Acres, Natalie - Sex Junkie [Cowboy Addiction 1](Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6

  Grant Fowler didn’t issue love pats. When his sub needed chastisement, he literally tanned her hide.

  Morgan bucked against each and every strike, savoring the reconnection, the memory in the making as Grant’s hand fell against her ass. If he meant to lay down the law, his palm reminded her she wasn’t above reproach. She was flawed, imperfect.

  It was then when she found complete acceptance. She still needed a Dom’s guidance, training, and supervision. She would be fortunate enough to have two Doms invested in her instead of one.

  Morgan became submissive to their expectations in that moment. Grant and Blake expected her to behave like the woman she once was, and she couldn’t wait to submit to them again.

  Chapter Six

  Blake watched her shower. After she’d been so defiant, they didn’t trust her. What if she tried to leave? After seeing the way Morgan’s delusions affected her, Blake realized he and Grant were up against a power stronger than the two of them put together.

  “Will you join me?” she called out, opening the foggy shower door in an attempt to seduce him.

  Her small breasts were full. Water cascaded over her pretty, ripe nipples, and he growled when she used her forefinger to motion him inside.

  In the past, just catching a glimpse of her body would’ve been his undoing. Now, it would take a little more, not because he wasn’t attracted to her, but because he was more concerned about her well-being.

  “I can’t reach my back,” she complained.

  He walked over to the shower. “Turn around,” he rasped, reaching for the soap but refusing to strip and join her.

  She bit down on her forefinger and gave her bottom a good shake as she followed his request. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in here with me?”

  He eyed her red behind. Grant’s palm was clearly imprinted on her left cheek. “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

  “Your loss.”

  “I imagine it is,” he said, taking the washcloth she offered him. He rubbed the soap back and forth over the cloth. Then, he caressed her back, washing her from left to right. She was so thin now. Once a curvaceous beauty queen, Morgan’s weight loss was staggering.

  His fingers traced the lines and curves of her body. Once soft and pampered, her skin possessed dry and rough splotches, definite signs of her prolonged drug use.

  “Hmm, that feels so nice,” she said, tilting her head to the side and flashing a wide smile.

  Blake released a sigh of relief. Morgan was one of the lucky ones. She still had every tooth in her head and remarkably, they weren’t cracked, chipped, or damaged, something typically found in meth users.

  “Do you still enjoy touching me?”

  “Of course,” he whispered, watching his hand glide over her frail body.

  He wanted to ask her what had driven her original experimentation. Why had she chosen to do drugs? Was she torn between two lovers? Had he and Grant added too much stress to her life? Was she unable to cope with the added pressure of loving two men? If so, how could she handle loving them both now?

  As he stared down at her thin hips and skeletal form, his mind revisited better days. A long time ago, he’d promised to love her. He’d given her his word. He’d always be there for her.

  Even though they’d never exchanged vows, after he loved and lost her, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. One day he planned to ask for Morgan’s hand in marriage. He had planned to make Morgan Keesling his wife.

  She faced him all of a sudden and his eyes fell to her sunken belly. “You’re so skinny, Morgan.” He framed her face and kissed her lightly upon the lips. “So fragile.”

  “I won’t break,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her hard nipples pressed through his shirt and she enticed him, grinding against him.

  He moistened his lips then. Regardless of her size, she was still the sexiest woman alive.

  Blake had always liked her wet look. When she wore her hair long, the damp strands clung to her breasts and there was an incredibly sensual look about her. Now, her short hair gave her a slick, sophisticated appearance. She resembled a runway model, one with very little meat on her bones, but she appeared as graceful and elegant as those who strutted down the catwalk.

  “I love you,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “I’ve never loved anyone else. I never even thought I was close to falling in love with someone else. You’ve held my heart since I gave it to you all those years ago.”

  “I know,” she said softly, looking away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t worthy of your love.”

  “Morgan, we all make mistakes.”

  “I didn’t just trip or stumble along the way, Blake. I took a tumble into a world I may never be able to leave. What I’ve done, what I’ve seen will stay with me for the rest of my life,” she said, ducking her head under the shower nozzle.

  Blake considered the way she made the admission. She stated the obvious in a matter-of-fact tone as if she put everything out there on the table and said, “Mull this over and get back to me,” but her eyes told a different story. She had regrets. She understood what she’d lost, and what she certainly stood to gain if she’d change.

  Apparently, she wasn’t as confident as she’d been earlier in the day. Blake could tell Morgan wasn’t sure how long she would stay drug-free.

  “And you think others haven’t made mistakes?” He tilted her chin toward his when she stepped away from the water again. “Morgan, there’s nothing we can’t overcome together. You have a strong support system. You will beat this addiction. I believe that. You need to have faith in yourself.”

  “I don’t know, Blake. Things are so screwed up now.”

  “How?” As if he didn’t know. Hell, he could make a list.

  “Like us, for instance. Things are different between us now.”

