Page 263 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

ADDIE

Y ou’re being a bitch, Addie, Elliot would have said. He would have been laughing when he said it, though. Elliot enjoyed my grumpiness.

He would have been right. I’m not being fair to Theo and Shane. If they had nefarious intentions, Xavier wouldn’t have arranged this meeting. I wouldn’t have driven four hours to the castle. I wouldn’t have brought a change of clothes, and I wouldn’t have booked a room at Summit for the weekend.

Yes, they want to scene with me for the most superficial reasons.

To Theo, I’m some kind of ideal submissive, one he saw on the center stage of the club.

Shane thinks I’m a sign that he’s arrived.

Theo’s story is a shade more romantic than Shane’s, but let’s be honest here: they saw me, they thought I was hot, and they want to fuck me.

But can I really hold their reasons against them?

If I did, I would be the biggest hypocrite in the world.

My reasons are no better. I’m in Xavier’s office because I miss sex.

I miss being tied up and I miss being ordered around.

I’m hoping that for the space of one evening, Shane and Theo will give me what I need.

They might be objectifying me. Then again, I’m objectifying them too.

As horrible as it sounds, I don't need to know anything about them to have sex with them.

This is a transactional relationship. I don't want to understand Theo and Shane, and I don’t need to like them.

Liking, affection, love—these are no longer part of my life.

One thing I appreciate? They didn’t bullshit me when I pushed them.

They didn’t get angry either. I’ve seen dominants in the club, both men and women, that have bad tempers, and they are always to be avoided.

There was a guy here once, Raymond Downing, whose submissives were terrified of him. Thankfully, he’s no longer a member.

Theo and Shane could have reacted to my hostility in many ways. They could have lost their tempers. They could have implied that I had no right to question them, or they could have been condescending and dismissive.

Instead, they answered my questions honestly. Whether or not they intended to, they showed me a sliver of who they are.

Time for some honesty of my own. “I haven't scened since Elliott died,” I say quietly.

“It's been over two years. I miss it. When Xavier said that you were interested, my initial response was to decline. But the more I thought about it, the more tempted I grew. This feels like a safe way to dip my toes back in the water.”

My answer takes Theo by surprise. His eyes widen. “It's been two years since you've scened?”

I wince. This is like a Band-Aid, Addie. Best to rip it off. “Not just scening. There's been no vanilla sex either.”

“Oh wow,” Theo says softly. “That is a long time.”

I nod again, looking at him properly for the very first time.

Theo Keppel is broad and solid. His hair is sandy brown, and his eyes are the clear blue of a summer sky.

He's wearing a white shirt tucked into gray slacks, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

I imagine his big palm wrapped around my neck, and a shiver of desire runs through me.

Shane is lean, built like a runner. He's wearing a suit. Unlike Theo, his tie is still on, and so is his jacket. He looks like he could be heading into a business meeting, and the only thing that counters that narrative is the drink in his hand.

“Is that a deal-breaker?” I ask bluntly.

“No,” Shane replies. “Not for me.” He glances at Theo, and whatever he sees there puts a smile on his lips. “Not for Theo either.” He leans forward. “Would you like a drink?”

One drink won’t hurt my ability to negotiate, but it will take the edge off. “Please. Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”

“It’s Irish whiskey.” He gets to his feet. “Would you like ice?”

“Please.”

He makes me a drink. While he does that, Theo hands me a tablet. “What’s this?” I ask.

“Both Shane and I filled out the standard Club M checklist,” he explains. “It’s on the tablet. You can read it now or take it home.”

Oh. Very high tech. I set the device aside. “Later, please.” Shane hands me a drink. Our fingers touch, and a frisson of awareness runs through me. Ah, good. Chemistry won’t be a problem.

“Let’s talk, then.” Theo sits down across from me. “First, timing. Shane and I are here for the next eight days, and then we fly back home.” He looks straight at me. “I would like to spend that time with you. Eight sessions.”

