10

Inclining his head, Max ran his teeth down the curve between Oriana’s neck and shoulder, grinning when she shivered. “True. But you wouldn’t object if it was what I needed?”

“No.” Sloan inhaled roughly. “I’m surprised—I thought you talked to me about everything, but—”

“That’s good to know, Sloan. It’s not an issue, but I appreciate your support.” Max drew away from Oriana and reached out to pat the bed, which had been stripped down and covered with a disposable, sterile sheet. “Are you ready, darlin’?”

Covering her mouth to muffle a giggle, Oriana hopped onto the bed. She schooled her features when Sloan frowned down at her.

The disgruntled look shifted to Max. “You were fucking with me, asshole?”

“Yes.” Max had to fight not to laugh as Sloan continued to stare at him. Then something occurred to him that made the situation not so funny anymore. “I done pulled you out of your headspace. Sorry about that.” He gently petted Oriana’s damp hair as she rolled to her side, facing Sloan. “Did I ruin the scene?”

Eyes dark, but expression relaxed, Sloan seemed more with them than he had before. He moved to rake his fingers through his black hair, stopping as though he’d suddenly remembered the gloves.

Then he chuckled. “No, but I will take credit for how good you’re getting at playing head games. I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Careful, Sloan.” Max casually drew his fingers down between Oriana’s breasts, deciding to tease her a little more now that he and Sloan were on the same page. “The idea of you rubbing anything on me might make me change my mind.”

Sloan held up the dagger, blade down, hands wrapped around the handle with the top one moving up and down slowly. “That so? How about this: you suck my dick and we’ll go from there.”

“I say we make a wager. I score tomorrow night, you suck my dick. I don’t, and—”

Oriana thumped her fist on the mattress. “You’re both horrible! We all know you’re never going to do anything together. Or with any other guy. Why do you have to torture me with the images of what will never be?”

Flipping the dagger in his hand, Sloan bent over Oriana, brushing the tip of the blade down her cheek. The dagger had no edge, so Sloan would have to press hard to even scratch her, but the subtle threat of metal against her flesh had the desired effect. Oriana went still, her lips parted and her eyes holding the delicious kind of fear she craved.

“Why do we torture you, pet?” Sloan’s slow smile was filled with danger. In scenes like this, he reminded Max of the onscreen killers women swooned over. Deadly and alluring all at once. Sloan was as skilled using fear as he was with every tool in his arsenal. He wielded words with the same careful edge as the lash of his whip. “Because you love it.”

A simple gesture from Sloan had Oriana rolling onto her back. He slapped her thigh and she jumped. Then bent her knees and spread her thighs. The scene was about to begin.

There would be opportunities for Max to touch Oriana, even if only to hold her still. Enough contact for Max to assure her, and himself, that it was just a twisted, erotic game. But for the most part, he would watch them in their balance of pain and pleasure, dancing along the edge. Always a sight to behold.

* * *

Oriana relaxed into the mattress, taking a moment to watch her infuriating, yet wonderful men prepare for the scene with the same harmony they’d once had on the ice. Sloan still held the dagger, but he acted almost as though he’d forgotten her as he observed Max lighting a few red candles—not for light, the room was bright enough and Sloan wouldn’t do a scene like this in the dark. They added some ambiance, but Max put one on the nightstand by the first aid kit, within Sloan’s reach, meaning blades wouldn’t be the only things on her flesh tonight.

While Max shifted his attention from the candles to the Beatbox on the dresser, putting on a playlist of haunting classical music, Sloan turned his dark gaze to Oriana. In black jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, his black hair mussed up and a slanted smile on his lips, he looked positively evil. His muscles seemed even bigger with him standing over her, and she couldn’t dismiss the knowledge that this man could hurt her badly if he chose to.

She wanted him to hurt her. And she craved the slice of fear that she experienced whenever they played like this. From the beginning, she’d thought she’d need more and more pain to reach the exquisite high she felt with every bite of the whip or thud of the paddle. Not many would consider what they did safe, but rarely were there any marks that left her more than a little sore for a few days. She loved each and every bruise. When the whip or the cane drew blood, she would admire the marks as Sloan or Max tended to them. They were beautiful reminders of scenes that satisfied her in every way.

