Forgiveness

Forgiveness When Ryan and Alain find evidence that leads them to believe their beloved Sarah has sold business secrets, they punish her in bed. They use her passion for them against her as she can deny them nothing. She is taken aback by their actions, but is far more devastated by their lack of trust, so she leaves them. Then the truth comes out and the men do everything in their power to seek Sarah’s forgiveness. Sarah, feeling bitter and betrayed, successfully resists their attempts, including a sensuous kidnapping where Sarah gives as good as she gets. Ryan and Alain concede, shamed by their previous behavior, and back off, hoping that Sarah will come back to them in time. After seeing them with a beautiful redhead, Sarah questions whether her pride has caused her to make a terrible mistake and if she has lost the only men she has ever loved. Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre Length: 21,336 words

FORGIVENESS

Allyson Young

MENAGE AND MORE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage and More

FORGIVENESS Copyright © 2012 by Allyson Young E-book ISBN: 1-61926-136-7 First E-book Publication: January 2012 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Forgiveness by Allyson Young from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Allyson Young’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Young’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION For Mary, always there, always supportive and never judgmental.

FORGIVENESS ALLYSON YOUNG Copyright © 2012

Prologue The man strode down the hallway, exuding confidence, and unerringly found the right door. He slipped the lock, marveling at the ease with which it gave before his clever hands, but reminded himself of the alarm system within. The bitch had better be right about the code, or it would be over before it began. There were security cameras everywhere in the building but apparently none in the condo itself. It wouldn’t matter how many times his image was recorded if no one thought to look, but if the alarm sounded… He had been in his employer’s office when the man took the call, the hysteria clear to his ears even from across the room. His boss cut through the wailing pleas with a curt interjection, asked a few questions, and announced he would take care of it, giving brief instructions. He scribbled some numbers on a pad on his desk, considered, added a note, ripped it off, and handed it to his expert. “Go to this address, find the laptop, and send this in the form of an e-mail to me,” he ordered. “Change the time stamp to yesterday evening. There’s an alarm, but I’m assured this is the current code. Get it done now.” The expert had nodded, memorizing the contents of the paper, then sent it through the shredder. “I expect my usual fee in my account by the time I get back.”

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“Done,” was the answering growl and supercilious sneer. Money can buy anything, it suggested. The code was entered, and the alarm silenced. The man worked his way swiftly through the rooms and located the laptop in the smaller bedroom. He had noted with interest the unusual taste displayed in the master suite. A huge four-poster bed dominated the room, but the restraints attached to each post and at the center of each sideboard were not the usual décor. Nor were the paddles and floggers in the wardrobe, alongside the dildoes, vibrators, anal wands, nipple clamps, and other sex toys, not to mention the variety of lubricants and douches. The master bath flaunted a huge, walk-in shower, and an equally large, separate tub. All the finishes were decadent, and he didn’t miss the large hook in the ceiling above the tub and the one in the shower. There was a pistol in either bedside table, tucked in between boxes of condoms. The walk-in closet held both women’s and men’s clothing, although the amount of men’s apparel outweighed the women’s. Interesting. A man may have occupied the second bedroom at one time, although there weren’t a lot of items around, and few personal ones. The third bedroom was innocuous by comparison, with a small bed, a desk against the opposite wall, and good lighting above it. The expert swiftly accessed the e-mail account, shaking his head at the lack of a password. Keeping one ear open for any changes in the sounds of the condo, he spent considerable time changing the time stamp and typed in the e-mail message. By the time he had it done he was sweating. Even his nerves of steel knew that time was passing quickly. Still, he hesitated prior to hitting the send button, then shrugged at his hint of compassion and sent the message. This [email protected] was going to be in deep shit. He left as quietly as he had arrived, rearming the alarm and locking the door behind him. He left his flesh-colored latex gloves on until he reached the elevator, then pulled them off behind his back, alert to the security camera in the corner, not realizing that the mirrored back panel hid another one.

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Chapter One “God damn it! Fuck!” Ryan Bell slammed the phone down so hard it shattered. Alain Joubert raised his eyebrows. “Again?” he asked, almost drolly. “Again,” Ryan confirmed. “I don’t get it, but I am royally pissed off.” The multimillion-dollar deal the two best friends and business partners had been working on so painstakingly for the past three months, working sixteen-hour days, each and every week, had been snatched from beneath their noses, just like the two large, previous accounts. There seemed to be no explanation for it. Their security was top notch, their staff trusted, yet somehow Horizons had again come out the winner. There was simply no explanation. The security expert they had hired thought he was getting close to uncovering the mystery, had in fact been on his way to meet with them, when the stupid bastard had stepped off the curb, jaywalking, in front of a speeding cab. The man was in a coma, with brain damage, and not expected to live. “Sir,” came a tentative voice from the doorway, accompanied by a soft knock. Ryan looked up from his angry contemplation of his ruined phone. He tried to soften his voice. “Yes, Jane, what is it?” he asked his personal assistant. “I need to talk to you about something,” Jane replied, clearly nervous and upset.

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Ryan motioned her in, and she shut the door behind her. Alain had come to point, much like a panther scenting its prey, and Ryan’s senses were also on full alert. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, thinking outside the box,” Jane said, “and if the leak isn’t in the office, it has to be from somewhere else, somewhere one of you, or both, has either confided in someone or written something down.” Alain shook his head and spoke clearly and coldly, “Non, Jane. The only place we might have discussed the deals would be in the car or at home, and both are swept for listening devices regularly. We thought of that.” “But you have discussed it at home,” she persevered. Ryan surged to his feet. He knew where this was going. Jane didn’t like Sarah for some reason. Sarah thought it was because Jane fancied him or Alain, or both of them, but he had never picked up on anything like that from Jane. After all, they had Sarah, and Jane was well aware of their commitment to her. “It isn’t Sarah, Jane, so don’t go there,” he commanded. “All right,” she answered, “but I can’t think of anything else.” Ryan watched her leave the room and quietly closed the door behind her. He didn’t like the seed she had planted, and by the look on his face, neither did Alain. Ryan went to the concealed bar and poured himself a drink, catching Alain’s nod that he, too, required one. “I’m done for the day, Alain. I’m going home to prepare for Sarah. After today I think some stress relief is in order,” he announced. “You read my thoughts once again, mon ami,” concurred Alain, tossing off the Scotch. “We have hardly spent time with her because of that damn account.” Ryan and Alain made the drive home without comment. Ryan was lost in his own thoughts. He and Alain were very financially stable, but full of ambition and drive, and losing three accounts in a row, and

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to the same competitor, was an affront to their business acumen and ego. He and Alain were going to figure this out. Ryan knew that Alain was as angry as he was about the whole situation. Ryan slammed through the lobby, closely followed by Alain. The elevator seemed to take forever but finally got them to their floor. He let Alain precede him and open the door to their condominium. The condo was high-end but nothing really out of the ordinary. Ryan and Alain slept and played there for years but weren’t dependent upon it for their creature comforts. The women they brought home with them weren’t given the impression of huge wealth, a fact that served to sift out the money-grabbing sort. Alain disappeared into the master bath, and Ryan heard the shower turn on. He paced a little and thought he’d shower in the spare bath before preparing some food and readying the bedroom for Sarah’s return home from her job. He smiled, thinking of their beautiful little woman’s curvy figure. She had full breasts, tipped with pink nipples that seemed oversized and were so sexy. She wasn’t tall, at least not compared to them, but she stood straight and proud, her slim waist swelling to lush hips and a high, round ass. Sarah’s legs were muscled and firm from regular exercise and her work. Her mass of curls, alternating between blonde, golden-brown, and chestnut, was usually swept high upon her head, unless he or Alain released them. Which they always did in the bedroom. Just thinking about the sight of her hair tumbling down the beautiful line of her back to the crease of her buttocks, or falling in strands to veil then reveal her nipples made him hard. Her hazel eyes, framed as they were with nearly black lashes, were her most unusual feature, and when she came, they turned molten gold. He never tired of looking into them as she reached orgasm. “You’re thinking about Sarah, again?” Alain chuckled, as he wandered into the living room, wearing his silk robe, toweling his hair. He gestured at Ryan’s bulging crotch.

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Ryan barked a laugh. “Always, my friend. I’m going for a shower. Maybe you could put some snacks together for Sarah. She’ll be hungry when she gets home, and she’ll need her energy. We’re not letting her out of bed for a very long time.” Alain nodded his head in concurrence, and Ryan headed for the second bath. He showered quickly, banging his elbow on the tiled wall, and he cursed inventively. This was why they had built the other bathroom the way they had. But he wanted the master bath to dry so that Sarah could use it and not worry about cleaning it, as she always seemed to do. They didn’t need a cleaning lady anymore, for Sarah kept things spotless. At times it was hard to do things for her because she was already there ahead of them, unless they had exhausted her. Something they were going to do tonight. Ryan stroked his cock to release, taking the edge off. He would need all of his control with Sarah tonight. She bewitched him and Alain, moving them past their famed control, and he intended to help her lose her own later. Over and over. He knew without asking that Alain had also jerked off in the shower. They knew one another’s thoughts and actions better than some twins did. Ryan closed his eyes against the building anticipation and reached to turn off the water. If he hurried he could set out the jewelry he had bought to decorate Sarah’s nipples.

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Chapter Two Ryan emerged from the bathroom, scrubbing at his hair. He heard Alain crashing around in the kitchen and decided to go help, at least clear up behind him, once he dug out the nipple clamps. Sarah was not going to be distracted by a mess in the kitchen, either. He smiled, not knowing where she got her energy. She was also content with what she had, despite her talent and ambition. And, as she often told them, she had them and needed nothing or no one else. Ryan’s eyes lit upon Sarah’s laptop, left out upon the little desk. She had one for work that she carried everywhere with her. It was smaller and easy to carry. Sarah took cabs or public transit, to their dismay, insisting that having a car would cut into her work time, given the dearth of available parking, and she laughed at the thought of someone driving her places and picking her up. Such an independent spirit. They loved her to distraction, especially because she was so submissive in the bedroom, fulfilling them both totally. Ryan opened the laptop, searching for her calendar, which could be synchronized between her computers. They would know when to expect her, and the anticipation would build but be finite. It wouldn’t do to call her and give her a heads-up. They wanted to pounce on her and sweep her into their games. She was so responsive and loved to play. Sarah’s e-mail came up, obviously not closed from an earlier session. She had a few unread messages, and Ryan didn’t pay much attention, but then his brain froze at the sender’s address. The name Horizons leapt out at him like a beacon, and he literally couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. He clicked on it and found a response to an

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e-mail she had sent the previous evening. With the specs of their quote. The president of Horizons himself had responded with a terse “Well done. Your money has been wired.” Ryan wondered if taking a knife in the guts could compare to what he felt at that moment. Alain looked up as Ryan nearly staggered into the kitchen. He dropped the cheese knife on the granite counter and rushed to Ryan’s side. “Mon ami!” he nearly shouted. “What is the problem? Are you ill?” Ryan, feeling ill, shoved the laptop at Alain, who zoomed in on the e-mail. He grabbed for a counter stool and sat down heavily. “I don’t believe it. I do not,” Alain said flatly. “She would not do this to us. Why would she do this? She has never been one for money or things. We would have given her anything. Anything.” Alain’s accent grew thicker under stress or passion, and his eyes brimmed with tears. “Hard to dispute this, Alain,” said Ryan, who was getting himself under control. “It was pretty dumb to leave this kind of evidence around, but even the smartest crooks slip up from time to time. And Sarah would have no reason to think I’d check her e-mail. We trusted her, buddy. And she fucked us over. For the third time. We lost three fucking accounts because of her. No, that just doesn’t seem right. What am I trying to talk myself into here?” Alain also continued to argue the apparent facts then gave up when Ryan pointed out the time stamp on the e-mail. He then thought someone could have messed with Sarah’s computer at work, but the damning message had gone the night before when Sarah was at home. And their condo had an impeccable alarm system. Both agreed it just didn’t seem like her and then couldn’t talk about it anymore when they came to the same conclusion. “We both love Sarah,” Alain choked out. “And she loves us, Ryan. Surely there must be an explanation. But it seems there isn’t one.”

