Chapter 7 #2
“And then I’ll hold you while you fall apart,” Silas added, softer now. “Love you through it. Fix your boo-boos if they need fixing, even if you’re being a brat about it. Feed you. Wash you. Carry you to bed and kiss you while you cry.”
Her hands trembled around her coffee mug. Her throat locked up. Because fuck, this was the dark corner of her brain that she never, ever let anyone see — the one that wanted exactly this. The part of her that wanted to be ruined and rebuilt. Owned. Rewritten.
Silas’s voice gentled even more. “I get messy. Humiliation and beyond. Watersports. Crawling. You’ll be my pet, my thing, and I’ll turn you inside out until you don’t remember how to breathe without my say-so.”
Her pussy clenched hard. Her face flushed. She didn’t know what to say — didn’t trust her voice, which probably didn’t matter since she was completely fucking speechless.
He sat back, took a drink of his coffee, a smart-assed smirk that went all the way to his eyes. “And for the record, after your reactions to that? Not a single bit of that gets negotiated away. Don’t dare try to say our kinks aren’t a perfect match.”
She shook her head. There was no way to deny it. Everything inside her screamed yes, and that might be the scariest part of it all.
But could she really agree to all that?
Boone shook his head. “And Silas was the one trying to slow Kenny down earlier. You want to hear my kinks? Still in the game?”
She wasn’t entirely sure she trusted her voice, so she nodded.
“I have a size kink.” His tone didn’t waver. “If you’re ours, we’ll work at least once every week to ten days on getting my fist into your pussy. It may never happen, and that’s fine. It isn’t about actually getting there, but about the attempt.”
Her thighs tightened, breath stalling in her chest. It wasn’t just arousal, but the thrill of being laid open. Studied. Used.
“You already know what it’ll be like when I fuck your ass for the first time after every change.
Same stretch, same fire, same no-going-back once I start.
I’ll probably play around with fisting your ass sometimes too, but the real focus’ll be your cunt.
Maybe I sink my entire fist into you in five years.
” He gave her a half smile. “Then we start working on the second.”
Her pussy clenched involuntarily, the echo of yesterday’s stretch in her ass flaring in sharp contrast to the low, insistent hunger curling in her belly.
She swallowed, body lighting up like it wanted to be terrified — and somehow wasn’t.
“I like watching you stretch for me,” he continued, voice still calm, deliberate. “I like speculums, and they make ’em for both holes. Like seeing inside you while you hold still and let me look. Like stretching your jaw open around a gag until your eyes water and your throat works around it.”
Heat bloomed in her chest, her belly, her entire body.
“I like seeing what you can take,” he said, “and then I like seeing what happens when I push past that.”
She didn’t know if she could take it, but some wild, aching part of her wanted to be opened by him. To be stretched until resistance broke and surrender flooded in.
“You still in the conversation?” Kenny asked.
Crazy or not, she was unquestionably still in the conversation, but she was smart enough to know there would be negotiations later, and no matter what Silas had said, she would have the agency to set hard limits and boundaries — and she needed to answer with that in mind.
“I’m not making any promises, but I appreciate everyone’s honesty.” She blew out a breath. “And as Silas pointed out, all three of you can scent my body’s reactions, though you aren’t in my mind, seeing it screaming and waving red flags all over the fucking place.”
He grinned. “Since you won’t be working and have the time, I’m inviting you to a seven-day stint at my house. These two will stay in a guest bedroom, and we’ll set a room up for you. All four of us, under one roof for the duration.”
He looked at Silas and Boone, back to her. “The three of us will have to go to our jobs — Boone and I work Monday through Friday and the occasional Saturday, Silas generally works Tuesday through Saturday, and a few hours midday on Sunday.”
“We could each get her to ourselves on a schedule during the week,” Boone said, “and then have a big scene with all four of us every Sunday.”
“Who’d sleep with her?” Silas asked.
“Different schedule,” Kenny said. “Two people in bed with her every night. Her in the middle.”
It truly made her their toy. Shared.
Fuck, that was hot.
But she wanted to inject a little realism.
“Twenty-four/seven for a week is hot, but I’m not sure it’d work beyond that.
I mean, it’s what I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never had it.
I’ve played a lot, had tons of scenes at play parties and clubs, dated kinky people who only wanted to be in control for scenes, but never someone who wanted to take control of me every minute of every day. ”
“If we want to take it beyond, we’ll write a weekly meeting in,” Silas said. “Outside of power exchange, to find out what is and isn’t working for everyone, and we’ll finesse the rules, schedules, whatever.”
