The Hot Millionaires Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)

The Hot Millionaires

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 231,986
1 Ratings (3.0)

In Their Seductress, Paige, Isaac, and Nick embark on a steamy three-way sex fest to ease the pain of their close friend’s murder. Determined to find out who killed her, Paige recklessly puts her own life in danger, and that of her two lovers when they must race against time to try and rescue her…

In Her Alpha Saviors, Skye Harrison’s British country pub has been in her family for 300 years, but faced with fierce competition from the big conglomerates, she’s about to go under. American entrepreneurs Jay Blanchard and Luke Savage, impressed by Skye’s fiery determination to succeed, raise a great deal more than her business profile…

In Her Three Protectors, Porcha Ballantine’s husband is dead, and now the killers are out to get her. On the run, she accepts help from a man she trusts but isn’t quite prepared for everything she gets from the three hunks who ride to her rescue.

In Her Mile High Mates, Fabia Brook’s sister is missing in the Spanish resort of Tosca Brava. Clues lead Fabia to hunky owners of the flying school, Peyton Ascot and Clyde Wilson. They know more than they’re letting on, distracting Fabia with red-hot sex sessions, so can she trust them when they promise to help with her search?

A Siren Erotic Romance
Zara Chase is a Siren-exclusive author.
The Hot Millionaires Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)
1 Ratings (3.0)

The Hot Millionaires Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)

The Hot Millionaires

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 231,986
1 Ratings (3.0)
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Cover Art by Siren Publishing




When he entered the formal sitting room, Isaac was surprised to see just Lieutenant Weir and Nick there, both with open bottles of beer in their hands. In Isaac’s experience, policemen always hunted in pairs and didn’t drink while on duty.

“Oh, Mr. Drake.” Weir offered his hand, and the two men shook. “Glad to have caught you.”

“No problem.” Isaac took the chair opposite the lieutenant and accepted the beer Nick handed him with a nod of thanks. “Any progress?”

“Nice house,” the lieutenant remarked, adroitly avoiding the question.

Isaac didn’t repeat it, contenting himself with joining in the small talk that Nick was so adept at instigating. It was obvious that whatever the lieutenant actually wanted, it wouldn’t be broached until Paige joined them.

That happened just five minutes later. Her hair was damp and she’d changed into a fairly formal dress and almost-flat shoes. Even with no makeup she still exuded sex appeal by the bucket load. The lieutenant glanced at her, did a double take, and almost knocked his chair over in his haste to stand up.

“Ms. Fairfax, I assume,” he said, once again extending his hand. “My name’s Weir.”

“Lieutenant,” she said, taking his hand and as quickly dropping it again. “Any news on Ellie’s murder?”

“Nothing definite. As the saying goes, we’re pursuing several lines of inquiry.”

“In other words, you’ve got squat,” Isaac said, irritated by the lieutenant’s procrastination and the way his eyes kept returning to Paige’s tits. “So what brings you to our door?”

“I gather you now know the contents of Ms. Carter’s will.” All three of them nodded. “Wondered if you’d care to cast any light on that.”

“There’s no light to cast,” Paige said. “We were all totally astounded. We have no idea why she favored the three of us.”

“You were in London when Ms. Carter was killed I believe, Ms. Fairfax.”

“Yes, that’s right. I manage Carter Promotions’s field office there.”

“I’ve asked Mr. Drake and Mr. Fuller this question. Now I’m asking you. Do you know of anyone who’d wish Ms. Carter harm?”

Paige wrinkled her brow. “No, I don’t. Obviously, I’ve thought about it a lot over the past few days.”

“Did you know the deceased well?”

“Her name was Ellie,” Paige said in a clipped tone. “Or Ms. Carter. Calling her ‘the deceased’ makes it all sound so impersonal.”

“I’m sorry.” Weir spread his hands. “I should have been more sensitive. I guess in my line of work you—”

“It’s all right.” Paige waved aside the lieutenant’s apology. “What did you ask me again?”

“I was asking how well you knew Ms. Carter.”

“She was my boss. I’ve worked in the London office for four years. She used to pop over regularly, but I really only got to know properly when the manager had personal problems.”

“Mr. Drake’s brother?”

Paige sucked in a breath. “Yes, he was going through a rough patch. Business suffered, and Ellie flew over to sort it out.”

“She gave you Mr. Drake’s job, and Mr. Drake subsequently died, is that right?” he asked mildly.

