18. Mate Bonds And Big Wands

Isobel paced backand forth from the lockers in Kalen’s dressing room to the small kitchenette and back again. It was a strange dressing room, now that she thought about it. There was also no remnant of Kalen in there, other than the book on his armchair. She was sure none of the furniture had been chosen by him. It was a stark contrast to the performance room, which he seemed to have curated entirely, from the lighting to the wooden suspension structure, and the collection of props.

His dressing room seemed like a much more transitory space, less personal.

She glanced at her phone—still nothing—before tossing it onto the small benchtop beside the kitchenette sink.

Kalen was tense, checking the time. “We need to go in—” He cut himself off, still staring at his phone. “They messaged.”

She almost tripped over herself diving for her phone, and her heart was pounding as she clicked into the group message.

Elijah: All clear. I’ll be sponsoring Moses and Cian. Gabe has Kilian, Theo, and Niko. They didn’t even try to keep Theo and Moses together.

“Thank fuck for that,” Kalen groaned, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Time to go in, Sigma.”

He strode toward her, stopping a few inches away, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, despite the three-piece designer suit he wore. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he belonged in the club with the rest of the billionaires. But Kalen only had four suits. He cycled through three of them during the week, saving the last one for his appearances at the Stone Dahlia. He was wearing that one on Monday night, and he was wearing it again now.

His jacket, vest, and pants were the same deep, rich burgundy colour, with a matching burgundy silk pocket square. The ensemble contrasted with his crisp white shirt and vintage-patterned tie, fitting him so perfectly it must have been tailored. He was wearing the same black leather oxfords he usually wore, but they were impeccably kept, polished to a sheen. The suit was slim fitting, the lapels a narrow, severe cut, the fabric stretching deliciously over his big frame.

It had been four days since he had last touched her, and he eyed her like he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to start again. Finally, he lifted a finger to trace the edge of her fluttery silk sleeve.

“What’s under this?” he asked.

“A playsuit.”

He arched a brow. “Show me.”

She reached for the zipper at her spine, tugging it down and letting the dress fall to her heels—black, like the dress. Her playsuit was a plain grey, ribbed cotton, but it wasn’t thick. It was designed to be worn by fitness models on social media—not to be truly lived in.

“I thought the cotton would feel nice with the ropes,” she said as he shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels, yellow-gold eyes dropping to her thighs.

“Nothing to do with the bruises Niko gave you?”

She flushed, smoothing her hands down over her hips. The playsuit did cover much more than her satin bodysuit had. The shorts were very short, only just covering her ass, and the sleeves were only thin straps. Still … Kalen was right. She had been trying to find something that covered some of the fading marks Niko had left on her body.

“Shoes off,” Kalen ordered before she could answer—or question how he even knew about the bruises in the first place.

She quickly bent to dispose of the heels, and he held out his hand for her. “Anything you’d like to do differently?”

“Can you stay in my head?” she asked hesitantly. “It helps to relax me.”

He rumbled out a sound that seemed like an affirmative as she placed her hand in his. His palm was rough and hot, his grip engulfing her pale fingers.

“Anything else?” he asked, not yet moving to the door.

“What’s your favourite thing to do?” she asked.

His sharp grin appeared again, brief and vicious. “Nothing I can do in there.”

“Then …” She felt her breath shudder, her gaze falling to his hand. “I just want to float again. I don’t want to think about anyone else or anything else for a while.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “My rules are the same, but especially tonight. I want your attention on me at all times.”

He led the way into the performance room, bringing her to the centre of the small, raised platform. She could have sworn she heard a few hushed whispers like the crowd was excited for something. She didn’t dare look, but she could feel more eyes on her than the last time. She even felt like she could hear their breathing.

Kalen moved to his prop area, selecting a song and filling the room with music, which had a subtle, relieved breath slipping from her lips. It wasn’t a soft instrumental track this time, but something a little more modern, with a subtly seductive tone and a slightly eerie melody.

