Destined (6 page)

Chapter Four

The sound of dogs barking permeated
Sinclair’s light doze. The drive home had been fairly leisurely. She didn’t
really sleep, anticipating how the evening and night were going to play out,
but she was recovering from an adrenaline high. Getting caught just minutes
before she got on that bus to Canada, and then punished for running away, was
so far out of her normal it took some recuperation.

Craig’s solid thigh was beneath her
cheek, and his comforting touch—fingers working through her hair, and then to
massage the nape of her neck—soothed her immensely. Her spanked bottom was
still a vague, heated reminder of her perceived perfidy, but it also spoke to
an apology owed her.
Two apologies, although she’d take one
if at the hands of both men.
Maybe.

“Home, darlin’.”
Craig sounded such a cowboy when he used that endearment, and her belly warmed
in response. Her sex was still thrumming with anticipation. She knew
intellectually what to expect, but experience … not so much. Hell, nothing. She
should probably tell them.

Ash took her from Craig, lifting
her easily against his chest, corded muscles evident in his every move. He
ensured the blanket covered her, a good thing, because she just knew the ranch hands
were about, and watching the performance. She only hoped they didn’t know the
entire story.

“I’ll bring her stuff,” Craig
called out quietly, as she was borne across the yard and up onto the veranda.
Ash smelled comfortingly of his usual citrus scent, and she drew it deeply into
her lungs. The sounds of encroaching nightfall washed over her.

With a dip she barely registered,
Ash had the door open and they were inside the house. Instead of bearing her up
the stairs—maybe she was getting too heavy for him—he toted her into the
kitchen where he gently set her on her feet. She clutched the blanket and
watched heat flare his blue eyes to the true color of the prairie sky. It gave
her the confidence to flash him a smile.

Quirking a brow, he pointed to one
of the stools set against the granite counter. They’d steadily upgraded the old
ranch house over the years, and the downstairs mudroom was the last to be
tended to, now the kitchen was finished. It had honored her to be consulted on
all of the renovations, and that, too, had given her reason to hope she was
reading their interest in her as quite separate from what they might feel for a
foster sister.
Like they were building toward a very
different future.

“Sit, Sinclair, if you’re
comfortable.” A slight smile lifted his sensuous lips. It drew her, even as she
was annoyed at his reference to her spanking. It hadn’t only been Craig’s big,
thorny palm meting out those smacks. She sat, and covered any sign of outward
discomfort with utter determination. Besides, she could admit to being a little
turned on.

“I’ll make something to eat.
An omelet okay?”

“Sure.” She addressed his broad
back, shamelessly ogling his fine ass, encased in worn denim.
“With rye toast.”

A chuckle made his shoulders lift,
and she totally relaxed. It was going to be okay. The door slammed, and Craig
strode in, but bypassed the kitchen. She heard him mount the stairs and
surmised he’d brought her things inside and put them in her room. After a pause
he thundered down the steps and came to join her and Ash.

He gave her a look redolent of
caring and desire, and she was thrilled to see it, after the way they’d hidden
from her that morning. They weren’t hiding now. Was it only several hours
previous that the brothers had rejected her plea to join them in a ménage?
Ashton and Craig Russell.
Package deal.
A deal she was determined not to miss out on this time around.

“You okay?” She assumed Craig was
referring to her bottom but chose to ignore that, and tell them what they
should really hear.

“I’m not as sad and despairing as I
was.”

The pan clattered against the
stove, and she figured the omelet might be a lost cause, when Ash whirled and
came to her, Craig pushing into her other side.

“Jesus, darlin’.”

“Sinclair, honey, if I could turn
back
time
…”

Two pairs of arms encircled her,
and she was nearly crushed between two wide chests. A chin rested on the top of
her head, and lips pressed against her temple. Craig, so the chin belonged to
Ash. She’d cried enough today to fill a lifetime, but a tear still escaped and
slipped down her face to catch on the corner of her mouth.

“Can we put that behind us?” Ash
crouched at her side and peered up at her, while Craig massaged her shoulders.
The man could hire out as a massage therapist.