Like you don’t know damned well it is! Isaac silently fumed, desperate to spring to Paige’s defense, knowing it would be a grave error to do so. The lieutenant was astute. He probably picked up on the sexual vibes between him and Paige straightaway. He wouldn’t be much of a detective if he didn’t notice the redness on her face where his day’s growth had rasped against it and her lips swollen from his kisses. Hopefully the way she sat down so carefully because she was probably still sore after the pounding she’d begged for and received did pass him by. Not that Paige needed any help from him. She was answering the lieutenant’s questions with straightforward honesty, never once breaking eye contact, her distress at Ellie’s untimely demise apparent to the slowest wit. And Lieutenant Weir was anything but slow-witted.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You and Ms. Carter were close friends before your promotion?”

“No, we barely knew each other.”

“Then she showed great faith in you. That was quite some responsibility for one so young.”

“I earned that faith, Lieutenant, and Ellie never had reason to regret her decision.”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t know Ms. Carter socially?”

“What do you…ah, I understand what you’re asking. Why didn’t you just come right out and ask me if Ellie and I had a sexual relationship?” Paige arched a defiant brow. “I believe that’s what you want to know.”

“I am aware of her other…er, interests.”

“I’m not a lesbian, Lieutenant.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Tough, it’s all you’re getting. I’m not prepared to reveal anything further about my private life, unless you can prove that it’s germane to your investigation, and I can’t see how it would be because this tragedy has nothing to do with me.” Paige sat a little straighter and tilted her chin. “I want whoever did this brought to justice, but I didn’t do it and have no idea who did.”




She walked up the stairs with Nick on one side of her, Isaac on the other. Nick’s cock throbbed so hard he wondered if it was possible to actually come when still walking up the stairs. He prided himself on his control. He could usually fuck for ages and couldn’t remember feeling so wildly abandoned, so close to the edge, before. It was all Paige’s fault, and she’d be punished for being such a tease. His hand caressed her ass fondly, found the end of the butt plug, and gave it a nudge. She gasped and then smiled over her shoulder at him, covering his hand with her own so that he wouldn’t stop tantalizing. She was so hot, so uninhibited, that he wanted to bend her over the banister, remove that damned plug, and fuck her senseless. Another part of him wanted to treat her tenderly. To kiss her slowly and deeply until she understood just how profoundly she affected him. With Paige it was always going to be more than sex, a damned sight more, and he wasn’t afraid to let her know it.

They reached the double doors to Ellie’s room before he could put either plan into action. Ever since the others had arrived those doors had remained firmly closed, and they’d all instinctively crept past them, as though afraid to disturb the dead. Nick knew he was right to suggest they use it tonight for a purpose that Ellie would have so thoroughly approved of. Isaac shot him a knowing glance, as though reading his thoughts, and threw the doors open with a theatrical flourish. Nick took Paige’s hand in his and stepped inside, sensing that she was suddenly nervous about this, too.

The drapes were closed, but the room wasn’t in darkness. Candles burned from every surface, the comforter was covered with fresh rose petals, and there was a bottle of champagne in a cooler beside the bed. Nick had seen to all that when Isaac had been occupied with the cooking. Isaac caught his eye and nodded his thanks.

“It feels different,” Paige said softly. “The same but emptier.”

“Then we’d better do something about that.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned to face him and, hands clasped in front of her body, meekly bowed her head. Her submissive pose almost did it for Nick. He stripped off his shorts and stepped out of them, completely naked beneath. He stood in front of Paige as her eyes feasted on his nakedness, clearly approving of all she saw. They lingered on his erection, causing him to clasp it at its base and hold it close enough for her to touch. She didn’t, of course. No well-trained sub would dare without being invited to.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Isaac stepped out of his shorts also and stood on her other side, cock in hand, massaging it gently.

“Want this one, too?”

“Yes, sir, rather badly, as it happens.”

Nick unzipped her skirt and pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them and then submissively turned her eyes toward him once again, awaiting his instructions. Isaac groaned as he looked at her, obviously close to losing control. Nick wasn’t much better off.

“Turn and look at yourself in the mirror,” he said.

Paige did so. Nick wondered if she found the sight as erotic as they did. She now wore nothing except the karada and Isaac’s butt plug. Her nipples, he could see, were rock solid, and moisture seeped from her cunt.

“Touch your tits,” Nick ordered.

Her hands moved to them and squeezed. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and pinched the nipples.

“That’s enough. Now drop your hands to your sides.”

As soon as she did, Nick took over with her tits, gouging, pulling the nipples through his fingers until she softly groaned. Isaac moved to the side, still rubbing his cock through his hand, his eyes never wavering from the two of them.

“Get a paddle,” he said to Isaac.





