Chapter 3
3
Zach
“I’m sorry,” Zach murmured, leaning against Kincaid as they watched Amy do her second shot with her bridesmaids. He wondered how much Amy’d eaten today. Not much, he was guessing, because while the other women were getting tipsy, she was already well on her way to sloppy drunk just from the first shot. “I shouldn’t have invited her to come live with us without asking you first.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Kincaid’s tone was deceptively mild. “And I’ll take that out on your ass later. But I would have said yes, anyway, so it comes out in the wash.”
Except it didn’t, because he still should have asked, even though he’d known what Kincaid would say. But he’d been holding Amy, feeling her shaking, feeling her confusion, and he’d wanted—needed—to make it better. Deep down, he knew he was the best choice, too.
If she went to Morgan and Asad’s, or anywhere else, she would feel like she had to pretend she was okay, the way she was doing now. She would act as normal as she could, all while she was slowly dying inside, unable to tap into her emotions, unable to focus on herself while others were around her. That was exactly why she’d come into the scene in the first place—to be forced to focus on herself.
It was what she needed, even if she wouldn’t want to face it. And Zach could give it to her. Kincaid would help. He might not have ever been part of their dynamic before, but obviously, that would need to change a bit. Kincaid was a caretaker. A protector.
If Jeremy came after her for any reason, Zach would protect her, but Kincaid would crush the man for daring. Once she was under Kincaid’s protective wing, he would consider her wellbeing one of his priorities. That was another reason Zach wanted her with them.
He was a sadist. A top. But Kincaid was a Dom in a way he’d never managed to be. He knew some people felt it was the same, but he never did. How could he call himself a Dom when Kincaid was dominant to him? When he submitted to Kincaid? Sure, he was a switch, but even when he was topping someone, he didn’t feel like he could give them what Kincaid gave him.
Amy would need that, too. She wasn’t just a masochist; she was a submissive. She would have needs Zach wasn’t sure he could fulfill.
Between him and Kincaid, they’d be able to help her in a way no one else could. So, he couldn’t regret offering the invitation or even the way he’d done it. He knew he’d been pushing Kincaid into a situation where he was going to say yes, regardless of how he felt, but at the same time, he was sorry because he knew he’d been wrong to do so. He’d also been right.
And he didn’t mind at all if Kincaid was going to take it out on his ass.
Zach straightened up as the door opened, and Mrs. Newhart came back in, along with an older man holding her hand, whom he assumed was Amy’s dad. He wondered how much Mrs. Newhart had told him. The relief that had poured through him when he realized she read kinky romance had been strong, but that didn’t mean that both parents would be as understanding. He also wasn’t sure her mom would understand how truly platonic he and Amy had been.
After Rae had started writing kinky romance, everyone in the club had gotten on board with reading her books, and he’d read a few more beyond that. None of them really featured platonic kink, even though it was highly prevalent in the club. He didn’t want Amy’s mom to think they’d been cheating. They hadn’t been. Yes, he cared deeply about her, and yes, he found her very attractive, but he would never do that to Kincaid.
Yeah, I just hide our relationship outside of the club and hurt him that way instead.
Ruthlessly, he pushed that thought away. He was working on that.
He watched as Amy straightened up, putting a smile on her face for her parents as they talked to her. Maybe trying to convince her to come stay with them instead? Probably not; it really wouldn’t make sense. He sidled closer to try to overhear what they were talking about, ignoring Kincaid’s amused look. Yeah, so he was nosy. So what?
“Jeremy’s family has left, but most of the guests are staying, and we’re having a party. Do you want to come out? You don’t have to. You can do whatever you want.” Mrs. Newhart was firm in making that last part clear.
“I…” Amy’s smile slipped a little, some of her pain coming back into her expression. “If I don’t have to…”
“You don’t have to,” her dad said immediately, reaching out to take her hand in his and patting it. “We’ll take care of everything. You should do what you feel like right now. Whatever you feel like.”
Amy glanced over at her group of friends, who were now watching her with sympathetic expressions. He could see her hide her wince.
“Would it be terrible if I just stayed here and didn’t come out at all?”
“Of course not. No one is going to blame you for that,” her mother reassured her. She stepped forward, pulling Amy into a hug. “We’ll take care of everything.” With that sentiment repeated, she stepped back and gave her husband a nod right before he gave Amy his own hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, but when they parted, Zach wasn’t surprised to see that her eyes were still dry.
She really did have issues about crying in front of people if it was about her own emotions. That was why she needed the club, why she needed Zach. The more he’d gotten to know her, the more he’d realized she didn’t feel comfortable with people feeling like they had to take care of her—and if someone was crying, that was an indication they needed to be taken care of.
That was why it really was for the best if she came to stay with him and Kincaid. Otherwise, she was going to kill herself trying to keep it together for whoever she was with. Zach wouldn’t let her get away with that.
