Chapter Twenty-Six
Hamish
Sleep had nearly claimed me in the enormous bed in the dungeon when my men returned carrying, between them, three mugs of hot chocolate.
I’d tried to insist they could drink alcohol.
Tyson, who’d done way too much drinking during his marriage—and after—claimed to be too blissed out.
Donovan, also not known for imbibing, offered me a sweet smile and said he had a hankering for marshmallows.
They’d left me curled under a huge down-filled comforter and had padded upstairs, naked no less, in search of sustenance.
The cool sheets against my heated back and ass just increased my comfort to incredible heights. Donovan had gone easy on me. Even I was well aware of that. But he’d definitely piqued my curiosity. I’d almost begged him for more. More sensation. More pleasure.
More pain.
But then he’d fucked me. And Tyson’s mouth had done all kinds of clever things to my cock and, well, orgasm. Well, orgasms. Three of them.
And for that brief time, I’d forgotten about my job, my career, and my punishment from the college.
I’d gotten off lightly. I should’ve lost my license.
But as Allie had pointed out, sometimes doctors killed patients by negligence, and they rarely lost their licenses.
Life was messy. Donovan and Tyson had made compelling arguments why disciplining me wouldn’t benefit anyone.
In the end, I was happy with the slap on the wrist. Would be even happier when I returned to work on Tuesday.
Tyson handed me the mug and then gingerly crawled in beside me. Donovan slid in the other side, although I noticed he had his phone.
“Seriously?” Tyson glared at the thing. “And does it even get reception down here?”
“Yep.” Donovan placed his mug on the nightstand and entered his passcode on the phone.
The light down here was what one might call mood lighting. In other words, I could barely make out my men’s expressions.
“Holy shit.” Donovan might’ve said that reverentially, and I might’ve perked up a bit.
Well, just a little bit. That orgasm and the bliss of the scene had made me a little woozy.
“What?” Tyson made a grab for the phone.
Donovan evaded.
I nearly spilled my hot chocolate. “Children.”
Tyson pouted, and Donovan merely grinned.
“Elouise Hynes won the Academy Award for Best Actress.”
“Holy shit.” I grinned. I’d met Elouise several times and had been utterly charmed by the actress from Newfoundland via Hollywood who now made her home in Vancouver. “Did she thank Kelci in her speech?”
“She thanked everyone in her speech, apparently. Geneva Alvarez has just posted a piece on the news website. Elouise charmed everyone.” Donovan continued to scroll.
“Easy to do. For her,” Tyson added. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”
Donovan grinned. “Yep. Oh shit.”
“What?” I tried to see but couldn’t manage.
“Geneva also posted that Cole was escorted down the red carpet by his two lovers and looked mighty well for having been shot less than two months ago.”
Involuntarily, I touched Donovan’s scar on his arm where the bullet had grazed him. The wound had healed, and he’d recovered psychologically, but the memory still haunted me. And I hadn’t even known him when the shooting occurred.
His phone vibrated. He jostled.
I turned to Tyson, holding out my mug. “Maybe when the three of us are settled and there aren’t any telephonic distractions?”
“Hey, buddy.” Donovan’s voice had a forced lightness. “That’s great about Elouise. How are you holding—”
Tyson took my mug and put it on the other nightstand along with his own.
“Sure, I can put you on speakerphone.” Donovan hit a button.
“Hello, Hamish. Hello, Tyson.” Cole didn’t sound amused.
Tyson and I stammered out greetings.
“I would like to say…” Murmurings. “Sorry, we would like to say that we hope you’re in the dungeon and not making use of my extra-large bed in our bedroom.”
Heat ran up my chest, hastened along my neck, and soon my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Tyson. He appeared a little peaked as well.
“Not sure what you’re talking about.” Donovan squirmed.
“Bullshit.” Cole snickered.
Ah, now I recognized his dry humor.
“My alarm company sends me a text whenever someone enters the house. With the access code they used.”
“Oh shit.” Donovan’s face fell.
Laughter in the background had me wondering if Cole had us on speakerphone.
“Caressa and Michael send their love. Oh, and maybe next time ask?”
Donovan swallowed. “Would you have said yes?”
“Possibly.” More laughter. “Probably. Well, enjoy your evening, gentlemen. I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Just the afterglow,” I managed to squeak.
Cole laughed. “Good to know I can still time things appropriately.”
“You’re okay with this?” Donovan’s brow furrowed.
“I love you, Donovan. You’re like a brother to me. Tyson and Hamish make you happy, which makes them family to us as well. Just make sure you clean up the…”
This time, the laughter exploded from Donovan. “You can’t even say cum?”