But it ended up being fear that made an excess of pain unnecessary. During a scene, she would let herself believe that this time it might go too far. Her trust in Sloan made doing so feel safe. He’d never harm her in a way she couldn’t easily recover from. He was careful and he knew what he was doing.

Which included enough of a mindfuck to keep her guessing what he would do next. She always thought she was prepared for anything.

And she was always wrong.

In a swift motion, Sloan raked his fingers through her hair, tipping her head back as he laid the flat of the dagger against her throat. She hissed in a shocked breath and her eyes went wide. A surge of adrenaline had her shivering though she tried to stay very, very still. Heat pooled in her core even as she whimpered at the pain in her scalp.

“So pretty.” Sloan tugged harder at her hair and bent down to lay a gentle kiss on her lips. “I shouldn’t want to hurt you as much as I do. I should let you go, shouldn’t I?”

She wanted to shake her head, but moving with a blade at her throat and his firm grip on her hair was impossible. So she wet her lips and whispered, “Yes.”

A movement behind Sloan caught her attention. Max had shifted closer, and for a second, she was afraid he might have changed his mind about the scene. He’d been in the lifestyle long enough to understand using safewords to stop play rather than “No” or “Don’t” or any other words that might be spoken to spice things up. He trusted Sloan as much as she did, but…there had been times in the past when he’d needed more reassurance that she was really all right.

His lips quirked and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. And she let out a sigh of relief. This wasn’t one of those times. If she’d read him right, he was enjoying the show.

“Were you expecting him to help you? Let me tell you something about him.” Sloan bent down to whisper in her ear. “He’ll take whatever’s left of you. He’s a very patient man.”

“Please…” Oriana wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, but she needed more. Sensing Max so close, feeling Sloan’s restraint as he slowly laid the groundwork for their erotic role-play, made her want to struggle to push it to the next level. But she wouldn’t risk any sudden movements with the blade at her throat. Not even when she knew the blade was dull.

Sloan cocked his head, pulling the dagger away and releasing her hair. “Please? Do you think I’ll let you go if you beg?”

Holding her breath and giving no warning, Oriana lurched to the other side of the bed. She screamed as Sloan dragged her back by her hair while Max latched on to her ankles. Her eyes teared, but she almost laughed with nervous excitement as they pinned her down.

Dropping the dagger as she swung at him, Sloan caught her wrists in one hand and pulled them up over her head. “Silly girl. Now I’m going to have to hurt you.”

Yes! Oriana twisted as Sloan pulled out the cuffs permanently attached to the bed frame, but Max moved up the bed, straddling her and pressing his hands to her shoulders to hold her down. She tried to bite him and he lightly slapped her cheek.

Not hard enough to even sting, but it shocked her. He didn’t usually participate in the edgier aspects of their games, and slapping her face was something even Sloan rarely did. Caught off guard, she stared at him as Sloan secured her wrists with the cuffs. It took a moment to sort out her thoughts, but when she did, she realized she loved that he’d gotten into his role enough to do something unexpected. She wet her lips, hoping he’d take that as a sign that she was fine with what he’d done.

But, as he’d say, bless his heart. He’d caught himself off guard too, and his brow furrowed with concern. “I—”

“Just made her very happy. Don’t spoil it, buddy.” Sloan patted Max’s shoulder as he studied Oriana’s face, inclining his head when she gave him a quick, reassuring smile. “This slut is probably dripping wet. Are you wet, girl?”

She shook her head, heat spreading over her cheeks as she felt the sheet under her ass grow damp with her arousal. Sloan didn’t miss a beat. He put his hand on her throat and smirked. “Why don’t you check, Max?”

As Sloan’s grip on her throat tightened, her thighs were spread even farther apart. Max thrust two fingers into her, letting out a soft groan as he lowered his head to flick her clit with his tongue.

Her hips bucked and she gasped. “Oh God!”

Sloan chuckled, running his hand down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach, then back up so he could squeeze her breast. “He’s not gonna save you either, little girl. The only thing that will save you is if you make me happy. And I’m not easy to please.”

The candles on the nightstand flickered as Sloan reached out, taking one and tilting it to let a few drops fall on the back of his own hand. He shifted to hold it over her chest, upending it to drizzle the hot wax across her breasts, using a circular motion to draw wax spirals from the base of one breast all the way to her nipple.