The low, drawled voice of the singer managed to electrify the air in the room, creating a space full of tension. Kalen returned with the small table slung under one arm, several different colours and lengths of rope and some sort of material hooked over his other arm. He set the table where he wanted it, laying the rope down before flicking the material over the top of the table. It looked thin and rubbery, with some sort of silky coating.

He picked her up beneath the arms and sat her on the edge of the table, the material absorbing her weight slightly, making the table far more comfortable than it would have been otherwise.

He lifted her again, readjusting her to sit further back on the table, and then he picked up one of her legs, notching it against the edge of the table, his fingers a rough scrape against her sensitised skin. She felt like her nerves were on fire, and it was making her jumpy. She jolted when his touch drifted down the arch of her foot, and the shadow of a smile briefly crossed his face. He picked up a black rope and a pale lilac rope, forming a cuff around her ankle before laddering the rope up her shin half a handspan at a time, bridging each span with a pretty twist along her calf. When he reached her knee, he left the ropes hanging and switched to her other leg, repeating the same pattern, both of her legs now notched up against the edge of the table.

It was almost hypnotic to watch him work, the patterns furling over her skin in a way that would please even Gabriel’s pedantic brain. When her legs were patterned, he grabbed her beneath her knees and dragged her to the edge of the table again, and then he gripped her hips and lifted her.

Knees, he spoke inside her head, making her jolt again.

She tucked her legs beneath her, kneeling, but he didn’t guide her hips back down, so she remained kneeling upright, grateful for the mat covering the table. He picked up another pair of black and pale lilac ropes, twisting them around her spine and sawing them gently down her back until they rested just over her ass, and then he began to create some sort of harness for her hips.

He walked behind her, cinching the ropes into the crease of her ass as it met her thigh before tying a knot and feeding the ropes back through her legs. He returned to her front, pulling the ropes up and crossing them over her pelvis before looping his arms around her and leaning forward to look over her shoulder as he tied the ropes off behind her. The knot he had created between her legs was positioned perfectly, so that when he tugged, it brushed up against her core, making her body shiver.

He pulled in a deep, rough breath, as though he could smell how damp she was getting from the rubbing of that knot. He eased back, his hands brushing down over her hips, down to the taut, cotton-covered flesh of her ass, each cheek now circled perfectly by rope, some sort of pattern created at the lowest point of her spine. He didn’t exactly grip her, but his hands were so big, it had a similar effect.

She felt the tension in her body ratchet up a notch, desperation for him to grip and squeeze making her frustrated. He began to slip into her mind, dismantling her wall while she was distracted by the placement of his hands. He didn’t twist her hair out of the way, this time, but shifted and gathered it from one shoulder to the other as he worked, always dragging his fingertips across her scalp.

As he bound her chest and slowly brought her under his spell, he settled himself fully inside her mind. She knew he was there, but she was too preoccupied to push him out or attempt to salvage her mental barriers, which she might have done, even though she had specifically asked him to be there. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. She could feel his need to be there, despite how he had managed to separate his emotions from her, creating a one-way link.

He wanted to know how comfortable she was.

Where the ropes were too tight.

Where they rubbed and where they slackened.

He routinely shifted the rope between her legs, brushing against the growing damp spot, making it seem casual or accidental, though he observed her inner emotions just as carefully as her outer reactions. He liked when she shivered, because he quickly figured out how to make her do that, and then he did it often.

He brushed her nipples with innocuous touches, using every pass or twist of the rope across her chest to scrape her flesh until the little buds were standing on end and poking through the cotton of her playsuit, and a permanent tremble had taken up residence in her limbs. His eyes were a dark, smoky gold when he surveyed his completed chest harness, a flash of something else peeking out in his expression, disappearing before she could make sense of it.

Pain?

He was staring at her nipples, his thumbs brushing along the undersides of her breasts as he gripped her ribcage. He looped his fingers into the harness, using it to pull her forward, forcing her to knee-walk toward him with small movements, until she was at the edge of the table again. He pulled her arms out before her and looped rope into the side of her chest harness to crisscross in a wide, diamond pattern down to her elbows, where it became a thick and intricate bind, sticking her arms together and tying off at the wrist. The ends left a long lead that he looped into a black carabiner hanging above them, creating a pulley system with his ropes. He slowly put pressure on the loose end of the rope, drawing her bound arms up above her head before fixing them there.