The navy-rimmed irises lazily ran the length of her body, assessing her in a way that infuriated Skye. It was as though the man was undressing her and wasn’t that impressed when he finally peeled back her clothing. What a nerve! He continued to loll in her swivel chair, tipping it back to the point where she thought that gravity must surely take over and topple it backward, taking him with it. It would serve him bloody well right! Apparently unaware of his perilous situation, the stranger continued to size her up like she was a piece of merchandise for sale in a shop window. Skye’s fiery temper, her main failing, was in danger of getting the better of her.

How dare he!

“I ask again, who are you, what are you doing in my office, and for that matter, who let you in?” She tapped her riding crop against her booted leg, furious when a curling smile crept slowly round his admittedly attractive mouth. “The pub isn’t open yet.”

Finally he stood up, causing Skye to swallow several times and take a defensive step backward as she absorbed the full impact of his imposing physicality. Seated, he was formidable. Standing, he was in a league of his own, and not only because his taut, muscular body was making a profound impression of Skye’s sex-starved self when she least wished to be impressed. There was just something about him, an air of supreme confidence, a presence, a not entirely civilized male aura that caused the walls of her small office to shrink in on her as he continued to appraise her.

Skye shook her head to dispel the lascivious thoughts that flooded her mind. Since when did a good-looking man make her pussy leak and her thoughts to turn to sex? Get a grip, Skye. This man was a real force of nature—a temporary complication she could well do without. Not that it really mattered since he wouldn’t be staying. He was just irritating, that was all.

He was definitely over six feet tall. All that black hair and eyes almost as black were unsettling enough to make her eyes drift lower. He wore a white dress shirt open at the throat, with the sleeves rolled back to display strong forearms dusted with more black hair and large hands with long, capable-looking fingers. His long legs were encased in well-worn jeans, and there were equally well-worn boots on his feet.

Who the hell was he? He wasn’t from around these parts. Skye would definitely have remembered. She might have given up on men, but that didn’t mean she was blind. He couldn’t be a debt collector. Debt collectors didn’t dress like wannabe cowboys.

“If you can’t even keep track of the date,” he said in a soft American drawl, “then it’s little wonder this place is falling down round your ears.”

She gasped. “You’re Blanchard.”

“Got it in one, Ms. Harrison.”

“But you’re not due until tomorrow. The fourteenth.”

“I think you’ll find that our appointment was for today, the thirteenth.”

His tone was so condescending that Skye felt moved to physical violence. Her eyes drifted toward the calendar on her wall. Who the hell did he think he was? Well, she’d enjoy putting him right. She reached past him to her appointment book and flipped through the pages.

“There, see,” she said, stabbing her finger at the page for the fourteenth. “I’ve blocked out the whole day for you.”

“Wrong day,” he insisted. “You need to get a more efficient secretary.”

More efficient, hah! She couldn’t afford the luxury of anyone to help with the paperwork, much less a secretary. The phone was answered by whoever happened to be closest. That often meant the kitchen staff, Hannah, or even one of the regulars in the bar. That was what had happened this time, she recalled. She’d been run off her feet behind the bar on a rare occasion when they were busy and her help hadn’t turned up. Someone took the call for her and scribbled the details on a piece of paper. Who the hell was it? She knitted her brow, trying to recall, but the looming menace crowding out her office made coherent thought next to impossible.

Anyway, what did it matter? She could hardly blame one of her customers for cocking up the most important appointment in her rapidly disintegrating world. Jay Blanchard possessed the power to make or break her business. She hadn’t thought he’d even respond to her cry for help. A business such as hers was probably too small to even register on the radar of such a high flyer. She’d been euphoric when he e-mailed to say he was interested, convinced she would be able to save The Fox from the receivers after all, and now she’d blown her chances with this annoying hunk by not being prepared for him. Whatever must he think of her?

“Sorry,” she said meekly. “We seem to be at cross-purposes. Can’t think how that happened.”

The expression in his eyes softened, but only fractionally. “No harm done. We’re early anyway.”

“We?” Skye had thought it would be just him, which was bad enough.

“My partner is taking a look around while we wait for you. Hope you don’t mind.”

Like it would make any difference if she did. And what was all this about a partner? She didn’t even know he had one.

“How did you get in?”

“We knocked at the front door, obviously. The cleaning lady finally opened up for us.”

Skye flashed a brief smile. “She must have taken a liking to you. Hannah doesn’t usually have much time for strangers.”

“You don’t say.” There was an ironic twist to his lips. “I thought she was gonna chase us away with her broom. Fortunately Luke’s good with old ladies.”

“Luke being your partner?”

“Someone take my name in vain?”

