Chapter 3
The next morning, when I wander into the kitchen, Dane is making us breakfast. It’s more oatmeal with sliced bananas, almonds, and blueberries.
Hopefully, the tasty oatmeal yesterday wasn’t just the happiness convincing me it was delicious, since it seems I’m going to be eating a lot of oatmeal while Dane is here.
I lean against the doorframe, enjoying the backside of a sexy older guy making me food. How did I get this lucky?
“You don’t have to hover,” he says without turning around.
“I’m not hovering. I’m supervising.”
He glances over his shoulder, and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Go sit down. It’ll be ready in five.”
I plop down on a bar stool at the kitchen island, and Leo strides in.
“Morning, lass,” he says, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. He looks impeccable in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks. How does he manage it this early?
Leo pours himself a coffee. “I’ve got some work to catch up on, so I’ll be in my office for a bit. Dane, you’re heading out soon, right?”
“Yeah, I won’t be gone long. It’s just coffee with friends,” Dane responds.
“Perfect,” Leo says, turning to me with a protective expression that never fails to make me weak. “And you, lass, relax this morning. But be ready when I call for you later. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I say automatically, and Leo grins.
“Good girl.”
Leo leaves the kitchen with his coffee, taking it towards his office at the back of the house. Dane sits next to me, and we eat in silence for a few minutes. Every brush of Dane’s arm against mine sends shivers down my spine.
Dane finally speaks. “So, how are you feeling after last night?”
I blush, remembering how, after dinner, I’d begged them both to fuck me, and I came so hard I nearly passed out. “Good. A little sore, but...good.”
Dane’s eyes darken. “You’re a wonderful fucktoy. I’m glad Leo invited me for Christmas while you’re here and that you wanted this.”
My pussy clenches at his words, but an odd shyness makes me look away. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Look at me,” Dane commands, and I force myself to meet his gaze as he continues. “Never be ashamed of your desires. Embracing them is beautiful.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Dane’s thumb brushes over my lower lip, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then he pulls away, standing up.
“I should get ready to go,” he says, his voice slightly rougher than usual. “Finish your breakfast. You need something healthy and filling after last night.”
His eyes roam over my body, and my pussy lets me know she’s awake. The way he says “filling” makes me think of other ways he filled me last night.
Once he’s gone, I’m left alone with a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and an aching need. Ugh. Why is no one using me this morning? They’re making me addicted to them and then leaving me alone. This is torture.
I’m too keyed up to finish my oatmeal, and I toss the rest in the trash. No one will ever know I didn’t finish it, and I really did try. It’s all Dane’s fault anyway for getting me worked up.
I move to my art studio and close the door. Morning light slants through the north windows onto the easel as I squeeze cadmium yellow and cerulean blue onto the palette.
When I pick up a brush, I just stand there.
All I can think about is last night. Leo bent me over the kitchen table after dinner and fisted his hand in my hair before fucking me hard enough to rattle the dishes.
Dane watched from the doorway until it was his turn.
Dane fucked me slow and deep until I was shaking and begging and the orgasms blurred together.
I drag the brush through yellow paint. One streak across the canvas.
It looks like nothing.
I try again, this time a loose curve of blue bleeding into yellow. My hand isn’t steady, and my mind just isn’t in the mood to paint. There’s a pleasant ache between my legs that keeps distracting me every time I shift my weight.
I eventually put the paints away and try to distract myself by reading. It doesn’t help. I don’t know how many times I orgasmed last night, but I’m greedy and want more today.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the buzz of my phone. It’s a text from Dane.
Dane: Hope you finished your oatmeal and you’re behaving yourself.
I bite my lip. What am I supposed to say to that? Before I can decide, another text comes through.
Dane: Remember, good girls get rewarded.
Mmm, I do like rewards. I type out a quick reply.
Alice: Always trying to be good.
That’s vague enough without admitting I wasn’t good. But shit, do I call him Sir, too? What does someone do when they have two dominant men?
His response is almost immediate.
Dane: That’s our girl.
Whoa, our good girl? My body zings alive, and I imagine what it would be like being both of theirs for real. Wait, what am I doing? I shouldn’t be flirting with Dane like this, not when Leo’s just in the other room. But god, the way Dane makes me feel...
Another text comes through.
Dane: Did you finish your breakfast?