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Ryan shook his head and went to dress, asking Alain to clear away the food in the kitchen. He was certain that neither of them had an appetite, and Sarah was hardly going to eat it. When he returned to the living room, Alain had poured them both a drink. They sat to await her return home. They didn’t talk further, didn’t come up with a plan, just waited, their gaze on the door.

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Chapter Three Sarah Westlake bounced through the foyer of her building, waving to the security guard and chatting to another tenant as they boarded the elevator together. She’d had a long but productive day, and she was looking forward to having a relaxing tub and getting ready for an evening with Ryan and Alain. They were expecting to close a big deal today. They had been talking about it the previous evening, and she knew how important it was to them after losing at least two other deals to a rival. It had been a frustrating year for them, and while they assured her they were fine financially, she knew it was probably more about their egos. Hell, she would kick in her salary if it would help. She had money in the bank, not loads of it, but enough to help out. She had turned down an opportunity today, a chance to move to her design company’s office in Europe with a promotion and a raise. She couldn’t leave her men and wouldn’t tell them about the offer. That would feel like a threat to them, and they would put more pressure on her to resign and stay home. She wasn’t quitting her job. Tonight would be about long hours of pleasure. She was so ready to play, although she knew how sore she would probably be tomorrow. Sarah put her key in the door and slipped inside. She saw the two loves of her life sitting in matching chairs facing the door. Sarah’s heart leapt with delight, and she began to smile then realized there was something very wrong. Their faces looked as though they were etched in stone, and something in their eyes actually frightened her. She dropped her briefcase and purse beside her and shrugged out of her coat, quickly moving toward them.

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“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked anxiously. “Did you lose the deal?” She couldn’t think of what else might have caused such rage in their faces. Ryan looked her up and down lazily, his eyes dark. “We did, Sarah, funny you should ask.” Sarah looked at him with misgivings. This was really strange. She turned to Alain, whose lips were twisted in a parody of a smile. He, too, raked her with his eyes and gestured to the laptop placed on the coffee table. Sarah stared at it and back at them. “What?” she asked. “We read the e-mails, honey,” Ryan responded. “We’d like you to explain.” Sarah tossed her head, beginning to get pissed off. “What the hell are you talking about?” Alain, his voice dark with pain and anger, said, “Read them yourself, little one.” His tone mocked the endearment, and Sarah flinched. She snatched up the laptop and swiftly scanned through her emails. She felt the blood literally drain from her face, and her heart pounded. This wasn’t possible. She, too, read the time stamp, and she sucked air into lungs that felt shriveled and lifeless. “I didn’t send these,” she stuttered. “There’s been a mistake.” Ryan coiled himself out of the chair and moved to loom over her. He tugged the computer out of her hands, passing it to Alain, who now stood beside him. “Doesn’t seem to be a mistake, Sarah, unless you count not deleting them,” he drawled quietly. “Now strip.” Sarah backed up. “Stop it. I’m telling you I didn’t send that email, and I don’t even know that name. Please.” “Maybe you should convince us, little one,” Alain purred. “You heard Ryan. Strip.” Sarah shook her head. She tried to hold their gazes but quailed before their angry resolve. She thought about running, but she had

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never backed down from a challenge in her life. Yet for the first time she was a little afraid. She couldn’t think straight, didn’t know how to convince them. Her hands went to the buttons on her dress, fumbling to undo them. She pushed it off her shoulders, and it drifted down her body to pool around her feet. She stood there in her pale-blue teddy, and their eyes devoured her but apparently with lust only. There didn’t seem to be any tenderness or love. She shut her eyes against them. This wasn’t happening. “If you do not want me to destroy that lovely piece of lace, Sarah, remove it. Now.” Alain’s voice was flat and commanding. She took the teddy off with trembling hands and sank to her knees before them, head bowed, praying for the words that would make this nightmare go away. Ryan took the clip from her hair, and it streamed down around her. Alain pulled her up, his hand at her elbow, one fisted in her hair. His mouth came down over hers in a punishing, savage kiss, bruising her lips and stealing her breath. Ryan then pulled her to him and dealt her a similar assault. She tasted the two of them and wanted to weep. Together they half dragged, half carried her to the master bedroom where the linens were turned down, candles burned, and for a moment she hoped it was all a stupid prank. The room was set for seduction, not punishment. When they strapped, paddled, or flogged her for punishment, even denied her orgasm, all the lights were on so every response could be noted and learned. This felt different. Ryan grunted and flipped on the overhead light, and Sarah’s heart sank. She had been punished for not letting them know where she was or forgetting to call, for worrying them, but that was rare. Alain loved to spank or flog her for imagined or tiny infractions, and Ryan participated wholeheartedly, but that was erotic pain and ended in ultimate pleasures for them all. This was going to be different, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She was afraid to use her safe word; she had never used it in all this time, and this time she believed they wouldn’t just stop but would walk away from her forever. If she had

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to endure whatever they meted out tonight, regardless of her innocence, then she would endure. And then they would find out the truth, and she would make them pay. She would do this for the relationship and her love for them. They seemed to need this very badly. Alain centered her on the bed on her left side and sheathed himself. He looked at her in an almost dispassionate manner if one could overlook the seething emotion in his eyes. She heard the crinkle of foil behind her and realized Ryan was also donning a condom. She didn’t like taking oral contraceptives, believed they were unhealthy, and so her men used condoms except on the days that she thought were absolutely safe to have intercourse and avoid pregnancy. They had talked about children in the future, but there seemed to be lots of time. Sarah felt the lube at her anus. It was cold, so unlike Ryan not to warm it first between his hands, and she shivered, but not from the chill. This was not going to go well for her. His fingers pushed in, lubricating and stretching her, but with less of the care and intimacy she had always experienced. Regardless, her vagina responded and filled with moisture. Alain reached down and pushed a finger up her and smiled. “She’s wet, Ryan,” he snarked. Ryan just grunted, adding another finger and scissoring them, but was gentle against her flinch. Sarah opened her mouth to protest, and Alain removed the finger from her pussy and held it against her lips. “Say nothing,” he advised, “or I’ll gag you.” “Gag her anyway,” Ryan said. “I’m not in the mood to hear any noise she makes until we’re done.” Alain knelt by her head, his cock huge and hard. He ignored how it bounced against her face, reaching to secure a velvet rope to the restraint on the other post and loop it through the one on the post closest to him. He tied both of her wrists to the end, effectively

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restricting her movements. Her arousal grew, against her better judgment. Sarah was so attuned to them that all they had to do was look at her and her pussy got wet. She willingly opened her mouth for the ball gag he pushed against her lips and winced when he tied it tightly, snagging her hair. Sarah clung to the hope that they would come to their senses. This nightmare couldn’t be happening. She knew their intense reaction came from the thought that she had betrayed them because she really didn’t love them after all. That she had used their love for her against them. Stupid male ego. Fragile male pride. Ryan settled behind her and pressed his cock against her anus. With few preliminaries, he surged through the tight ring of muscle, taking her breath away, causing her to gasp out against the gag. He seated himself as deeply as he could, and then lifted her leg high, so her thighs were well apart, and Alain slid into position. He thrust into her vagina, her juices lubricating his entry. While Sarah realized that they had effectively reduced her to a fuck toy, gagged, unable to protest or share her responses with them, it still felt so good. Their domination of her sexually was what she craved and needed. She closed her eyes and went with it. They thrust into her with their usual rhythm, although there wasn’t quite the same interest in her comfort or pleasure. She could feel their pain and anger. She jerked between them, feeling the fullness that alone sometimes brought release, and felt the beginning coil of her orgasm. For the most part, Ryan and Alain were silent, not sharing their passion, certainly not expressing their enjoyment with her, not encouraging and praising her. They came nearly at the same time, and it felt joyless. And she had not found her own release. They pulled out immediately and rolled away, leaving the bed, never looking at her. She heard a shower start at the same time as her tears did, but a core of rage and resentment pushed the tears back. Sarah squirmed up the bed and struggled to free her hands, although it was easier now that there was no tension on the rope. She

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absently rubbed the red, chafed marks, knowing that they wouldn’t last long, and undid the gag, dropping it to the floor as she scrambled off the bed. Sarah then reached for the gold chain around her neck and yanked as hard as she could, ignoring the dragging pain. She knew she would have a mark on her neck to remind her of this night, but of her own making. She didn’t want to think about the harm done to her heart. A weaker link snapped, and she threw the collar away from her, hearing it tinkle as it hit the wall. She moved quickly into the living room and found her dress and pulled it on, forsaking the teddy, but gathered up her coat, briefcase, and purse. She toed into her shoes and let herself quietly out the door. Sarah ran down the hallway to the elevator, blessing its early response. The floors seemed to pass with an interminable slowness, but she was finally in the lobby and out the door past the startled doorman, fleeing for her sanity down the sidewalk. **** Ryan emerged from the shower down the hall and strolled to the bedroom, pushing away the guilty thoughts that had begun under the spray of water. He wasn’t finished with Sarah, but he thought they would talk with her and find out why she had done what she had. He smiled darkly. Alain would torture the truth out her, and she would love it. He wondered how many delayed orgasms it would take to get her to tell them. Somehow they had to get to a place where they could work this out… Despite his ambivalence about her apparent betrayal, Ryan couldn’t deny that he still loved her, certainly still wanted her, and he believed Alain felt the same. Alain was already in the bedroom, holding something shiny in his hands, staring at it, his shoulders slumped. He turned at Ryan’s approach and held out Sarah’s heavy, gold chain that served as their collar.

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“She must have pulled it right off her neck, Ryan,” he muttered. “A link has actually snapped. If she needed money, then why would she leave such an expensive piece of jewelry behind?” “Christ, I don’t know.” Ryan actually felt something cold grasp his heart. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “What have we done to her, Alain? I thought maybe the sex would make me feel better, but I feel shitty.” “I don’t know. I think we missed something here. She honored our collar. She honored us, and I know women,” continued Alain. “She didn’t use her safe word or signal us, and we weren’t kind, Rye. Not kind at all. I can’t believe she would allow us to do that just to try and convince us of her innocence. Not our Sarah. I think she did this to show that she loved us, to reassure us. She knows us better than we know ourselves.” Clearly Alain was thinking more clearly, unburdened by the earlier rage. Ryan pushed away the guilt and shame that arose again, the same feelings he had wrestled with in the shower. Sarah hadn’t said no, hadn’t used her safe word when she knew what they were going to do, but he knew what they had done had been emotionally disconnected. And so did Alain. Better they had met her at the door and thrown her out than take it out on her like that. And he had planned, with Alain, to continue to deal with her sexually. They had thought they could then move on, keeping her as their love, just ignoring what had happened. Maybe that was it, but they should not have done what they did. Alain looked at him with pain-filled eyes. “We made a mistake, Ryan, and not just in how we treated Sarah just now, although I will never forgive myself for that, but I can’t make myself believe she would sell us out. It isn’t in her nature, and she has never wanted material things or money.” Ryan sat on the bed and contemplated his friend. “Okay. Let’s get the laptop down to our captive hacker and see if that tells us

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anything.” He stopped, not wanting to make any more excuses. He cursed his pride. They quickly dressed and called for the car. Alain picked up the abandoned teddy on his way out and tenderly folded it, pushing it into his coat pocket. “She left without any underwear, Rye,” he said. “How frightened and upset she must have been.” Ryan kept his own counsel. It was too much to contemplate.