It struck her, the dichotomy of Silas leveling shot after shot of the sadistic things he wants to do to her earlier, and being the voice of reason now. The contrast made it all feel more real, more possible — and her stomach fluttered with a fresh wave of nerves and want.
“You’ll be gone a week every month,” Kenny said.
“If that wasn’t the case, I’d be the one insisting you have some time outside of power exchange, but my read on you is that you’re going to want to walk into the house and only be responsible for following your rules for at least the first couple of days. ”
She nodded. “Yeah. This seems surreal. We just met, and you’re talking about moving me in as your, like, sex slave.”
“Is that the terminology you want?” Kenny asked. “Sex slave? Service submissive? Pain toy?”
Her breath caught. Kenny hadn’t flinched at sex slave. Hadn’t dismissed it, hadn’t even hesitated — just offered it as one of several valid options. The blunt acceptance hit low and hard.
She shook her head. “I don’t really like the first two. For others, yeah, but not for me. And I hope I’ll be more than a toy…” she hesitated, and realized how stupid it would be to lie to wolves. “But also… that.”
“We can work on labels later,” Silas said. “Looks like we’re about to have company again.”
Sure enough, two men holding hardhats were walking up the driveway, and Kenny stood. “I’ll talk to them this time. Why don’t ya’ll head over to our cabin. Probably not safe to get into a scene with all these crews on the premises, but Silas can get dinner started.”
* * * *
Tuesday afternoon, the driveway didn’t look like much, a handful of graveled switchbacks cut into the side of the mountain away from the slide area, but it got them down easier than the trip up had been. And after nearly five days on the mountain, Willow was ready to leave.
Talk about having a new lease on life.
Silas was in her passenger seat. He hadn’t asked, he’d just climbed in, but it was okay.
He connected to her Bluetooth, called Boone in the truck, and they kept the line open between the vehicles, so the four could talk.
Leaf season was over, and there wasn’t a whole lot of traffic on the Parkway at three o’clock on a Tuesday, so they made good time getting to the interstate.
They filled the two-hour drive talking about the hike they’d taken the day before, how Willow had spotted a hawk’s nest, and Kenny had seen a deer peering at them from forty yards away. They’d come upon a dozen wild turkeys who’d freaked at the smell of wolves.
Silas had packed enough lunch for eight wolves, and yet, everything had been eaten.
Conversation drifted into more personal questions: favorite colors, numbers, shoe sizes. The kind of easy trivia that made her laugh when Boone admitted his favorite food was “whatever someone else cooks.”
They traded first-kiss stories, which bled into first-time stories, which were alternately awkward, hilarious, and, in Kenny’s case, so matter-of-fact she’d laughed out loud.
By the time they rolled into Ooltewah, she felt lighter than she had in months.
“I’ll follow you to your place,” Kenny said over the phone. “Make sure you get in all right, and Silas can climb in with us.”
She expected the apartment to feel foreign after so long away.
She didn’t expect the seventeen cardboard boxes stacked neatly just inside her door, each labeled in James’s assistant’s precise handwriting: Clothes. Shoes. Personal items. A note sat on top of the nearest box, folded once.
Silas picked it up before she could. His jaw tightened, but he handed it over without comment.
The note was in James’ handwriting.
The jewelry has been given to charity so at least I can get the tax write-off. These items are what you brought, not what I purchased for you.
She stared at it and chuckled. “I’d decided if he gave me the jewelry, I’d split it up between my favorite charities, so I guess he saved me the trouble.”
She’d miss the white Chanel suit and a few other couture pieces, but not enough to spend thousands of her own money to replace them. She had more than enough money to do so, but she’d never spend that much on clothes.
“Everything in one piece?” Kenny asked, scanning the small living room.
She shrugged. “I’ll go through it later. Not tonight.”
“I’m not happy leaving you here alone, knowing he has a key,” Boone said.
Willow shook her head. “First, he’s human and he has no idea how strong I am, and second, that’s not his style.
He had his personal assistant box everything up — not to be confused with his business assistant, who would’ve paid someone to do it.
” She sighed. “His personal assistant is a nice guy. It’s his handwriting on the boxes, so I expect to find most of my things, if not all of them.
Anything he didn’t pack, I can just buy more of.
It’s honestly not worth getting worked up about. ”
She was ready to change the subject, so she looked at Kenny. “You’ll send me the rules and a simple contract tomorrow?”
He nodded. “And you’ll be at my home at six o’clock Thursday. I’ll order dinner, so come hungry.”