Page 18

Harrison arrives an hour later, precisely on schedule, after Hank and Gabe have thoroughly debauched me.

A mountain of a man with eyes that miss nothing, he takes in Hank and Gabe flanking me at the door. His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his posture.

Recognition. Respect.

These men speak the same language.

“Miss Collins.” He inclines his head slightly. “Your father is expecting you.”

I turn to Hank and Gabe, reluctant to leave. It feels absurd—I’ve known them less than a week, yet the thought of even a few hours’ separation coils a knot of anxiety in my chest.

Hank steps forward first, cupping my face in his hands. “A few hours,” he reminds me, kissing my forehead. “We’ll be here.”

Gabe moves in behind him, his touch gentle but possessive. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, sweetheart.”

I nod, my throat tight. “I won’t.”

Harrison maintains a carefully neutral expression as he holds the car door open for me. Only when we’re pulling away from the curb does he speak .

“They seem … protective.”

I catch a hint of approval in his tone. “They are.”

“Good.” He meets my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “You could use that.”

We drive in companionable silence after that. Harrison has never been one for unnecessary conversation, which I now appreciate. It gives me space to think—to prepare for what’s coming.

My father won’t approve of my relationship with Hank and Gabe. Not because of who they are but because of what they represent—risk, uncertainty, the potential for more heartbreak. After losing my mother, after nearly losing me twice, he’s desperate to keep me safe, even if it means keeping me confined.

But I can’t live that way. Not anymore. Not after everything.

The mansion looms ahead, sprawling and imposing against the clear sky. It’s never felt like home, not really. Just a beautiful, expensive cage.

Harrison opens my door, his expression softening slightly. “He’s in his study.”

Of course, he is. Where else would Robert Collins be but surrounded by the emblems of his power and success?

I make my way through the echoing halls, past priceless art and antiques that hold no meaning. My father’s study door is ajar, a strip of warm light spilling into the corridor.

I knock lightly before pushing it open. “Dad?”

He’s standing at the window, backlit by the afternoon sun, his silhouette as familiar to me as my own reflection. When he turns, the relief on his face is naked and unguarded.

“Allycat.” He crosses the room in three strides, pulling me into a hug that smells of expensive cologne and the faint trace of bourbon. “You’re here.”

For a moment, I’m his daughter again, not the woman who’s spent the last day being thoroughly claimed by two men. I let myself sink into the embrace, into the simplicity of being someone’s child.

“Just for a little while,” I remind him gently, pulling back.

His eyes search my face, looking for… what? Damage? Signs of coercion? “You lo ok… different.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “Dad…”

“Sit.” He gestures to the leather chairs near the fireplace, his CEO persona slipping back into place. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I perch on the edge of the chair, suddenly conscious of Hank’s borrowed shirt under my hastily donned jeans. “Nothing’s ‘going on.’ I’m spending time with people who understand what I’ve been through.”

“Two men?” His voice is carefully neutral. “That’s an unusual arrangement.”

“It is,” I agree, refusing to be shamed. “But it works for us.”

“Us?” He paces in front of the fireplace, the movement betraying his agitation. “Those kinds of relationships are complicated, filled with jealousy and drama. You’ve been through enough trauma?—”

“That’s exactly why it works,” I interrupt. “They understand trauma. They know how to handle it—how to handle me—in a way no one else does.”

He stops pacing, turning to face me directly. “You need therapy, Ally. Not… whatever this is.”

“I don’t need therapy.” The words bite between us. “I need to feel safe. And I do, with them.”

“You can feel safe here, too. With proper security, with?—”

“No, Dad.” I shake my head, standing to meet his gaze evenly. “I can’t. This isn’t about physical safety. It’s about feeling like myself again. Finding who I am after everything that’s happened.”

His expression shifts, frustration giving way to something like resignation. “And who is that? Who are you now, Ally?”

The question catches me off guard. Who am I? The physics prodigy? Quantum expert? Kidnapping survivor? The woman who’s discovering she craves submission to two dominant men?

“I’m still figuring that out,” I admit. “But I know I can’t do it here. Not surrounded by reminders of who I was before.”