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Chapter Four “Somebody changed the time stamp,” their expert advised within a moment of accessing the hard drive. “Not the easiest thing to do, but not insurmountable for anyone with lots of experience and skill.” Ryan sagged against the desk, and Alain audibly groaned. Sarah. They had just terribly hurt the woman they loved. The future loomed bleak and empty. “How did someone get into the apartment to do it?” asked Ryan of Alain. Alain shrugged. “Maybe someone accessed her other laptop at work. That would make more sense.” “Maybe, but let’s check the security footage at the condo.” A couple of hours later, Alain pointed to footage of the tall man in the elevator pulling off what looked like latex gloves behind his back. That could only mean one thing, and they tracked his movements back to their home. Sure enough he hesitated at the door a trifle too long to be using a key, and when he went inside, the security in the lobby confirmed that no alarm had been signaled. No one had the code to their condo but themselves and Sarah, although she constantly forgot it every time it was rotated and had to call them in order to get inside. Could Sarah have given him the code? But how did that make sense? Ryan froze. Sarah usually called him or Alain at the office on their landlines so as not to disturb them in meetings by calling their cells. It was another example of how thoughtful she was. Their PA had put those calls through, and Ryan knew that on occasion he’d told Jane the code to share with Sarah when he was rushing somewhere or her

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cell had lost its signal and she would have to call back and might miss him. The interesting little scene with Jane this morning made sense now. However, after jumping to such wrong conclusions with Sarah, he didn’t want to make another mistake, so he consulted with Alain. Together, they arranged for security to conduct another updated background check and put a discreet tail on her. In the meantime, they had a woman to find and grovel before. **** Sarah found herself in a coffee shop several blocks from her home. Well, it really wasn’t her home anymore. She ordered a large, sweetened breakfast roast and laced it with cream, and she found a table to sit at, tucked away in the back. She thought she might be in shock or something as things were kind of wispy around the edges, so she used the coffee as a tonic. Slowly the world came back into focus. Her bottom and pussy ached, she was sore in what should have been a good way but wasn’t, and she became aware that she was nude under her dress and coat. The memories of the hard manner in which Ryan and Alain had used her flooded her brain, and she thought she might vomit. Worst of all, she didn’t hate them for it. She missed them already. She told herself to stop thinking about them and focus on what she had to do next. Sarah opened up her work laptop and synced her email. Sure enough, right there for the entire world to see were the two incriminating e-mails setting her up as a spy and a traitor. Not a wellpaid one, she sneered to herself, for there would never be any money for what she hadn’t done. Fuck them. Fuck them both. While she could see how incriminating the evidence was, even in court a person was innocent until proven guilty. She had been charged, convicted, sentenced, and punished without being allowed to defend herself. And by two men who purported to love her. Well, they sure as shit didn’t trust her. The tears came then, overpowering the anger, tears of grief

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and loss and pain. Sarah sobbed into her hands, totally unaware of her surroundings. She had no idea how much time had passed when she felt a tentative tap on her shoulder. She looked up to blearily see a young waitress standing there, holding out a sheaf of napkins. “Your heart’s broken, ma’am,” the woman said. “He ain’t worth it, don’t you know?” She spoke with wisdom and experience that belied her years. “Mop up now, ma’am, and move on. You’ll heal.” The truth and kindness of the waitress’s statement grounded Sarah. She gratefully took the napkins and wiped her face clean, taking deep, cleansing breaths as she did so. She smiled at Lonny, or so her nametag read, and shoved herself upright. “Thanks, I’m moving on right now,” she said. She flagged a cab and gave the driver directions to George’s house, hoping he would be home. She had a key, regardless, but needed a shoulder right then. She and George went way back. He flitted from romance to romance in college, having his heart broken regularly, and his latest paramour had gone back to his wife. They would make a fine, commiserating pair, until she found her own place. Besides, she wasn’t feeling at all well, and the world had gone back to having those blurry edges.

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Chapter Five Sarah wasn’t at work, and no one knew where she was. She had the weekend off they were told, something to do with playtime at home, and she wasn’t expected back until Monday. Ryan cringed upon hearing of Sarah’s hopeful, innocent plans, and Alain turned away with muttered imprecations. If Jane had set her up, their revenge would be mind-boggling. They couldn’t focus on what else to do. Alain went through her cursed laptop, trying to find an address book, e-mails to old and current friends, anything to help find her. Ryan called everyone they knew and alternately charmed, threatened, and bribed people for information. No one knew where she had gone. Out of desperation he called in favours from people in law enforcement, but they could find no Sarah Westlake on any itinerary. So she might still be in the city, unless she took a freaking bus somewhere. Or a train. Neither man could sleep nor eat. Their only focus was finding Sarah. It took just over a day for the news to come back on Jane. Her tail had snapped some interesting pictures of her and a man, albeit at a distance because of the security surrounding him. She got into a limo, and they went to a restaurant known for its discretion, then back to a home situated in an exclusive neighbourhood. The limo registration was traced back through a shell company but finally to Horizons’s owner and president. Her betrayal stung, but it was nothing to what they had felt believing even for an instant that Sarah had been guilty. Further digging turned up a sick mother who was presently undergoing advanced treatment at a very expensive clinic in the southwest. Ryan and Alain could not bring themselves to begin to

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accept Jane’s rationale, however. She had probably cost them the love of their life. Not that they were innocent. Jane came to the office the following morning at their request to be faced with two police officers, and the contents of her desk packed up. Alain and Ryan simply gestured for her to be taken away. Aside from going very pale, Jane didn’t try to question or defend herself. If anything, she appeared relieved that it was over. The list of charges against her was impressive, including attempted murder, for the man in the hospital had, in all likelihood, been helped in front of the cab, considering what he was probably going to tell them. If he died, then it was murder in the first degree. The police thought Jane might help them with their investigation and implicate the owner of Horizons. Ryan and Alain went right back to locating Sarah. There were a few people they had not reached, and considering her gregarious nature and ability to inspire loyalty, there were probably more they had yet to find. A credit check determined none of her cards were used, and they managed to break some confidentiality laws concerning her bank account. All they were able to find out was that she had withdrawn the maximum amount that same evening they had pretty much denounced her. They checked back at her work, only to be told she had called in sick and had decided to take two weeks’ vacation. No one had asked where she might be going. To Alain, it was very clear that certain walls at Sarah’s job had just gone up to keep him and Ryan out. No one there could be counted on to tell them anything. Sarah’s colleagues all liked and respected her and correctly suspected her sudden need for two weeks’ vacation was because of Ryan and himself. It was like she had fallen off the face of the earth.

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Chapter Six Sarah was established in George’s house, if alone there. George had clearly left for an extended time period. His fridge was empty, the heat turned down, the plants set up with an automatic watering system. Above all, his cat wasn’t present, and there was a boarding kennel name and number written on the slate by the phone. Sarah made a brief foray to the closest grocery store to pick up perishables, then locked up and shut down. She could live off of the freezer contents as long as she had cream for her coffee. Not that she was eating. She couldn’t make herself get out of bed. She truly felt ill, her bones aching and her skin sore to the touch. Her head felt full, and her chest wouldn’t seem to expand enough to get a full breath. Sarah knew she should get up and find something to drink but gave it up as a bad job and slept. The next day found her too weak to sit up, and the room spun if she tried. She vaguely knew that she was in dire straits but couldn’t muster up enough energy to care. The phone rang and rang, but it was out of her reach. She slept fitfully and dreamed of her men. Her heart broke. “Miss, miss, please, open your eyes, miss,” a voice kept insinuating itself into her head. “Please, miss.” Sarah tried to open them but could not. She felt a cold cloth on her aching head, and in her delusion thought she could hear it sputtering against the heat of her forehead, but she fell back into sleep again. When she next awoke it was to a chilly, bright room. She felt a little better, and her lips weren’t so dry. She tested them with her tongue and thought maybe she would have a drink if she could just get up

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and figure out where she was. A gentle hand touched her arm, and her head was lifted to allow for another pillow to be inserted under it. A kind voice asked her to remain still and shared that the doctor would be in to check on her in just a minute. Sarah’s blood pressure shot up at that news. She didn’t much care for doctors, and she thought she might be in a hospital. A more focused look around took in the IV stand and the needles piercing her hand. Holy crap. Needles. She was cold and seemed to have all manner of cold things around her, under her arms, between her legs. She was naked, too, and she had to pee. Badly. Sarah tried to squirm away from the ice packs, and the nurse quickly removed them. “Your fever has broken, dear,” she said soothingly, “and you aren’t quite so dehydrated.” Her explanation was interrupted by the officious arrival of a busy doctor. “Ms. Westlake, Sarah, I’m Doctor Martin. You are recovering nicely. The blood work came back, and you don’t have some infamous bug. We’ve had you in isolation, but you’ll be moved out onto a ward and probably discharged as soon as your electrolytes come back to normal. You were a very sick young lady, and if that cleaning woman hadn’t found you, well, I hope you mention her in your will.” Sarah stared at him as she processed the information. “Uh, thank you. I’d like to leave as soon as possible. And I don’t know who you mean, but for sure I will thank her.” Inwardly, Sarah wondered if maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t been found. She wished she didn’t feel so incredibly weak. Now she had to remember how it was that she had come to be found in George’s bed and couldn’t bear to think about it. “One other thing, Sarah,” the doctor said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, “when I examined you there was some bruising on your hips, and upon further investigation some minor vaginal and anal swelling. Were you attacked?”

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The tide of emotion that welled up and over Sarah must have shown on her face because he stepped back. Then he took the hand without the IV needles in it, and patted it, belying his distant physician status. “We took swabs, Sarah, but there was no DNA. We should alert the police however, and they will want to question you.” Sarah began to choke with laughter and tears, her eyes rolling in her head, and Dr. Martin motioned the nurse forward, ordering a mild sedative to be pumped into the IV. “I won’t speak to the police,” Sarah managed. “I just want to go, please.” Dr. Martin looked at her searchingly. He shook his head then nodded. “All right, but it’s still an option. I think you’ll be here at least until tomorrow to make sure you are stable. In the meantime, we reached your emergency contacts, and they are chafing at the bit to see you, and they’ll be pleased to learn that you will soon be out of isolation.” Sarah positively scrambled away from him, yanking her hand from his, her mouth opening on a silent scream. “Who’s here?” she nearly shrieked, the sedative beginning to impede her thinking. Dr. Martin tried to reassure her. “A Ryan Bell and Alain, uh, I don’t recall the last name.” “No,” she choked out. “Keep them away from me.” Both the nurse and Doctor Martin tried to soothe her, and the sedative began to take full effect. The doctor promised, “We’ll keep you here until I can get back from rounds and figure something out then.” Sarah dimly heard him instruct the nurse to call for a security guard to be posted at the door and under no circumstances to reveal his patient’s current condition to anyone. She was to remain in isolation until he changed the orders. Sarah drew the blanket up and huddled beneath it, allowing the drug to take her.

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Chapter Seven Ryan and Alain alternately paced in the waiting room or sprawled on the uncomfortable furniture. They had drunk the disgusting coffee from the machine in the hallway and leapt up at anyone entering the room, especially if they wore medical garb. They had been refused admittance into Sarah’s room. No one could tell them much other than she was gravely ill when brought in by ambulance, with an extremely high fever, dehydrated, and her lungs full of fluid. It was suspected she might be contagious. The doctor had looked narrowly at both of them, and they agreed later that he was holding something back, but he couldn’t be convinced to share, other than to say he would keep them updated. It had been over twenty-four hours, and all they knew was that she was responding to massive doses of antibiotics and IV fluids. Her fever was slowly coming down, but the blood work had not yet come back. When Ryan got the call from the hospital that one Sarah Westlake had just been brought in by ambulance and would he please come and tend to the paperwork, as he was listed, along with an Alain Joubert, as Ms. Westlake’s emergency contacts, he had nearly fallen to his knees. He managed to assure the hospital clerk that he and Mr. Joubert were on their way. The drive was a blur, and he couldn’t answer any of Alain’s anxious questions. All he could think was that they had found her and she might be lost to them. What the hell had happened to her? The paperwork had been tedious, the wait outside of the isolation unit agonizing. They had catnapped, spelling one another, and tried to think positive. It wasn’t going well, and the not knowing was making them insane.

