to get away with running away or not talking about what was important ever again. It spelled out that, sub or not, Jen had permission to whip their asses if they tried anything like that again. And she hung a whip over their bedroom door to remind them each and every day that she loved them enough to do just that, and they let her so that she knew they loved her enough to let her.

THE END

WWW.DIANELEYNEBOOKS.COM

WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/DIANELEYNEBOOKS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Diane Leyne has lived most of her life in Ontario. In addition to writing, she loves photography, travel and, of course, reading.

And she also loves hearing from her fans, so please stop by her Facebook page and say hello!

For all titles by Diane Leyne, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/diane-leyne

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com