“Speakerphone,” Caressa filled in. “But thanks for the imagery. I take it you made use of the dungeon?”
Tyson coughed.
“Well, we’re thinking about it as well.” Her laughter tinkled.
Donovan’s eyes went wide.
“Night, you guys.” Cole cut the connection.
“Well, fuck me.” Donovan held his phone reverentially. He and Cole were on equal grounds with their friendship, but Cole was the bigger star. That he ensured Donovan was there for every step of the ride was pretty sweet.
Tyson relieved him of the phone and placed it on the nightstand. “Oh, maybe I’ll do just that.”
I noted someone had moved the lube to the nightstand as well while I’d been blissed out.
This is going to be fun.
As if sensing my mood, Tyson kissed my cheek. “You mind?”
“Watching you fuck Donovan? Oh hell no.”
Donovan raised his hand. “Do I get a say in this?”
Tyson blinked. “Of course you do. Just you said, well, fuck me, and I’m offering to take you up on that request.”
“I—” He swallowed. “I’ve never…”
I cocked my head. “Like, ever?”
He shook his head. “Control’s a thing with me. Ever since Lisa killed herself, I swore I’d never be out of control again.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d spoken of his sister. Sort of like now he’d shared that secret, he could share her. He’d even shown us photographs. The early ones showed a vibrant and happy child. The later years showed the pain behind the smile.
A freight train impact was too nice of a way to die. Fucking asshole molester.
I stroked his cheek. “Donovan. You know full well that you’d be entirely in control in this scenario. And no one’s pressuring you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” I shifted—enjoying the tingling in my ass. He’d pounded me pretty well. Just the way I liked it.
He held my gaze with his mesmerizing dark-brown eyes. His pupils were blown so wide in the dark light that I could barely see any irises. “Sweetheart?”
I nodded.
“This would be like asking you to fuck me. Or Tyson.”
I winced. “I could point out I tried to, uh—”
“Make love to me.” Tyson cocked his head at Donovan. “He found the courage to try. To say that isn’t his jam is an understatement.”
I nodded vigorously. “Yes. That.” Still, I bit my lower lip. “If you asked me to penetrate you, Donovan, I would. Because it’s you. Just like if Tyson begged, I’d consider trying again with him.”
“But it’s not your happy place.” Donovan enunciated the words clearly.
“Right. And so maybe having Tyson make love to you isn’t your happy place. I’m saying we respect your decision—whatever it is.”
“You know…” He swallowed.
“That you’ve got some deep-seated belief that you’d be less of a man? Yeah. Even Tyson figured that one out.”
“And I don’t have a PhD in psychology.” Tyson grinned. Then sobered. “We absolutely do not have to do this. I’m just saying the offer’s on the table if you ever change your mind.”
“Also—” I held up my hand. As I often did. Old habits died hard.
Both Donovan and Tyson rolled their eyes.
I smiled for a moment, then turned serious. “No one in this relationship would think any less of you. Hell, Cole’s joked about Michael, uh—” Likely, at this point, my cheeks were fire-engine red.
“Sticking his cock up Cole’s ass? I swear to God, Cole was joking. Only not entirely. I mean—” Donovan sighed. “Cole shouldn’t have been so open—but he did that for my benefit.”
“To prove to you that even the best dominant could cede control at some point.” Tyson scratched his nose. “Except we’re not asking you to give up any control.” He reached for his hot chocolate—which would be stone cold by now. “For another—”
Donovan grasped his arm to waylay him.
We stilled.
He took a deep breath. “What if I want to? What if I wasn’t actually joking? Well, I had been because I didn’t think anyone would take me up on the offer.”
The moment held—suspended.
Finally, I couldn’t take the tension. “Are you asking me or asking Tyson?”
“Oh, sweetheart. The only way either of us is going to let you top is if you come to us and make a case why you’ve changed your mind. I just don’t see that happening.”
“Me either.” Tyson ruffled my hair. “But we’re here if things evolve and you want to try again.”
“Nope.”
They laughed at my adamant refusal. I knew myself. Sticking my cock into Tyson’s ass had not been my happy place.
Donovan cleared his throat.
Tyson and I gave him our full attention.
“Just once.” He scratched his jaw. “I want to know.”
“Know?” I prompted him. I knew what he meant—but he needed to articulate the idea himself.
“To cede control. To give myself over to someone else. Well, two someones.”
Ah. “You’re saying if you were here alone with Tyson, then you won’t be willing to try.” I stroked his cheek again.
He leaned into the touch. “Yeah.”
Tyson leaned over, and their lips met.
The kiss was light. Gentle. Loving.
Much like both men.
Donovan pulled back first. He gazed down at me. “Are you comfortable prepping me? Because I’m certain—”