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“Mr. Bell? Mr. Joubert?” The doctor responsible for Sarah’s treatment advanced into the waiting room. They moved as one to face him, waiting, mute. “Ms. Westlake is going to recover, barring any unforeseen complications,” the doctor announced, “and I hope to discharge her tomorrow, the day after at the latest. She regained consciousness a few hours ago and is fairly lucid. She is not contagious, according to the blood work.” “A few hours ago?” Ryan’s voice nearly cracked with incredulity. “Do you mean to say we could have seen her, and you kept us waiting all this time?” Dr. Martin was unfazed, clearly waiting for Ryan to calm down. Ryan could see Alain’s jaw clamp in an effort to keep silent. “I examined Ms. Westlake when she came in, and there is some bruising that concerned me. She didn’t want to call the police.” Alain immediately interjected. “Our relationship with Sarah involves, uh, certain contact that others might not understand.” “Perhaps so, Mr. Joubert. But that doesn’t explain the hysterics when I told her you both were here. I had to sedate her, and until she is able to talk with me, the security guard posted on her door will not admit either of you.” Ryan fisted his hands and managed not to punch the good doctor in the face. He shot Alain a glance and watched him stand down as well. “We had words with Sarah late Friday afternoon, and she left, upset. We’ve been trying to find her since then, and until the hospital notified us had no idea where she was. We were worried sick and very, very sorry to have upset her the way we did,” Ryan tried to explain. Alain stepped forward. “She is our life, docteur, I assure you. We have been together for nearly a year, and we have much love for her. She would tell you that. We deeply regret that we drove her from her

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home because of a misunderstanding, and we want to make it up to her. Please, we need to try.” Doctor Martin stared at them both assessingly. “I will be talking with my patient again shortly and will let you know what her decision is.” He held a hand up at their impatient movement. “If you care about her as much as you say you do, then you’ll wait. Sarah has been very ill. She would have died, I am sure, if that housekeeper hadn’t found her, and apparently that was purely accidental. The housekeeper wasn’t even supposed to clean that week, but there was a mix-up in scheduling. The owner of the house is away and apparently gave her the wrong dates. In any event, it appears Sarah has experienced a traumatic event on top of the illness. Or perhaps the event allowed the ‘bug’ she contracted to take such a toll. It is fortunate that she is young, strong, and so resilient as she will likely recover quickly if she has no further trauma. So, wait, or leave.” Alain and Ryan sank down on side-by-side chairs as the doctor swept from the room. Alain put his head in his hands, and Ryan scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sarah has a champion, Rye, and one who believes we sexually assaulted her, threw her out, and are now back to further mistreat her.” “It can’t work out that way, Alain. You know we can fix this,” Ryan responded encouragingly, but he felt the hollowness of his words. **** “Sarah,” a deep voice woke her from a fitful doze. “Sarah, we need to talk.” Sarah bolted upright then fell back on the pillows when she saw Doctor Martin standing beside the bed.

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He smiled at her then perched by her knees. He nodded to the IV patches on her hand and elbow. “The nurse took those out while you were sedated, so that saved you a little discomfort,” he said. “Now, do you feel up to talking about those two men out in the waiting room, or will I have to sedate you again?” Sarah shook her head and tried to take deep breaths, coughing a little as she did so. Her chest and back ached. “I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t want to see them. I just want to get out of here and get on with my life.” Doctor Martin reiterated what Ryan and Alain had told him, watching her closely as he did so. Sarah remained poker-faced until he mentioned how sorry they were and how they wanted to make it up to her. She knew her eyes reflected her rage, although tears spilled, too. Her mouth twisted, almost against her volition, and the words spilled out. “We are done. It is over. I want to get out of here and away from them.” “You could charge them with sexual assault, Sarah.” She gave an ugly grimace. “Right. I’ve fucked them both any way they wanted for nearly a year now. Like what they did that afternoon was any different.” “Whatever happened that day seems different, Sarah,” consoled the doctor, patting her hand. “Make a statement.” “No. No. Please, make it so I can leave,” she pleaded. “Rest until tomorrow, Sarah, and I’ll arrange for your discharge if you have somewhere to go and someone to make sure you continue to get well.” Dr. Martin withdrew, leaving her to stare at the ceiling and suffer in silence. **** When the doctor came back into the room, Ryan knew it was not good news.

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“She refuses to see you, I’m afraid. She won’t charge you with sexual assault, although I encouraged her to do so,” Doctor Martin said. Ryan heard Alain make a murderous sound deep in his chest, and he felt the same sense of despair. “I appreciate that you both appear to be very concerned about Ms. Westlake,” the doctor continued, “and you do seem very sincere. However, that doesn’t take away from the fact the the woman you purport to love is lying in a hospital bed coping with a broken heart, if I even believe in such a thing.” “You should go home and hope she can work this through because I am not going to allow you to impede her progress in getting well.” Ryan looked at Alain, who nodded and pushed past the doctor. They left the hospital together after Ryan made sure that Sarah’s bills would be covered. He and Alain weren’t giving up. This was just a setback.

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Chapter Eight Sarah tottered from the wheelchair to the car, aided by her assistant from work. She had called Sheila, knowing that she would cover for her, and Sheila hadn’t let her down. Doctor Martin had agreed to discharge her into her assistant’s care, and Sarah had promised him she would take at least a week to recuperate. Sarah had pressed a kiss upon his cheek that morning and was surprised when he took her hand and patted it. “I’d like to give you a bit of advice, Sarah, if I may,” he said, not waiting for a response. “Before you make any life-changing decisions, take some time to think things through and try to heal. Acting while you are hurting so badly and feeling unwell may not be in your best interest.” Sarah hadn’t responded, but his words resonated with her. He hadn’t judged her nor tried to insist she take a certain path. He also hadn’t been negative about her men. Well, not her men, not anymore. She wondered why Ryan and Alain had even bothered to show up at the hospital. Probably to harangue her some more, thinking she would fess up because she was weakened. Maybe even to threaten her with legal action. Christ, she needed to get as far away from them as she could. Then the doctor’s words came back. She didn’t know what to do. She loved them. They were her life. ****

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Alain and Ryan watched from behind the tinted windows of their car. Sarah looked so thin and fragile. She appeared to be wearing hospital scrubs, and there was a blanket over her shoulders. “Good God, Alain. She probably has nothing to wear. She left everything behind, and there’s been no time to replace anything.” Ryan’s voice trailed off when he heard the inane comments. He felt so helpless, so removed from Sarah. Fuck, how could he have done what he did? If only she hadn’t run away. Right, and maybe he should have listened to his gut and never even confronted her. He thought back to when he and Alain had been fortunate enough to have met her. Sarah designed women’s clothing for a high-priced line. She was forever in motion, sketching out an idea, then hopping up to feel fabrics, spinning to view the fall and texture. She worked strange hours, and both he and Alain wanted her to quit and be home with them, but she refused. Since she refused them little else, they went along with her need to create, but insisted that she take time off when they did. She was perfect for them, and the day they had gone backstage to talk with the head designer had been the best day of their lives. He and Alain had been looking at investing in a clothing line. Their involvement with women had piqued their interest in high fashion, and the retail cost of such clothing had appealed to their business interest. However, it was soon apparent that design was as fickle as the weather, and they dismissed their interest. But not before they met Sarah Westlake. She had been flitting about, divesting railthin models of their runway apparel, smiling and reassuring them of their performance, and both his cock and Alain’s had simply jumped to attention. There had been no frisson of excitement, no building of awareness. She was there, they responded, and without any need to consult, both had centered themselves on her like wolves upon a sheep.

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Not that Sarah was a sheep, they soon found out. She was an independent, high-spirited, intelligent person, who led them in a merry dance of seduction. They sent flowers and gifts, called her regularly, took her out to dine and dance, all of which was a new and interesting experience for them. Women usually succumbed the same day, and most times, to both of them. Most of the women even agreed to some of their more dominant desires, although not many came back for a second round, and those who did were clinging, needy women who were gently returned to the dating pool. Sarah thanked them prettily for their initial gifts then returned the rest, the more extravagant items. They respected that, for both realized she was sending a message that she wasn’t interested in being paid for her services. It was a bit disconcerting, given their experience with women’s avarice, and somewhat annoying that she thought they might see her as a whore of sorts. She was different, and they wanted her to understand that. Sarah seemed to enjoy their company and figured out early on that they both wanted her sexually, together. Not that they weren’t quite clear about it. Sarah was a bit taken aback but discussed the notion with them, learning about ménage, asking intelligent questions, and taking the time she needed to sort it through. They took her back to their condo one night after a pleasant dinner and hours on the dance floor. Such was her physical condition and endurance that she had danced with both of them, taking equal turns, all evening long. Alain thought that boded extremely well for what they demanded of women in the bedroom. Alain was more dominant than Ryan, requiring total sexual submission, but his charm and capacity for love balanced him out. Ryan simply craved sex, and lots of it, combined with erotic pain visited upon his partners. Sex with Sarah and Alain. Together they fulfilled a woman and themselves. ****

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Sheila drove Sarah back to George’s, and Sarah prayed the spare key was still in the fake rock by the back door. Sheila promised not to tell anyone where she was staying and didn’t ask for an explanation. Sarah had been her mentor and so very supportive when she first joined the design firm, and Sheila had often told Sarah that she inspired loyalty. The key was there, and Sheila got Sarah settled in bed, unloading the groceries she had picked up prior to the hospital stop. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Sarah?” she asked. “Because I can stay with you.” “I’m good, Sheila, really. I just appreciate all you have done for me. Just make sure you lock up, okay?” Sarah didn’t feel like sleeping after Sheila left, but she didn’t feel like doing much of anything else. She checked her cell and deleted dozens of messages from Ryan and Alain without listening to them. She checked her e-mail and deleted those messages, too. Sarah posted a message saying she was out of town and unavailable to answer emails and adjusted her voice mail accordingly. Then she got some juice from the fridge and thought about her future. Her empty, pathetic future. She didn’t even have any residual anger to ride. Her body would heal, but would her heart? Would her soul? She didn’t know, and didn’t really care. This was probably depression. She had suffered a loss, and she knew there were stages of grieving. She just didn’t know what they were. Giving oneself over to another, make that two others, probably wasn’t such a wonderful idea in the first place. But they had been so convincing, so seductive. She had gone home with them one night after dating them for a long time, and left the next morning a different woman. She had gotten to know them, their personalities, their attitudes, and their quirks all the previous months. She knew what Ryan liked to eat and what made Alain laugh. She knew about their families and something about their jobs. They had all shared of themselves, and she believed they got to know her as well. Sarah wasn’t an easy lay. She liked sex

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but could live without it unless the man meant something to her personally. She wasn’t governed by lust, wanting to wake up the next morning to someone she liked and to be able to still like herself. That night with Ryan and Alain changed the lust part for her. She was eager and enthusiastic for their creative sexual behavior. She had kicked her shoes off at the door, mindful of the hardwood, and caught them looking at her with interest and respect. Alain made her a light drink while Ryan hung up her coat. They gave her the Cook’s tour of the condo. It was a really nice place to live, with great views, but by then the tension was so thick she allowed Alain to lead her down the hallway into the huge master bedroom. Sarah had stood in the dimness of candlelight while they removed her clothes and then their own. Ryan had kissed her, all the while moving her onto the big bed that Alain turned down for them. They lay on either side of her, stroking, learning her body, taking turns kissing her. They tasted different from one another, Ryan spicy, Alain sweet, and she had chuckled inwardly at her fancifulness. Ryan then had suckled at her breasts, nipping and teasing her nipples as Alain slid down her body to press his face between her thighs. His mouth and tongue worked through her folds with precision, lancing into her opening, teasing her clit out from its hood. Sarah thought she might lose her mind with the sensations. She heard moaning and begging and realized it was her, straining for release. When Alain sucked hard on her clit just as Ryan sucked her nipple the same way, she flew. They gave her only a few minutes to come down before Ryan was building her arousal again, his tongue tracing her clit, two fingers pumping in and out of her vagina, while another circled her anus. Alain pinched and rolled her nipples, pulling them up and away from her body, the erotic pain lancing down her belly to her pussy. She had flinched away from the finger on her anus, but Ryan wet his finger in her moisture and tapped it, lubricating it and pressing gently. Just as she came again, he pushed a fingertip inside, and it increased her orgasm twofold. And all the time they were making her come they

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were watching her face, asking her to open her eyes, telling her how beautiful she looked when she climaxed. They praised and encouraged her, using filthy, earthy expressions to describe her private parts and breasts, shocking and titillating her when they shared what they wanted to do to her. Both had fucked her that night, one after the other. They had large cocks, and she was stretched, sometimes to the point of pain, and the sex wasn’t always slow and easy. They hammered at her, and she begged for more, even knowing her labia would be bruised and tender. The bite of pain enhanced her pleasure. Then they bathed her, together in a huge shower stall, with tenderness, chuckling at her protests of exhaustion. Alain paid further attention to her anus, rubbing it with oil and pressing a finger inside. She had risen to her toes at his touch, and Ryan was instantly on his knees in front of her, the water streaming over them, as he parted her thighs and tongued her clit mercilessly. They let her sleep for a time then woke her with a press of a cock at her mouth. She, who wasn’t entranced with giving blow jobs, and never swallowed, broke both rules in one night, delighting in the pleasure she gave them both, thrilled at the power she felt. One would fuck her from behind while she sucked the other off. It was magical. Ryan had explained that the time would come when they would have sex with her at the same time, one in her ass, one in her pussy. She became aroused thinking about it, believing him when he promised it would feel incredible. They had taken a lot of time, preparing and stretching her, with their fingers and with butt plugs. That in itself was incredibly erotic, the pinch and burn offset by the stimulation of her clit. It felt so forbidden and naughty, and she reveled in it. Sarah became a wanton woman, craving them as often as they had her. She would be working, totally focused on a project, when something would remind her of them, and the arousal would nearly overwhelm her. She never tired of them or what they did to and with her.