The carabiner was attached to a wooden post above them, allowing him to reach up to the rope that secured it to the post and yank it further along, away from him. This immediately pulled the top half of Isobel’s body backward, but before she could attempt to adjust to the new position, he had grabbed her hips and spun her around. He pushed her knees wide, and it took every ounce of her core strength to not wobble or swing to the side as he stepped away. She could hear the crowd gasping, even over the music, like they were doing something impressive.

Maybe they were. She had no idea.

Kalen stayed out of her sight, but she could feel the pull of the rope he had tied off beneath her left knee. His hands brushed down her calf, the rope weaving in and out of the pattern he had created earlier before he wrapped her foot in his grip and bent her leg back until her heel was below her ass, threatening to upset her balance further. He secured her leg in that position, attaching the rope to her hip harness before repeating the process with her other leg.

Suddenly, she was only balancing on the points of her knees, her body arched forward, her arms suspended above her. He ran his hand down the centre of her spine, weaving ropes into the back of her chest and hip harness. He didn’t warn her before he lifted her, and the sudden pressure around her body as it slowly raised into the air was disorientating. He didn’t raise her far, but far enough to slip the table out from beneath her. The seconds he left her on the stage alone while he returned the table to his prop area were starkly terrifying compared to the immense relief she felt when he returned and gently swung her side to side. He adjusted the height of her suspension and shifted some of his ropes, his touches soothing and explorative.

She wasn’t sure when she drifted into that floating space that had her head lolling to the side and her every remaining thought narrowed to the subtle pressure of Kalen’s fingers, but just like the last time, she was jolted out of it by applause.

Kalen had finished with her. She had no idea how long it had taken.

He untied one of her legs, helping her to set her foot on the ground. She balanced there on tiptoes until he released her hips, and then the other leg, and then her chest, and her arms. She was barely aware of how she stood or whether he had held her up the entire time, but then she was in his arms, and he was carrying her back to the dressing room. He took her to the sofa, sitting her in his lap as another door opened.

Mates, she thought sleepily, their scents creating a heady perfume as she sagged against Kalen’s chest, her head falling into his neck. For some reason, they didn’t speak, but she could feel them all draw closer, settling around the room.

Kalen had left most of the ropes still attached to her, except the arm wraps, and he went to work on removing them quietly, starting with her chest harness. He brushed her nipples again, absently this time, almost like he had done it by habit. She shivered, a husky sound catching in her throat, and he continued like he didn’t notice, though his unravelling lost its soothing motion, growing a shaky, jerky edge.

The energy between them seemed to change as soon as they passed back into the private room. It was less restrained, heavier and hotter—but still a controlled burn. She wondered what it would feel like if he tied her up in the same position in private, without the crowd of strangers. She didn’t realise it earlier, but picturing it now, he could have easily stepped between her bent and bound and parted legs. She had spotted a large pair of scissors in his prop area—likely for safety, if someone needed to be freed quickly from their restraints—but those scissors also could have fit into the seam of her playsuit …

A growl built up in his chest and inside her mind.

I’m still here, Carter, he chastised through the bond.

It was hard to remember that Kalen was out of bounds when he had just spent so long stamping ownership all over her body with the twist of his rope and the possessive grip of his hands, and the floaty feeling in her head wasn’t helping.

She snuggled in deeper against his chest as he managed to rip off the rope tangled about her hips without hurting her or upsetting her position. He unwound the ties from her legs and then immediately started massaging them.

“She okay?” Moses asked quietly.

“Her legs itch after,” Kalen grunted. “She’s fine. Isobel, stop it.”

She stilled at the command in his tone, wondering what she had done wrong. She had been brushing her nose against his throat, hadn’t she? Had she licked him? She couldn’t remember.

“You’re so mean.” She pouted against his skin.

“I know,” he soothed, brushing his hands up and down her spine gently.