Kincaid
“Get this off of me.” Amy stared down at the dress she was wearing as if she’d never seen it before. Four shots in, and she was drunk as a skunk—and her bridesmaids weren’t much better off. Zach had a few, too. Kincaid was the only totally sober person in the room at the moment.
“What?” Morgan looked at Amy in adorable confusion.
Reaching down, Amy started tugging at the bodice of her dress. “This. Get it off me.”
“Okaaaaay.” Morgan moved around behind Amy and frowned. “Um…”
“What’s wrong?” Sam leaned over to see, a blonde lock of hair falling in her eyes.
“It’s all buttons. Teeny tiny buttons.”
“There’s no zipper?” Marissa asked, taking a sip of her drink. “Sometimes, the buttons are fake, and there’s a zipper underneath.”
Morgan reached out to touch the back of Amy’s dress.
“No zipper.” She frowned in concentration, fumbling at Amy’s back. “Why are they so small?”
“It’s couture,” Sam told her, then frowned. “They aren’t even buttons. It’s a bunch of tiny loops. What sadist designed this? Aren’t wedding dresses supposed to be easy to get out of?” Her expression turned to one of horror as she realized what she’d said, what she’d implied, as if Amy needed the reminder that her wedding night was not going to happen the way it was supposed to.
“Get it off me!” Amy shrieked, pulling harder at the front, her expression turning to panicked desperation. “Rip it, whatever, just get it off!”
“Here…” Zach shouldered his way in, reaching for the back of her dress. He tried to rip it, and though there was a small sound of fabric tearing, the dress did not open up the way he’d obviously intended. Under other circumstances, his dumbfounded expression would have been funny, but Amy was clearly working her way up to hysterics.
“Stop.” Kincaid’s command dropped into the room, making everyone freeze. “Move, Zach, I’ve got it.” He moved behind Amy. Yeah, a whole row of tiny buttons done with loops. Zach had managed to rip the very first loop out of the fabric, but that was it. Putting his hand on Amy’s shoulder, Kincaid could feel how clammy her skin was, could feel her shoulder rise and fall as she panted for breath. “Deep breath, Amy. In… and out. One more time for me. Good girl.”
He felt her sag against his hand at the ‘good girl.’ Poor little subby. She was having a hell of a day; she’d probably needed that.
“Everyone, just go back to what you were doing,” he told them. What they’d been doing had been talking shit about Jeremy and Noelle, some of which had been highly entertaining. Marissa and Carolyn had both been incensed at Noelle’s betrayal of the ‘sisterhood,’ something he found fascinating because Carolyn actually did cheat on her husband when she came to the club, and Marissa had never been known as particularly friendly among the other submissives.
Something about Amy brought out a protective streak in them, he supposed, though he’d also seen them treating her like a doormat. Maybe it was an ‘only I’m allowed to walk all over her’ mentality.
He could understand the protective streak.
As he made his way down the tiny row of buttons—seriously, who did this on a wedding dress? Unless the plan was to just flip her skirts up and— Nope, stop thinking about that. Thinking about what Amy was going to be doing on her wedding night while he undressed her made him feel incredibly awkward and incredibly guilty.
Undoing the buttons, he snuck a peek at Zach, who was watching them both.
He and Zach had shared women in the past, submissives, but never Amy.
And thinking about sharing Amy on what was supposed to be her fucking wedding day… what the fuck was wrong with his head? The intrusive thoughts were real. Though, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault since he was undressing her, and the more buttons he got undone, the more of her underwear he could see.
She was wearing a lacy white corset underneath the dress, exaggerating her hourglass figure. It was pure lace and boning and probably a bit uncomfortable. Amy was a masochist, but considering she’d been close to trying to tear the dress off her, he doubted she wanted the corset on, either.
“Do you want me to loosen this?” he asked, tapping the back of it once he had the last button undone.
“Yes, please. There should be a robe…” She looked around as her voice trailed off, and Sam immediately jumped up and hurried over to the other side of the room where Kincaid now noticed a white satin robe draped over the back of a chair.
“I’ve got it!” Sam called out as she picked it up.
Kincaid focused on loosening Amy’s corset. She sagged even more than she had for being called a good girl, taking in a deep breath of relief. As Sam approached, holding up the robe, Kincaid stepped back and turned away slightly. Not like he hadn’t occasionally seen Amy’s breasts at Stronghold, but this was different.
When he turned back after a moment, she was now in the robe, which went down to her knees, and she was trying to tie the belt around her waist… and failing.
“Here, let me do that.” He stepped forward, taking the ends of the belt from her and tying them in a bow, very aware of the way she was looking at him with big, watery doe eyes and a trembling lower lip.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t really know what else to say. There was something incredibly vulnerable about her at that moment.
“Okay, who wants another shot?” Carolyn asked.
“Me!” Vulnerability disappeared under a big smile as Amy turned away from him. “Me, me, me, me!”
This was probably going to end badly, but Kincaid couldn’t find it in himself to tell her no.