Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2) (50 page)

Oh no.

Quinton glanced to George, then he turned triumphantly to Kurt, a sly smile creasing his once handsome face, his bloody teeth grotesque in the low light.

“What the hell are you talking about, George?” Kurt stepped toward him, his jaw clenched tight. “He kidnapped my
wife
. He had my best friend beaten half to death. He needs to go to jail, not have some slap on the wrist from The Council.”

George turned his gaze on Kurt, and for the first time, Breanna saw that coldness directed at her husband, and she pulled Kurt close, his arm circling her waist.

“As I said,
Mr. Erickson
. The Trust has ways of addressing … problems. And they do it internally. You must understand.”

“No, I don’t, George. He’s a fucking menace, and he needs to be locked up.”

“Regardless,” George growled, his voice lowering an octave. “It will be handled as I stated. Perhaps we have a disagreement now, you and I?”

She wanted to scream now, but Breanna understood it. As much as she wanted to see the monster in a jail cell, she knew there wasn’t a thing they could do about it. As dangerous as Quentin Trask was, she had no desire to see Kurt get on the wrong side of George Trask. Not ever.

Kurt scrubbed his hand through his hair, the side of the pistol against the top of his head. “I can’t fucking
believe
I’m agreeing to this.”

He glared at the simpering, grinning Quinton, then locked his gaze with George. “I’ll go along, George, but only because I trust you. You know he belongs in a jail. But I want you to know something else. I don’t care if he’s your son. If the Trust doesn’t take care of this—” Kurt looked to Derek who gave him a nod. “— we’ll take care of him.”

George’s grim smile was more an exposure of teeth than an expression of mirth “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Kurt.”

Breanna hugged herself to her men as they watched George and his men pack up and start their trucks. She smiled bitterly as they slapped handcuffs on a struggling Quinton before stuffing him into the back seat of George’s SUV. Part of her would’ve rather seen him leave in a body bag, but she suppressed the rage threatening to boil over within her at the thought. There’d be a time to deal with that rage, but it wasn’t now.

Brayden, holding a dazed Genna by the hand, gave them one last bemused look as he got into one of the trucks. He held up a hand to them, his eyes meeting Breanna’s for one moment as the door closed.

Thank you.

Then with a cloud of swirling dust, it was only the three of them, standing on the side of the deserted logging road, a disastrous fate averted, and uncertain future ahead.

Chapter Thirty Six

W
ith a full back seat Kurt’s crew cab truck could comfortably seat six. But as the big Ford drove down the freeway that didn’t matter to Breanna. She curled in Derek’s lap, her head laid against his strong chest, the comforting sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear lulling her into semi-lucidity as her men’s low voices rumbled above her. Kurt’s hand stroked her bare foot, Derek’s arms surrounding her, the love of both men protecting her. Slipping in and out of deep sleep, she couldn’t make out words, only tones, emotions, and that was enough. They were here, they’d found her, saved her, claimed her. Her Master, and Her Sir.

She stretched her leg across the seat, laying her foot in Kurt’s lap, her instep against the pleasing curve of his genitals. His thighs opened, his hand clasping her foot, pressing it against his erection as he drove. Smiling, she drifted off once more, inhaling deeply of the pleasing male scent in the dark of the truck.

A hand stroking her temple woke her, the glow of the city flashing by outside. Derek’s exit was just ahead, Kurt looking over at him, his eyes reflecting the brightness of the streetlights.

“Almost to your stop, my friend,” Kurt said.

Breanna went tense, waiting to hear the words, waiting to hear if the dream still lived.

“Keep driving, Kurt.” Derek pulled Breanna tighter to his chest, and she sighed. “Let’s get her home.”

Kurt’s smile couldn’t quite banish the darkness she saw under his eyes.

The sound of the truck’s door closing was loud in the quiet driveway, the city all around them still sleeping. Derek just sat there though holding her, his jaw nudging her hair. His door opened, and familiar hands touched her cheek, gathering her legs up and pulling her out. She clung to Kurt, kissing his neck, every second with these men renewing her, deepening her love for them even more. This was right, this was what she’d always wanted, and she had a chance to make it real, to make it forever.