She melted further into him, closing her eyes as her body grew heavy. Whatever this feeling was, she wanted it to last forever. It was like she had just danced for hours on end, her body spent, her skin tight with fatigue, but her mind was floating, softly coming back to reality one deep, vanilla-filled breath at a time.

Her reality wasn’t a living nightmare; it was happier than she could have hoped it would be and many people had it much worse, but it was still nice to forget for an hour or two. To release all the worries and expectations and pressures of her life at Ironside. She never really just stopped and enjoyed herself, so she was grateful Kalen was giving her the experience.

Thank you, she said, through the bond. It’s really special, what you do. She could easily understand why all these rich and important people wanted to come and watch his show. He made something incredibly complex and difficult look as easy as breathing. As soon as he led her onto that stage, she was exposed and vulnerable, like a stripped-bare doll, and then he slowly covered her, slowly raised her, slowly sculpted her into a beautiful bird in flight without ever truly covering her up. It was a process of exposing and shielding, of stark exploitation and careful protection.

It was a stunning metaphor for Kalen’s presence in the club. They had tried to misuse and abuse him, dragging him in as an Alpha commodity that they knew people would want to see in a sexual light—because he was a beautiful man. He had taken their use of him and flipped it onto its head, making his entire act about control, about power. He gave it all back to himself and offered to make the humans in his crowd powerless in return.

Except now … she had replaced his usual targets.

She could tell from the occasional murmurings and rustlings of the audience that the way he touched her was not his normal way. He was adjusting his method so that she could make this cage her own, just as he had.

He was flooding her senses and sending her flying, giving her freedom when every true freedom had been signed away the minute she walked through the door.

“We’ve gotta get back out there,” Kilian said, and she could feel him moving closer. “Do you mind?”

She was lifted into Kilian’s arms. She wrapped herself around him as his hands held her up by her thighs.

You looked so soft, he whispered into her mind.

There was a hand against her back before she could formulate a response, her legs falling as she was passed to Oscar. He lifted her onto what felt like the cool tile of the kitchenette bench, his hands on her cheeks, pulling her face from his neck. He kissed her lips with an aching gentleness, treating her so tenderly that the action didn’t break apart her lazy, satiated haze. She could feel shock pitter-pattering through her bond, little droplets that rained down as Oscar pulled back.

“I’ve gotta get to my fight,” he said, squeezing her thighs before striding to the door.

He seemed distracted, like he was tunnelling all of his usual violence and aggression into the fight that lay ahead of him.

She felt sorry for whoever he was about to face.

Gabriel took his place before she could watch Oscar walk out of the door.

“You were perfect,” he said, pressing close, his hands sliding up her thighs to her hips. That was when she realised something was off.

“Everything okay?” she asked, catching his russet eyes.

“Just a little rattled.” Gabriel stared at her mouth like he wanted to kiss her as well, his brow furrowed. “It’s not comfortable to have fifty strangers staring at your mate half-naked and obviously turned on.” He gave her a tight grin and stepped back, his hands flexing.

Elijah took his place without speaking. He simply rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, his hands pushing up her thighs, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her playsuit. He pushed his hands in further, stretching the cotton, until he could grip her bare ass. He dragged her to the edge of the countertop, eyes hard and narrow as they dropped over her face. “I never get tired of seeing all the beautiful ways you can arrange your body,” he said, fingers flexing. “But forgive me if I can’t watch that again. Not with a crowd.”

“O-okay,” she managed.

He squeezed her, roughly enough to draw a squeak from her throat before he ducked to kiss the side of her mouth. “Well done, today.”

He forced his hands out of her playsuit and stalked for the door, much like Oscar had. “Cian, Moses—we need to get back out there.”

Moses stopped by Isobel, pinching her chin, and tugging her mouth to his. She was shocked enough to part her lips, and another spattering of astonishment flowed through her bond, stronger this time. Moses’ kiss was gentle, as it had been before summer break when he kissed her against Theodore’s door. It was a slow, sensual coaxing, enough to leave her breath catching. He pulled back, his hand trailing from her jaw to her neck, brushing against her chest as he stepped away, not a word passed between them as he caught up with Elijah.