A head popped round the door, followed by a body that made Skye blink several times in stark admiration. Jay Blanchard clearly didn’t mind the competition. Hell, why couldn’t just one thing have gone right for her? If Blanchard had been old and fat, like she’d built him up to be in her mind, she might have been able to win him round. No chance with these two. They probably had babes falling over them everywhere they went. Skye, at twenty-eight, was way beyond babe status. Not that she’d ever fallen into that category, nor had she wanted to, but that wasn’t the point.




They all laughed, and it broke the ice. The three of them sat on the small arrangement of chairs. Jay had taken an armchair, leaving Luke and Skye on the love seat. Skye drank her champagne far too quickly, looking everywhere except at either of them. Luke placed his own half-full glass aside, plucked her empty one from between slack fingers, and patted his knee.

“Come over here,” he said brusquely.

When she scooted across and sat on his lap, Luke sucked in a sharp breath. He was already rock hard, and her ass landing on his erection hadn’t helped matters.

“You’re overdressed, sweetheart,” he said, running his hands over her denim-clad rear. “Why don’t you treat us to a little striptease?”

“It’s freezing in here.”

“Did we give you permission to argue?” Jay asked mildly.


“No what?”

“No, sir.”

“Then do as Luke asks. Never question what either of us tells you to do. Now, stand over there where we can both see you. You won’t be cold for long. That much I can promise you.”

Skye was still wearing her tall shoes. The elegant sway of her hips as she crossed the small expanse of floor caused the two men to share an approving glance. She turned to face them when she reached the opposite wall, yanked her top from the confines of her jeans, and slowly pulled it over her head. A black bra held her large breasts in a pretty lace prison.

“Nice,” Luke said approvingly. “No, don’t take it off yet. Put your hands over your tits and massage them. Are your nipples hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pinch them through the fabric, Skye. Make yourself crazy.”

She did as they asked her, no longer complaining about the cold. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted to one side, sending her hair cascading all over the place as she pushed her breasts together and touched both nipples at once.

“Pull them out of the tops of the cups,” Luke instructed.

Rosy pink nipples surrounded by darker areolas were his reward. He touched his cock through the fabric of his jeans, not yet ready to release it, and continued to watch the show.

“That’s it, baby. Now swing your hips for us. Make us hard for you.” She slid her tongue across her lower lip and slowly circled her hips. Then, without warning, she thrust them forward, almost into Luke’s face, causing him to almost swallow his tongue.

“Are you hard enough yet, big boy?”

“Unfasten your jeans.”

She stood right in front of Luke, close enough for him to touch her as she did so. Damn it, she was a real tease! Completely fucking shameless. Thank you, God! The abdomen revealed to him was completely flat, her waist tiny, but that wasn’t what Luke wanted to see.

“Take them off,” he said gruffly.

Skye stepped out of her jeans and tossed them aside. She was wearing a tiny black thong that matched her bra. Luke groaned when he saw it. So, too, did Jay, who was also touching his cock through his jeans. This chick was such a massive turn-on that Luke found it hard to believe that she was new to all this. That she’d never had anal sex before. She probably hadn’t had a lot of the other things they were about to give her either. That thong cutting between her buttocks and her tits hanging out of her bra were making him so fucking big he was in danger of doing himself a permanent injury if he didn’t let it out of his jeans.

“Unsnap my jeans,” he said to Skye.

She bent over him, her tits dangling within range of his mouth. He knew she wanted him to suck them and so he didn’t. He’d make her wait. Make her beg for it.

“Now unzip me.”

She did that, too, gasping as his cock sprang free, large, erect, very, very angry, and definitely ready for action.

“That’s for you, baby,” he said, grasping it at its base. “Like what you see?”

She did that thing with her tongue and her lower lip again. “Yes, sir. When can I have it?”

Luke chuckled. “Impatient little madam, isn’t she,” he said to Jay.

“Needs a spanking if you ask me.”

“Quite right.” He motioned to Skye. “Over my knee now.”

She almost tripped over her feet in her desire to accommodate him. Luke sighed as he finally allowed himself to touch her, placing his hand on the globes of her ass and smacking it lightly just once.

“Ask me to spank you.”

“Please spank me, sir.”

Luke obliged, slipping his other hand underneath and walking his fingers inside her thong. She was soaking wet.

“Naughty, naughty,” he taunted, spanking her a little harder and inserting a couple of fingers. “Who’s been having naughty thoughts then?”

“Me, sir.”

“What did you think about?”

“About you fucking me. About your big cock sinking into my cunt and driving me crazy.”


Luke prided himself on his staying power, but this little minx was too much for him. He peeled her thong off, unfastened her bra, and threw it on the floor. Then he picked her up and carried her the short distance to the bed. Jay followed along, still fully clothed but, Luke could see, rock hard. He had Luke’s bag of tricks in his hand.

