Cuffed to Him Read online

  “Later,” he promised, supporting her as she rose from the table.

  “Where’s Giff?” she asked, forlorn, because she needed him to watch her coming with Josh. Giff always got off on seeing his brother as happy with her as he had been. Sometimes, he’d even fuck her again himself.

  “Coming.”

  “Promise?” She slung her arms around Josh’s shoulders, limp as a rag doll from better loving than she’d enjoyed since she’d been eighteen.

  “Promise.”

  Josh took her to a huge bathroom lined in travertine and studded with living plants. He waved a hand and the two of them clung together in a rain shower. She giggled as the warm spray hit her skin, tingling her senses anew and refreshing her need for Josh to fill her with his cock. He laughed at her kisses, at the way she rubbed her nipples across his chest, then backed her against the wall. With a soft loofah in one hand, he took his damn sweet time. He scrubbed her breasts and her pussy, then licked and sucked her nipples and sank to his feet to nibble at her wildly tender clit.

  “No more!” She sagged to the floor.

  But he caught her up and carried her to a marble bench in the centre of the shower room. There, he had her straddle him and he fucked her, driving into her with a jackhammer’s force.

  Panting, she came with an animal groan. Her cunt was so full of him, she simply couldn’t part with him. His seed spurted inside her, his hips bucking against hers in a steady rhythm that spoke of his gentleness.

  Draping her arms over his wide shoulders, her lips to his wet skin as the water rained down on them, she breathed in the sweet security of his embrace. This too was what she’d come for. His tender ministrations to her after Giff had brought her up to orgasm first.

  “I’ll never recover from all this attention. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so well fucked by one man, let alone two,” she whispered as he took her from the rain shower to a bench in the main bathroom. There, he sat her in his lap, took a fluffy towel and dried her off, paying careful attention to each curve and crease of her skin. Petting and tweaking her nipples, he set new fires in her channel. She kissed his cheek. “You make me voracious. I want to come again.”

  He sucked on one breast, biting her nipple, and twisting in a way that had her recalling his excellent assortment of clamps. A breast man, start to finish, Josh had always adored her girls perhaps more than Giff. “I can oblige you with that, pretty virgin.”

  Laughing up into his blue eyes, she shook her wet hair over her shoulders. “No longer.”

  “So true. But our lover.”

  “Am I?”

  He captured her chin and examined her eyes. “Don’t you want to be?”

  “I do, but don’t know how. We lead different lives. And—” Her gaze drifted over his shoulder towards the dungeon.

  “And you don’t know what Giff wants?”

  “No.”

  Josh stood her on her feet, steadied her and kissed her lips with lingering tenderness. “Go talk to him.”

  “He doesn’t come to me?”

  “Never. You know he always provides what others want without asking.”

  “That way, he might get things wrong.”

  “I agree, Jo. He often does. But his heart is in the right place.”

  “Is it?”

  “Let me dress you. Then you go find out.”

  Chapter Five

  Facing the entrance to the living area, Jo ran her hands down her hips. Her bare hips. She gulped, eager yet reluctant to begin her audience with Gifford Spencer. Billionaire, Dom, friend. Irresistible lover.

  Her nipples pebbled. Her pussy, still fragrant with sexy musk and wet from the Spencer brothers’ good loving, gushed at the prospect of seeing Giff again. And in this outfit?

  She strode forward, the six-inch stilettos that Josh had strapped on her feet higher and tougher to navigate in than the ones she’d worn here to the island. And the black fuck-me shoes couldn’t hold a candle to the itty-bitty bondage thingie Josh had tied her in.

  She snorted. Paused.

  What could she learn from such an interview?

  How to submit. Again.

  But there was nowhere to run. Nor to hide. Not from her feelings for the two men. Not from her real intentions when coming here. She’d got fucked. She’d got sex from both of them. But what now?

  She wanted to stay. Needed to remain not just for days but for much longer. Would they want her?

  She ran her hands over her aching nipples, down her tummy to her juicy slit. They had to keep her. Why else put her in her old bondage costume? Why else save it? They haven’t used it on anyone else, have they?

  She gasped at the appalling prospect that they might have tried to replace her.

  Find out.

  She walked towards the living room in her costume that showed off her generous figure, knowing she was more beautiful in her thirties than she had been as a cheeky eighteen-year-old. Her radical curves were wrapped in black leather straps. Two inches wide, soft as down, strong as concrete, tight as her own skin, the bands wrapped her body, throat to ankles, covering next to nothing. Better or worse for this interview, they showed off her breasts that bulged through the restraints in all their pendulous perky glory. The leather ties accented the width of her hips that few women would covet but these two men did. They showed off the length of her toned legs that could grasp these two men as they screwed her happily silly. Most of all, they left bare her waxed mound. Her straight line of black hair, her landing strip. The plump bulge of her labia. And if anyone took the time and effort to spread her thighs wide, they’d be able to see inside her pussy to her red, ripe cunt and there they could inhale her creamy fragrance and know she was once more ready, willing and able to be fucked. Standing up. Sitting down. Anywhere, anytime as long as the men doing it were the Spencer brothers.