As Kurt turned for the house, she reached a hand out, fisting it in the front of Derek’s shirt.

“I need you. Just come in. Please.”

Derek smiled at her, bringing her knuckles to his soft lips.

She wouldn’t let go of his hand as Kurt opened the door, drawing her into the cool darkness, the familiar scents.

Home.

“Forgot to set the thermostat.” Kurt tipped his head toward the wall. “Will you flip on the heat? I’m gonna take her upstairs.”

Breanna knew these men well enough to know what was said, the meaning behind Kurt’s calm, resigned tone.

It was another out, another way to let Derek go gracefully. An open door he’d only need walk through.

Please don’t go. I need you. You need me. Don’t go.

As Kurt drew her up the stairs, she heard the front door close in the darkness … then heard the sound of Derek’s heavy boots crossing her floor.

She grinned against Kurt’s neck, and whispered her gratitude.

“He stayed, Master. He stayed.”

She looked over her husband’s shoulder, watching Derek follow up the stairs, his eyes brilliant flickering points in the darkness. Kurt’s cock was hard, pressed to her hip, the feel of his arousal stoking the heat between her legs.

Kurt took her into their bedroom, but didn’t turn on the light. Somehow it was better this way, their collective lust rising, gathering in the quiet shadows of the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, pushing her to her back. When she moved to rise, his hand clasped her throat, making her draw a sharp breath.

“You stay where you are,” her said, his tone at once demanding and gentle.

She obeyed, laying back on the cool comforter, the fatigue of what had happened just now stealing through her, weighing her down with it.

Both men stood at either side of the bed’s foot board, their gazes traveling up and down her body, a smile playing at Kurt’s lips, Derek for once giving her the unreadable, almost cool regard she usually associated with her strict, implacable husband.

“Take off your clothes, girl.” Kurt leaned his muscled shoulder against one of the bedposts. “Do it slow so we can watch you.”

“The top first, Breanna,” Derek said, crossing his arms. “Then get on your hands and knees, facing us.”

She shed her sweater so fast she heard a tearing sound as she ripped it over her head, throwing it to the floor. Kurt smiled then, and gave her a nod, indicating the bra should go too. She rose to her knees, knowing they’d approve, and unclasped the lace, letting it fall away, her nipples tightening instantly. She reached up under her hair, but Derek shook his head, pointing down.

“Down, just like we told you. Hands and knees.”

The heat flared in her cheeks as she looked up at them feeling the weight of her breasts swaying below her.

“God, I love those nipples.” Derek said, his hand stroking the length of his cock through his jeans. He reached down, clasping both tender buds between his fingers, pinching and pulling them into aching hardness. “There that’s better. These should always be hard for us, Breanna. Always.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, lowering her eyes, her nipples so hard now they throbbed. She wanted those cruel fingers to pinch them more, to hurt them, to claim them as theirs, just as the rest of her was. Her pussy tightened, slickness gathering between swelling labia, her clit as erect as her nipples now.

“Look at us,” Kurt said, an edge to his voice. “Let us look at you, girl.”

They regarded her in silence, Derek walking around to one side then back as if evaluating the merchandise at an auction.

“Now the rest of it,” Kurt rumbled, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Just the sight of him doing that had her sex nearly dripping, anticipating what was to come.

Rising to her knees, Kurt helped her off the bed to stand before them. She unbuttoned her jeans, shimming out of their tight embrace. As she moved them down Derek shook his head.

“Turn around and bend at the waist when you do that. That’s a standing rule from now on. Don’t forget it.”

Oh God …

Facing away from them she pushed her jeans down her legs.

“Slower than that,” Kurt barked. A flare of pain bloomed across her ass as Kurt’s big hand smacked her, hard. The pain just made her wish they’d bend her over that mattress and spank her ass red.