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Alain was less forthright about what he planned that first night. He probably hadn’t wanted to scare her, but he had held her hands while Ryan fucked her and playfully covered her eyes when Ryan went down on her. She understood later that he was getting her used to being restrained, having all control stripped from her, taking the burden of choice away as well as learning simply to feel. And because she innately trusted them, she complied. Relying on senses other than sight, just feeling, was incredibly powerful, too. She came to embrace Alain’s perversions and utter dominance. He employed a variety of sex toys with considerable skill, but she craved the touch of his mouth and hands more than any toy, and his cock could never be replaced. Alain loved to tie her hands to the hook in ceiling above the shower and wash and tantalize every inch of her body, using the different jets to bring her off over and over. Her screams of release would echo against the tiles and spur him on to greater experiments. She thought Alain probably came up with something new every day to try with her. She mostly liked what he did to her or demanded of her, although having orgasms until passing out was right up there with pushing her limits. Ryan was always there to soothe her and ease the way if she became overwhelmed, although he was very demanding and certain of what he wanted from her sexually, giving back to her with equal fervor. He was insatiable, his recovery time much quicker than Alain’s, and some days Sarah actually found it difficult to walk comfortably after a long night of inventive passion. They gave her a safe word, but it was never necessary. Sarah had fallen totally in love with them that night. She didn’t question the difficulties of loving two men, nor the semantics. It just was right, and she never questioned the depth of their feelings for her. Until now. Sarah wouldn’t let herself think about how they treated her the day she left. She had nearly a week and a half of vacation time to get her shit together and figure out where her future lay. She didn’t think she was the kind of person to hold a grudge, but she would have

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physically hurt Alain and Ryan if the opportunity had presented itself. But it didn’t, and the grudge would have to take a backseat. Oh, wait, she could have made a police report! That would have fixed them! Sarah fought against the hysteria bubbling up inside her. She had a life to live without them. If the European job hadn’t been filled, she thought she might accept it. Nothing like an ocean to build some boundaries between them.

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Chapter Nine Alain and Ryan determined that Sarah was staying in George Davis’s house, the one they followed her and Sheila to. Ryan had a vague memory of Sarah talking about someone she hung out with in college, laughing as she described herself as being a beard for him. Apparently George was gay, and his family couldn’t know or they’d cut off his funding for university. So of course Sarah, their loving, tolerant Sarah, had helped him out. They knew from what the doctor had said about the cleaning woman mix-up that this George was away. It meant Sarah was alone, which provided several options. They could stake out the house and, when she came out, approach her and try to convince her to talk with them. They could go to the house, and perhaps she would let them in. Or they could take her into the house and use the privacy and the time to repair the damage they had done. Door number three. Both knew that it was risky. It appealed to Alain because of his true dominance, and Ryan liked the idea, too, but he was the voice of reason. If they couldn’t make Sarah come around, then a kidnapping label would quite fairly be applied to their behaviour. Ryan wasn’t sure they could get out of that one if they didn’t get away with it. So they kicked the ideas around and still couldn’t see any other way. They didn’t dare warn her that they knew where she lived, believing she would flee again or call the cops, and then they would never get close to her. If they approached her on the street and she freaked, well, that was probably not their best choice. Back to door number three.

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They staked the house out during the day, returning to sleep fitfully at the scene of their crime. It was almost too much to bear. **** Sarah didn’t emerge from her new home for two days. She slept as much as she could, partly to recover, partly to avoid thinking. The rest of the time she searched for jobs that would take her away from the city. She didn’t want to run into those bastards. She’d started thinking about them in those terms just to refrain from using their names. If she thought their names, the memories came back, the good ones, too, and she couldn’t allow that. It hurt too much. The European job was taken already, and she had precious little time to apply and interview for others. Otherwise, she was going to have to go back to her job and didn’t think she could face it. Everything would remind her of what had been lost, and it was hard enough just not thinking about them. The bastards. Sarah had watched the news and learned that there had been considerable activity surrounding the bastards’ company. It appeared the real culprits had been discovered. She had switched channels without wanting to learn anymore. She ran out of cream. Sarah knew Sheila would bring her some or she could call in a grocery order, but she convinced herself getting out for some fresh air was a good idea. She pulled a pair of George’s bikini briefs on, giggling to herself while amazed that she could find humour in anything, and donned the scrubs she had washed upon getting back from the hospital. Her coat kind of added to the refugee look, what with her total lack of makeup and waxen complexion. She had lost a lot of weight with whatever it was she had contracted, and even her hair looked tired. She was a total, unappetizing mess. After dismissing the cab, Sarah wandered through the grocery store, picking up a few items along with her coffee cream. She had no appetite but understood that she would have to eat if she were to get her stamina back. She paid with the last of her cash and made a

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mental note to stop at an ATM on her way home. She was shifting her purse and the two grocery bags to a more comfortable load on either arm, looking toward the cabstand, when the car pulled up beside her. She heard the door open and felt someone get out beside her. Sarah opened her mouth to scream when that someone wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her from her feet. A hand over her lips muffled the sound, and then she was unceremoniously swept onto the backseat, a hard body covering hers as the car sped away. Sarah knew who it was. She knew by his scent and his touch. After the first shot of adrenaline, she wasn’t terrified. She was pissed, enraged, furious. As soon as she was able to move she was going to claw someone’s eyes out or tear open their throat. Sarah literally saw red, and it shimmered behind her eyes, and she made herself relax and wait for her opportunity. The other bastard was driving the car, of that she was sure. Their arrogance, the entitlement of their actions was going to backfire big time. They made the drive in complete silence, aside from the whirring of the tires on the pavement and other street sounds. And the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. **** Ryan pulled up in front of George’s house at an angle to the street and trusted the landscaping of shrubs and bushes to shield them as they took Sarah the short distance from the car to the front door. Alain passed him her purse, and Ryan located a single key. He opened the door, ringing the bell simultaneously, but the place felt empty, so he tossed her purse inside the foyer and went to help Alain. Sarah was a small woman, but he suspected that it would take the two of them to get her inside, particularly as they didn’t want to hurt her. Alain backed out of the car, pulling Sarah with him, his hands at her waist. She was somewhat enveloped in her coat, and Alain probably relaxed his guard, believing he could lift her out and hand her over to Ryan. Just as they emerged from the car, Sarah turned in

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his hands like an eel and smashed her head into his face. Bent over as he was, Alain couldn’t avoid the blow. His lip split and blood began to flow as his nose seemed to bend sideways. Alain staggered back, and Sarah propelled herself upward, pushing off with her feet and pulling herself up his body with her fingernails in the fabric of his coat. The grocery bags impeded her progress, or she might have escaped, but he somehow turned with her toward Ryan. Ryan enfolded her, grunting as her heels connected with his shins and her head slammed backward into his chest. The groceries spilled to the pavement, and she began to fight in earnest, reaching behind to claw his face then leaning to try and catch him off balance. He adjusted his grip, and she sank her teeth into his wrist, bare beneath the sleeve of his jacket. Alain’s groan of pain when Sarah connected with his face, her actual roars of rage, and Ryan’s muted shout as he felt her teeth meet at his wrist were like background music to some weird dance. Alain somehow caught her feet, and Ryan pulled his wrist away, certain he’d left his flesh in her teeth but never relinquishing his grip on her. “Sarah, for God’s sake, it’s us!” Ryan spoke urgently. Sarah didn’t answer. She just kept struggling and trying to inflict more damage. Together they got her through the door, and Ryan kicked it shut. Sarah then went limp, either at the end of her strength or awaiting another opportunity. Warily, they laid her on the couch and backed away. Both looked like they had gone a couple of rounds with a wildcat. Sarah was disheveled, her hair streaming in disarray, her clothes mussed, and the look in her eyes echoed the one on her face. Alain looked both aroused and slightly intimidated. Ryan was in awe of her and rethinking their plan. “Get the fuck out of my house, you bastards,” Sarah gritted. “Or I’ll call the police and have you charged.” Alain smiled at her and advanced, his hand outstretched. Sarah launched herself at him and managed to slam her fist into his chin.

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“Merde!” he shouted. “Stop it, little one, please.” He managed to wrap her up and subdue her. “Fuck off!” Sarah spat at him. Ryan spun and went looking for restraints. This was insane. Sarah had to calm down, or she was going to get hurt in her struggles. He held back a laugh. At this rate it would be he and Alain who would need a trip to the emergency room. After looking in vain in the kitchen, he went into the bedroom. Success. He located several ties in the dresser in the bedroom and tested the headboard of the king-size bed. Grabbing a light throw from the chair, he shrugged off his jacket and returned to the living room, wincing at the pain in his wrist, which was swelling and turning blue and bleeding around the distinct bite mark. Alain was holding Sarah close, murmuring to her. She was still spitting epithets at him, but no longer struggling. She looked exhausted, still clearly feeling the aftereffects of the illness. Ryan’s heart hitched with worry. He managed to wrap Sarah up in the throw, effectively immobilizing her, and lifted her from Alain, carrying her into the bedroom. She tensed up and snapped her teeth at him, but he easily avoided her effort and laid her on the bed, holding her still. Alain tied her wrists and ankles to the head and footboards, and they moved away, the adrenalin burned off. Sarah shut her eyes against them, and they left the room to consult. “Fuck, Alain,” Ryan said, “Your face is a mess.” “Those scratches on your cheek aren’t terribly attractive, either, mon ami,” Alain fired back. They stood looking at one another for a few minutes and then dissolved into laughter. Probably not appropriate, and certainly not if Sarah heard them, but holy shit, their little woman had a side to her they had never seen before. It almost made them forget how this all had come to pass. Alain sobered first and went in search of a bathroom to clean up, while Ryan went out to shut the car door and pick up the groceries. The coffee cream had survived the ordeal, for

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which he was truly grateful. Sarah might cut them a bit of slack if she could have her coffee the way she loved it. When Ryan came out of the bathroom after treating the scratches and bite with antiseptic and bandaging his wrist, Alain had a bag of ice on his nose, now swollen to twice its size. What a sorry pair. He had a large pair of kitchen shears at hand. “I checked on her, and she’s sleeping,” Alain advised. “I wanted to wait for you before I cut her clothes off.” Ryan hesitated. He wasn’t so sure they should follow through with the plan. “Don’t wimp out on me now, Rye,” said Alain. “We need her helpless and dependent upon us. If we leave her any control, she’ll cut our balls off, maybe literally, and won’t listen to a thing we say. She’s submissive to us. This is just a temporary aberration.” Ryan shrugged and accompanied Alain into the bedroom where Sarah slept, bound and spread. His cock jumped, and he lectured himself. This was about her, for her, and his needs and Alain’s came dead last. But oh, she looked so fuckable, and they had been without her for a while. Alain carefully pulled all the strands of hair away from Sarah’s face, smoothing it out on the pillow. His face spoke volumes about how he cared for her. He began to cut through the fabric of her coat, cutting along the seams where he could, and the fabric folded away from her body, allowing Ryan to tug it lose. Sarah stirred and awoke at the sensation, her eyes flying open and immediately filling with anger and something else he couldn’t read. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Alain pressed a kiss to her forehead, careful not to incur further damage to his lip or nose. “Making you comfortable, little one,” he told her. “Cutting off my only coat is making me comfortable?” she demanded, bitter sarcasm dripping off the words as she writhed against her bonds.

