Triple Knockout (Make Mine A Menage Book 3) Read online

  Allie chafed her taped fist and flashed a megawatt smile. “I already feel ten times more badass than when I walked in.”

  “Just wait till you put the gloves on, Killer.”

  The popularity of Haymaker’s kickboxing classes meant the gym had a decent supply of female gloves available for those who didn’t want to invest in purchasing their own. He helped her try on a pink pair. Satisfied they’d do the trick, he worked on taping her other hand. A few seconds into it, a shadow fell across him. Glancing up, he met Beau’s guarded gaze.

  Awareness shimmered between them. More than that, he swore it extended beyond them, sealing Allie within the boundaries of its potent beam too. Before Van could fully process the oddly tantalizing moment, Beau frowned, effectively breaking the spell.

  “What’s going on?”

  Allie tossed Beau a toothy smile. “Van’s training me to be the next Allie Ali.”

  Concern puckered Beau’s brow. “Think that’s a good idea?”

  “Do you say that to the other women who come in here looking to box?” Obstinacy stamped her pretty features.

  “No, but you’re not other women, Al.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed. “So help me, if that was an implication of me being a wimp—”

  “It wasn’t,” Beau said quickly. “Boxing is an aggressive sport. Sure you’re ready for it?”

  Allie lifted to her feet in a lithe stretch. “Oh yeah. I’m definitely ready for it. I can’t wait for Van to work me over hard and get me all sweaty.”

  Van did a double take—both at her breathy words and the suggestive way she was thrusting out her breasts. One glance at Beau’s face verified that Van wasn’t the only sucker mesmerized by the sight.

  Plopping her gloved fists on her hips, she offered a decidedly flirtatious smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll love it so much I’ll want to go several rounds with you both.”

  Beau choked on a cough. Van frowned, suddenly suspicious that he’d missed the punchline on a private joke. “Why do I get the feeling this conversation has nothing to do with boxing?”

  Rather than appease his curiosity, Allie smacked her gloved fists together and nodded toward the ring behind them. “Okay, I’m ready to get this party started.”

  Equal parts bemused and aroused by her strangely sassy mood, Van shook his head. “You need a few lessons before we take it to that level. I’ll start you off with the heavy bag first so you can get a feel for landing a punch.”

  “Ooh, I get to feel your heavy bag? Lucky me.”

  Holy shit. There was no way she meant that to be dirty. Eighty percent certain of that, he slashed his attention to her face and caught the twitch of her lips.

  Dayum. She had been purposefully dirty.

  What in the living fuck was going on? He looked at Beau and received zero help there with deciphering the situation. Rather than wearing a poleaxed expression to complement the bemusement residing in Van, Beau’s features were frozen in wary fascination.

  Van shifted his focus back to Allie. “Heavy bag is, uh, over this way.” He gestured with his arm despite knowing it was completely unnecessary. Kinda hard to miss, seeing how the bags were directly across from them.

  Smiling like she found his obvious dumbassedness cute, Allie strolled in the direction he was still pointing to like a complete idiot. The bouncy sway of her hips drew him in with the magnetic force of a tractor beam. Even with the shapeless covering of her sweatpants obscuring his view, her ass held the power of stripping his mind of coherent thought. Giving his head a fierce shake, he followed after her. She stopped in front of the speed bag and gave it a whop. It sprang in a rebound toward her face and she stumbled backward with an awkward yelp.

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m starting you on the heavy bag, sweetheart. Few sets on there and you’ll work your way up in no time.” Tucking his hand on her elbow, he steered her one row over.

  She eyed the punching bag, doubt creeping into her gaze. “It looks heavy.”

  He snipped his grin. “Hence it's name. Don’t let it intimidate you. You’re in control here. All poor Mick can do is hang there and take your punches.”

  “Mick?”

  “He was the first heavyweight I took on. Mean and ugly sonofabitch. Had way too much fun mopping the floor with my face.” He pointed to the small scar near his left temple. “Got this when he southpawed me into the corner of the ring.”

  “Hm, and now you get your revenge by beating on him every day.” Humor danced in Allie’s vivid green eyes. “Twisted, Mitchell.” Her expression softened. “I’m glad he didn’t injure you beyond giving you the scar.”

  Her concern filled him with more pleasure than he cared to admit to. He tried to cover it with some much-needed levity. “Guess he was jealous I was prettier than him.”

  “Undoubtedly. Now I feel an overwhelming desire to kick Mick’s ass for you.” She returned her scrutiny to the bag and tentatively whapped at it. Apparently satisfied it wasn’t going to snap back at her like the speed bag, she wound up her arm and nailed one in the breadbasket. The unsteady impetus of her punch rocked her back on her heels and she wobbled. Van caught her before she could thud onto her ass.

  She offered him an embarrassed grin. “I completely suck at this, don’t I?”

  “No, it takes practice. You’ll eventually master it.”

  “I bet you didn’t have any problem mastering it.” She bit her lip and aimed a wistful stare at his mouth. “Bet you’re a natural at mastering anything.”

  The air instantly shifted between them with that singularly provocative statement.