Her hands tangled in the jeans bunched around her ankles, legs together, she held the position, knowing what she must look like, the hot heat of her embarrassment only making her pussy wetter.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Step out of them now,” Kurt said behind her, his hands steadying her hips.

Complying quickly, she hooked thumbs into her panties, but a big hand laid over her bottom stopped her.

“Wait.” Kurt pulled her upright again, spinning her, her breasts swinging wildly, her hair loose over her face. The bedsprings moved behind her and Derek joined Kurt again in front of her. He submerged a hand in her hair, pulling the curls away from her eyes, his thumb stroking her chin. Kurt sat down on the foot of the bed behind her, spreading his thighs and pulling her between his legs. She heard his zipper lower, and Kurt clasped her hips in a strong grip, the burning, hard shaft of his cock touching her thigh. She closed her eyes, feeling a hot bead of slickness slip down between her legs, her panties soaked. A hand lifted her chin and she opened her eyes. Derek’s hazel eyes had gone flinty, possessive lust firing in that gaze now.

“Now, you’re gonna take down those panties slow, just like we taught you. You’ll give Kurt a nice close view of that big, round ass of yours, won’t you?”

She sucked in a breath, the curling deep in her belly making her want to moan.

Derek tapped her cheek with his hand. “Do it now, Breanna. Be a good girl.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bending slowly, she could feel Kurt’s breath against her skin. She looked up, her head level with Derek’s waist, his hand stroking the bulge of his genitals, just inches away. A fingertip eased along the seam of her pussy, investigating the sodden folds within. Then two thick fingers pressed deep, spreading her, and she moaned.

“Christ, she’s wet,” Kurt said, his voice thick with lust. “Smells so good.”

Breanna swallowed down a shamed whimper, slipping her panties off one foot then the other, remaining bent, waiting for the orders that both mortified and aroused her.

This is what you wanted, Breanna. To be theirs. Completely.

She smiled to herself as a tear tracked down her nose. It was all true. There was no more hiding from these men, and most of all, no more hiding from herself and what she needed.

Kurt’s hand smoothed over her hip, squeezing her buttocks, his touch brusque, proprietary.

“Her marks have faded.” Fingers investigated the still tender tracks left by the crop and the whip during the race. She knew she’d see stark bruises across her buttocks tomorrow, and she knew she’d stare at them with pride in the morning, her pussy clenching with need as she remembered who put those marks upon her body.

“Now,” Derek growled above her, his hand touching her hair once more. “I want you to turn around, put your knees on that mattress and put Kurt’s cock inside you. Do it slowly, gently. Squeeze as you take him. Make him feel every inch of that wet cunt of yours as you do it.”

Rising, she met Derek’s gaze for just a moment, but it was enough. The possessive lust was still there, but there was something else too, something else she couldn’t put a finger on. She didn’t have time to contemplate it though, for his fist clenched in her hair, and he turned around to face her husband. She cried out at the sharp slap Derek laid across her ass.

“Get to it, girl.”

Kurt fisted his big penis, the broad head glistening with fluid her tongue longed to taste. She lowered herself onto him, grasping him by the shoulders to balance, and let go a long, ragged sigh as his cock sank deep into her, his thickness making her take it slow, even though her pussy dripped for him.

“Look at me, girl,” Kurt said, his voice gravelly. She met his beautiful dark eyes as she seated her hips fully upon him, her pussy fit to bursting. He surged up into her, pulling her close, taking her mouth with his. She moaned repeatedly into his mouth as he thrust her up and down upon him, her pussy, her whole body reduced to just a pleasure object for his cock.

Kurt let her go with a sharp nip to her lower lip, his eyes bright. “When you were gone, when he took you, all I could think about was getting you back, how I hated him for stealing an hour, a minute, a second away from you.” He thrust hard several times, his cock battering her cervix with a pleasure/pain that had her crying out, her head thrown back. His teeth scored the tender skin at the hollow of her throat as he pounded into her, growling against her skin. “But that will never happen … again … Breanna. I’m never letting you go. You’re mine, forever. Mine, Breanna.”