Uh-oh. Well, I can’t admit it now. He just offered me a reward.
Alice: Yes, Sir.
I mean, I tried. I feel a twinge of guilt for lying.
There’s a long pause before his reply comes.
Dane: We’ll see about that. Lying has consequences.
My stomach flips at his words. How does he know?
Before I can dwell on it too much, I hear footsteps coming down the hall. Is it Leo? I glance at the clock and realize it’s been almost two hours since breakfast—I’ve been lost in my thoughts and didn’t notice how much time had passed.
Dane appears in the doorway of the studio, his eyes dark. Oh shit, he was texting me from downstairs?
“Come with me,” he says simply, and I follow him without question.
He leads me to the kitchen, where he pulls out the trash to show me the oatmeal I tossed out. Dane raises an eyebrow at me. “You said you finished your breakfast.”
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Sir. I...I lied.”
Dane nods slowly. “Yes, you did. It would have been fine if you hadn’t finished breakfast if you weren’t hungry, but it’s not okay to lie. Do you know what happens to girls who lie?”
“They get punished,” I whisper.
“That’s right,” Dane says. “But first, you’re going to eat something since you didn’t finish breakfast and now it’s almost lunchtime.”
I nod, and he fixes me a turkey sandwich on wheat bread.
“Now eat every last bite, and then we’ll deal with your punishment.”
I can feel the wetness growing between my legs as I take a bite. Why do I love being controlled like this? I’ve got a sexy, older guy making sure I eat properly, and it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Dane watches as I eat, his gaze never leaving me. When I finally finish, he takes the plate and sets it in the sink. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now, come here.”
I stand before him, thrumming. Dane cups my face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. “I’m going to edge you,” he says softly. “And you’re not going to come unless I say you can. Understood?”
I nod, my breath catching in my throat. Dane leads me to the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling me onto his lap.
I’m only wearing a long nightshirt and panties, and his hands slide under the nightshirt to pull and tease my nipples.
When he finally slips a hand between my legs and under my panties, I moan as pleasure swirls in my core.
“Such a needy little thing,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding through my folds.
He works his fingers into my pussy slowly, building the pleasure with maddening patience, while he brushes his thumb against my clit. Every time I get close to the edge, he pauses his movements. I grip his shoulders and grind against his hand, trying to get him to finger fuck me harder.
“Please,” I whimper after what feels like hours. “Please, I need to come.”
“No,” Dane says, his voice maddeningly calm. “This is your punishment for lying to me.”
He continues his torturous finger fucking, bringing me to the brink over and over again. By the time he finally pulls his fingers out of my pussy, I’m a quivering mess, and I’m covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Oh, thank god, he’s going to fuck me now.
“There,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Your punishment is not coming.”
I mewl out in distress. Whaaaat? Oh. My. God. Lust sizzles my brain, and I can’t think.
He pulls on my nipple and pinches it until I cry out again, and he chuckles. “I think you’ve learned your lesson. Remember, honesty is always the best policy. Now tell me what you did while I was gone, since it wasn’t eating.”
Ugh, time to admit I’m a failure. “I tried to paint. But I didn’t know where to start. It’s just been so long…”
He tilts his head and says, “What are you afraid of?”
Ouch, that’s direct. I open my mouth to deflect with a joke, but he’s watching me patiently, and the glib answer dies in my throat.
“That I’ll find out I’m not any good,” I say. “I’ve been telling myself I’m someone who paints, but the truth is I’m only someone who wants to paint. There’s a difference.”
“When did you start wanting to paint?” he asks.
I snuggle against him and sigh. “My mom painted. Watercolors, mostly. She did flowers and landscapes. It was just a hobby, but she loved it. She’d paint at the kitchen table, and I’d sit next to her with my own little set of paints.”
My throat tightens. I don’t like to talk about my parents much. Most people don’t want to know the sad parts of a person’s life.
“My parents died in a car accident when I was ten. I went to live with my aunt after, and she was fine, she was nice, but it wasn’t...”
I trail off because I don’t have the right word.
“It wasn’t the same,” Dane finishes.
I look at him. He’s not giving me pity. Something in his face tells me he gets it.
“Yeah, it wasn’t the same.”
His arms tighten around me, and we’re both silent for a bit, but it’s not awkward. It’s nice to be held without expectations.