“I think we have something she might like before you fuck her,” he said.

Jay rummaged in the bag and produced a butt plug and tube of lube.

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Skye scurried to comply. Once she was in position, Jay poured a generous dollop of lube over her buttocks. She flinched at the contact, presumably because it was cold. Jay worked it between her cheeks so gently that Luke could sense when she relaxed and let him go to work. Jay eased one lubricated finger into her anus.

“Don’t fight me,” he ordered, tapping her ass lightly. “Go with the feeling, baby. It’ll be worth it.”





Troy reached forward, pulled the glasses from her face, and peered through the lenses. As expected, they were clear glass.

“You don’t need these.”

“How did you know?” She scrunched up her lovely features. “I thought they made me look rather secretarial.”

“You’re not a blonde, either,” Troy said, avoiding her question.

“She’s not?” Beck pretended to be distraught, but Troy knew he and Adam would already have reached the same conclusions he had. “I’m devastated.”

“Oh, what the hell!”

The woman reached up, pulled off the wig, removed the cap beneath it, and shook out a flowing curtain of rich chestnut hair. There was a sharp intake of breath from all three men.

“The damned wig itched like hell anyway.”

“I think I’ve gone right off blondes,” Beck declared dramatically. “Chestnut’s the only colour for me now.”

Troy hitched a brow. “Lenses?”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Much as I’d like to agree with you, we’re no better than the people who’re after you. You won’t fool them, either.”

Her head snapped up. “What makes you think I’m being pursued?”

“Oh, little things like the disguise, the fact that you won’t even tell us your name, that you’re scared shitless—”

“And that someone’s over the road watching this block,” Adam added.

“What!” She leapt from her chair. “They’ve found me already. I need to get out of here right now.”

Troy grasped her arm and forced her back into her chair. “No one will get to you while we’re here.”

“Count on it,” Beck added.

“But you can’t be sure of that. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

Troy spoke in a tone of rigid determination. “The same could be said of us.”

“Trust us, angel,” Beck said softly. “At least tell us your name.”

“Didn’t Georgio even tell you that much?”

“Nope.” Adam shook his head. “Which is damned odd.”

She reached for her bag at the side of the chair, extracted a small pot, and lowered her head over it. At first Troy thought she was taking medication. They he realized it was a container for the lenses she was removing from her eyes. When she completed her task and looked up, all three of them audibly gasped. Adam went one stage further and swore. The largest, greenest eyes Troy had ever seen blinked at them as their owner adjusted to the removal of the lenses. A man could possibly drown just looking into those damned emerald-green eyes with flecks of gold ringing the irises. He’d definitely go that extra mile to rid them of the sheer terror reflected in their depths.

Troy exchanged a glance with his partners, their expressions mirroring what was going through his own mind.

They were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Good.” Troy somehow managed to talk in a normal voice, ignoring the raging hard-on that he didn’t have a hope in hell of quelling. He didn’t need to look at his buddies to guess that they’d be similarly afflicted. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Unlike me. “Now, how about your name.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Porcha,” she said.

“Unusual name.” Adam smiled at her. “I like it.”

Yeah, it was an unusual name all right, and Porcha was one beautiful woman. Uniquely so. He’d heard of that name connected to another beautiful woman. Could they be one and the same? He sure as hell hoped not, because if she was they were in deep shit.

“Tell me you’re not Porcha Gonzalez,” Troy pleaded.

Beck shot him a look. “Salvador Gonzalez’s wife?”

“The Mexican drug lord?” Adam looked shocked, and it took a lot to shock Troy’s outfit. They’d seen and done it all, and then some. “Say it ain’t so.”

“I’m afraid so, but I go by my maiden name of Ballantine.”

Porcha held the gaze of each of them in turn. Troy wasn’t sure what she read in their expressions, but it caused her to burst into tears. And Troy was betting she wasn’t the type to cry easily. Troy looked at her, then at his partners, and shrugged.

“We’re here now,” he said aloud, answering their unspoken question.

With a deep sigh, he lifted Porcha from her chair, sat in it himself, and lowered her onto his lap.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said, stroking her shaking back. “We’ll sort something.”

“Not Sal Gonzalez’s wife, we won’t. Not if we wanna keep hold of our important bits and pieces,” Adam warned. “He’s been known to chop a man’s dick off just for looking at his wife the wrong way.”

Troy shrugged, aware now why Georgio hadn’t told them who the client was. None of them would have come willingly if they’d known. They weren’t in the business of protecting drug barons and their families, particularly not vicious bastards like Gonzalez. Georgio, the wily old fox, must have known they’d take one look at Porcha and be unable to walk away.