  He would agree with that. In fact, he’d be the first to admit, if he could turn back time, he’d lock his fingers around the minute hand and refuse to acknowledge the stroke of a new hour, the dawn of another day.

  “So people change. Who’s to say our relationship won’t be stronger?”

  “Or more satisfying?”

  “I’m not talking about sex.”

  “I am,” she assured him, her fingers raking across her nipples as she playfully inched toward him.

  He was painstakingly aware of Morgan’s fidgeting and the way she’d avoided acknowledging her own feelings for him, if she still possessed them. “Why won’t you tell me you love me, too? I know you do. I see it in your eyes.”

  “Blake, I don’t know what you expect from me. It’s as if you walked into the house today and expected to pick up exactly where you and I left off.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “No. To my knowledge I’ve never had a threesome.”

  “I know that.” A beat later he said, “There you go changing the subject again. Morgan, you can say it’s too early or you can pretend the old love doesn’t exist anymore. You can play this any way you want, but I know you haven’t forgotten the way you loved me. You haven’t forgotten the love you shared with Grant. If you can’t tell me how you feel, at some point, talk to Grant. Let him know what’s going on in your head. Tell him what’s on your heart.”

  He considered that possibility then. What if Morgan loved Grant but didn’t have enough room in her heart to love them both? As quickly as the thought entered his mind, the notion vanished. Morgan would remember the love they’d shared. He had to believe that otherwise his effort to save her would prove more challenging.

  She shrugged, brushing him off with that flip attitude of hers.

  “You’re afraid. You think one or both of us will walk away.”

  “No,” she replied.

  “Are you scared of loving us again?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll use you and then I’ll leave you.”

  He studied her face. She was as serious then as s
he’d ever been. Her brutal honesty shocked him. She certainly knew herself better than he understood her. In fact, what did he really know about Morgan at all now?

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to say something and I hope you’ll listen to me. Right at the moment, I love crystal more than I’ll ever love you or Grant. I know you don’t understand. I wish you could.” A second or two later, she said, “Scratch that. I hope you never know the hell I’ve had to endure because of meth.”

  “What happened to the woman who was clean and never going back?”

  She shrugged. “My opinion changes as my needs and cravings vary. Meth addicts stay in emotional turmoil.”

  “I’m glad you realize this,” Grant said, walking in the bathroom. “Maybe now you’ll understand why you aren’t permitted to mention meth or any of its street names.”

  He snatched her away from Blake’s arms, pulling her completely free of the shower stall. Then, he hoisted her over his shoulder and flayed her as he walked toward the bed. Once there, he dumped her on the mattress and with a guttural tone, he said, “We have a few rules. It’s time you heard about them.”

  * * * *

  Grant was officially on her nerves. He had it in him to be a general pain in the ass, but this was too much. He wasn’t just a pain. He was an ass.

  When he finished explaining what he called severe offenses and moved on to the various forms and stages of punishment, he said, “Now, because you mentioned crystal in the shower, what kind of punishment will you receive?”

  “You’re giving me a whirl around the Catherine Wheel.”

  “Yes,” Grant deadpanned.

  “If I were you, I’d prepare for more than a spin or two,” Blake quickly informed her.

  Apparently her upcoming trip around the world wasn’t open for discussion. She’d never particularly liked the Catherine Wheel. Her brothers, who were active in the lifestyle, happened to have one in their basement. In fact, much to her dismay, unless things had changed, there was an entire dungeon down there.

  “I hate dark, damp spaces.”

  “I happen to love them,” Grant said, his response loaded.

  Morgan should’ve realized her opinion on the subject wouldn’t matter. If Blake and Grant had decided to take her there, she wouldn’t be able to change their minds.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what, sub?” Grant asked, picking up his favorite way to address her. When they were together before, he almost always called her his sub-muffin or sub. She preferred sub-muffin. The term possessed pet-name appeal.

  “I don’t want to take a ride on the Catherine Wheel.”

  “Too bad,” Grant told her. “Maybe after you take a few spins, you’ll remember why it’s not in your best interest to mention meth again in our presence.”

  * * * *

  She hated the wheel. Grant and Blake loved it. After they thoroughly dried her body, Grant secured her hands behind her back with gold-plated handcuffs. Then, he and Blake escorted her downstairs to the dungeon, affectionately called out as such by her brothers who’d designed the area for their own submissive’s training program.

  Once completely against Morgan being trained as a submissive, her brothers probably wouldn’t be too happy to discover Blake and Grant using their equipment to train, punish, and pleasure their little sister. Oh no, Kit would hit the fan.

  Morgan stared at the various contraptions. “They’ve added a lot since I’ve been down here.” After thoughtful consideration, she quickly said, “No wonder Kit and Kemper can’t keep a woman. One trip to this room and she’s probably convinced they’re serial killers or something.”

  “I happen to like what they’ve done with the place,” Grant said, pointing toward some floor model machine with a dildo attached at both ends.

  “Naturally, you would,” she said, rubbernecking in order to get a good look at what appeared to be a piece of revamped abs-exercise equipment.