“I’d like to,” she admitted.
“Although I can’t say I’m impressed with the spanking. That might be difficult
to forget.”

Ashton’s face hardened, although
there was still a gentle look in his eyes. “You scared the living shit out of
us, Sinclair.”

“And forced us to
accept the truth.”
Craig spoke to them both, she knew it.

“Well, I didn’t get far.”
And hadn’t called the school to cancel her practicum, thank
goodness.
She’d take the spanking, because they’d come to get her, bring
her home. She supposed they’d have to talk about many things.

Ash visibly swallowed some things
she could guess at, but she wasn’t going to apologize further. “I was going to
explain things to you better,” he said.

“Uh huh, and
would things have changed?”

“You might have found out the truth
about Melinda,” he muttered.

“What
is
the truth?”

“Jesus.” Craig was filling the
toaster, having rescued the omelet. “Way to take the edge off.”

Ash served up the food, and then
buttered toast. “Eat, Sinclair. We’ll deal with this once and for all.”

Huddled around the table, they ate
for a while in silence, before Ashton broke it. “You saw us with Melinda when you
were sixteen. Worst mistake of our lives, although I guess you finding out what
we like in our pleasure isn’t the worst thing.”

Sinclair contented
herself
with a knowing look and tried to focus on the food
and not the memory of what Ash and Craig were capable of doing to a woman’s
body. If she could forget it was with Melinda, then she could recall the
screams of pleasure and loud begging for more, more, with
a
certain
titillation.
Imagining herself in Melinda’s
place.
She squirmed a little against the stool.

“Melinda got around,” Craig said.
“Not that I’m sitting in judgment. She liked what she liked. And we’re hardly
in a place to criticize.”

“But she wasn’t very nice.” Both
men looked at her in surprise, and Sinclair continued. “Don’t forget my school friends
have older sibs and they heard a lot.
Which they shared in
graphic detail.
That’s why I was so hurt. She isn’t good enough for
you.”

Craig shook his head while Ashton
rubbed the back of his neck. This was probably one of those feeling moments
that men couldn’t put into words.

When they said nothing, she asked,
“Are you both really past the sister thing? What you said this morning? Because
I’d rather not talk about the skank, if it’s just the same to you.”

“No problem. And we are so past our
stupidity, honey.” It was a relief to hear that from Ashton because she knew he’d
be more concerned about appearances. Craig then confirmed it.

“We were worried about what your
involvement with us would mean for you, Sinclair,” he said. “This isn’t exactly
an accepting community.”

“Maybe not the older folks, but I
don’t know if you need to worry so much about your generation. Or mine.”

“Hey!” Ashton sounded offended, but
he was smiling.

“What? You’re an old man compared
to me. You might as well add robbing the cradle to your other concerns.”

“And that would have been true,
honey, if I’d acted on the attraction when you were seventeen.”

“Sixteen for me.
Maybe fifteen and a half,” added Craig.

“So we’re good?” It sounded as
though they had discussed the sister/boundary issue and worked it through, but
she held her breath, because she was doing
this her
way if they balked.

She needn’t have worried. The two
stares directed at her flicked an arousal switch she hadn’t known existed
before. Sure, she was impossibly drawn to these men and fantasized about them.
They starred in all her masturbatory dramas. All the same, if they’d gotten to
the good stuff without talking the other things through, it might have tainted
it. She let it go and waited for their lead. As she expected, Ash took charge.

“You open up the suite?” He
addressed the question to his brother.

“I did.”

“Sinclair, you go up to the master
suite and use the bathroom, whatever you need to do while we clean up down
here. Strip off and wait for us in bed.”

Holy crap.
Game time.
Sinclair slipped off the stool
to her feet and made her way toward the door with no hesitation. As she passed
through, she allowed the blanket to drop to the floor, the rustle of the fabric
loud in the silence of the kitchen. The fridge compressor kicked on but didn’t
muffle the choked sounds made by her men, nor the clatter of dishes and
silverware as they started clean up.
Right.
She bet they’d heave everything in the sink for Rose
to find when she got back tomorrow evening if Sinclair didn’t tidy up first.
But she giggled to herself and ran up the stairs, feeling only a little awkward
wearing nothing below the waist.