Cian was tugging her into his arms before she had recovered, inhaling deeply against the exposed skin at the base of her neck, jostling her body to pull her up higher.

“See you soon,” he gravelled out against her ear, before sliding her back down again.

She tossed out a hand to steady herself against the bench, her bond wriggling around in joy. Kilian and Gabriel had gathered by the door, glancing back at Theodore and Niko. She didn’t need to look at the two Alphas to know that they were torn. She could feel Theodore’s jealousy pushing up against her chest … and Niko’s rage. She moved to Theodore at the same time as he stepped toward her, jumping up as he bent to hug her. He chuckled lightly, a breath of relief swelling his chest against hers, his hand tunnelling into her hair and gripping the back of her head to pull it back. He held her like that as his lips crashed to hers, the kiss brief but firm. It felt like a stamp against her mouth.

He set her down, and she faced Niko, unsure what to do. She didn’t want to scare him again, but it wasn’t just the Alphas who needed the reassurance, anymore. Something inside her was propelling her to check in with each of her mates, to re-establish their connection and soothe the rough, agitated threads tethering them together.

Niko loosened a rough breath. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

It reminded her of his words under the tree a week ago, before they bonded for the first time.

Could you ever want more from me?

She needed this man to stop squeezing her heart so tightly; it was already bleeding so much for him.

She quickly slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. A ripple of something chased over his body as soon as she made contact, and she worried that she had moved too fast for him, but his arms banded tightly around her, not allowing her to pull away.

His scent was a keen reminder of the last time they had been alone together, and he seemed to be thinking about the same thing, because she could feel the swell of him growing against her stomach. He ripped himself away, showing his hands like he had to prove he hadn’t hurt her or something, before he spun to join Theodore, Kilian, and Gabriel by the door. Gabriel slapped him on the back, muttering something as they left the room.

Leaving her alone with Kalen and Mikel.

“Well,” Mikel said, leaning up against one of the lockers with his muscled arms crossed. “Things have certainly developed.”

She glanced between them, trying to figure out how they were feeling, since their faces were closed off and their emotions were hidden.

“Is … did I do something wrong?” she asked nervously.

Kalen shifted his posture, crossing one ankle over his knee, his arms stretching out across the back of the couch, one of his brows quirking at her. He seemed … amused?

Mikel looked at him, and his brow arched higher, answering some sort of unspoken question that passed between them.

“I think it’s safe to say a few lines have been crossed.” Mikel returned his attention to her. “Sex is no longer a matter of morality, but more a matter of when. You’re attracted to us, and we’re attracted to you and the bond demands we claim you thoroughly whenever you look at us like you want to be claimed because you’re our fucking mate.” He sucked in a breath, calming himself as Isobel came to the too-slow realisation that he was talking about them—as in, himself and Kalen, instead of the other Alphas. “So one day, one of us or both of us are going to break, and you are going to be taken so thoroughly, you won’t even remember a time your insides weren’t coated in our claim. This is a warning, Isobel. Nod for me.”

She jerked her chin down in a shaky nod.

“Is that something you want, pet?”

“Am I allowed to want that?” She cut a quick glance to Kalen, who was staring at her impassively.

“You’re allowed to want anything the fuck you like,” Mikel said. “It’s your body, Sigma. Your heart. Who you share it with is your concern.”

“Within the group,” Kalen amended. “For safety reasons.”

“To prevent murder,” Mikel further specified.

“Then … yes.” She swallowed. “N-not sex. Not right now,” she quickly tacked on, her insides clenching hungrily at the thought. “But … in general.”

Mikel smiled at her, the lopsided one that made her breath catch. “Good,” he said. “We were planning to stay well out of this space with you, but then the bond was damaged, and then the bond was completed, and now everything has changed. But if at any point you don’t want this, things will go back to how they were before, completely without repercussion, okay? The bond might be pushing us together, but we don’t fuck with unwilling. Not now, not ever.” He paused, eyeing her, his smile slipping away, replaced by a stern expression. “Unwilling is saying red. Everything else is willing, even if you’re screaming and crying. Just to specify.”

She chewed on her lip, nerves flipping over in her stomach. “I understand.”