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Ryan calmly explained to her, “We want to get your clothes off, but you clearly won’t cooperate, and we don’t want you to get hurt. We thought you didn’t know it was us when you fought, but you did, didn’t you, sweetheart? So we made it so you can’t fight us anymore.” Sarah just glared at him. “Stop cutting my clothes off and get out. Maybe I’ll just let this go.” “No can do, sweetheart,” Ryan answered. “We have lots to talk about, and we aren’t leaving until you accept our apology.” Sarah sneered at him, “Yeah, right. So you found out it wasn’t me who fucked you over, and now I’m supposed to accept your apology and things will go back to where they were before you fucking tagteamed me, you bastards! Not going to happen.” She set her mouth and fought tears. Alain stroked her cheek. “Little one, none of us can live without the other, you know that. Somehow we have to make this right.” He jerked his finger back when Sarah’s teeth nearly clacked around it. “Merde!” Ryan opened a dresser drawer and found another tie, this one a wide, dated, floral thing. Between them, they managed to gag Sarah. Neither was willing to risk losing a digit. Alain made short work of the rest of her clothes, pausing at the sight of men’s underwear on their darling, but snipping it off as well. Sarah lay naked and exposed to them and both rejoiced, albeit circumspectly, to note the signs of her arousal. Her nipples were beaded and moisture glistened on her labia. Her eyes remained tightly closed. **** Sarah raged inwardly. The bastards were going to seduce her. And her goddamn traitorous body was going to make it easy for them. This was just great. She would probably have several orgasms that would cloud her thinking and soften her resolve. No, that would only make her hate them more, she was sure. They would have to let her up at

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some point, and she would leave. After she killed them. The bastards. She refused to think of them by their names. Maybe that would keep her heart safe and the responses of her body at a distance. The soft weight of a blanket disoriented her for a moment, just as the gag was removed. Her eyes popped open to see the bedroom door closing. They had restrained her, stripped her, and were now leaving her. Christ, she was so going to get them for this.

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Chapter Ten Sarah awoke to the tantalizing smell of coffee and bacon. And toast. Oh God she had died and was in culinary heaven. She lay there, just inhaling, before she realized she couldn’t move her arms or legs, and memory flooded back. She slitted her eyes and saw Ryan standing beside the bed, his hands holding an overloaded tray. “Little one?” Alain spoke from her other side. “Hungry?” he asked. “I need the bathroom,” she snapped. Alain sighed. “Okay, my sweet fille, but if you act up or try to run, I’m going to paddle you until you will have to lie on your stomach, and we’ll restrain you that way.” Sarah stared at him mutinously, wondering how long she could hold it. “Fine.” Alain immediately undid her bindings and rubbed her wrists and ankles. Sarah couldn’t resist pinching his ear but fell back when he turned his dominant face to her. She allowed him to help her out of bed and into the bathroom where she managed to slam and lock the door against him. She was shaky with both hunger and rage. She used the toilet and then stepped into a hot shower, using the bodywash and shampoo liberally. The streaming water cocooned her and gave the illusion of isolation and safety, until the authoritative rap on the door came. Reluctantly, she rinsed and stepped out, wrapping herself up in a huge bath sheet, but didn’t answer the knock. “Sarah, your breakfast is getting cold.” Fine. She would eat. She would need her energy against the bastards. Sarah emerged into the bedroom and was assailed by two

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sets of eyes full of sexual avarice. She fought the urge to retreat and instead stalked past Alain to sit on the froufrou chair beside the little desk where the breakfast tray sat. Ryan moved to help feed her, and she slapped his hand away, refusing to look at him. He sighed and moved back to sit on the bed. Alain growled, and she stabbed the fork in his direction. “Back off, you bastard,” she threatened. They sat in silence as she devoured crisp bacon on toast and inhaled her coffee. The meal was prepared just as she liked it, and she resisted the tiny warm feeling she got from their thoughtfulness. But when she finally looked at them, she couldn’t help but smile. **** Alain kept his poker face on and knew Ryan’s face was also blank when Sarah smiled so evilly and with such satisfaction. Alain now had one black eye to offset his swollen nose and split lip, while the scratches on Ryan’s face would make it hell to shave. Not to mention how carrying that tray must have made his bruised wrist pain. He reminded himself that it was Sarah’s right to lash out against them, and he tried hard not to want to upend her over his lap and smack her ass. He pushed up and strode to Sarah. “If you are quite finished, little one, we have much to discuss.” He caught the coffee cup just before she threw it at him and pulled the fork from her hand. He sighed but secretly enjoyed her defiance. Sarah would soon fall back into their lifestyle, as surely she knew the penalty for such behaviour when he had clearly warned her. Not that she had ever shown such temper before. A little annoyance and challenge perhaps, but not this animosity. Alain hauled her off the chair and carried her back to the bed, looking to Ryan to pull the towel from her. He sat and laid her over his thighs, her feet falling to the floor and her shoulders and head resting on Ryan’s lap. Ryan

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fisted his hand in her hair, a little anxious about the proximity of her teeth to his important parts. “Solomon.” Both men froze. Sarah had never used her safe word. Shit. Alain said cautiously, “Are you using your safe word, Sarah?” “Are you also having a problem hearing, on top of your arrogance?” she replied. They released her, and she slid from their laps, going to the closet and pulling out a large silk robe. It enveloped her, and she wrapped the tie around her twice before securing it. “Get out,” she said in a flat tone, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, her bottom lip trembling. “Go.” For the first time in his life, Alain went against his training. He was actually going to disregard a woman’s safe word. Ryan was there ahead of him. “We aren’t going anywhere, Sarah, until we have had a chance to talk this out. And you aren’t going anywhere either,” Ryan quickly added, forestalling her obvious response. Sarah covered her face with her hands and sobbed. She didn’t resist when they both moved to hug her to them, surrounding her with their hardness and warmth. Nor did she struggle when Alain lifted her and sat back down on the bed, kissing her forehead and holding her to him. Ryan pressed against her back and wrapped his arms around her waist. They stayed like that until her sobs dwindled and she could cry no more tears. Sarah extricated herself from their hold and went into the bathroom, where she washed her face and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She came out to face them with squared shoulders and resolve on her face. “I don’t think there is anything left to say,” she announced, holding her hand up to stifle their immediate response. “I think that you want things to go back to the way they were, now that you know I didn’t sell you out. But relationships are based on trust, so where does that leave you?”

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Alain shook his head. “If we could turn back time to that day when we treated you so unforgivably, we would, Sarah. And we know an apology doesn’t, how do you say, cut it. But we have always expressed our deepest feelings for you sexually, and that day was no exception. Sarah, we took you to our bed. We didn’t greet you at the door and throw you out.” Ryan cut in, “We were incensed and acted out. No excuse. Except that even when we allowed ourselves to consider it was you who had leaked the information to Horizons, both of us had come to our senses right after we, well, after we…” “What? What, Ryan?” she asked. “Fucked me with uncaring, cold faces? Fucked me like a thing, as a punishment? Walked away from me without a backward glance?” Sarah obviously fought more tears but continued, “How can you ask me to forgive you for that? I loved you with everything I had. Even if you thought the evidence that I’d screwed you over was overwhelming, how could you treat me like that?” “Because that’s what dominant men do when they believe the woman they love more than life itself was actually someone they didn’t know, even for an instant, but couldn’t put her away from them,” Alain quietly said to her. Sarah stood, silently, perhaps trying to absorb the stark reality of Alain’s statement. She looked at them both. “I guess I made a mistake then, when I thought it was two dominant men I wanted, and came to love. Fool me once, shame on you, but not twice. I won’t be humiliated and shamed again.” Ryan nodded. “You won’t be, Sarah, and we won’t accept that you don’t care about us anymore. We are going to stay here with you and make it right.” “You are such an ass, Ryan. Of course I still care for you both. Why else would I be such a freaking mess? But you aren’t going to get the chance to use that against me ever again. And you can’t keep me here with you against my will.”

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Alain and Ryan morphed as one into two large, determined men. “Bet me,” they said in unison.

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Chapter Eleven “Give me the damn phone, Alain,” Sarah insisted. “You can’t keep me incognito like this!” Alain shook his head. “We are the only ones you need to talk to, Sarah.” “Then you’ll have a long wait.” Sarah flounced away toward the kitchen, hoping to use the landline there, but she was forestalled by Ryan. The two men seemed to read her mind and were intent on keeping her focused only on them. She was never left alone and given the opportunity to grab a phone or even use her computer without scrutiny. With the exception of taking her arm or pressing a kiss to her forehead at night, neither man touched her, although their hot looks and stares got under her skin. She was intensely aware of their erections poking against her all night, and her body, conditioned as it had been by them and their demands, reached out even as her brain fought against them. Sarah tried to sleep in the guest room or on the couch but was borne to bed to sleep between them, the bedroom door locked and the key hung around Ryan’s neck. They cooked her favorite meals for her. They wouldn’t allow her to clean. They took care of her every need. They wheedled her involvement with countless games of Crib, Scrabble, Monopoly and every other game under the sun. Sarah found her resolve weakening with every normal, daily activity she saw them involved in and was totally aware of their focus on her. She had cobbled some strange outfits together from George’s closet and dresser, for aside from buying her some feminine supplies along with more groceries, they

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didn’t provide her with any clothing. At the end of her vacation time, Sarah announced that she was going back to work, only to be advised that they had arranged a leave of absence for her. This set her off again, her temper exploding in frustration. Sarah refrained from striking them. The primitive satisfaction she took from the injuries she visited on them that day they had kidnapped her had long since withered to quiet shame and the wish that she hadn’t expended such terrible energy on them. However, she harangued them about her job and demanded they allow her to get back to work. She was met with two implacable wills and an unspoken compromise. If she would communicate with them, accept them, take them back, reestablish the relationship, then life would go back to the way it was. Sarah somehow found the resolve to resist them. Their very presence threatened her heart. She couldn’t allow them to hurt her again. She wouldn’t survive. She was convinced that she had become so ill because she had not wanted to live without them and their power over her no longer felt safe. She hung on and hardened her heart against them, never letting them see what it cost her. That night their patience came to an end, or at least the part of their campaign to woo her and gentle her was over. Sarah had stomped into the bedroom, attired in George’s underwear and a Tshirt, still furious about the high-handed leave of absence they’d arranged, intending on falling asleep before they came to bed. Alain was on her in a flash, pulling the shirt up and off and restraining her, belly down, spread-eagled, to the four bedposts. He smiled at her as he ripped a strip from the shirt and knelt to blindfold her. “You need some stress relief tonight, little one,” he crooned in her ear. Sarah sputtered, alert to the missing Ryan. She smelled him before she heard him, his scent reminding her of better times, and she felt the bed dip beside her. He kissed her forehead gently, and she wished, just for a moment, that he would stop treating her so kindly. Then she got herself back under control.

