Suddenly, something hard and metallic cut into her needy little bud. The clamp. She shuddered as it bit into her tenderest flesh. The pain burned and sizzled and then sank into her skin until she buzzed with need. She arched and writhed, trying to breathe through the pain.

  “Hold still so I can look at you.” Kellan waited impatiently while Belle whimpered and tried to still her body. “So pretty.” He touched the aching point with just the tip of his tongue. “I agree that your pussy is too sore to take a cock, but I think you can ride my tongue nicely, love.”

  He closed his mouth over her and speared her just as Eric began feeding her his length again. She curled her tongue to conform around the underside of his cock. When he began to withdraw, she pulled on him furiously, sucking until her cheeks hollowed, trying to keep him inside. Tate alternately plucked at the chain between her breasts and caressed the bare flesh surrounding it.

  This was what she wanted. All three of them, touching her, connecting with her. She let all of her worries go. For this moment, she was theirs and they were hers. Tomorrow didn’t exist.

  Eric fucked her mouth, thrusting in and out, gently forcing her to take him to the root. Kellan kept up his tender assault on her pussy, owning her with his mouth while Tate showed his continued fascination with her breasts. She held her breath, on the edge, never sure if she would get pure pleasure or the burning erotic pain that only seemed to take her higher.

  Eric groaned above her, his thrusts losing their smooth rhythm as his cock pulsed in her mouth. “I’m going to come, baby. Your mouth is too sweet. Take me. Take all of me.”

  She sucked hard as he began to coat her tongue. Lovingly, she laved the head and worried the little ridge just underneath that made him shudder. He held her hair in his grip and groaned, spilling even more. Knowing she could affect him so deeply sent a thrill through her.

  Just as she swallowed down the last of his release, Kellan rewarded her with a long kiss of her clit and she went soaring over the edge. Her body twisted, bucked. The ecstasy mixed with that sensual torture ate through her, grinding her resistance and chewing up her composure. Pure pleasure screamed through her system. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She existed only in that moment.

  Finally as the wracking pulses began to trail off, she lay back, panting, her body surfeit with sensation.

  “Don’t scream, baby,” Tate said.

  Just as Belle wondered what he meant, he released the first clamp.

  The blood flowed back to her nipple, and she slammed back against the bed with a yelp. As he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her cry turned to a scream. Then tapered off to a gentle lick, his tongue easing her pain.

  Eric dropped to his knees and worked the other nipple, laving her with affection. Sensations churned, meshed, growing exponentially. Then Kellan released the final clamp.

  Her whole body clenched. His mouth covered her clit, drawing it in with a soft suckling. After a sharp spike of tingles and another high racing through her blood, Belle sank into the comforter, all of her men surrounding her, wishing this could last forever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belle sighed deeply as she dried the last dish and put it away. Dinner had been another awkward affair, full of stilted conversation where everyone avoided talking about the future. Instead, they’d discussed the tile she’d chosen for the downstairs bathroom and the removal of the hideous vomit yellow floral wallpaper in the master bath, but she knew they’d been half listening, more frustrated that she wasn’t budging about returning to Chicago.

  How long could they remain in this limbo? They no longer mentioned their work to her, even though she’d told them she was interested. In fact, Belle was beginning to think they weren’t talking much at all. They definitely weren’t communicating.

  The sound of her grandmother’s old television filtered in from the living room. Ah, the news. At this time of the evening, the broadcast was local, the usual fare that attempted to be hard-hitting while forcing in odd banter now and then.

  After she’d painted the living room, the men had moved their office there. The space was far larger and contained more work surfaces, so they could spread out. Unfortunately, it also meant she couldn’t walk in and see them five times a day. She didn’t have a logical excuse, as she had in the kitchen. None of them were gullible enough to believe that she’d come into the living room for a drink of water or a nibble to tide her over until dinner. The formal space was in a corner of the house, so she couldn’t just happen by. When Belle did gather up the courage to enter their new “office,” she didn’t know what to say. So she’d stopped going. Other than meals, she barely saw them during the day. But she missed those men so much.

  It had been over a week since she’d discovered them on her doorstep. She’d grown accustomed to finding them all over the house—maybe talking on the phone in front of the refrigerator or huddled in her favorite chair in the parlor with a laptop and coffee. But since she told them she didn’t see the relationship lasting, something had shifted. They’d relegated themselves to a room far out of her way and rarely left there unless they retreated to their own bedrooms. If she worked up the courage to ask for their help with a task, they graciously agreed to do it, but they no longer sought her out for a morning flirtation or an afternoon chat. They didn’t try to make her laugh or steal an afternoon kiss. They didn’t crowd her or watch her with hungry stares. Some days she wondered if they really even looked at her anymore.

  After the work day, the men had fallen into patterns. They all had their assigned chores and performed them with the politeness of good roommates. They gave her every distant courtesy. She couldn’t fault them in any way—except the emotional chasm they seemed to be digging between her and them.

  From the moment she woke until the time she went to bed, Belle’s frustration made her want to scream. And her heart felt so close to breaking.