“Good. That’ll make this next part a little easier. Go stand in front of Kalen.”

Kalen was still reclining lazily, his hard eyes surveying the two of them. She was already shaking again as she walked over to him, stopping between his spread thighs. They were both too unpredictable, and she was aware that her “no sex” comment still left plenty of room for other things. Like little metal balls, and whatever other insane ideas occurred to Mikel.

She could feel the heat of Mikel’s body behind her, but she still jumped when his hands settled on her waist, dragging up over the sides of her breasts and then to her shoulders, his thumbs hooking into the straps of her playsuit.

“Not like that,” Kalen muttered. “Use my rope scissors; they’re in the other room.”

Mikel eased back, the sound of a door opening and closing an eerie echo in the remaining silence. Kalen tipped forward, his gold eyes locked onto her, his hands creeping behind her knees.

“Did you think you would get away with teasing me, princess?”

His rumble vibrated all the way through her body as she realised exactly what he was saying, and when Mikel reappeared, the word yellow almost burst from her lips.

Because she knew.

She knew that asshole was about to punish her again.

“Start at the bottom,” Kalen said.

She felt the cold metal of the blade slip beneath the hem on the outside of her thigh, cutting up along the seam, the cotton parting along her hip. And then he surprised her by hooking his finger into the crotch of her playsuit and pulling it away from her body. She felt the scissors against her inner thigh and heard the sound of them slicing through the material. Mikel tossed them to the couch and then gripped either side of the slit he had created up her hip, tearing her playsuit all the way up to her armpit. Kalen’s hand flashed up to her neck, holding her in place, his eyes calm on hers as Mikel reached around to her front, gripping and ripping the playsuit again, tearing it open along the chest. Her breasts spilled out, and Kalen’s eyes slid down. He licked his lips, his chest expanding as his eyes crawled slowly back to her face.

Mikel didn’t remove her tattered clothing, choosing to leave it tangled and torn around her waist as he flattened his hand high on her back, between her shoulder blades, pressing her forward, lower and lower until she was forced to brace her hands on Kalen’s hard thighs.

She felt vulnerable and exposed—more so than in the ropes. Mikel had taken several steps back, and she could feel his eyes caressing her heated flesh, examining the dampness glittering on her thighs.

“Kalen has a kink not many people know about,” Mikel told her calmly, his hands suddenly on her ass, his grip punishing, his rough fingers digging in. “Would you like to know?”

“I think s-so?” Her hesitant words caught on a stutter when Mikel’s hand suddenly lifted and slammed down on her right ass cheek, jolting her forward.

“Sir,” he reminded her. “Ask him if you can take his cock out—he might tell you what it is.”

She gaped at Kalen, since he was all she could see, but he only stared back at her, impassive and immovable as a statue.

“Can I …” She swallowed, her flesh burning with colour. “Can I please take out your cock, Sir?”

“You might as well,” Kalen drawled, still with his arms stretched out along the back of the couch. He wasn’t going to lift a finger to help her, that seemed clear.

With shaking fingers, she reached for the zip on his fancy dark burgundy suit pants. His bulge was already hard beneath, already straining to be freed, and despite the terrifying size it hinted at, she felt a rush of pleasure that she could affect him so much. She lowered the zipper slowly and felt another hard smack, this time on her left cheek.

“Are you being a fucking tease, Carter?” Mikel asked.

“No,” she yelped, shooting him a dark look over her shoulder.

His laugh was full of menace, his eyes growing shaded with desire. “Brace yourself.”

It was the only warning she got before he reared back and smacked her five times in quick succession, alternating sides until her skin was smarting and a loud cry had burst from her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Sir!”

He soothed his hand over her stinging skin immediately. “Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, Sir.” She quickly tugged Kalen’s zipper the rest of the way down and then lowered the hem of his boxers, pulling out his long length. He hissed as soon as her fingers wrapped around him, his hips tilting up from the couch slightly. His dick was almost purpled, thick along the shaft, leading to a circumcised head that flared out, adopting an almost rosy hue. It was damp at the tip, and she was suddenly overpowered by a wave of rich, heady vanilla. It was almost woodsy, earthy, with an aftertaste so strong she could have believed someone had just poured vanilla liquor down her throat.