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“Leave me alone,” she muttered. “Nope,” answered Ryan. She felt something warm drip across her back and then a pair of hands began to work the massage oil into her tight shoulders and neck, smoothing up and down her arms, then her spine. It felt wonderful, and she tried to tense against it. Someone, probably Alain, began to oil the soles of her feet, pressing with his thumbs, eliciting grunts of enjoyment that Sarah was powerless to stop. They worked on her, each slowly moving toward the other, Ryan now at her ribs and waist, Alain massaging up her ankles and calves. Despite herself, Sarah was becoming boneless. She thought it was Ryan who pulled the underwear into a thong in order to massage her buttocks and hips and Alain’s strong hands that kneaded her thighs. Her pussy was covered by fabric, fabric that was now wet with her arousal and awaiting their touch. She could only feel. Neither man slipped a hand down to her sex, and Sarah released the breath she didn’t even know she was holding in a huff of frustration. Her restraints were released, and she was flipped onto her back and tied again. Sarah didn’t make a move to resist, a fact not wasted on either Alain or Ryan. The sensuous torture began again, only this time she knew it was Alain massaging her neck and throat while Ryan began with her toes. Alain murmured endearments in French, and he kneaded her breasts with exquisite attention to detail yet avoided her nipples that were now beaded and pointing for his notice. Sarah bit her lip against pleading for him to suckle her and resigned herself to this new tactic designed to breach her defenses. Ryan worked on her legs with long, firm strokes, paying attention to the inside of her thighs, while carefully avoiding her apex. It was maddening, and she could hear him humming for Christ’s sake. Humming! Then it was over. She was released, the blindfold removed, and the lights turned off. Both men crawled into bed on their respective sides and cuddled against her, kissing her cheeks goodnight. Sarah lay there, denied release, and took cold comfort in their raging hard-ons. She might go

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mad with desire, but they were coming along right behind her. She suspected they were jerking off in the shower, but they were both highly sexed, and that would be limited relief for them. Sarah rarely had the time alone to do anything about herself, so she gritted her teeth and waited for sleep. Sarah had breakfast in bed the next day, fed by each of the men, utensils denied her. They provided bite-sized pieces of bacon, toast, and fruit, carefully wiping her lips in between each morsel she chewed. Alain held her coffee for her to sip, smiling when her eyes closed against the perfect mix of caffeine, cream, and sugar. Sarah instantly opened her eyes, refusing to give an inch. Like she hadn’t already done so. Good God, they were pampering her, binding her to them, and she felt powerless to resist. They left her alone to use the adjoining bathroom, and then Ryan came in and ran her a tub, adding her favorite bath salts he had brought from home. Tears stung her eyes at the reminder, and she kept her head down as he piled her hair on top of her head, securing it with clips. He slipped the robe off her shoulders and helped her sink into the hot water. She reclined against his arm as he used his other hand to squeeze the bath sponge over her breasts, then swept it up over her throat, down her arms, and across her chest. Alain came in, naked and aroused, and slipped in at her feet, lifting them and bending her knees to place each arch on his pecs. Ryan pulled his arm from behind her and tossed the sponge to Alain, along with the bodywash. He, too, removed his clothing and inserted his body in behind hers, his legs sliding down her sides and coming to rest over Alain’s, his hard length pressing into her back. They were packed into the large tub, in as intimate a position as ever they had been in. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Ryan, the familiarity of their position overwhelming her much as the familiar scent had done. They were undoing her resolve by dint of their determination, coupled as it was with their care and gentleness. Even

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the fact that she was virtually prisoner in George’s home didn’t detract from their ability to seduce her judgment as well as her body. Sarah moaned as Ryan kneaded her breasts, and Alain washed up her legs to her wide-open sex. The water lapped gently around them, the steam rose with the scent of vanilla, and she could almost forget the circumstances that brought her here. She would let them pleasure her, just once, and when they believed they had won, she would make her move. Alain swirled the bath sponge over her labia, pressing between the folds, pressing at her opening and rubbing over her clit. She arched into the pressure, and Ryan held her head on his chest and above the water as she slid forward. He plucked at her nipples, rolling and pinching them, pulling them up from her body, and the sensation warred then merged with the coiling in her pussy. Alain teased her with the sponge, pushing her legs higher so that her thighs folded up against her breasts, and Ryan secured them with his hands at her knees. Her breasts mourned the loss of his fingers. She was vaguely aware of the water level dropping, the sound of water swirling down the drain and the cooling of her skin, but she was focused upon Alain’s clever ministrations. He stopped. Sarah tried to sit up, to shield herself from his gaze, certain he would be sporting a smug look. Instead, he stared back at her with tenderness and compassion, and Ryan let her legs go to slap together and cover her arousal. Ryan pressed a kiss on her shoulder and gripped her under her arms to support her to stand while Alain held her at her waist. She pivoted and clambered out of the huge tub, grabbing for purchase and a towel in one motion, fighting tears, arousal, and confusion, then she fled into the bedroom. That door was locked, so she curled up on the dressing chair, her back to the room, her hair falling down to hide her face. She heard Alain and Ryan enter the bedroom and the sounds of clothing being pulled on. Alain kissed her temple. “You thought you would use our need for you against us, Sarah,” he said quietly. “Your face is always so expressive. We are ashamed that we didn’t read your innocence that

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day. And totally ashamed of what we did to you in an effort to lessen our pain. It was unconscionable and totally selfish. Forgive us.” She kept her head down as Ryan also kissed her temple then unlocked the door. They left the room, the door shutting behind them. God, what was she going to do? She wanted to forgive them, wanted them back. She wanted to believe that it was because of her forced internment, like Stockholm syndrome, but knew in her heart it wasn’t so. Her pride wouldn’t let her give in, and pride did indeed go before a fall. Had they paid enough? What did that even mean? Was she still thirsty for vengeance? What did that make her if she was? Time crept by, and the only sounds she heard were those from the street. As she became aware of that, Sarah jumped to her feet, wincing at the feeling of pins and needles as the blood flowed back into her legs. She half staggered to the door and threw it open to be greeted by nothing. The house was empty, the rooms clean, and nothing out of place. The key to the bedroom lay on the table, totally symbolic. They had left, given up on her changing her mind, given up on seeking her forgiveness. Sarah felt the pain like a knife in her gut and held onto the table to avoid sinking to the carpet.

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Chapter Twelve “I hope leaving was the right thing, Alain,” complained Ryan as they made their way back to the condo. “We tried everything I knew, Rye,” came the answer, “and all of your ideas. You saw her. You felt it. She desires us, still loves us, but we hurt her badly, and her pride is formidable. It is part of what drew us to her in the first place. Sarah would have allowed us to pleasure her, fuck her even, believing it would lull us into dropping our guard, and perhaps she would have run again. And it wouldn’t have meant anything. I couldn’t take that, could you?” Ryan closed his eyes against the churning in his gut. “I couldn’t. I know. We left her the key. Maybe she’ll come to us. But if she doesn’t, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.” Alain just shook his head and stared out the side window. **** Sarah idly tapped the end of the pencil against her teeth. The last dress simply didn’t drape properly. The fabric seemed right but somehow… “I’m leaving now, Sarah, if that’s okay?” asked Sheila from behind her. Startled, Sarah spun to face her assistant. “Oh, Sheila, of course. I was caught up in this last design and lost track of time. Go, by all means, and have a wonderful weekend.” She felt Sheila studying her. She had come back without explanation following her brief leave of absence, apparently

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recovered from her illness, and no one asked questions. She hoped she was still the loyal, supportive boss and creative designer, but she felt like her spark for anything else was gone. Sarah knew that she had withdrawn from others. She lived and breathed her work, and Sheila had asked if Sarah even went home at all over the past four months. Of course she had gone home, but only to grab a few hours of sleep and change her clothes. “Would you like to join us for a drink?” Sheila offered. “The staff is meeting up at the Shady Cat in a few minutes.” Sarah shook her head. “Nope, but thanks. I’ve got to get this right.” Sheila grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Sarah vaguely heard her assistant mutter something about men being assholes. Sarah spent the next two hours trying to capture her vision then packed it in. She wondered if the others were still at the pub and decided to stop by on the off chance. She felt like some company for once and allowed herself to consider if she might be healing, just a little. The pain rose up, threatening to choke her, so she locked her thoughts up again, abandoning the idea of having a drink with friends and colleagues. Instead, she would pick up her items from the cleaner’s and get an early night’s rest so that she could work through Saturday without flagging. Sarah emerged from the dry cleaner’s, wrestling with the plasticwrapped suits and dresses. She couldn’t imagine how she had left so many clothes there. She was lucky they hadn’t been sold off. She shifted them to lie across her arm and made her way up the street, looking around for a cab. One pulled up ahead of her in front of a pricey hotel, and she hurried to grab it as soon as it expelled its present fare. A black limo pulled in right behind it, and the back door flew open. Sarah slid to a stop and fought nausea as Alain got out on the curb, helping a beautiful redhead out of the backseat, Ryan right behind her. They didn’t notice her at first, Alain leaning over the woman and Ryan smiling at something she said, and Sarah wished for

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the ground to open up and swallow her, for something to distract them further so she could escape unseen. Ryan turned to meet her gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and then he lurched toward her, hands outstretched. Alain, his eye likely caught by his friend’s sudden movement, saw her an instant later, and he, too, held out a hand. The redhead stood there, puzzled. It all unfolded like a strange tableau, and the dry cleaning slipped and slithered to Sarah’s feet with little, whispery sounds of plastic. She backed away with tiny, little steps, eyes wide and staring, jealousy warring with pain, and anger that they still had so much power over her overwhelming her. And then she recovered herself with a selfdeprecating laugh, stooping to gather up her clothing. “Alain, Ryan,” she managed to say coolly. “Hold that cab for me, would you please?” She stepped off the curb to bypass them and use the street-side passenger door. Ryan motioned the cab to leave, and she gasped at his temerity. She had been civil and nonintrusive, and he had simply ignored her attempt to avoid the situation. “Sarah,” he said, never taking his eyes from her. “Long time, sweetheart.” “Allow me to introduce my youngest sister, Sarah,” announced Alain. “Maxine, this is our beloved Sarah. Sarah, Maxine.” Sarah didn’t think her legs would hold her up. His sister. The relief was palpable. She wanted to throw herself into their arms. The walls she had so carefully built back up after having thrown away her pride that day at George’s, only to find they had given up on her, crumbled again. They weren’t with anyone new. Alain had talked about Maxine, his baby sister who hoped to model in America sometime. “I am pleased to meet you, Sarah,” said Maxine, offering her hand. “I am, too, Maxine,” Sarah managed. “Alain has talked about you so fondly.”

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“My dear sister, would you mind if we simply escorted you to your room instead of staying for a drink?” Maxine, still clearly puzzled, replied, “But of course. And you need not escort me. We are virtually in the lobby, and I can make my own way. It was nice to meet you, Sarah.” Sarah nodded, bereft of words, and fisted her hands to avoid slapping Maxine when she kissed both men, including Ryan, goodbye. She watched Alain tip the bellman to take his sister up to her room, and in that moment realized that Alain would never depart from ensuring a woman made it to her room safely unless something even more important required his attention. Ryan slid into the backseat of the limo, and Alain handed her in to him, managing the slippery dry cleaning bags with no apparent effort, and then got in beside her. They rode in silence. Sarah struggled to contain her emotions, then gave up and leaned back, her eyes closing, and let go of the burden. She felt both Ryan and Alain relax beside her. She accompanied them in silence into their building, although she acknowledged the delighted greeting by the doorman and the security guard with her usual charm. They entered the condo, and Ryan disarmed the system before caging her against Alain, kissing her to steal her breath. Alain released her hair from its clip and threw the dry cleaning across the sofa in one motion. Together they pulled her clothes off in skilled, synchronized movements as they moved her down the hall. Alain stopped just outside the bedroom door, staring at her throat. “Ryan.” **** Ryan followed his gaze and swallowed. Hanging from a chain around Sarah’s neck was the key they had left on the table at George’s. Alain pressed a kiss into the hollow of her throat and unclasped the chain, folding his hand around the key so tightly it

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would leave an imprint. Ryan lifted her and carried her to the big bed, laying her down in the middle with care. She was thinner, her ribs clearly visible, and she had allowed her pubic curls to grow back. Her eyes were shadowed and her face pale. Four months, he thought bitterly, four fucking months without her. And her without them. He stripped, aware Alain was already naked and moving to lie beside her. Ryan’s heart was pounding against the wall of his chest, trying to reach Sarah, he was sure. They had someone following her and monitoring her, providing them with regular reports, but they hadn’t seen her in person for months. Fuck the waiting, fuck being patient. He took heart at her obvious jealousy of Maxine. Sarah lay in between them and kept her eyes closed. The tears spilled from behind her eyelids and trickled down the sides of her face, pooling in her hair. As one, both men glued themselves to her sides, alternately stroking the length of her torso and pressing kisses on her. Gradually, she stopped crying. She fell asleep, clearly exhausted by the total drain of emotion. Ryan chuckled quietly. “Not quite the homecoming we envisioned, eh, Alain?” Alain, too, laughed. “I wonder why it is that we men need to express our narrow range of emotions through sex? Never mind, we will wake her in awhile, and it will be like she never left.” “So, do we pretend that what happened is over, or do we try to talk to Sarah about it?” Ryan asked his friend. “There’s that narrow range of emotion again, Rye. I say we raise it and follow Sarah’s lead. One thing is for certain. There will be no further, what is that expression, knee-jerk reactions in our future. Ever. I will never risk what we have together again.” “Done, buddy.”

