Triple Knockout (Make Mine A Menage Book 3) Page 8
The curtain parted. Nearly every audience member raised their paddle before the bidding officially started. In direct contrast, Beau remained locked in frozen disbelief. Judging from the utter stillness that’d fallen over Van, he was likewise too busy gaping at the woman standing demurely beneath the main spotlight to remember the forgotten paddle in his lap.
Allie looked directly at him and Van before fidgeting with the outrageously short hem of her skintight electric blue latex dress. All the tugging in the world wouldn’t get the racy outfit to conceal the mouthwatering curves lusciously on display.
Harsh breaths wheezed from him and Van simultaneously, followed by the only intelligent response they could muster for the occasion.
“Holy. Fuck.”
CHAPTER NINE
Oh, God. She was going to pop out of this insane dress at any moment. Right here in front of all these people. While she was wearing a crotch-less pearl thong, no less. Kind of hard to forget that fact. Every time she moved, the maddening pearls slid along her labia, reminding her of their devilish presence.
Why did I let Jana talk me into this?
Directly across from her, Beau and Van were staring at her like they’d been t-boned with a two-by-four.
Hello, gorgeous reasons. But there was definitely a hiccup in her plan. Beau and Van weren’t lifting their paddles, and the auctioneer’s call was running fast and furious, his words an indecipherable stream. She detected one thousand in there somewhere, followed shortly by fifteen hundred.
Fifteen hundred? What the hell were these people smoking? And here she’d worried no one would fork over ten bucks for her.
Two thousand whirled from the auctioneer’s mouth with lightning speed, and the butterflies made a mosh pit out of Allie’s stomach. Talk about a scary amount of money. No telling what she’d have to do in order to make it worthwhile to the person staking that kind of cash. Reasonable to assume they’d be looking for something edgier than an intense game of Scrabble.
“We have twenty-five hundred. Do I hear three thousand?”
She peered desperately at Van and Beau, silently transmitting her growing panic. Something must have finally broken through their haze of befuddlement because they snapped their attention to the paddles waving in the air near them.
“Thirty-five hundred. Let’s make it four thousand.”
Holy shit. Four thousand required a shitload of kinkiness. Guaranteed.
Beau and Van’s paddles shot up. Relief nearly knocked her off her feet. Way to give me a heart attack, guys.
That particular organ wasn’t out of the danger zone yet. Ridiculous figures volleyed throughout the room. By the time the bidding reached five thousand dollars, she swayed, dangerously close to passing out.
“This is a record, folks.” The auctioneer sounded almost as surprised as Allie by the insane turn of events. “How about we really make this a great year for the cause and take it up to fifty-five hundred?”
The bidding war was down to Van and Beau, and some dude dressed head to toe in black leather who was sitting near the rear of the room. The auctioneer motioned toward the man, and Van stood up and stared in Mr. Leather Dude’s direction. With his back to her, she couldn’t see the look on Van’s face. Safe to assume it was suitably threatening since the other bidder’s paddle immediately lowered midway in motion. The auctioneer nodded to Beau. “Sold, for five thousand dollars to Master Colton.”
Every bone in her body the consistency of Jell-O, Allie whispered a silent but fervent thanks to any and all deities who might be listening, and then wobbled to the far stairway leading down from the stage. Van and Beau met her at the bottom. Judging from the dangerous glint in their eyes, they’d moved beyond shock over her appearance, and went straight to an entirely different emotion that didn’t bode well for her buttocks.
Not a wholly unwelcome prospect. Her attention drifted to the paddle in Van’s right hand before Beau steered her toward the desk that’d been set up for managing the auction’s paperwork. Digging in his pocket, presumably for his wallet, Beau slid a glance in Van’s direction. “We might need to take out a second mortgage on the gym.”
Van snorted. “I’d offer to hock my soul for five grand, but doubtful it’s worth that much.”