“Fuck …” Kalen groaned. “I’ve been this hard all night. I think maybe you are a fucking tease, Sigma.”

Mikel was softly stroking what she assumed to be big red marks now blossoming over her pale flesh. The tenderness felt like a threat, a precursor, a warning. Kalen’s hand closed around hers, dragging it up his length. He didn’t spring free of his pants and point upright. He seemed too heavy for that.

“Can you guess what my secret is?” he rumbled, squeezing her hand as they reached the end of his length. His skin throbbed beneath her fingers, velvety smooth and scorching hot. “Can you guess what I like?”

“If it’s refusing to let innocent Sigmas come, then I don’t want to know,” she grumbled, adding quickly, “Sir.”

Mikel chuckled. “Too late.” His hand whipped to either side, landing two stinging blows.

She jolted forward with the force, gasping, her pussy clenching. She prayed to every Gifted god she could think of that Mikel didn’t touch her between her legs because the spanking was making her uncomfortably wet. And then she added on a prayer that those same Gifted gods were busy watching something else.

“I like to stretch innocent Sigmas.” Kalen’s hand lifted from hers as he cupped her face, bringing it up to his. “If you kiss me sweetly enough, I’ll tell Mikki to go easy with your punishment.”

“It … hasn’t started yet?” she asked, fear trembling her voice.

Mikel let out another low, dark laugh. “It hasn’t,” he confirmed. “So make sure you do a good job.”

She was going to kiss Kalen.

Kalen.

He was letting her kiss him.

While his dick was in her hand, and Mikel’s hands were on her ass.

While her ass was red and stinging from slaps.

Kalen pulled her head up higher, forcing her hands from his lap. She quickly gripped his shoulders to keep her balance and then settled her attention on his mouth.

“I won’t bite,” he promised, a quirk at the corner of his lips.

“Shouldn’t we have kissed before I touched your … before I touched you?”

“According to whose rules?” Kalen asked, before adding, “Are you stalling, Isobel?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you need me to do it for you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened, a pleased sound travelling through his chest, but then he seemed to dispel his own reaction, relaxing further back into the couch.

“Too bad, princess.” His thumb passed beneath her lip in a tender touch before he released her face, folding his arms across his chest.

She curled her fingers into the thick muscles along his shoulders and quickly ducked forward before she could second-guess herself, pressing her lips to his. As soon as she made contact, Mikel’s touch slid between her legs, trailing through her honey before sinking two fingers deep into her channel. She gasped, and Kalen gripped the back of her neck, forcing his tongue past her open lips. She was supposed to be kissing him, but he took control of it immediately, encouraging her to respond or yield with firm licks and the pressure of his hand cupping her skull. She groaned into his mouth, and he backed off, nipping her lip hard enough to make it throb.

His breathing was ragged, control wavering in his eyes, his dick weeping. She drank him in as she pulled back, desire rushing through her body as she realised she was the one who had done that to him.

And then his words from earlier finally kicked their way to the forefront of her mind.

“Stretching?” she asked, confused.

“He likes to make girls scream with his dick and not necessarily in a good way,” Mikel said, sounding amused. His fingers slipped from her channel, and he pressed her down again, forcing her hands back to Kalen’s thighs. “Now, are you ready for your punishment?”

“What is it?” she asked nervously.

“I’m going to spank you twenty times,” Mikel answered, tone gritty.

Twenty?

She blanched, but Mikel was already speaking again. “I’ll start off light, don’t worry. But there’s a catch. As long as your mouth is full, I’ll leave your perfect little ass alone. If your mouth isn’t full, you’re going to take my hand instead. Understood?”

Realisation settled in her bones with a horrible, heated weight. Her eyes fell to the monster still weeping in Kalen’s lap, her head beginning to shake. That was not going to fit in her mouth. Mikel gave her a light slap, the shock of it making her yelp more than anything. She blinked up at Kalen, but his eyes only burned hotter as Mikel slapped her again, and again. Kalen gripped the base of his cock and dragged it up along the line of her throat, leaving behind a thin trail of pre-cum.