I sit up. More than a week with them? Alarm spikes through me. That’s far too much contact. “I can’t do that.”

“It's close to Christmas. A busy time of the year, I get that. We’ll be willing to work around your schedule.”

There’s nothing on my schedule. The invitations still sit unopened on my coffee table. “I can’t do eight scenes. Just the one.”

“No,” Theo says immediately. “That’s unacceptable. I want more than one session.”

He doesn’t look like he’s going to budge. Shane steps in. “Negotiate with us, Ms. Byard,” he says mildly. “What if we compromised? How about three scenes?”

Three. My heart is still racing, and my palms are sweaty, but I make myself take a deep breath and consider the situation logically.

“Okay. I can do three scenes.” Shane smiles.

The first time he’s smiled all evening. It makes him look a lot younger.

Almost boyish. I wonder how old he is, but I don’t ask—it feels too personal a question. “Where? Here, in the club?”

“Yes,” Theo replies. If he’s irritated with me, it doesn’t show. “Would you like penetration?”

My cheeks heat. “Yes,” I murmur.

“What about oral? Will you suck our cocks? Do you want us to lick your cunt?”

Desire shudders down my spine. “Yes.”

“Vaginal? Anal? Both at the same time?”

My insides tighten. My pussy feels heavy with anticipation. “Yes.”

“Pain?”

“Within reason,” I respond. This is such a surreal conversation.

People outside the BDSM world might argue that it’s too cold-blooded, too dispassionate, but I’ve always liked the negotiation.

Sitting here, discussing what I want Shane and Theo to do to me, feels like foreplay, and my lust-starved body responds.

“I like nipple clamps. I like crops and paddles and floggers. I don’t like being caned. Needles freak me out.”

Theo takes some notes on his tablet. “Got it. Do you want to play in public or in private?”

I look at him in surprise. “I thought that wasn't your kink of choice.”

“It's not. But it’s a soft limit, not a hard one. If you were interested, I would consider it.”

I think about it. I’ve been on the center stage twice. Both times, it was at Elliot’s urging. The experience had been outside my comfort zone, but I also enjoyed it very much. What made it pleasurable for me was Elliott's reaction. He loved showing me off, and I loved him, so I was happy to do it.

But what I'm arranging with Shane and Theo isn’t about love. It's just sex.

“Private, please.”

We continue the negotiations, going down the list of turn-ons and turn-offs. Finally, Theo sets down his tablet. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow. So soon. “Yes, that'll work. I’m staying at Summit this weekend.”

“So are we,” he says. “We’ll pick you up for dinner. Would seven work?”

“Dinner? Why dinner?” My voice rises in pitch. “We’re not dating. You don't have to feed me. I know how this works; you don’t have to pretend.”

“I'm not.” Theo's voice hardens. “I've never done this before. I’ve never slept with someone without knowing them a little bit. I'm not about to start now. We eat a meal together before we scene. This is not negotiable for me.”

I look at Shane, wondering if he's going to suggest another compromise, but he gazes back at me impassively.

I'm torn. A voice of self-preservation urges me to get up and walk out the door. But curiosity compels me to stay. Curiosity and inconvenient lust. When Theo's voice hardens, it's delicious. My nipples pebble in arousal, and need clamps me tight.

“Fine.” I sound sullen. “But nothing public. This isn't a date. We can eat in my room.”

Theo flashes me an amused smile. “Such enthusiasm,” he teases. “You’re good for my ego, Ms. Byard.” His grin widens. “And you want to eat in your room. That should be interesting.”

Oh. I picture both men in my hotel room, filling the space with their presence, and my stomach does a flip. I might have made a strategic blunder.

Shane leans back. “Now that we’re done with the negotiations, we can move onto more pleasurable things.” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to try something?”

“Now? Here?”

He doesn’t take those dark eyes off me. “Your choice. Here, or we can head to one of the rooms downstairs.”

There are people downstairs. I will be noticed. “Is this one of my three sessions?”