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Chapter Thirteen Sarah woke to the sensation of wet heat on her pussy. Startled, she tried to sit up, only to be restrained gently by Ryan, who kissed her and smoothed her hair from her face. She peered downward and saw Alain pressing a washcloth against her, soaking her curls. A towel was spread beneath her, although she had no memory of it happening. She remembered her exhaustion but had no idea how long she had slept, but for long enough apparently, as she was wide-awake and feeling rested. Alain bent her knees and placed her feet flat on the mattress, wide apart, and began to lather her with shaving cream. “Maybe I want to leave my pubic hair au naturel, Alain,” she complained. He lifted his head from his close perusal of her mound and smiled up at her. “And maybe we prefer total access to this beautiful cunt that we have been missing, cherie,” he answered. “It is my pleasure to do this for you.” Sarah slumped back and let him shave her, feeling how gentle he was, how thorough. Ryan rolled her nipples and pulled them, steadily building her arousal as she arched for more stimulation. Her breasts grew heavy and tender. He bent to suckle her, taking as much of one breast into his mouth as possible, lapping at it as he released her, his fingers plucking at the other. He alternated, and the air cooled around her damp nipple. Sarah moaned and felt the wet cloth on her again, swiftly followed by Alain’s voracious mouth. He flung her legs over his shoulders, lifting her to allow even greater access, and ate at her. When he sucked her clit into his mouth and pinched it gently with his

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teeth just as Ryan bit her nipple, Sarah went over, screaming. She had missed this so much. She had missed them so much. Before she could recover, Ryan had turned her over and propped her up on a pillow, sliding down to separate her buttocks and plunge his tongue into her anus, pulling out to gather her juices and return to stimulate her further. Alain slipped a hand under to find her clit and turn feather-light circles on it. Sarah arched into his touch then back on Ryan’s tongue, her vagina clasping at nothing. Then Ryan pressed three fingers up inside her, never stopping his erotic assault on her anus. Alain increased the pressure on her clit, and Sarah broke again, unable to even take a deep breath, panting and whimpering. She couldn’t take anymore and struggled to escape their persistent touch, only to feel Alain slide beneath her, lifting her easily to drape her over his body as he ministered to her breasts, holding her shoulders up just off of his chest. His latex-covered cock flirted with her pussy, and she swore her opening tried to follow it, grasping like a little mouth. She felt warm lube squeeze into her anus and tensed for a moment. It had been so long, and the last time had not made her particularly anxious for double penetration again. Ryan ran a hand down her spine in a soothing, gentle motion. “S’okay, sweetheart,” he crooned. “We will never hurt you, I promise.” Sarah relaxed, only to hear him say quietly, almost under his breath, “Except in a good way.” She was afraid she was dreaming, afraid to open her eyes and find herself alone again. She wanted to allow herself to believe things might just possibly go back to where they had been before that awful time. Her rage was long burned out, her pride set aside, although her heart was bruised and her spirit languishing. Regardless, she concentrated on Alain’s touch as much as possible. He moved up, abandoning her breasts, and began to steal her breath and her thoughts with deep, arousing kisses. She could almost forgive him for leaving her breasts to ache as Ryan began to stretch

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her with one, then two fingers, adding a third only when she was able to accept it easily. The naughty, forbidden touching sent shivers of desire into her pussy, the shaven lips tingling, her moisture dripping to saturate her and heat Alain’s cock. It began to twitch between her legs. Finally, Ryan withdrew his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against her anus. It popped through the tight muscles, and Sarah waited for the burn to change into pleasure. Ryan held still and was patient, forging deeper only when he felt her inner walls adjusting. When he was fully seated within her, he paused. “Now would be a good time, Alain,” he gritted. “She is so fucking hot and tight that I’m about to embarrass myself.” Alain reached down to guide himself into her, feeding her his cock inch by inch. Sarah felt stretched and so full. Maybe they had gotten bigger in her absence or she had shrunk, but it didn’t feel like she could take them both. Alain pulled out and coated himself in the excess lube and her juices. His reentry was facilitated, and he forged in to the hilt. Sarah panted against the pressure and felt yet another orgasm begin to coil. Alain and Ryan began to move in their wellestablished rhythm. Sarah was never without a cock pushed deep inside her. The pressure, the fullness, and the reaction of the nerve endings in her bowels all collided, and she spiraled. Ryan reached to where she and Alain were joined and pressed her clit, coming hard inside her as she went off, the hot ejaculate pushing her up and over again. He slipped out of her, and Alain grabbed her hips in a bruising grip to lift and slam her down three more times before he shouted and came. “Welcome home, Sarah,” said Ryan.

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Chapter Fourteen Sarah awoke before them, for the first time ever, and she began to panic. It was probably irrational, and she absolutely wanted to be here with them, but she felt awkward, uncomfortable somehow, and angry. This was crazy. They had previously begged her forgiveness regardless of the fact that they had virtually held her hostage. They brought her home last night because there simply hadn’t been any other option. She belonged here with them. So why was her heart pumping against her ribs? Why could she not take a deep breath? Why was she so very angry? Alain’s eyes opened and immediately moved from sleep to a warm, loving look, followed by his sunny smile. The smile that hid a dominant, kinky, sexual male. Sarah wanted to punch him right in the nose, the nose that seemed a little off-centre. So, it hadn’t healed exactly right. Good. She instantly closed her eyes against the nasty thoughts. “Ryan. Ryan, wake, my friend, it appears to be time.” Sarah jolted up and stared at Alain. Time for what? If they wanted to fuck her, they could think again. She wasn’t in the mood. Ryan dragged himself from slumber, and for a moment Sarah felt warm fuzzies. He slept like the proverbial log, and he grumbled and complained until he had his first cup of coffee. Unless, of course, he decided to make her his breakfast, and then it was just fine to wake her up, she remembered crossly. Sarah resisted a strong need to pinch him. She shrieked in the next breath as Alain scooped her up and carried her to the closet. He slipped her into her favorite robe and tied it around her. Sarah’s heart swelled to think that all of her possessions were just where she had left them. Right, left them. Left them when

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she had fled from her home, from their accusations. What the hell was the matter with her? How was it that she suddenly started to feel so keenly, to process everything again? What had she been doing with her emotions these past months? Oh right, she hadn’t thought, hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t thought about it. Ryan was fumbling in the kitchen when she and Alain walked there. He was naked, his hair awry, his chin and cheeks full of stubble. He looked adorable. Alain was unshaven as well, yet kept his elegant look, swathed as he was in his silk robe, his hair behaving itself. Sarah bet her hair was a mess. Cranky pants. “Pour our woman a cup of coffee, fixed the way she likes it, mon ami,” suggested Alain. “I’ll take one, too. And then we shall talk before Sarah causes us bodily harm.” Sarah stared at him. He knew she was conflicted and upset. He read her now just as he used to read her. Ryan was looking her way, too, and had a concerned, compassionate look on his face, slightly at odds with his burgeoning erection. Alain threw him a dish towel and gestured for him to cover up, which Ryan did, tucking himself under the counter as he sat down to face her. Alain began, “We are sorry. No, I won’t speak for Ryan. He can do his own groveling. I am so very sorry about jumping to the insane conclusion that you would have betrayed us. I knew it was not possible even then and do not understand why I even considered it. Because, Sarah, I knew you had not, even before you left. Even before we checked into the fraud. I knew when we were, well, when we were…” “Fucking me?” Sarah bit out. “Fucking me like I meant nothing?” Ryan moved to touch her, and both Alain and Sarah waved him back. “Oh, my love, Sarah, never that. I understand that it felt like nothing, like punishment, but we needed you that day like never before. I needed to be with you together with Ryan and take from you and yet not let you see the effect you had on me. I was hurting, Sarah,

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and unable to move past my stupid male pride. I thought I had made a mistake in judgment and couldn’t begin to accept that. So I reverted to the part of our relationship that connected us. Can you consider this?” Sarah could consider it and actually did understand, as much as any woman could understand men. But it was the fact that they had even entertained the idea that she would actually betray them that stuck in her craw. Ryan shuffled around the breakfast bar to sit on the stool beside hers. The dish towel sort of hung from his cock like a flag, and Sarah bit her lip against a stupid giggle. “Honey, I’m not as good with words as Alain is, you know that. And I’ll confess that I did think you had given the information to Horizons. No wait, Sarah, please hear me out. I’m trying to be honest here. Communicate.” Sarah settled back down and tried to hear him out. He had actually used the word communicate after all. “We had just been told the bad news and came home to be with you because you would make it better. Like little boys, eh?” Sarah didn’t hide her smile. For sure Ryan would have come home looking for her to kiss it better. He trusted her with his vulnerable side. “I was looking forward to seeing you, and then I read those emails. It blindsided me, and I simply couldn’t think. Alain was the same way, although he didn’t react so strongly. We tried to talk it through, but I’m not real good at dealing with feelings and I guess my pride took a beat down. I took you to bed to make it better, honey, I did. And then I was so ashamed of myself that I went to take a shower alone. I even talked myself into doing you with Alain all night just to find an answer I could live with. But then you left and, well, I realized something pretty significant for a man right then.” Sarah waited. Alain was looking at Ryan like he didn’t know who he was.

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Ryan took a deep breath. “I realized that sex doesn’t fix everything.” He paused and looked at her, a very anxious look on his face. Sarah let the silence draw out. What on earth could she say to that? What could she say to Alain, who, from his previous statements, had essentially come to the same conclusion? “Okay,” she finally responded. “So, in a nutshell, you both thought for a nanosecond that I had betrayed you, and then I came home. I couldn’t disprove the evidence instantly, so you thought to make yourselves feel better by fucking me and then thought to talk about it afterwards?” Two sets of eyes, so dissimilar in colour yet so identical in expression watched her warily, and two heads nodded very carefully. She made them wait. “Then make it up to me. And be very fucking creative.” Alain was by her side in an instant, pulling her to him as Ryan jostled for position. “We’ve booked an open-ended cruise and a private house on St. Lucia,” bragged Ryan. “We can go whenever you want, for however long you want.” “And we’ve got a short list of houses for you to view because we want to be a real family and not condo squatters,” added Alain. Condo squatters? Whatever, Sarah liked the idea of a house, of permanence. “We talked it over, honey, and of course you’ll make the final decision, but we want you to marry one of us, although we’ll both be your husbands, and we picked out a ring, Sarah. But if you want, you can choose your own.” Ryan’s anxiety was palpable. Alain touched her cheek gently. “Mon coeur, we want to make babies with you. You can decide who can be the first papa or we can let it be that luck of the draw, but it feels like time.” Sarah waited. They didn’t say anything further, so she tallied the offers.

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“A cruise and a place on an island, before or after I marry you. Probably a very nice ring. A house for a family, babies. And?” Ryan, surprisingly, got it first, and Sarah bit back a chuckle at his lightbulb-over-the-head moment. “And we are going to talk about everything, all the time, every day. Communicate.” Alain did laugh, but with chagrin. Then he offered, “And have great, enthusiastic, regular sex, my darling.” “Done,” Sarah said. She reached and yanked the towel from Ryan’s cock and gave him a little stroke. “I think I’d like to make the acquaintance of this big boy again. Here or in the bedroom, Ryan?” Ryan threw her up and over his shoulder, nearly bashing her head into the hallway wall as he raced to the bedroom, Alain following closely behind, his silk robe now open and flowing off his shoulders. Sarah would never ever have to forgive them again.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Allyson Young now lives in cottage country in Manitoba with her husband of 23 years and assorted pets, having lived and worked all across Canada. Her two children are grown and either away at university or now working for their own living! Allyson worked primarily in human services and has seen the best and the worst of what people bring to the table. She has written for years, usually short stories or poetry, published in small local papers and the like. After recently reading a novel by Sophie Oak, she was inspired by the humanity behind the intense sexuality, believing that this is truly how life should be, any kind of loving relationships being worth the long, hard slog regardless of the bumps along the way. This has led to her own venture of penning erotica.

Also by Allyson Young Ménage Amour: Away Siren Classic: Wishes

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