  At least until deep in the night. Then they ceased being distant roommates and came to her as lovers. Every night, they seduced her, touched her, groaned about how good she felt until she couldn’t think straight. They took her with their fingers, mouths, and cocks repeatedly. They impaled her ass with progressively larger plugs and they spanked her. They tied her up and forced her to take them in any and every way they wanted her. They consumed her completely as they made love to her.

  Had sex, she corrected herself mentally. They had sex with her. They never mentioned love anymore. They cuffed her and teased her until they made her shout out their names. They grew their collection of toys a little each day and used them on her relentlessly. They taught her the intricacies of a D/s relationship, playing the role of her Masters every single night. And though Eric and Tate still slept in her room, they no longer cuddled her the way they used to. They merely stayed close so she would feel safe. Tate had even dragged an overstuffed chair into the room and began sleeping there.

  Kellan always left the moment the orgasms ended. He would make her cry out until her throat felt scratchy and raw. Then he would depart for his own room, and she wouldn’t see him again until he nodded her way as they passed in the hall the next morning like relative strangers.

  When they shared their bodies and such pleasure, Belle thought only of how they made her feel. When they were in bed together, she didn’t think about the future. She lived in the moment. But the moment was starting to confine her. Oppress her. Depress her.

  With a weary sigh, she stepped away from the kitchen sink and sat at the eat-in table. Restlessness settled over her. She couldn’t seem to quiet the voices in her head. It had been days since she’d told Tate, Eric, and Kellan that she couldn’t return to Chicago with them. Belle still knew she couldn’t resume her old life, but she now dreaded the moment they would walk away. Because they would. Soon they’d realize she wasn’t the woman for them. Despite Tate’s idiosyncrasies and Kellan’s reluctance to get involved, they were a packaged deal. They would never be happy any other way. When they realized she couldn’t fulfill them, they would leave her for good.

  Life wasn’t fair. She’d learned that at a young age. She’d watched fate snatch away her mother’s happy ending. After her father’s death, Mom hadn’t believed she had anything to live for. When her men had packed up and gone home, Belle feared she’d feel the same.

  Sir scratched at the back door and she got up to let him out, closing the door quickly to keep out the humidity of the night.

  At least the air conditioner seemed to be working now. It was a small miracle. Sir barked, and Belle saw the outline of that damn cat prowling around in the dark. The thing seemed to delight in making her dog insane.

  The kitchen door swung open, and Eric strode through. He grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Thanks for doing the dishes.”

  His tone was so polite, it hurt. “Thank you for cooking dinner. Are you still working?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, my hearing got postponed until Monday, but I’ve got to be there. I bought my plane tickets this morning. I’ll only be gone for two days. Will you be okay here?”

  She nodded, but the thought of not seeing him even for a few days made her anxious and achy. “Sure. Things should settle down now that the A/C is fixed and the wiring finally seems to be up to code.”

  “I won’t be sad to see that pervert go.” Eric had never warmed to Mike. “What’s your next project?”

  She hated the distance between them. He didn’t move closer to her, didn’t reach out to take her in his arms. The abyss seemed to widen every day. “The parlor. I’m going to sand the wainscoting and strip the paint from the crown molding so I can stain them and restore both to a more period-appropriate color.”

  He nodded again, but it was a negligent gesture. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

  And then he was gone once more, heading back to the living room and leaving a terrible void in his wake.

  Something had to give. Right now, she just hoped Eric actually came back from Chicago. What if he got there and remembered how much he loved it, how much less complicated everything was in his office? How much he enjoyed the comforts of his home? What if he called in a few days and told her to have a good life? Kell and Tate would leave shortly thereafter.

  At the terrible thought, a sob rose up inside her.

  Once, she’d thought they’d all be better off if the guys left. Now, Belle wasn’t entirely sure she’d live through their parting. She’d gotten so used to being with them, to having them in her everyday life. She couldn’t imagine how quiet the house would be without them. But her feelings stemmed from more than a worry about being lonely. Belle would miss them like she’d miss the beating heart they’d tear from her chest when they left.

  She took a deep breath and picked up her tea mug. Weariness threatened to invade her bones. Despite the fact that she wasn’t alone at night, what little sleep she got wasn’t restful. Her dreams were still haunted by swinging ropes and screaming women as they were dragged to their deaths. She still heard those whispers in the night that warned her to leave. Often, she’d sit straight up in bed. Then the voices would stop, only to start again when she settled back against her pillow.

  The sound from the television drifted from the living room.

  Police are still investigating the murder of local madam, Karen Ehlers, age fifty-nine. Ehlers allegedly ran the most upscale brothel in New Orleans. She was found strangled in her home just over a week ago amid rumors that she was preparing to write a tell-all autobiography that would have outed several of New Orleans’s most powerful men as her clients. The police haven’t made any arrests. In a press conference earlier today, they requested that anyone with information about Elhers’s infamous client list or the murder contact them.

  Belle shuddered as she walked into the parlor and saw another dead woman center screen. The last thing she needed before bed was to listen to tales of death and mayhem. She already had them running through her head every night.