He bumped her lips, and she stared at him like he was insane, because she was going to break her jaw. Alphas were large in general, but Kalen seemed to be even bigger than normal. He looked like he needed to duck his head to fit through normal doorways.

He looked like he might dislocate her face.

Mikel delivered a slap that seemed sharper than the others, and she groaned, opening her mouth and … hovering it over the angry-looking flesh before her. She stuck out her tongue, and Kalen slapped himself against it. Once, twice … he growled, and Mikel hit her hard enough to jolt her forward again. She fit her mouth around Kalen, but it wasn’t easy. Her lips stretched tight as he pushed into her mouth, pulling her head down at the same time. Mikel eased up on her abused flesh, his fingers pushing into her soaked depths again.

She heard him swear roughly behind her, his stormy cedar scent washing along her back, heavy and urgent.

Kalen guided her mouth down until he brushed the back of her throat, and she tried her best to breathe out of her nose, forgetting all about the spanking that awaited her if she lifted her head away and choosing to focus more on the fact that Mikel’s other hand was cupping her from the front, teasing her clit as he pumped his fingers into her.

Her body and mind narrowed to a singular purpose, to chase the release he teased at all costs—before he took it away from her. She moaned around Kalen’s hard flesh, his hands on her head directing shallow thrusts against the back of her throat, only an inch back and forth, grinding as deep into her mouth as he could fit himself.

She was beginning to drool around him, but he didn’t let up, and she could feel herself drawing closer and closer. When her orgasm threatened to crash through her, she chased it with every inch of her trapped body, terrified that Mikel would deny her. But he didn’t, he let her ride it out, and Kalen let her come off his cock as she gasped for air.

She was so relieved, she immediately started sobbing, her body still spasming, her skin overly sensitised. Neither man acted surprised, or like her sudden breakdown was strange. Mikel pulled her up and turned her around, but he didn’t need to pick her up, because she was already climbing onto him, wrapping herself around him. He hummed in approval, falling onto the couch beside Kalen, who seemed to be tucking himself away—she couldn’t see him, but she heard his slight hiss and the sound of his zipper.

She thought about how hard and ruby-red the tip of his engorged erection had been … and felt bad for that.

“It wasn’t about us,” Kalen rumbled, his fingers trailing across her hairline. She wasn’t sure if she had accidentally said something out loud, or if he was still inside her head. She turned her face on Mikel’s shoulder instinctually, leaning into the soft touch of Kalen’s hand as he cupped her cheek. “It’s always about you, Isobel.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his skin and revelling in the feeling of Mikel’s body digging into her front, his hands soothing down her spine. Her bond felt fully satiated, utterly and thoroughly claimed … and they had managed to do it without having sex with her—though she had no idea if settling the bond had been their aim.

She was glad she hadn’t stopped them, despite her fear and anxiety over not knowing where they would drive the interaction. They had pushed her hard enough to give her one of the most intense orgasms of her life, and then eased off at her breaking point without her ever having to tell them she had reached it.

“Do you always do … stuff like that?” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed, her tears drying up as something settled inside her.

“Not always,” Mikel soothed, his tone soft, his hands massaging her shoulders. “Just when the mood strikes. We can be normal, you know.”

She giggled, and his hands dropped to her battered ass, cutting her giggle off on a broken moan, but he only patted her consolingly, and then gently stroked the heated skin, soothing it in soft, appreciative strokes. She sighed and snuggled further into him.

“When you play like that.” She paused to yawn. “Do you not want to come?”

“That wasn’t the focus this time,” Kalen rumbled, moving his fingers back to her hair.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” she murmured.

Kalen chuckled. “Like a bitch. Do you think you can walk, Illy? Mikel needs to go and get ready, and I should get you back to the dorm.”

“Just a minute more,” she sighed, letting her body go limp against Mikel’s.

“Just one,” Kalen warned, but she was too busy smiling, because he had called her Illy and because Mikel had tightened his hold of her like he wasn’t going to let her go anyway.