Despite their jibbing, the queasiness in her tummy intensified. “I don’t want either one of you going into debt over me. I’ll pay for myself.” Boy, that sounded weird. Would she have to put out for herself? Regardless, it wouldn’t be a total hardship on her bank account. Fortunately, she still had money set aside from the accident settlement.
A growl issued from Beau. “You’re not paying. I’ve got it covered.”
She wasn’t going to let it rest at that, but his testiness hinted it’d be better to broach the subject at a later time. Beau handed over his credit card while the dungeon monitor reached for the contract Allie had been required to fill out earlier.
Van shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Sorry, Master Mitchell, but the club insists on formality tonight.” The monitor shuffled the sheaf of papers forward, along with a ballpoint pen. “You’re free to negotiate the terms from page two and beyond, but we need your signature on the hard limits now or the bid will be null and void.”
Muttering a curse under his breath, Beau snatched the pen and scratched his name on the line before tersely passing the contract to Van so he could follow suit. After notarizing the forms, the monitor made photocopies and handed one to Allie. In addition to the other copy, the man also issued a keycard to Beau. “In appreciation of your generous donation, you have exclusive access to the Red Room. Enjoy your evening.”
Beau’s glower giving her a sinking feeling in her belly, she allowed him and Van to hustle her toward the distant stairway. She would have preferred checking out at least a couple of the eye-popping shows she glimpsed on the sidelines of the room, but the firm pressure of Beau and Van’s fingers around her arms made it impossible to linger.
Once they reached the main level of the club, Beau and Van started to herd her toward the exit. Easily guessing the sex-less fate in store for her, she dragged her feet, forcing them to stop mid-march. Extracting herself from their clutches, she yanked uselessly on her skirt before adopting a calmness that was far from authentic. “If you think for one moment I’m going to let you cart me home so I can twiddle my thumbs while you race back here and have kinky sex in the Red Room with women who aren’t me, you’re crazy.” She had no clue what the Red Room entailed, but if five thousand bucks bought it, it must be freakin’ good. Heavy emphasis on the freaky part.
A frustrated breath floated from Van. “We’re not going to do that, Al.”
“Damn straight you’re not. Because I’m staying put.” She stomped one of her thigh-high platform boots for emphasis—and suffered the consequences when the naughty pearls bobbled over her sensitized flesh. Corking her whimper proved a struggle.
“Like hell you are,” Beau countered, his tone filled with enough authority to stir competing amounts of her chagrin and arousal.
Between his voice and the devilish pearls, she was going out of her flippin’ mind. “If you take me home I’ll just hail a cab back here. Management gave me an all-access pass for participating in the auction. I fully intend to use it.”
Van swiped a hand over the delicious scruff shadowing his jaw. “Why are you being exceptionally sassy and stubborn tonight?”
“Because I’m tired of living a boring existence, and resigning myself to dreams and f
antasies.” She swept her arm in a wide arc. “This is probably the only chance I’ll have to soak up honest, no-holds-barred sexuality that isn’t manufactured in the pages of a book or my imagination. Please don’t ask me to walk away from this once in a lifetime opportunity.”
Doubt crept into Van’s and Beau’s eyes. The way she saw it, she had one shot at convincing them this threesome was worth fighting for. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—waste it. “I’m going to explore the club no matter what, even if it’s on my own. But I’d much rather do it with you guys. I’d feel safer, knowing you’re next to me.” Even if it ultimately drove her nuts if they didn’t put their hands on her. It was a price she’d willingly pay.
Beau and Van exchanged glances. A weighty silence stretched into infinity, adding to the frayed status of her nerves. Just when she swore she was destined for the loony bin or a sexless evening alone—probably both—they capitulated with equally resigned sighs.
She resisted the urge to pump her fists and run a victory lap around the room. “You won’t regret this.”
“Highly doubtful,” Beau said dryly. He loosened his bow tie, his gaze drifting to her cleavage. The intensity of his stare was a physical caress in itself. “Why do you look like you raided my cousin’s closet?”