He studies me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us. Finally, he sighs, shoulders slumping slightly. “You’re not coming home, are you? ”

“No.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “I’m going to see this through. Whatever it is.”

Another long pause. Then, almost reluctantly, “Are they at least good to you?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Very.”

He grimaces, but there’s a hint of humor behind it. “That’s all I need to know about that.”

“Wise choice.”

He moves to his desk, opening a drawer. “If you’re determined to do this, at least take this.” He pulls out a sleek black credit card, holding it out to me. “It’s yours. Use it for whatever you need.”

I hesitate, not wanting to feel beholden. “Dad…”

“Please.” I perceive an edge of desperation in his voice. “Let me do this one thing for you.”

I take the card, tucking it into my pocket. “Thank you.”

“And you’ll call? Check in?”

“I will.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with the compromise.

My childhood bedroom feels like a museum exhibit dedicated to a person who no longer exists. The pristine white bedspread, the carefully arranged bookshelves, the framed diplomas and awards—all preserved as if in amber.

I drag a suitcase from the closet and begin filling it with essentials. Jeans, T-shirts, sweaters for the cool coastal evenings at Hank and Gabe’s place. Underwear—practical and lacy—because I suspect Hank and Gabe will have opinions about both. My anxiety medication goes safely in a side pocket.

Folding clothes into neat piles, I consider what this means. Not a few days or a casual fling. This feels… significant. Like I’m choosing a path that will fundamentally change who I am.

My fingers brush against something silky at the back of my dresser drawer—a black slip I bought on a whim and never wore. I hold it up, considering. It’s the kind of thing that would make Hank and Gabe’s eyes darken with that possessive hunger I’m rapidly becoming addicted to.

Into the suitcase, it goes.

I add a few more items—my laptop, chargers, and the worn copy of “Quantum Field Theory,” which has been my bible since grad school. Then I hesitate, glancing at my bedside table, where a small orange bottle sits.

The sleeping pills I was prescribed after my first kidnapping. I haven’t taken them in months, not even after Kazakhstan. Partly because they make me feel foggy and disconnected. Partly because I needed to stay sharp in case Malfor’s men came for me again.

But with Hank and Gabe? Maybe I don’t need to always be on high alert.

I leave those behind.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “Miss Collins?” Harrison’s voice. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, just finishing up.”

“Take your time.” A pause. “Your father has asked me to drive you whenever you’re ready to go back.”

I smile at his phrasing. Not “whenever you’re ready to leave,” but “whenever you’re ready to go back.” Even Harrison seems to understand that my place is no longer here.

Ten minutes later, I wheel my suitcase into the hallway. Harrison takes it from me without comment, and we go downstairs. My father is waiting in the foyer, his expression carefully composed.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes.”

He nods, hands clasped behind his back. “Remember what you promised.”

“I’ll call,” I assure him, stepping forward to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Dad. Better than fine.”

I don’t tell him that Hank said he’d tan my hide if I ever ignored another call from my father. Not that Hank will do the tanning. I’m pretty sure Gabe will be the one reddening my ass.

And just like that…I’m hot and bothered.

Needy for my men.

I barely recognize the woman I’m becoming.

My father’s arms encircle me in a brief, tight hug. “Be safe, Allycat. ”

“I will,” I whisper. “Safer than I’ve ever been.”

The drive back to Hank and Gabe’s place seems to take forever. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the road, and I count down the minutes until I can return where I belong.

Harrison catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “They’re good men, those two.”

The statement catches me off guard. “Do you know them?”

“By reputation only.” His expression gives nothing away. “Guardian HRS has an excellent track record. Very selective about who they recruit.”

“They saved my life. Twice.” The words feel inadequate against the weight of what they’ve done for me.

“I know.” Harrison nods. “Mr. Collins was impressed by their track record.”

We lapse into comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey. When the car finally pulls up to the curb outside Hank and Gabe’s place, a tension I hadn’t fully registered until now unspools from my body, leaving me lighter, freer.

“Don’t worry about your father. Everyone deserves to feel safe, Miss Collins. However that looks for them.” He helps me with my suitcase, his expression once again professional.

“Thank you.” I hesitate, then add, “For understanding.”