“Yeah, we’re here,” Adam said tersely in response to Troy’s earlier comment. “Thing is, what are we doing here?”

“We’ll get some answers before we leave,” Troy said. “We owe that much to Georgio, the sneaky bastard.”

“She’s totally out of it,” Beck said softly. “Little wonder if she’s been on the run for days.”

“Especially if it’s Gonzalez,” Adam pointed out. “Even if half of what I’ve heard about him is true, he’ll never let her leave him.”




Troy pushed his chair back, the cue for the other two to stand as well. Porcha stayed where she was, waiting to be told what to do.

“Okay, Porcha, you can stand up.”

Beck attached a long chain to the front of her collar and led her toward the stairs. Troy and Adam walked behind her, still chatting casually as though it was the most normal thing in the world for Beck to lead a scantily clad woman wearing nipple clamps and with a plug up her butt along by a chain. In this household, it probably was. Porcha tried not to feel jealous as she wondered about the women they’d played with before her. All that mattered now was that she was the subject of their attentions, and she was damned if they’d find her wanting. Aware that her problems would be resolved one way or another within the next few days and that she wouldn’t see them again after that, Porcha fully intended to make the most of them whilst she still could.

They climbed the two flights of stairs in silence. When they reached the playroom, Beck opened the door and led her through it. Once inside, he shed what few clothes he was wearing and sat on the edge of the bed.

“On your knees,” he told her curtly.

Porcha knelt in front of him, eyes downcast. Beck obviously got to go first, which was fine by Porcha. She tried to anticipate what he might require of her. Then she recalled that she’d tossed him on his butt that morning. Men like Beck didn’t let things like that go unpunished. She stifled a giggle. Of course his revenge would be dramatic and oversized, just like everything else about him, especially his cock.

“You like to wrestle, sweetheart?”

“If it pleases you.”

He chuckled. “Oh, it does. I aim to pin you down every which way this side of Christmas and fuck you senseless. But first you need to be chastised for what you did this morning.”

“I was wrong, master. I need to be punished.” She lifted her gaze to his face. “Please punish me.”

Porcha was aware of Troy and Adam in the periphery of her vision, both now naked and sitting together on a sofa as they watched Beck in action. Having them as an audience was a thousand times different from the way she had felt with Sal and his business connections. That was humiliating because they were a captive audience, didn’t necessarily want to be there, and certainly couldn’t participate. But they stayed because they didn’t dare to go against Sal’s wishes and probably thought she was a first-class tart for doing what he made her do.

This, on the other hand, was red hot.

“How would you like to be punished?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

Beck tapped her thigh. “I asked you a question. Tell me what you want.”

Porcha licked her lips, her eyes focused on his massive erection. “Your cock deep inside me.”

“Ah-hah.” Beck wagged a finger beneath her nose. “Not yet, babe. We need to let you know who’s the boss here first.”

He attached the chain to a hook on the side of the bed. “On your hands and knees.”

Porcha moved into position, aware that her dress—what little there was of it—had ridden up to completely expose her ass. Troy and Adam would have an up close view, and she cheekily waggled her butt in their direction. Muffled chuckles confirmed that they’d got the message.

“She’s getting out of line again, Beck,” Troy said.

“Yeah, I got that.”

She couldn’t see what Beck was doing but heard more rattling and then felt cuffs being placed round her ankles, also presumably attached to the side of the bed.

“Spread your legs wider,” Beck said in a gruff voice.

Porcha moved them as far apart as the chain attaching the leg restraints would allow. Without warning, it went dark when he fixed a blindfold over her eyes.

“Now you’re completely at my mercy!” She felt his hair brush the side of her face as he leaned in close. “Do you like being chained here with your ass exposed, waiting for my punishment?”

Porcha swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat. “Very much.”

Beck chuckled. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He brought a switch down across her ass, gently the first time. Not expecting it, Porcha flinched, the sting it left behind very slight and not nearly enough to satisfy her raging desire to be whipped. Anticipating the second blow as she heard the switch make a soft whoosh in the air, she relaxed her muscles and rolled with the pain. In combination with the red-hot plug in her butt, it felt wonderfully sensual, and she softly moaned her appreciation.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Porcha.”

“I’m sorry, master.”

She felt something slip into her pussy and disappear. A vibrator, switched to a low speed. Porcha was now in some difficulty. She could imagine how she must look, sluttish clothing, chained hand and foot, blindfolded, and with vibrators back and front—not to mention the nipple clamps that were now giving her merry hell. She was ready to come then and there. In fact she was desperate to do so.

“What do you want now, Porcha?” Beck whispered the question in her ear.

“To be fucked, if that’s what you’d like.”