  He didn’t know how it was possible, but the Allie looking at him with a world of longing in her eyes wasn’t the same innocent girl from his youth. She wasn’t even the naughty innuendo queen from moments ago. This Allie was someone infinitely more dangerous to his hard-fought control.

  She licked her lips, the charged moment stretching endlessly between them. The tip of her right glove grazed the hair on his forearm. Despite the absence of skin on skin contact, his cells buzzed with electricity. The sweet edge of arousal sank its claws deep.

  “You like being master, don’t you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it crashed over him with the intensity of a roar.

  Fucking hell.

  She knew. Somehow she’d peeled back the layers that masked his true nature. Or someone had ratted him out. That seemed more likely, though he couldn’t think of anyone who’d spill the beans about his dom side to her. Beau wouldn’t have. And sure as hell not Eric. Before Van could dwell any further on that particular mystery, Allie gnawed on her lip again and peered up at him through her lush lashes. It wasn’t a flirtatious gesture meant to tease.

  She was seducing him through her submissiveness.

  Son of a bitch. He dragged in a ragged breath. Difficult as it was tuning out the hot wave of desire pulsing through his blood, it was nothing compared to the primal, coarse demands tumbling through his brain, screaming to stake his claim on her.

  His fingers flexed painfully before balling into useless fists at his sides. It was either that or put his hands on her. And if he did that it’d be the death of him. Because no doubt Eric would kill him—and that’d be without the additional knowledge of the dirty, depraved things Van imagined doing to Allie. Those would earn him castration for a side bonus.

  “Al…” He paused, attempting to rope his brain into order and reason.

  The delicate arch of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “I want you to master me.”

  And just like that, she countered with a knockout punch that sent his equilibrium kissing the canvas.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A choked sound chuffed from Van. He worked his mouth a few times, but no words spilled out.

  She could have taken pity on him. Sealed her mouth shut and given him a chance to recover. But sometimes you had to fight dirty and swing with all your gusto while they were down for the count. “When you were taping my
hands all I could think of was letting you wrap my wrists together behind me. Being completely under your command.” She took a thready breath, trembling from an equal combination of nerves and excitement. “I wondered if you’d make me suck you off.”

  “Jesus, Al.” The strained oath that slipped from Van stood in direct opposition to the blistering heat in his eyes.

  Oh, he was intrigued all right. He just didn’t want to be. Clearly he was honor bound to the same ridiculous bro code as Beau. Didn’t take much to decipher the obvious.

  Van quickly scanned their immediate surroundings. The closest person was Beau, and he was way over by the boxing ring—staring at them with a high dose of suspicion that was tangible even this far away. Regardless, Van didn’t need to worry about anyone overhearing what she’d said. There’s no way she would have been able to confess her raunchy thoughts if she hadn’t been one hundred percent assured it was for his ears only. She was only so brave.

  Beau must have intuited that something was up because he immediately started in their direction. A man in a pristine white karate uniform waylaid him before he could take five full steps. Beau chatted with the man for a second. His expression frustrated and uptight, Beau shot another look toward her and Van, visibly hesitating. His tension palpable from across the room, Beau reluctantly led the man to the office and disappeared inside with him.

  Mustering another dose of her shaky courage, she trailed the edge of her glove along the defined band of muscle making up Van’s biceps. Good lord, he had some serious guns. And those tats. How much fun would it be to trace their designs with her tongue? On a scale of one to ten…fifty bajillion-billion. Easily. “Would you have?”

  He seemed hypnotized by the motion of her hand. Maybe that’s why it took him a moment to answer. “Would I have what?”

  “Made me suck you off?”

  “Of course not. Christ.”

  Disappointment crushed her chest. A smart woman would have cut her losses. Gathered her few remaining shreds of dignity, and run for the exit.

  She was so damn tired of running. From her feelings. Her longings. Everything that scared her shitless and held her back from truly living life like every day was a precious gift. She knew better than anyone that it could all be gone tomorrow. Yeah, maybe her pride would be in tatters, but she could deal with that outcome. What she couldn’t live with was a mountain of regret for not at least trying to create a future with Van and Beau. “Is it because of Eric?”

  The guilt on Van’s face was all the answer she needed. She buried her sigh. “I’m not trying to create a problem between you and my brother. Your loyalty is one of the biggest things I love about you. But it also isn’t Eric’s place to dictate who you or I can sleep with.”

  “Al, you’re asking to do a lot more than sleep with me. The stuff I’m into—”

  “I want to do it with you,” she assured with a fast nod. “With you and Beau.”

  A rough exhale gusted from Van, cluing her in that he’d had no idea of the role Beau played in her fantasies. Hadn’t Beau said anything about last night? Kind of unexpected, despite his order to keep her lips zipped.

  Oops. Well, technically she hadn’t mentioned anything about cocks, clits, or cunnilingus, right?

  Van shook his head roughly as if he was trying to jog her pronouncement from his brain. “Al, there’s no way in hell you’re suggesting a threesome.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Another colorful swearword streamed from Van. He dragged a hand down his face, his shell-shocked expression un-budging. “Holy hell. What am I supposed to say to that?”

  “Yes works great for me.”