Something like approval flickers in his eyes.

The front door opens. Hank and Gabe stand framed in the doorway, both alert, both watching with careful eyes. Checking that I’m okay.

Harrison nods once in their direction—a gesture of respect, one professional to another—before returning to the car.

I don’t wait for him to drive away. I’m already moving toward the door, toward the two men who’ve somehow become the center of my world.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” Gabe reaches me first and wraps his arms around me like he’s been starving for the contact. His voice is rough and possessive.

Hank’s hand finds the nape of my neck, a firm pressure that sends shivers down my spine. “Right where you belong.” His eyes burn into mine, promising things I can only imagine.

They usher me inside, the door closing firmly behind us. The moment the door shuts, Gabe sweeps me off my feet and tosses me over his shoulder. The world turns upside down, laughter bubbling in my chest, mixed with a jolt of pure anticipation.

He carries me down the short hallway, Hank’s hand a possessive brand on my back, guiding and steadying me. The bedroom door swings shut behind Hank’s heel, the sound echoing softly in the sudden quiet.

Gabe lets me slide down his body until my feet touch the floor, but his hands remain clamped on my hips, holding me captive against him. Hank is already turning back the covers on the bed, his gaze raking over my body, a silent, hungry question in the depths of his eyes.

Before I can even breathe, Gabe’s mouth crashes onto mine, a deep, devouring kiss that steals my breath and sends a molten firestorm straight to my core. He tastes of dark roast and something intense and wonderfully him .

He breaks the kiss, but only to drag his lips down the sensitive skin of my neck, nipping and sucking, teeth scraping lightly, drawing a gasp from my throat.

Hank steps closer, his hands reaching for the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it upwards, his knuckles grazing my skin, sending electric jolts through me. The fabric is ripped away, and then my bra follows, the cool air raising goosebumps on my chest, instantly incinerated by the blazing heat of Gabe’s hands as he cups my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, teasing them into aching hard peaks.

My head falls back, offering myself completely, and he takes the offering, his mouth devouring mine again, hungry and demanding. Through the haze of the kiss, Hank’s fingers fumble at the button of my jeans, and then the zipper grinds down, the denim shoved low on my hips.

Cool air licks at my exposed skin, then the possessive warmth of Hank’s hands again, rougher now as he shoves the jeans and my underwear down my legs until they pool at my ankles, leaving me naked and vulnerable before them.

“On the bed,” Hank orders, his voice rough with need.

I comply instantly, my body already responding to his command.

“Spread your legs,” Hank commands softly, his eyes burning into mine as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips and pulling me to the edge of the bed. He loops my legs over his shoulders, spreading me open, utterly exposed.

Gabe climbs onto the bed beside me, his hands roaming over my breasts, his mouth closing over one nipple, biting down just hard enough to sting, a sharp thrill shooting through me. Then his fingers tighten on my other nipple, pinching hard, a sharp cry escaping my lips, a mix of pleasure and pain that sends a jolt through me.

“Cry for us, sweetheart. Cry for what we’re going to give you.”

“Look at you,” Hank growls. “So wet and ready.” Then Hank’s mouth is on me, hot and wet and insistent, a devouring heat.

A gasp claws its way out of my throat as his tongue slides deep, lapping at my slick, wet slit. He sucks on me, greedy, like he has a right, his teeth scraping against my clit, sending fire surging through my veins. His tongue finds that hard little nub, flicking over it again and again, driving me wild.

“You’re gonna get it rough and deep, sweetheart.” Gabe breathes, his voice thick with lust. “You like Hank’s mouth on you, don’t you? Feel how he’s making you wet.”

Gabe watches, his eyes intense and possessive, as Hank continues to worship me with his mouth. “Come on, Ally. Come for us. Give us your pleasure. Let us feel you break apart.” His fingers pinch my nipples again, harder this time, and a whimper escapes me, pleasure and pain twisting together until I can’t tell the difference. It’s too much, overwhelming, exquisite.

The world shrinks to the sensations exploding through my body: Gabe’s fingers kneading my breasts, his wet kisses still raining down on my collarbone, and Hank’s mouth working its wicked magic, drawing a raw moan from the deepest part of me.