“Well now, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said teasingly.

She sensed him moving away from her and quelled her disappointment. His hair brushed against her face again, and she realized that he’d slipped beneath her when he forced his rigid cock between her lips.





“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“Do you want to explain in here or in the sitting room?” Peyton asked in a chilling tone.

Fabia didn’t want to explain at all, but it didn’t look as though she had much choice. “The other room,” she said succinctly.

“Shame,” Clyde remarked. “I was kinda enjoying the view.”

Fabia stood hastily, belatedly realizing that she’d been bending over in her short skirt to examine the contents of a drawer. She pushed past the two men and stood in the middle of their living room, wondering what to do next.

“Well?” Peyton stood directly in front of her, his stance conveying power, strength, and a chilling brand of danger that rather excited her. She gulped back her apprehension, unable to meet his gaze. He didn’t sit and didn’t invite her to. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m Fabia Brook,” she said. “We haven’t been introduced.”

“You always break into the homes of people you’ve never met?”

“I didn’t break in exactly.”

“Really?” Peyton watched her with unnerving stillness. “Then what are you doing here, exactly?”

She ought to come right out and ask them about Sonia. It was the perfect opportunity, but something held her back. She didn’t entirely trust them. If they were Sonia’s friends and hadn’t reported her missing, what did that say about them? She played for time.

“I…I felt like a fool after the way I behaved in that meeting. I thought I’d go change before lunch but needed a shoulder to cry on.”

“Mine’s available,” Clyde said. “And I can—” Peyton shot him a look that cut off his words, and she didn’t find out what else he’d intended to say.

“Melanie and I have become friends. I thought I’d talk it through with her and see if she could tell me what I did wrong. She wasn’t around, I saw these stairs and…” She shrugged. “I was curious. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t have snooped.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Clyde said.

“Like what you saw in the playroom?” Peyton asked, not saying what he thought of her flimsy explanation. Not that he needed to. It was pretty lame, and it was obvious that neither of them bought it.

“Er, yes, I guess. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“Ever seen anything like it before?” Clyde asked.

Both men watched her closely as they waited for her to respond. Should she tell another lie? She got the impression that they’d know if she did. But if she told the truth, would they invite her to play? Did she want to play with them? Could she afford the distraction when the only thing that really mattered was finding her sister? She cast a long, considering look over each of them in turn. Neither flinched. Damn, they weren’t gonna let her off the hook.

Something in the dark weight of Peyton’s gaze made the decision for her. His eyes were a deep gray. She could see that now he’d removed his shades. They hinted at strength of character, portraying a not entirely civilized male aura that excited her and persuaded her to trust him. Hell, she needed to place her trust in someone. Besides, the warm richness in Clyde’s striking green eyes and Peyton’s penetrating, focused gaze made her aware that, in spite of their anger, they both wanted her. Her pussy flooded at the prospect. It had been a while. Damn it, she wasn’t wearing enough clothes to cover her reaction and could hardly pass that off as sweat. She needed to get out of here before they noticed.

“Yes,” she said, “I’ve been in a room like that one before.”

The men shared a glance. “Enjoy it?” Peyton asked.

She lowered her eyes to the floor. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Look at me.”

Peyton spoke in a commanding tone that caused her gaze to lift directly to his face. She said nothing, waiting for him to tell her what he wanted her to do next. She was too well trained to react to a Dom in any other way.

“Where’s your Master now?”

“It’s over. It finished six months ago.”

“No one else since?” Clyde asked.


Clyde glanced at Peyton. “No wonder she liked what she saw in our room.”

“I apologize again for snooping,” she said, glancing at her watch, “but I have to go. I have a student waiting.”

“You still haven’t told us what you were looking for,” Peyton said.

“I told you, I—”

“I know what you told us, but it was bullshit.” Peyton’s face darkened with anger. “You’re a player, so you know the rules. You have to be completely honest with us, otherwise we won’t—”

“I haven’t agreed to play with you.”

“No.” Peyton moved a step closer to her, causing Fabia’s breath to hitch. Was he going to touch her? Kiss her? She desperately didn’t want him to and yet prayed that he would. Her body quivered with desire that had been suppressed for too long, but since she’d automatically lowered her eyes, she had no idea what his intentions were. Long fingers gripped her chin and tilted her face until she was compelled to meet his hypnotic gaze. Swirling emotions played havoc with her gut, and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. “But you want to, don’t you, Fabia Brook? You want Clyde and me to fulfil a need in you, to fuck you until you’re too weak to move, until you beg for mercy. It’s all you’ve been able to think about since you found our secret room.”




She knew what he intended to do and pushed back to welcome the plug that he slid into her butt.