  He stared at her before giving in to a rueful grin. “You’re bound and determined to keep knocking me off my toes, aren’t you?”

  “Hm. Bound. Yeah, I can definitely get on board with that.”

  An intense glimmer flashed in Van’s eyes before he quickly vanquished it. “Do you have the slightest idea what you’re asking for?”

  “I’ve read a lot of erotica and BDSM books.” She easily interpreted the cause behind the skepticism radiating from him. “Some of them are fairly realistic. They could probably teach you a thing or two.”

  His mouth curved upward at one corner. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m at the bookstore.” He remained quiet for several tense moments before releasing a slow breath.

  Her heart sank at the sound of it. Easy to see what was coming. Even so, her stomach churned in anticipation.

  “We can’t do this, Al. No matter how much I want to.”

  The acknowledgment of his mutual desire should have made her feel better. It didn’t. If anything, it added an extra pinch of bitterness in the back of her throat. Having her heart’s desire within arm’s reach, but unable to claim it. Yeah, sucked beyond words, and was a fate that seemed determined to defeat her at every turn. “So that’s it? You’re going to let Eric dictate our lives?”

  “It isn’t only him. I don’t merely dabble in BDSM. It’s a big component of who I am.”

  She frowned. “You think I’m only playing around with this?”

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his features set in a gently chiding manner. “I get that it’s thrilling to you. There are plenty of women who come sniffing around, looking to try something different and taboo. A big handful of them often end up deciding it’s not for them. And that’s fine. We never have to see each other again and we go our separate ways. But that’s not an option for you and me.”

  She swallowed past the lump of misery in her throat. “I wouldn’t make you feel weird or awkward about it.”

  He gave her a telling look. “It’d be unavoidable, Al.”

  “But what if I do like it? We’d have nothing to worry about.” Except for Eric. She read the same concern in Van’s eyes. Shoulders slumping, she caved to the heaviness pressing relentlessly upon her sternum.

  Van tucked his fingers under her chin. “If we weren’t friends, and I didn’t have Eric to worry about, you damn well better believe I’d take you up on your offer.”

  Yep, fate obviously was conspiring against her at every opportunity. Her heart weighted by a lifetime of disappointment, she twined her fingers with Van’s, basking in that tiny shared intimacy before letting him go. It was amazing how much it hurt, losing someone you never had in the first place. “Would you mind dropping me off at work early?”

  Van frowned. “Don’t you want to finish your boxing lesson?”

  What was the point? She clearly wasn’t cut out to be badass. In any way, shape, or form. “Actually, I just remembered I promised Jana I’d cover her while she’s getting her nails done. I’ll take a rain check on the lesson, ‘kay?”

  Judging from his expression, he’d seen through her lie. He nodded, obviously taking pity on her. “I’ll grab my jacket and keys and meet you at the door.”

  She trudged to the locker room. Deciding to forego a shower since she technically hadn’t worked up much of a sweat, she gathered her clothes and shut herself in one of the bathroom stalls. Halfway through the task of scrunching down her sweatpants, she was interrupted by the metallic whine of the locker room door swinging open and a sudden burst of female chatter.

  “Did you see how she almost fell on her ass earlier? Oh my God, hysterical.”

  “Obviously she did it hoping Van would rush to her rescue. Utterly pathetic.”

  “Almost as pathetic as her outfit. Really, where does she shop? Frumps R Us?”

  A chorus of giggles and jeering laughs filled the room, adding to the embarrassment scalding Allie’s cheeks. Any other day, she might have swung open the bathroom door and given those stupid catty bitches a piece of her mind. The current all-time low of her confidence made that impossible. As it was, the wobbling of her knees would probably only lead to her tripping and falling at the women’s feet. Something that would no doubt delight the hell out of them and provide an endless supply of ridicule material.
br />   Trying to stay as silent as possible, she waited anxiously for the women to finish up whatever they were doing. After what she swore was the longest agonizing two minutes in history, the door whined again and the women’s voices drifted into the distance before disappearing altogether.

  Her stomach a mass of knots, Allie quickly changed and hustled from the locker room. Van stood over by the entrance. Not daring to look over her shoulder to see if her tormenters were anywhere in sight, she hurried to him.

  Concern etched his depressingly gorgeous features. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry I kept you waiting,” she muttered while tugging on her hat and gloves. Without saying anything more, she hurried out into the brisk cold and bee-lined for Van’s truck.

  The drive to Wicked Delights was a tense one, made all the worse by her inability to be reeled into Van’s small talk. It wasn’t that she was being deliberately sulky, or wanted to wallow in gloomy misery, but the constriction in her throat nipped in the bud any shot of contributing to the conversation. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, she was more than ready to make a break for it. He stalled her before she could offer a swift goodbye.

  “Don’t be angry at me, Al. Please.” The soft pleading in his eyes wrapped around her heart, adding even more pressure.

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re upset.”

  She conjured enough energy to wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll be fine.” Her heart might be breaking and her ego roughly the size of a shriveled pea, but she’d survive. Because that’s what she did. God knows she had plenty of practice where that was concerned. When life knocked her flat on her back and held her down for the count she always somehow found the strength to resuscitate herself and keep plugging on.