The Dom With the Perfect Brats (39 page)

Gemma nodded. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” She took a piece of Izzy’s hair and twirled it around her finger. “Nothing can ruin us. We survived so much already.
I never did say this, but when whats-his-face kidnapped us, it was you who helped me hold it together.” A line of what might be tears shone in reflected light.

Maybe karma did have a way of balancing things out?
All that bad stuff had happened and now, years later, she’d found Gemma and Cross, two people who colored in her universe in a crazy kinky way she could never have imagined.

The touch of Gemma’s fingers on hers was vibrant, electric, and Izzy closed her eyes and sighed, swallowing once as she gathered her thoughts. “You helped me too. I would’ve been so lost without you.”

A little frown creased Gemma’s forehead. “Hang on, I said it first. I have dibs. We can’t both be the hero.”

Izzy laughed. Leave Gemma to make it a competition. “Cross was the true hero.
Our knight in shining tattoos.”

“Yeah.” The grin on Gemma’s face seemed ready to stretch as far as any grin could go. “We better not tell him that anymore, the man will be insufferable.”

From somewhere beyond, Cross cleared his throat.

Cross

Two mostly naked backsides greeted Cross when he got to the roof. Luscious. His gaze followed the path of the ribboned webbing on the matching panties, like he needed any more incentive to check out their asses. And what was that – scribbling?

He got closer
and placed the wine bottle alongside the glasses he’d left on the little table earlier. The girls were both looking back coyly over their shoulders.

“Aw
, sweet! You graffitied your asses for me. What do they say?” He crouched beside the makeshift bed and ran curious fingers under the ribbons, tickling the exposed skin beneath. Were they trying to make him drool? Because, if so, the experiment was a resounding success.

“What does mine say? Izzy won’t tell me.” Gemma laughed. “If it says ‘spank me’ I’m going to slap her.”

Cross squinted in the half-light. “Property of Godfrey Cross.” He felt a growl deep down, trying to get out. The idea of marking them as his made him a little crazy. Too many times lately, he’d fantasized about that very thing. Maybe not a handprint, but something...

Gemma groaned, twisting around to try to see
the writing. Izzy was snickering. He traced over the letters with one fingertip and Gemma sighed and melted, face down, into the mattress. Strangely, since he’d loosened up and started having more fun with them, they’d gotten more deeply submissive. It seemed counterintuitive. Maybe less time spent fighting him meant they could just let it happen?

“Now let’s see what’s on you, little one. Gemma wrote it?”

She nodded, grinning. “She’d better not have written a note saying I’m playing human dishwasher all week.”

“Shit! I missed my chance!” Gemma facepalmed.

He grabbed the back of Izzy’s thigh to hold her in place. She peered back at him with big eyes. That reaction was so much closer to the surface for both of them than he’d ever hoped it would be. They sassed him, joked around, and yet their submission was genuine and deep. That dichotomy plus their wit kept him from getting bored. He couldn’t foresee a time where he’d ever get bored of his women.

“Cross’s good girl
,” he read.

“I was going to write
‘Cross’s horny little bitch’ but she wouldn’t quit fidgeting.” Gemma smirked.

Izzy sniffed. “Good girl is more appropriate for me. We all know you’re the horny bitch in this relationship.”

“You want to see who the horny bitch is, bitch?” Gemma pounced on her, flipping her onto her back and kissing her hard, jamming a hand down the front of her underwear.

Izzy shrieked and tried to fight her off, but Cross could tell she was letting Gemma win. The peril wasn’t that perilous. Gemma’s fingers reached their target and Izzy frowned, looking distressed.

“Nooo...don’t. Stop!”

“What was that? Don’t stop?” Gemma whispered breathlessly.

“Gemma, someone might see!”

“Someone might see two hot girls making out on my roof? That would be terrible. How can I run a goth shop with that kind of publicity? And what about the tattoo shop? Malachi’s business might...double.” Cross laughed. “Now break it up, you two. Ever since you both went on the pill and we got our tests back you’ve been like rabbits. I wanted this to be a nice romantic evening and you had to go and make it tawdry. Just like women. They always say th
ey want a romantic evening when really they just want to fuck. Why can’t we just cuddle?”

Gemma pulled her hand out of Izzy’s underthings and had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed.

“Aw, poor Crossy.” Izzy pouted in sympathy. “You have a body that simply begs to be used. We can’t help ourselves.”

“Oh, if he wants to lie down, I’m sure we could figure out how to help ourselves.” Gemma winked.

Cross sighed melodramatically. He snapped his fingers and they both knelt on the bed, in front of him, without question. How could a Dom not love that? “Enough. Now is romantic time. Sex later.”

“You’re a hard man.”

“Not yet, he isn’t, but we could probably fix that.”

Cross glowered at them. “Spanking?”

“No, Sir.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

He grabbed each of them in turn, kissing them deeply. Then the mischief was gone out of their eyes and they looked up at him with adoration – calm, focused.

Cross cleared his throat nervously.
“I know we haven’t been together for an entire year yet, but sometimes it doesn’t take long to figure out when you have something real. We’ve gone through more in that time than most couples do in years of being together.” He fidgeted with the contents of his jeans’ pocket, hoping this didn’t catch them completely by surprise. “The fact that we get along and have fun together is all well and good, but the truth is, I just can’t imagine losing either of you. I don’t want to imagine it.”

Cross paced back and forth along the rooftop sanctuary, his shoes echoing weirdly on the cement he’d repaired with Jude and Mal ages ago. He’d always planned on building a sitting area up here, but he’d never had the right motivation. Until recently. Now he was all kinds of motivated.