  Inhaling, she took the last few yards towards Giff’s design studio. Josh had pointed the way towards the far end of the rambling house. She knew she’d arrived when she saw the architectural drawing table, the various engines of all sizes, the velocity machine so similar to the one he had made in his basement in Midland when he was ten and named National Science Scholar for its invention. She paused at the brilliance of the sunlight streaming through the roof.

  “You are so damn beautiful.” Giff stood, once more in ordinary clothes, if his yummy body in the black chest-hugging T-shirt and taupe trousers could ever be called that. Extending his arm towards a large couch in a sitting area with a view of the ocean, he put down a compass on the table. “Come sit down.”

  She had to laugh at that one. She spread out her arms. Still in straps, they were the only part of her body she could move with any grace. “I doubt I can.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t.” His hell-dark gaze travelled her every inch as if he would gobble her up, body and soul. “You’d hurt yourself. And that I couldn’t bear. Not any longer.”

  Ah. We arrive at some hardcore revelation. Like why they had agreed to the interview if they intended to play the whole visit like a bait-and-switch. “For example?”

  He blinked, walking towards her from behind the design desk. His expression grew cold, even bitter.

  Compelled to step backward, she held her ground.

  “Tell me why you came here.”

  “Tell me why you let me.” Tell me if you’ll give me a story. Or if you want to chuck the whole idea and let me stay and fuck you both more than once.

  “Not obvious?”

  She flapped her arms to her sides. Undone. Afraid of his relentless turn because she craved his dominant behaviour. But not at the risk of losing her livelihood and her pride. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Well, that is a step in the right direction.” He drew near, so close that she felt warmed by his body heat. Then he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look him in the eye. “Do you know what you want from yourself on this visit?”

  The submissive in her step
ped forward and had an answer. “I told myself I needed this interview.”

  “Why?”

  “To re-establish my career.”

  “And?”

  Damn. What part of her could hide from him? What part wanted to? They could stay here for days and eventually he’d pull it from her, wouldn’t he? “To resurrect my self-esteem.”

  He waited for more explanation, his dark eyes limpid with sympathy for only a moment before he became once more her master.

  “Because I had lost you and Josh so long ago, I had no means to get you back. Who was I compared to the women you associated with now? Occupied with starlets and heiresses, neither of you had a need for the girl who had been your next-door neighbour?”

  “You don’t hold yourself very highly.”

  “High enough or desperate enough to play on our relationship to get me in the door to see you both. Besides, if you wanted me, you could have found me. A detective. A Google search.” She waved a hand. “Simple.”

  “You could have asked us for an interview years ago.”

  She nodded. “Sure. But I didn’t want to play the next-door neighbour card. Favouritism. Conduct unbecoming and all that.”

  “Neither was what happened between you and Renaldo Costas.”

  She winced. Looked away. Ashamed. “I let him play me. Sad but true. He was handsome and I was lonely. Horny. Recognising how primed I was for sex, he turned on the charm, leading me to believe he was separating business from pleasure, that we could hook up without any repercussions. After an evening of rather good vanilla sex, I listened to him tell me what was going to be in my article. Costas was an opportunist. He thought if he laid me, I’d give him nicer ink. Gloss over his shady business dealings with the oil cartels. But I couldn’t.”

  “Instead he sued you for libel.”

  “I told the truth about him. He’s a jerk. Unethical in his business dealings and I had proof. Well…almost. My publisher didn’t think so. But the taste in Costas’s mouth was bitter enough to ask for damages from the magazine.”

  “Was he worthy of you?”

  Not like you are. And Josh. She shook her hair over her shoulders. “He had a tiny dick.”

  Giff snorted. “Is that all?”

  “His idea of fun was chocolate on my nipples and champagne on my mound.”

  Giff barked in laughter.

  “I need more than that in a lover,” she admitted. “I never really recognised that until after Costas. I haven’t had that many lovers since you and Josh and I parted. A girl like me with huge tits gets propositions that do not come with noble intentions of shared pleasure. A woman my size doesn’t get hit on by guys who have anything better in mind than motor-boating between your breasts and making fun of you afterward.”

  Giff nodded, the sadness in his gaze making her flinch.

  “I remembered, always, what we were together, the three of us. You two were never anything but respectful with me. Kind and sweet.” She fought molten tears. “And so loving. And after we moved away, you two were gone from my life like ghosts. I had put you away with my daydreams.”

  “Why? I wrote to you. Called. You never called me back or—”

  “My mother forbade me to do it. She had learned what we were doing. Making love. Me with both of you. The games.”

  “What? How’d she know?”

  “A few months after we settled in Dallas, she found the nipple clamps that Josh gave me. The little yellow ones. Remember those?”

  “I do.”