“Um, because I did.”
Another growl slipped from Beau. “Goddamn it. Did Jana put you up to this cockamamie scheme?”
There was no way she’d rat out her partner in crime. “No, it was entirely my idea.”
The level of disbelief in Beau’s snort was downright impressive.
Feeling a similar self-consciousness to what she’d experienced during her stint on the stage, she smoothed her hands over her waist. Most of the time she went out of her way to hide her body, not draw attention to it. Probably her earlier preoccupation with not hyperventilating on stage had been the only thing that kept her from obsessing about whether her scar was super noticeable or not. So...at least she’d had that going for her. “I know the dress is a bit much, but nothing I own is remotely close to what you’d call sexy. Jana generously offered some assistance in that department.”
“It isn’t the clothes that make you sexy, Al,” Van pointed out. “They’re only window-dressing.”
Her nerves tingled. Both at Van’s statement and the smoldering heat in his eyes. “Y-you think I’m sexy?”
Van remained quiet for a moment. His gaze dipped and stalled on her breasts. The almost painful throb in her nipples clued her in that they were poking against the thin latex covering of her dress. His nostrils flared and a distinctly masculine sound of appreciation rumbled from his chest. That right there went miles in alleviating any and all worries about her appearance, but he made it even better by looking her square in the eye and uttering, “Fucking better believe it,” in a carnal undertone that swept goose bumps over her flushed skin.
A defeated exhale filtered from Beau. “What the hell happened to united we stand?”
Van shot him a sheepish look. No need to read between the lines to deduce Beau was referring to another one of their ridiculous bro codes. If she stood any prayer of tonight working in her favor, she had to break through their stubborn resistance and these stupid walls they were bound and determined to use to keep her safely out of their limits.
She divvied up a pleading look. “Whatever agreement the two of you have cooked up, I have a counter offer.”
Beau and Van awarded her their leery attention. She dragged in a shaky breath, digging for the strength to rush through her request. “Forget all the negatives for one night. Let’s see where this takes us. No regrets. No expectations. Just one night to do whatever we want.”
“It isn’t that simple, Al,” Beau said softly.
“But it could be. Don’t overthink it. Treat this like a free pass to put everything aside and enjoy each other and this place. No strings attached. When we walk out those doors, that’ll be the end of it.” Her chest physically ached at having to tag that last part on, but it was likely the only way she’d get them to agree.
Van’s expression wavered between desire and skepticism. “You honestly think you can do that?”
“I know I can.” The lie slipped loose with minimal prodding from her tongue.
“Sweetheart, I want to believe you, but a one night stand?” Van scratched his jaw. “It’s not your style.”
“Oh, and you think you know me so well?”
Beau grunted. “Al, we used to help babysit you. What do you think?”
Oh, God. Not the little sister thing again. She could take anything but that. She blinked furiously, refusing to cave to the tears of frustration threatening to well up. “Damn it, I’m not a kid anymore.”
Beau tossed up his arms. “Yeah, you’ve gone out of your way to prove that lately.”
“How else am I supposed to get it through your thick skulls?” Actually, she had a really good idea—one that skyrocketed the level of shakiness in her knees. But hell, she was going for broke. Might as well grab the bull by the balls and hope it didn’t kick her in the teeth.
Standing on her tiptoes, she slid her hands through Beau’s thick hair, reveling in its silky texture before she crushed her lips to his. The contact jarred through them both and they went ramrod stiff. For an endless, awkward moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, their mingled breaths like a synchronized heartbeat.
She had a moment to question the wisdom of initiating the kiss. How much would it suck if the first one they shared turned out to be a total flop? You can’t recover from that level of a letdown. And it’d be all her fault. Grabbing bull balls like some kind of crazy-ass person.