“No. It’s an ice-breaker.” He shrugs off his jacket and takes off his tie, winding the silk fabric over his hand. His expression changes. A Dominant stares back at me. “Come here, Ms. Byard.”

I dressed conservatively for this meeting, but I made one concession to fashion. My heels are four inches high, and as I totter over to Shane on shaky feet, I realize I’m woefully out of practice walking in them.

Theo watches from his position on the couch across from us.

Shane pats his lap. “Sit down,” he says. “Face away from me. I want you to keep your eyes on Theo.”

It’s not an order; it’s an invitation, a tempting one. This is an envelope I want to open. I perch on his thighs, my back straight and my head held high. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Hands behind your back, please.”

I obey, and he binds my wrists together with his tie. The tie that was around his neck only moments ago. An involuntary shiver runs through me. Theo notices. “Do you have a safe word?” he asks.

I’m nervous, but it’s a good nervous. “I use the traffic light system. Red, yellow, green.”

“Can I trust you to use it?”

Shane hasn’t bound me tightly, so I can get out if I want. But I don’t want to. “Yes.”

“Good.” Theo nods to Shane. “Carry on.”

Shane moves his hand up to the back of my neck. “He’s a good guy, isn’t he?” he muses, his thumb stroking my skin. Everywhere he touches, I tingle. Bubbles of desire jet around my bloodstream. “So considerate. You should thank him, Ms. Byard.”

“Thank you, Mr. Keppel,” I say dutifully.

“Call me Theo.” His blue eyes linger over me like a touch. I’m fully clothed, but he likes what he sees. A thick bulge strains against his trousers, and he makes no attempt to hide it.

“No, no,” Shane chides. “Words are cheap. Show him, Ms. Byard. Give him your panties.”

“But my hands are tied,” I say stupidly.

Shane laughs softly. “That’s quite a conundrum.”

A familiar excitement spirals through me. I think he expects me to wriggle free, but I don’t think I can manage it. I stand up and tug at my skirt between my fingers, but the hem eludes me. I try to undo the button, but I can’t pop it out with one hand.

Theo leans back in his seat, a smile touching his lips.

Oh. I see what Shane wants me to do.

I walk over to Theo, my knees wobbly. His blue eyes are dark with lust. He’s looking at me like he wants to devour me, and I like it. “Will you help me, Mr. Keppel?” I whisper.

“Happy to.” He lifts my skirt, revealing my hunter-green lace panties. His gaze scorches me. “Very nice,” he rasps. His thumb rests just for an instant over my hipbone, and I wonder if he’s going to touch my pussy. If he slides his finger between my folds, he’ll find out exactly how turned on I am.

“Look at me.”

I make myself look into Theo’s eyes. My heart hammers in my chest. I don’t understand it. I’ve been tied up. Whipped. I’ve had my nipples clamped. This light touch—this is nothing, and yet. My pulse races, and I feel like a giddy teenager.

Theo slowly rolls my panties down my hips. “Step out of them,” he orders. His first order.

I move my feet as directed. Theo looks at the scrap of lace in his hand for a long instant, and then a truly wicked smile crosses his face. He holds them out to me. “Thank you,” he says, his voice as smooth as silk. “You should take these to Shane now.”

My hands are tied behind me. It’s obvious what he wants me to do.

I pluck the panties from his fingers with my teeth. I walk around the coffee table back to Shane. It’s a simple thing, but I’m on fire. My nipples are hard, my pussy is soaked, and if one of them so much as breathes on my clit, I will explode.

I wait in front of Shane like a dog with a ball, panting with excitement and ready to play. Another smile ghosts over Shane’s face. He takes the panties from me. “Thank you, Ms. Byard. Tomorrow at seven.”

Ms. Byard. I giggle. I just stood in front of this man with my panties dangling from my mouth. The formality of his address feels ridiculous. “If we’re going to do this,” I tell them, “You should call me Addie.”