Pleasure builds and coils, tightening with each thrust of Hank’s tongue, each rough brush of Gabe’s thumb. My hands clench on Gabe’s shoulders, my body arching violently towards the sensations, desperate for more, for all of them.

And they give it.

These dominant men push me closer and closer to the edge, a dizzying, consuming dance of touch, taste, and breath.

When the orgasm rips through me, it is explosive, shattering, a raw, primal wave of pure sensation that obliterates thought, stealing my breath and leaving me trembling, utterly undone.

Through the haze of lingering pleasure, Hank shifts, the hard press of his knee parting my legs wider. The slow, deliberate slide of him entering me, stretches me wide. He fills me completely, a thick, solid, possessive presence, and I gasp again, this time with a different kind of pleasure, a grounded, anchored sensation that roots me to this bed, to them.

“Mine,” Hank grunts, the word vibrating against my core as he moves within me.

Each thrust is a slow, deliberate slide, stretching me, going deeper, establishing a rhythm that resonates through my entire being. It’s a primal beat, echoing the possessive claim he’s staking with every inch he takes, every pulse that throbs between us.

Through the haze of pleasure, Gabe’s unwavering gaze remains hot and possessive, burning into me, watching as Hank brands me as his, a silent promise of his claiming to come.

Hank’s rhythm deepens. The sound of our bodies fills the sudden quiet, a primal symphony of breath and friction. I feel stretched, filled, and utterly owned. A dizzying sense of surrender washes over me. My nails dig into Gabe’s shoulders as Hank hits a spot that sends a fresh wave of shivers through me.

“That’s it, luv,” Hank grunts again, his voice thick with exertion. “Feel me inside you.”

The possessiveness in his voice and the raw hunger in his eyes ignite something within me: a thrill of excitement, a sense of being utterly desired and consumed. I’m caught between them, claimed by both, and the realization is intoxicating.

Hank’s pace quickens, his movements becoming harder, more urgent. Tension builds in his body, the shift just before release. He groans a deep, guttural sound that vibrates against my spine. Then, he thrusts into me one last time, holding himself deep within me, shuddering as his climax takes him. I follow on the heels of his release, crying out as a second orgasm takes me.

He stays there, buried deep, his breath hot against my neck, his body heavy and solid against my back. The silence descends again, softer now, punctuated only by our ragged breaths and the quiet thumping of my heart.

Slowly, Hank withdraws, each inch of him sliding out of me, leaving a trail of exquisite sensation.

“My turn.” Gabe’s eyes lock on mine, burning with undisguised desire. His intensity sends another shiver through me, a different kind of tremor, less explosive, more… anticipatory. My body is still humming with the aftershocks of orgasm, but already, a new kind of heat is building, a slow, simmering burn.

Gabe’s strong arms band around my waist, lifting me, spinning me without ceremony, until my knees slam into the mattress and I am bent over, facing away from them both, completely exposed.

Before I can register the dizzying shift, Gabe is behind me, his hands gripping my hips like a vise, holding me brutally steady as he shoves into me from behind, taking me without question. This time, it is rougher, more demanding, a primal taking, his movements harder, faster, driving me mindlessly towards another shattering peak. His breath is hot and ragged on my neck as he bites and whispers words that are raw and filthy, possessive and ravenous.

A third orgasm claws its way out of me even harder than the first two, a raw, animalistic cry ripping from my throat as I shatter again, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure. Gabe’s grip tightens painfully on my hips, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, more violent, until he too finds his release, his body shuddering against mine, his hot breath blasting against my neck as he marks me as his.

The air in the room is thick with the scent of sex and satisfied sighs. The three of us lie tangled together. Gabe is spooned against my back, his arm heavy and possessive across my waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip. Hank is sprawled out on my other side, one leg thrown over mine, his hand loosely holding mine, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand.

The frantic energy of moments ago has dissipated, leaving a comfortable quiet in its wake. We are still flushed, limbs heavy and languid. There’s no need for words, just the quiet intimacy of shared breath and the comfortable weight of each other’s bodies. A sense of deep contentment settles over me, a feeling of being cherished and utterly at home, right here in this bed, between these two men.