Chapter 7

Seven

Ira

M y dick is so confused. For months now, I’ve been instructing it to ignore the way being around Gable and Ridge makes it hard. I’ve denied myself even the mental musings of what it would be like to be with either of them. Which, silver lining, has the effect of extra time in the safe house gym inside the condo where I’ve been staying. Still, even with the increased exercise time, I’m nowhere near as ripped as the brothers who guard me.

Until today, I thought the chemistry I’ve ignored was solely one sided. When Gable revealed his plan for us to visit the sex club that takes up the top of this building, I wasn’t going to refuse.

“Would you like to join us at a table? We could get to know you a bit?” Nerves have my voice sounding shaky, and I battle back the embarrassment that comes from being less than manly.

It’s hard not to feel emasculated having Ridge and Gable with me almost around the clock. And when they aren’t here, their lethal counterparts who cover my protection detail are. It’s enough to give a guy a complex. None of the guys are assholes about things. They all have this quiet confidence that silently proclaims they’re ready for whatever happens. Instead of being turned off, I find myself imagining what it would be like to be in a situation where one of them rescued me for real. Spank bank material, no lie.

“I’d like that,” the beauty in front of me agrees.

I don’t know what Ridge or Gable look for in a woman. Though we’ve talked plenty over the months they’ve guarded me, their everyday lives when they leave the condo are still mysteries.

Do they think she’s as hot as I do? Was Gable serious downstairs when he implied he wanted to scene with me, not just be present protecting me while I got laid? Gable’s not the question Ridge is. Of the two, Ridge is definitely the more quiet. Stern.

A shiver runs down my spine when I recall how easily Ridge takes command of a room when he enters it. Takes command of me. I’ve never met a man I wanted to kneel for, though I’ve fantasized about one day finding one. Through the unfortunate luck of being hunted by wealthy oligarchs who believe controlling the country is their right, I’ve landed two. How will Hazel fit into that fantasy?

The four of us find an unoccupied table, and Gable orders waters for all of us from a passing server. A drink would settle some of my nerves, but I want to keep all of my wits about me for whatever’s coming next.

“So, have you guys been here before?” Hazel’s first question catches me off guard.

“No. This is our first time here. We’re not romantically involved,” I start to explain.

“We’re colleagues,” Ridge interrupts, taking control of the narrative and keeping the details of our situation vague. “Pansexual, the three of us. Tonight, we’re looking for an experience none of us have ever had.” He speaks with authority, and I blush at the realization he knows far more about my sex life—or lack thereof—than I expected.

I guess it’s not really a surprise he’d be able to tell I haven’t done anything like this before. Part of the dossier I had to provide when the guy’s company took over my protection included a sexual history, ostensibly to rule out any threats from my past.

The truth of the matter is, I’ve never considered myself a highly sexual being. Sure, I enjoy an orgasm as much as the next person. But relationships take so much effort to keep the other person fulfilled, so I generally avoid them.

“I am, too,” she says.

“Do you have a limits form filled out?” Gable asks her. At her nod, he pulls a sheet from the folder in the center of the table and hands it to me. I look down to see a checklist with a dizzying array of sex acts waiting to be marked as yes, no , or maybe .

“Good. May we review it while Ira fills his out?” Ridge’s voice is a rough rasp over my nerves. A reminder that, of the three of us, their preferences are still an unknown entity.

“What about you two? Shouldn’t you fill them out, as well?” I ask.

“Sure, but you two are the only ones who will get fucked tonight.” Ridge’s chuckle is dark with sensual promise. My dick, already half-hard just from the atmosphere and potential in the air, hardens to a painful throb.

I haven’t had the privacy even to jerk off in the shower for months. My balls ache with unspent lust, and I know everyone in the room will be able to see just how little control I have when we stand up from this table.

“As long as no one expects me to be in charge,” she gives an exaggerated shudder. “I think my rehearsal dinner tonight was proof positive being a Domme is not a turn on for me.”

I want to know more details about this rehearsal dinner, and it’s obvious my guards do, too. I’m sure I do a piss-poor job of hiding my surprise.

“You’re engaged?” I croak. If I needed a boner killer, that thought is it.