“What I’m trying to say is that you know that I love both of you. If there was any way to do it legally here, I’d propose and hope you’d agree to be my wives. Unfortunately, that’s not how the country is organized right now. We have what we have, and I don’t want to lose it. I know we’ve been exclusive anyway, but I want to be committed. I hope you’ll consider taking me as your Dom and partner.” He fished in the pocket of his jeans and drew out the jewelry he’d been working on for weeks – whenever they weren’t together, or when he had time when they were asleep.

“What are those?” Izzy grinned.

The bells tinkled quietly as he sifted them through his hands, trying to separate them.

“Pretty
.” Gemma smiled.

He waited, feeling like he was going to throw up. They were the ones on their knees, but he was completely at their mercy. For the millionth time he reviewed what he’d say when – if – they refused him. It was early in their relationship, but he’d never been more certain of anything in his life. He wanted these women to be his. Forever.

The rapid beating of his heart started to make him feel light-headed. Yeah, fainting would be the domly thing to do right about now. Real fucking cool.

Gemma and Izzy looked at each other for a moment, as though they shared a secret silent language. If they had one, it would behoove him to learn it, and fast.

“Yes.” They both answered at once.

He sighed in relief, his heart flip-flopping in his chest like a fish in a boat. “Oh, thank God. I thought time had frozen at the worst possible moment.”

Isadora smiled warmly. “Did you really think we’d say no?”

“I was about eighty percent
sure you’d tell me I was deluding myself.”

“If you’re still that uncertain about our feelings for you, maybe we need to do more vanilla time first,” Gemma suggested, her
jade green eyes mischievous.

“Quick, Cross. Get the gag. We’ll pretend we didn’t hear that then you’ll beat her until she comes and forgets she said it.”

“Shh! Romantic time!”

They laughed, but then fell silent again.

With some not-so-suave jiggling, he untangled the two chainmail pieces from each other. Why hadn’t he put them in separate pockets? “I made them. They’re stainless steel slave bell anklets. I know you’re not slaves, but I figured you’d like them more than a necklace or bracelet that would always be in the way when you were at work.” He showed them to the girls. They smiled and didn’t say anything.

He rushed on. “If you don’t like them that’s okay. I don’t want you to show them to people as though I made you a macaroni necklace. We can do something more traditional, if you want. Like rings or something. Or I can get you necklaces that you can wear as public collars.”

“No, I love these.” Gemma shuffled closer to see. “You seriously made these yourself?”

“I did.”

“That’s so romantic!” Izzy whispered. “Oh my God, I’m
so
putting this in my next novel!”

Cross smiled. “But we’re all clear on what this means? To me this is like our wedding. After this there’s no seeing other people, or breaking up on a whim. We’re committed and permanent. As permanent as anything can be in life. If we have problems we talk them out, not run away. I’ll always do my best by you, and if you think I’m slacking
, I expect you to call me on it.”

Without hesitation, Izzy nodded. “Agreed.”

“Agreed.” Gemma grinned. She looked down at herself. “Now I feel like we’re a bit underdressed though.”

“Or maybe overdressed,” Izzy said thoughtfully.

He got down on one knee and they both sat back and put their feet in front of them. “Gemma first. I was more sure you’d say no, and I’m going to strike while the iron is hot.”

“No branding!” Izzy squeaked.

“I’d totally let you brand me.” Gemma sighed. “And as for this, I never would have said no – not after what we’ve gone through together. What we’ve done. I’ve never had a romantic relationship that was this important to me, let alone two at once. You two have become the biggest and most satisfying part of my life.”

Cross leaned down, fastening the jewelry around Gemma’s ankle. He kissed her there then turned to Izzy. There were tears on her cheeks.

“You’re sure too, little one?”

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, nodding. “More than anything, I want this.”

Reverently, he tied the other one around Izzy’s ankle, kissing it too.

He stood, drawing them both up with him. The tightness in his throat warred with the lightness he felt – he’d never known how much this had weighed on him, this uncertainty. Loving people was dangerous business. It was like throwing yourself off a cliff and hoping for the best. It was an act of faith.

Gemma and Izzy looked up at him with adoration, and he realized tears were trickling down his face. A big knot that he’d always carried around inside loosened. He could breathe. He was fucked up and they loved him anyway.

He held them tight and nuzzled the tops of their heads, inhaling the scent of their shared shampoo. His women. His.

BadassBrats.com

Acknowledgements:
Special thanks to Bianca Sarble, Nerine Dorman MJ, Kris Kendall, our Street Team and Fellow Badass Brats

Sorcha Black

Sorcha writes fantasy about women who are too busy fighting, suffering, loving, and generally getting shit done to think of themselves as heroes.

In her real life, she is married to a lazy but well-loved man and has a shoe full of children. She does her best writing on scraps of paper at red lights.

Find her at: www.sorchablack.blogspot.com

Leia Shaw

Leia Shaw is the bestselling author of the paranormal romance series,
Shadows of Destiny
. Thinking up fae politics, plotting dragon power games, and calculating how fast werewolves can change forms has given her a way to express those dark places in her mind. More recently, she’s branched out into the erotic world and has written two humorous but heartwarming contemporary BDSM romances, 31 Flavors and The Dom with a Safeword.

Leia lives in New England with her husband and two kids. Though she will go to her grave denying it, her husband insists she would be thrilled if he suddenly sprouted fangs.

Find her at:

www.leiashaw.com

www.facebook.com/leiashaw

Twitter @LeiaShaw

Cari Silverwood

Cari Silverwood writes the way the world should be - dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to read.

And...in this real world, she has a lovely family in Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark bedroom catacombs…a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches glimpses of what she writes, and a furry menagerie of other animals barking, meowing, and swimming about the place.

Find her at: carisilverwood.com