Chapter 9
Austin
I have to slam on the brakes when a red light catches us before I can turn onto Caro.
“Hey, calm down.” Lyle leans back in his seat, eyes half-closed like we’re on a leisurely drive along the coastal highway, and not about to pounce on the most difficult bounty we’ve hunted in our five-year-long partnership.
“Did I read that text right?” I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the red light, willing it to change. “Did she really say, Come and get me at Low Vice…Daddies?”
Lyle chuckles. “Yep. I guess she’s a brat.”
“She isn’t a brat, she’s a bounty.”
He gives me a look that clearly says, why not both? Then he leans back, tugging his baseball cap down over his eyes.
“Are you napping?” I jam down on the gas just before the light turns green.
“Trying to.”
I grumble under my breath for the remaining time to Low Vice. Some of my ire is directed toward partners who think they can sleep on the job. Some of it is directed toward brats.
Most of it is directed toward brats.
She has no reason to call us Daddies. We haven’t established any sort of power play agreement, we haven’t even met in person.
Yet my hand already twitches, eager with the idea of spanking her naughty ass.
We reach the Low Vice parking lot. It’s hidden behind the building so that the vanilla Club Vice patrons don’t accidentally stumble across it. Low Vice is the kinky side of Vice, and one of San Esteban’s best-kept secrets.
We get out of the car. I slam my door shut. “How did she know?”
“Know that we’re daddydoms?” He shrugs. “Who cares? She knows, so what are we going to do about it?”
I don’t fucking know, so I say nothing.
Lyle puts on a rare burst of energy and hurries to the door. We’ve both been dragging since late last night, constantly searching for Ariel and following leads to dead-ends. But stick him in the Low Vice parking lot and he perks up like a dog hearing the word “walkies.”
We get to the door, where a tall bouncer named Tag waits.
He gives us a low whistle. “You two look…different.”
I can imagine. We’re still in our Ironwood gear—black pants, black t-shirts. We usually dress nicer for Low Vice. At least, our clothes would be clean.
“Yeah. Rough couple of days. We just need to relax for a bit.” I don’t want to tell him we’re on the job. He probably wouldn’t like the idea that we’re here looking for a bounty, and I don’t want to cause trouble for him or for the club. So we’ll do this quiet.
“Well, have fun.” He opens the door to let us through.
The entire place is lit by Christmas lights which reflect off the black walls.
It’s fairly crowded, too. I thought it might be quieter on Christmas, but nope.
Seems like a good number of people are eager to shed the stress of the season by getting their freak on.
Two men sit in a booth, their hands under the table and expressions of bliss on their faces.
A woman in a red dress, thigh-high red boots, and a Santa hat leads a man and a woman around, leashes attached to their collars.
Her subs are wearing Christmas elf ears and forest-green, pleather underwear.
No time to enjoy the view; I need to find our bounty. I pull up my mental image of Ariel Capulet, taken from the file we were given a week ago. Blond hair, green eyes. Five-foot-six, with a curvy body I couldn’t help but salivate over.
I wonder what she looks like in fetwear.
She’s a job, though. A bounty. A mark. We have to bring her in, not ogle her in the city’s number one kinkster haven.
Only loud enough for Lyle to hear, I mutter, “Where the fucking fuck is that little brat? I swear to fuck, I’m going to—”
Lyle elbows me. “There she is.”
I follow the line of his gaze to the Saint Andrew’s cross in the far corner.
There’s our mark, bound facing forward, stripped down to her lacy pink bra and panties, a ball gag in her mouth.
Her jade-green eyes shine with gleeful anticipation.
Her play partner draws back his flogger, ready to swing.
* * *
Mikayla
One Year Later…
I hum “Deck the Halls” as I do a final turn of the sugar plums. They roll around in my stand mixer’s panning attachment. I watch, riveted.
Motion from the corner of my eye pulls my attention to Jonah and Mason.
Yes, I now call Mason Clark by his first name. At least, when we’re out of the bedroom. When we’re playing? Calling him Mr. Clark gives me a sweet, sexy thrill.
“Almost done, pet?” Jonah sets down his coffee.