  “I loved those canaries. Used them myself,” she whispered, rubbing her palms against the craving of her nipples now to have them on her flesh. “Every night I wore them until my mother found them. She went ballistic. Told my father. He was nuts, too. They told me you had called and said they had burnt letters from you, too. And they vowed that if I ever called you or wrote to you, they’d throw me out. Disown me. I was in my senior year of high school and I wanted so badly to go to college and they knew it, used it all against me. Said they would not pay my way. I had good grades. But not good enough to get me any scholarships. When they were so ugly to me, I knew I had to get out of the house fast. The clamps made them crazy and my mother concluded what else we were doing at your house. She was so right on, I wondered if she ever saw us. And my dad was almost out of his mind with theories of how you two had hurt me. I couldn’t set them straight. They wouldn’t let me. Our relationship was never the same.”

  Giff shook his head. “I should have tried to find you. Josh and I were so angry that you didn’t get in touch with us that we wrote you off as lost to us. For that I am very sorry.”

  His apology did much to ease the hurt. But what would really help was a new relationship that lasted beyond these few days. “My folks passed away a few years ago.”

  “I hope they were proud of you.”

  “They were. They weren’t around to endure the Costas trail and my fall from grace.”

  He pushed a strand of her hair back over her ear. “So making love became a vanilla event, is that right?”

  “All the time. Straight. Vanilla.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “Bored,” she admitted, closing her eyes as he stroked her cheek. “Hungry for something more. Not finding it with average Joes.”

  “Didn’t you ever try to find yourself a Dom?”

  “I did. No one ever really appealed to me for long. I didn’t prefer any one type of BDSM. Ropes are fine. But I hated fire play. Liked shibari, but couldn’t assume the positions and hold them.” She winced. “I’m too big a girl to be bound up in elaborate positions for long. Plus, time was an issue. And I had to support myself. Journalism—good reporting—takes time and mental acuity. I summoned both and luckily, I made a living and a name for myself. And at the same time, so did you.”

  He wrapped his elegant fingers around her nape as he drew nearer. He brushed his lips on hers. His voice caressed her every nerve. “We followed your career. Read your articles. Watched your every triumph. The awards. Read everything about the Costas trial. Won’t let you write anything like that about us.”

  She jerked backward. “Why would I?” Had they fucked her to ensure she wouldn’t write anything negative about them? Not repeat the Costas mistake?

  “No need to go anywhere, darlin’.” He pressed up against her, one thigh between hers.

  Really? I still have a life to lead. A career to make. Separate from yours. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll give your nice trousers a wet spot with my pussy juice.”

  He let his nose travel the length of hers and he nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “Do it. I am not setting you free.”

  “And if I won’t stay?”

  He squeezed her so hard she thought she’d ooze right into his body. “Stay. Be my baby. Be Josh’s. We never, ever loved anyone but you. And now that you’re here and loving our games, why not stay and be our lover all the time?”

  She stared at him.

  The arch beauty of his face grew stern. This was her master. Her earnest, demanding lover. “Admit you came here for one reason only.”

  “Only if you admit you let me come here for one reason only.”

  “You bet your beautiful breasts and ass and that hot wet pussy we did.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  He squeezed her so tight again she thought the leather bands might burst. Then he swung her around. “You’re a good writer, Joanna Carter. And before you became that, you were a great lover. But for us only. Come live with us and be our love.”

  “Again?”

  “Forever.”

  Her head reeled. She dug her nails into his biceps to steady herself. “That’s why you didn’t use a condom.”

  “And that’s why you let us ride bareback. You are too savvy not to stop a man who wants to compromise you.”

  “You compromised me here!”

  “Did we? Or did we act on the information we had from countless private detectives.”

  “What?”


  “You heard me.” He shook her a little. “You want us as much as we want you. Only you. Josh and I just made it happen in the only way we knew how to get you fast.”

  She eyed him askance. “So you never intended to give me an interview.”

  “Did you really tell yourself that was your motivation?”

  She sighed, sinking against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne and the male musk that was Giff Spencer. “If I did, I knew when you and Josh made love to me in there that the only place I want to be is with you both. The only ones I want to love are you.”

  He lifted her up in his arms and crushed her close. “Marry me.”

  The words rang in her ears. Gasping for joy, she hugged him, then froze. “Why me?”

  “First and only woman we ever loved. No one ever laughed as much or played our games so well. Every other woman wanted our money or some headline that made her reputation. We got tired of the greed. It’s why we bought the island, built this house, ended the jet-setting and got down to planning how we could lure you back to us.”

  “I’m stunned.”

  “Didn’t think we could be wily?” He chuckled.

  His note of humour sent a frisson up her spine. She stared at him, askance. “How wily?”

  He tipped his head to one side. “Enough.”

  “Enough to propose to Mark Waldyn that he hire me to interview you.”

  “You could say that, yes.”

  “Damn.” Her brain spun. Her heart sank. “Are you telling me that I really am washed up as a journalist and that the only way I got this gig was because you proposed it?”

  “No. Josh and I and Mark have been friends for years. When you went to him with the proposal, Mark came to us with the idea. He wanted us to bless it and give you your advance.”

  “And you said yes because you wanted me to come here,” she concluded, not as thrilled with her business acumen as she once had been.

  “Write the article, honey. Write whatever you want about me and Josh.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “But marry me first.”

  “Wow. How objective will that article be?”