  “Careful, sub,” Blake warned.

  Her gaze returned to the dildo-toting machinery. She didn’t have to wonder what kind of delicious punishment a woman faced slipping and sliding on that particular piece of equipment.

  “If a trained submissive knows what to expect, then this place isn’t that frightening,” she explained. “But look at it from a woman’s point of view, particularly one who doesn’t know anything about Domination and submission. If trust hasn’t been established, why would she want to be down here? I wouldn’t.”

  “She’s right,” Blake agreed. “Kit and Kemper always go for the women who don’t have a clue about the lifestyle. Can you imagine the expressions on some of their faces after they enter Kit and Kemper’s world for the first time?”

  “I doubt they take the time to establish trust before they bring their women down here. They run gals through this place quicker than we can release cattle through the livestock loading chute,” Grant said.

  “Nice,” Morgan muttered, thinking her brothers had probably changed considerably since she last saw them. Still, she couldn’t imagine Kemper being this hardened Dom. Kit? Sure. But not Kemper.

  Two lightbulbs swung from the ceiling, providing very little light and giving the place a real eerie feel. Morgan looked up and said, “I bet they blindfold them when they lead them down here.” She shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to think about anything else that might go on here.”

  Blake snickered. “Your brothers once said the same thing about you.”

  “It’ll be worse now,” Grant pointed out. “They may never come down here to play again.”

  “I would prefer it if you don’t discuss my training with them.”

  Blake stalked her then. He cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. “Morgan, what happens between you, me, and Grant remains between the three of us. It’s no one’s business what we do.” A beat later, he grinned and said, “Besides, a man would have to be crazy to tell another Dom, his little sister was punished by means of the Catherine Wheel.”

  Grant chuckled. “I’ll say.”

  Morgan smiled up at him and then shrugged away. She took a stroll around the room, spotting an odd-shaped and quite intimidating toy stuffed in yet another nook and cranny. The place was completely sterile, with various cleaning solutions and wipes placed next to each piece of equipment. Minus the erotic playthings and dim lighting, one might think the area was better suited for a state-of-the-art medical facility.

  Next to the Catherine Wheel, a violet wand was plugged into the wall. The device was often a Dom’s favorite electrical play device. “Over there,” Grant said, pointing to a solid black bench, similar to a workout platform.

  “I don’t want to, Sir,” she whined, issuing Grant the respect he deserved but defying him all the same.

  Blake shook his head. “Either you want more punishment than you can handle, or those drugs did some permanent damage to your head.” A beat later, Blake cleared his throat and roughly bit out, “Lie down on the bench. Face down.”

  Morgan pursed her lips. Here we go, she thought. It’s now, later, or never. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the preferred option of later.

  * * * *

  Her eyes were wide, wild, and untamed. Grant would’ve traded a steer or two to have captured that priceless look on camera. She must’ve been as shocked as Grant was to hear Blake take such an authoritative position. Blake had it in him to be a controlling Dom, but Grant always knew Blake as a kind and gentle man where Morgan was concerned.

  Then again, they’d never placed Morgan in this kind of situation before.

  “I’ll need help. My hands are behind my back.”

  “No you won’t,” Grant said. “Straddle the bench. Then, let your body fall forward.”

  “First, I want her to straddle the bench and hold the position,” Blake said, walking toward a small refrigerator barely visible in the dimly lit room.

  Grant couldn’t help but smile as he watched Blake take a bowl of ginger from the freezer compartment. When he
returned to the bench, he reached above the unit and retrieved a transparent glove, working the plastic piece over his hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Surgery,” he said without cracking a smile.

  When she looked alarmed, he retracted the statement. “I’m kidding. We’re using something new today. Have you ever played with gingerroot?”

  “No,” she replied.

  “I think you’ll love it,” he said, rubbing a sliver of ginger over her nipples. Her small buds hardened as soon as he applied considerable pressure. “There you go. That’s sweet, submissive. I think you’ll enjoy this.”

  He replaced the small gingerroot and fumbled around for a much larger one, a thick finger-cut shaped much like a penis. “Grind against the bench.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t see what’s so special about this ginger. It was cold, but outside of that, it’s not anything spectacular.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t do anything for you,” Grant said, thinking the element of surprise would be worthy of framing. Morgan wouldn’t know what hit her once the gradual onset of the burning sensation began. As sexual as Morgan had the ability to be, she’d beg them to fuck her by the time Blake finished with her.

  “I asked you to hump that bench,” Blake told her.

  Grant stepped to the side of the furniture so he could watch her. She pursed her lips and her eyes watered. “I’m not happy about this.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t be.”

  “I haven’t even kissed either one of you outside of a peck, and here I am dry humping a damn board so you can watch and get your jollies.”

  “Respect, Morgan. Remember who you’re talking to here,” Grant said.

  “You’ll enjoy it,” Blake assured her, thrusting his hand forward. The ginger finger tapped against her clit as she pretended to fuck the seat underneath her. He wiggled the wedge between her legs and left the root there for a few minutes.