“Does it vibrate?”

“Hell, no. This one will go all the way in, and the oil inside it will warm up from your body heat. Ever had one of those before?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know what you’ve missed.”

“Then teach me.”

He righted her on his lap and bruised her lips with the power of his kiss. His hands found her tits and pummelled them hard. Her nipples were so sensitive that if he pinched them much harder she’d probably come where she was, just riding his erection through his pants. More liquid slipped from her pussy as she contemplated doing just that. Once again reading her thoughts—was this guy some sort of psychic?—Peyton broke the kiss and slapped her thigh.



“Lay down on the bed.” As soon as she did so, he grabbed her arms and cuffed them to the headboard with fluffy restraints. “Spread your legs wide, babe.”

Fabia didn’t dare to object, even though she thought he planned to fuck her ass and desperately wanted him to. When she realized what he intended to do instead, she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out with jubilation.

“You like having your cunt whipped, don’t you, babe?”

“How did you know?”

Peyton voice resonated with earthy vibrancy. “Lucky guess.”

He brought the whip down directly over her sex. Pleasure and pain rioted inside her head as she writhed against the thongs. She was frantic now, not sure how much more of this torture she could take without finding release. Peyton appeared intuitive to her needs. Instead of whipping her again, he parted her folds and slid the leather thong between them, brushing it against her clit.

“Oh geez! If you do that again I’m gonna—”

“You are not to come, Fabia,” Peyton said sternly. “I absolutely forbid it.”

“Then don’t keep tormenting me.”

But he did. He pulled the thong back and forth even faster. The plug in her butt was now scorching hot, driving her wild. Her tits were so sensitive, the nipples so solid in the cool of the air-conditioned room, that there was no way on earth she could have stopped herself from going after what she needed. He bent his head, still pulling the whip through her pussy as he took a nipple in his mouth and bit gently down on it.

He’d gone too far. Fabia screamed, bucking against the whip as her body fragmented. It was the most glorious, most deeply intense orgasm she could ever recall. How could that be when, apart from the butt plug, she wasn’t even being penetrated?

“I warned you not to torment me,” she said when the tingling exhilaration finally stopped streaking through her.

“Sit up against the headboard and keep your legs spread wide.”

Fabia sat in the way he’d told her to, arms still cuffed above her head, waiting impatiently to see what came next. A vibrator. He slid it into her pussy, rammed it all the way home, and switched it on at a low speed. He then removed himself from the bed and shed his clothes. Clyde, she noticed, was still fully clothed, but he’d unzipped, and his gaze was fastened on her as he fisted his erection.

“That better, babe?” Peyton asked. “You’ve got a plug up your butt and a huge dick up your cunt. I know you’re greedy, but surely that must relieve your itch?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want your cock. Both of your cocks.”

The guys exchanged a glance. “Do you now? Where do you want them, Fabia?”

“Deep inside me, instead of these damned toys.”

“You don’t like our toys?”

“I love them.” The vibrator had slipped a little, and she wiggled about until she managed to force it all the way back inside her.

Clyde chuckled. “I guess she does.” He stood up and undressed, shrugging broad shoulders to rid himself of his shirt. “Who am I to deny a lady?”

“She needs to be punished a little more yet, I think.”

“True. What do you have in mind?”

“I think I have just the thing.”

Fabia watched Peyton rummage in a drawer. He returned to the bed and ran a hand tenderly down the side of her thigh. She couldn’t see what he’d brought with him, but the gentleness of his hand, in variance to the earlier thrashing he’d administered, was so sensual that she simply didn’t care. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to pleasure as Clyde, now on her opposite side, dropped his mouth to one of her nipples and sucked. Hard. He slapped her thigh as he did so while Peyton continued to caress its twin and run a delicate finger over her opposite nipple. His touch was so light that at first she thought she’d imagined it.

Then everything went dark. Peyton had withdrawn his hands and put a mask over her eyes. Clyde stopped what he was doing, and she felt something being fastened round her middle.

“It’s a rubber corset,” Peyton’s voice explained. “It will make it harder for you to breathe and increase your perceptions.”

“In other words, your orgasm will be even more intense,” Clyde explained. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” She could hear the excitement in her own voice as they fitted the devise beneath her breasts and tightened it round her waist.

“Okay, say the word if it gets too much.”

“It won’t.” She panted the words, juices slipping past the vibrator and trickling down her thighs.

“It pushes her tits up and makes them look fucking enormous,” Peyton said, pride and admiration in his voice.

There was movement on the bed. Then hands grasped her waist. “Straddle me, Fabia,” Clyde said, pulling the vibrator out of her cunt.


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