Beau’s lips parted beneath hers. The next instant, his tongue thrust into her mouth in a dizzying wet glide that triggered her gasp. He chased the sound with a dark, hungry groan and tugged her closer.
Just like that, the kiss kicked into full gear, sweeping aside her worries. His strong arms banded around her, one hand roving to the back of her head while the other coasted down her spine. He hesitated at her tailbone before splaying his palm over her ass and massaging one cheek in a deliciously carnal move. Liquid desire shimmered through every cell in her body. She arched into him, sucking at his tongue while she stroked his hair, his face, any part of him she could get her greedy hands on. Fourteen-plus years of repressed love and yearning were wrapped up in this kiss. She intended to savor each second.
Another set of fingers grazed her right butt cheek. It took a moment for the thrilling recognition to penetrate her dazed brain. Unless Beau had suddenly sprouted an extra hand, Van had decided to join in on the action. An instant later, her suspicions were confirmed by Van’s beard scruff tickling along her neck. He kissed the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, and then nipped the spot with his teeth, the move spurring her moan and a clench deep in her pussy. The pearls nestled against her labia only added to the exquisite torture.
She abandoned Beau’s mouth and shifted toward Van. It was all the invitation he required to stake his own claim. The carnality of his kiss pulled her under its devastating force as Beau’s mouth charted the other side of her neck. Their hands grew bolder, cupping her breasts and sliding between her legs. Any higher and they’d discover the naughty secret of her pearl thong. The possibility shot decadent shivers through her.
Head reeling, she clutched at their chests. “S-should I take this as a yes?”
Beau sucked her earlobe, adding to the luscious shivers racing through her body. “One night. Anything more than that is completely out of the question, Al. We shouldn’t even be doing this.”
“Do you want to stop?” Uncertainty a heavy anchor in her lungs, she waited for their answer.
She got it loud and clear when Van suddenly swung her up into his arms. Breathless and dizzy, she held on tight to his broad shoulders, hoping against hope that she wasn’t flashing some ass cheek to everyone in the club. She peeked at the few people milling around the lobby and quickly came to the conclusion that the majority of
them displayed a hell of a lot more skin than her. Van strode toward the wrought iron stairway. She fully expected him to set her on her feet. He surprised her by carting her the entire way up to the second floor. He didn’t go far beyond there. Two doors down, he stopped and waited while Beau swiped the keycard.
Van gallantly carried her across the threshold and finally eased her down his body. Enjoying the trip along the way, she stroked her fingertips over the crispness of his shirt, nonchalantly attempting to work the buttons free in the process.
Chuckling, he gripped her wrists and made a reproving motion with his index finger. “First I’m getting something else off my chest. You did an extremely foolish thing entering yourself in the auction tonight. Do you have any notion how much trouble you could have gotten into if Beau and I weren’t here? If we hadn’t outbid Bear?”
Bear? What the hell kind of name was that? “Is that the man in head to toe leather?”
“Yes. And believe me, he’s not remotely a cuddly teddy.” Beau dropped the keycard and paperwork on the nearby loveseat.
Or at least she assumed it was a loveseat. Hard to say, since it was so oddly shaped. The longer she stared at it, the less certain she was of it being a benign piece of furniture. Far as she could tell, nothing in this room could claim the title of innocence.
Fascination getting the best of her, she stepped farther into the decadent space, her wonderment increasing in tandem with each new treasure she encountered. The room had been aptly named. A rich scarlet and black graphic design papered the walls. Gilt-framed oil paintings depicting erotic acts topped off the opulent effect. A piece of equipment she recognized as being a St. Andrews Cross stood in one of the far corners of the room, along with a padded bench. The opposite corner housed an elaborate suspension cage backdropped by mirrors. She stared at the various harnesses and restraints, her pussy growing uncomfortably damp.
Would they tie her up in there? Force her to watch their hard cocks pounding into her while they ceaselessly worked orgasm after orgasm from her limp, sexually satiated body?