“Almost done.” I grin at them, my heart full to bursting with love.
It’s been a great Christmas. We spent the afternoon at Mason’s cabin with Violet and her two boyfriends—no, her fiancés. That’s right, my bestie is getting married. I’m so happy for her and the love she’s found. Brody and Heath are perfect for her.
Mason gave them his enthusiastic blessing.
A year ago, he was weirded out by his daughter having two boyfriends—especially because he knew how kinky they are.
But over the past several months, he’s really come around to the idea.
Violet moved into a house with them, and I moved into a house with Mason and Jonah.
And he can hardly complain about his friends being kinky with his daughter, when he’s being kinky with his daughter’s best friend.
Yeah, it’s a bit nontraditional as far as extended families go. But fuck tradition. This works for us, and we’re in love. And our love is more important than stuffy hang-ups.
“Can we try some sugar plums?” Jonah asks.
“Not this batch.” I pat the stand mixer before pointing to a glass candy dish on the counter. “But I have those. From yesterday, remember?”
We took a tin of them to my granny at her care home, to celebrate Christmas Eve with her.
We had the best time. Ever since I introduced her to Mason and Jonah, she’s been absolutely charmed, always going on about how she needs to find two men like them, and she’ll make sure to live an extra hundred years.
Mason and Jonah walk over to the dish. They each pop a candy in their mouths.
“Delicious.” Mason’s deep brown eyes crinkle at the corners while he sucks on the candy. “Reminds me of our sweet little girl, and her sweet little cunt.”
“Mr. Clark!” I frown at him, pretending to be scandalized. He loves it when I do that. “If I used naughty words like that, you’d spank my bottom.”
“And you’d like it.” He grins wider.
“No, I don’t like spankings.” It’s a lie. All three of us know it’s a lie.
He grabs my arm and spins me around so I slam into his chest. Then he reaches back and swats my ass. One, two, three, four.
I go soft and melty against him. Every time, a spanking from Mason will put me right into the mood.
With his eyes on mine, he whispers, “You don’t like it, huh? How come you’re rubbing up against Daddy, little girl?”
“I…okay, fine. I like it. A little.” I add a pout for emphasis.
He chuckles.
“Hmm, pet.” Jonah peers into the candy dish. “I don’t think this belongs in the sugar plums.”
Mason frowns, looking past my shoulder. “What happened, young lady? Were you distracted when you scooped the candies in?”
“What?” My hand flies up to my mouth, which has fallen open in horror. Did a hair get into the dish? “Did I mess up?”
“You tell us.” Jonah prods at the sugar plums. “I see something else in here, too.”
“What is it?” I pull out of Mason’s embrace and grab the candy dish. “What’s in there?”
I almost drop the whole thing when I see two sparkling rings nestled against the sugar plums. The jewels are a deep pink and match the candies exactly.
“What—you guys—” I don’t know what to say. Are these rings what I think they are?
Both men drop to a knee in front of me. My breath stutters in my chest. The sight of my handsome Doms on their knees nearly knocks me over.
“Mikayla.” Mason’s voice is serious, his eyes intent on mine. “I’ve loved you since I met you. Your kind spirit, your sweet nature, your sense of humor—every single part of you makes you the woman of my heart.”
I don’t think I’m breathing. This sounds—it sounds like a proposal. I’m afraid to hope, though.
“Your soul calls to mine, and it has since the beginning.” Jonah takes my hand in his and kisses it. “You make me a better person—you make both of us better people.”
Mason nods. “All we want to do is make you happy, forever.”
“Will you let us do that?” Jonah looks nervous, but hopeful. “Will you marry us, Mikayla?”
It is a proposal. I squeal in happiness. “Yes! Yes! I’ll marry you—both of you! Yes!”
They both reach into the dish and take out a ring, then place them on my finger. The two pink jewels click together to form one ring. Happy tears roll down my cheeks.
“Do you like the rings?” Jonah asks.
“Yes, and I love you.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him before doing the same to Mason.
“Forever?” Mason asks.
I cling to them both. “Forever.”
They take turns kissing me until eventually, all of our clothes come off.
But my engagement rings, and my collar, stay on.