  Belle stretched as she walked into the parlor and turned on the overhead lights. They illuminated the room with warm, golden light as she headed for her favorite chair in the house. It was a big comfortable wingback in the corner. The fabric was an eye-assaulting brocade, but she couldn’t bring herself to change it. Big bookshelves full of eclectic tomes flanked the chair, and the prettiest Tiffany lamp decorated the adjoining side table.

  At some point, her grandmother had begun using this space less as a room to greet guests and more as a cozy place to relax. She could envision her grandmother sitting in the comfy chair while reading. Belle had taken to curling up there in the evenings and reading her grandmother’s journal before she retired.

  The woman she’d met only at her father’s funeral fascinated her. The diary hinted at some big and slightly scandalous parties back in her day. Belle had wondered more than once what her grandmother would say about her unusual relationship with Kell, Eric, and Tate. Oddly enough, she had the sense that Grandma would have understood.

  The overhead lights flickered, blinked twice, and died, sending the room into gloom again. Belle sighed. Maybe they weren’t done with Mike after all. She reached over and pulled the chain on the Tiffany lamp. Luckily, it came on, giving her a small circle of light. Belle settled against the back of the cozy chair, deciding the little pool of illumination was actually quite nice.

  She opened the journal, flipping to the place where she’d left off last night, and settled in eagerly.

  My darling boy, I hear you had a baby girl. Annabelle. Oh, my son. I’m so proud you named her after my dearest Belle. She loved you so. I sent a gift, but I don’t expect you to receive it well. If you send it back to me, I’ll give it to the orphanage. They can always use the money. I wish I could see her, see the smallest piece of myself in her beautiful, tiny face. You won’t allow it, but know that I love that child like I love you, son. Tell her to have the best life she can. Tell her to find love and when she does, you tell her to never let it go. You tell her to fight in a way I didn’t. I let your father go too easily. You tell her she’ll never regret that she fought. She will only mourn if she doesn’t.

  Would it please you to know I sold the business? Likely not. I’m too old to control those girls anymore. I’m far past my prime. I’ll just read my cards in the Square from now on. I’ll tell tourists the futures they want to hear, then maybe—just maybe—they’ll create their own self-fulfilling prophecies and make their dreams come true. Sometimes all a person needs is a little faith. I have the greatest faith that someday you will forgive me. Someday I will prove myself and my adoration to you. I love you, my boy. Take care of your baby girl.

  Tears sprang to Belle’s eyes. She sniffled, the words in front of her watery but seared into her heart. She flipped the page to read on, to find out why her father had never forgiven his own mother. But that was the last page of the entry. The rest of the pages remained void—like their mother-son rapport.

  Why had her father been so angry with Grandma? Belle couldn’t understand why he’d kept her from a loving grandmother. It was so obvious the woman had adored her only son. In earlier entries, she’d written tearfully about sending him away for boarding school. She’d missed her son desperately, but wanted what was best for him. How had her father not seen or believed in that love?

  Belle read the entry again, looking for clues. The words seemed to swell off the page and into her consciousness. Fight. Fight for the love she wanted and deserved. Risk her heart. Take a chance.

  It scared her. She’d already seen what life looked like when one didn’t. Her grandmother had ended up alone. Her mother, too. Her father…she recalled his occasionally withdrawn moods. Had her family all walked away from love and lived to regret it? Could she break the cycle?

  On the other hand, she’d tried so hard as a child to make her mom love her again following her father’s passing and she’d failed. After that, she’d stopped trying at all, refusing to let herself be hurt again.

  Was she playing out the same patterns as her ancestors? Sure, she’d listened to Kellan’s terrible past, even empathized with him, but had she fought for him? Really? For all of them to stay and love her?

  No. She’d pushed them away to protect her heart, but it was already breaking. And if she didn’t change something now, she feared she’d soon mourn the fact that she had not done absolutely everything she could to keep them.

  The light in the room flickered on again. Belle glanced up at the big fixture dangling from the ceiling. It flared and died, a popping sound splitting the air.

  She stood. Damn it. Mike had sworn everything was up to current code. He’d smiled and taken her check, and now Belle kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Guess she’d be calling him again in the morning.

  With a sigh, she leaned back against the chair, wishing her other problems would be half so easy to fix.

  Suddenly, every hair on her body stood up. The air seemed to turn electric. Goose bumps covered her body.

  A shadow snagged her attention, and Belle zipped her gaze to the far wall in time to watch a dark mass move across the area. She gulped in a silent breath, her eyes widening as the figure moved toward the window. The whole room seemed to turn cold.

  There was no way to deny what her eyes were seeing. That shadow moving across her wall didn’t move like a person. It seemed to float off the ground. It didn’t have defined legs.

  It wasn’t of this world.

  A cold menace snaked across her skin. All the air in the room was suddenly sucked away. Her lungs ached. Time slowed to a stop as she watched the black mass pause, turn. Was it coming her way?

  She felt a cold touch on her shoulder, almost like an icy finger passing through her flesh. She heard a scream. Then the whole world went black.

  * * * *

  Kellan’s heart threatened to stop when he heard the blood-curdling scream fill the whole space as though the house itself was screaming.