She hadn’t been in the master suite
in some time, the door closed and the rooms unoccupied for years. As with the
other renovations, she’d helped and offered suggestions from a female
viewpoint, but had accepted the men’s assertion it was to be a guest suite. It
took on a very different look as she entered. The bed was super king sized, to
hold three people in any configuration, and her senses leaped to think of what
three people might get up to in such a bed. The bathroom was huge and
luxurious, and she surveyed it from her perch on the commode, considering the
size of the tub and of the shower. Definitely fit for three with room to spare.

For a moment, she thought about how
it could have been meant for another woman—and still could be. But she wouldn’t
think that way. This was for keeps. She had to believe that, and wasn’t going
to waste her time tormenting herself with other scenarios. If ménage wasn’t for
her she’d soon find out. But it was Ashton and Craig, so it would be fine.
Better than fine.

She sluiced water over her heated
cheeks and washed up quickly, pulling off her shirt and bra. She exited the
bathroom and stalled out. Her men were waiting, standing shoulder to shoulder,
same height and breadth, and the bulges in their jeans looked damn near
identical, too. But it was the expression on their faces that really drew her.
Naked desire, heated lust, dark need over stark caring, a mix that
galvanized her into action.
She ran into their arms, the dichotomy of
her naked self against their fully dressed bodies an amazing turn-on.

Ash fused his lips to hers, while
Craig trailed his over her shoulder and down the length of her arm before he
stepped back, only to return sans clothing, his hot, muscular form enveloping
her back. Ash tore away to allow them both some time to breathe, and his
brother stepped in, an orchestrated dance, to sweep her up and lower her to the
bed, dropping beside her to kiss her with tender avarice.

When Ash lay on the other side,
nude and gloriously erect, what had to be his cock, a fiery, velvet stroked
against her hip. She blindly reached out and touched him. His groan fired her
libido, and the kiss with Craig escalated into a tongue dueling escapade
departing from any semblance of gentleness. She had no idea kisses could feel
like that, as if he was touching her heart and soul.
 

Biting her lip,
then
soothing the sting, Craig reared back and gazed down at her. “I’ve waited
forever to do that, darlin’.”

“I want to taste her.” Ash’s voice sounded
disembodied.

Craig grinned at his brother and
swept in for another kiss, a quick one this time, before positioning himself
over her breasts. She loved it that they took charge—of her pleasure.

Ash’s warmth slipped down her side,
and the bulk of him settled between her legs, pressing her legs wide apart, the
motion causing her juices to flow. She tried to close against him for a moment,
suddenly shy, but his rumble of approval stopped her.

“Such a pretty
sight, honey.”
A fingertip traced over her cleft and she wished for it
to do more, but he foiled her by stroking her inner thighs, pressing kisses
along the same path.

“Please,” she choked.

“No rush, darlin’. We have plenty
of time. Let us make it good for you.” Craig nuzzled her right breast and fit
his mouth over one beaded nub. The conflicting sensation of his tongue lashing
her nipple, and Ashton working his way with little caresses and licks up to
where she
ached
the most, made her moan and whimper.
She’d beg if they wanted, except they seemed determined to do this their way.
And what did she know? She gave in and allowed herself to simply experience.

****

Craig suckled and laved as though
he’d never get enough of Sinclair’s sweet, round breasts. Their red tips
contrasted starkly with the creamy flesh surrounding them, and kept him
mesmerized. She was so fucking responsive to his attentions, arching to offer
more of the succulence, and he obliged her. There were nipple clamps in her
future. Neither he nor Ash subscribed to any particular program or routine when
it came to their sexual preference. They shared, were dominant, and weren’t
averse to mixing a little pain with their pleasure. Sex toys were utilized depending
on the woman, and he stopped his thoughts right there, dead in their tracks.
Without the need to discuss it with his brother, Craig knew there was now only
one woman in their lives.
Ever.