Their Virgin Secretary (Masters of Ménage #6)(93)

"Yes." There was nothing else to say.

"Do you understand what you're saying yes to, love?" Kellan stepped into the room. His whole body hardened, his previous calm gone. Before her stood a Dom.

Her Dom.

"Yes. I'm agreeing to submit to you in the bedroom." Elsewhere, she would insist on being an equal partner for as long as it lasted or she'd be unable to live with herself.

Eric let out a sexy growl. "In the bedroom, the living room, the bathroom-whatever room we want. We're not going to always carry you to the comfort of a bed, Belle. We'll have you in every room of this house. We'll take you wherever we want you. I'll flip up your skirt or pull down your pants, and you'll take my cock. Do you understand?"

She would be theirs to play with at their whim-whenever they wanted. The thought more than excited her.

"I understand," she murmured.

"Good. I want you now, Belle." Tate pulled his shirt over his head with an impatient yank. "Strip and present yourself to us."

She sat up and unbuttoned her blouse with shaking hands. "How?"

She'd read descriptions of it in erotic romances, but being this close to the guys made her feel too jumbled and hot to remember the details.

Kellan dipped into her personal space. "First of all, look at your Dom when you ask him a question. No more hiding. We've let you slide by on that for too long."

She bit her bottom lip and stared at his chest, finding it difficult to meet his stare. "I'm not hiding."

Gently, he cupped her chin and forced it up. His stare bored into her. "You are right now. Look at me, not away, when you should connect. There will be no more dodging us. When we speak, unless you're told otherwise, look directly at us. Do you understand?"

She hadn't realized she'd been avoiding eye contact. But somehow, when they flipped her submissive switch, that backbone she'd relied on since her mother had withdrawn in grief after her father's passing just seemed to go on hiatus.

Belle sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to nod, their gazes still connected. "Yes."

"Yes, Sir," Eric corrected. "When we're playing, you're to call each one of us Sir or we'll punish you."

"Yes, Sir." She could remember that. It would be harder to constantly make eye contact. The visual connection could be so squirm-worthy, so intimate.

Kellan released her chin. "Now ask Tate your question."

They were going to make this difficult for her. She could tell because Tate didn't come to her rescue the way he normally would by volunteering the information. Instead of telling her how to present herself, he simply stood over her, arms crossed, watching and waiting. Standing on shaking legs, she tangled her gaze with his and studied him.

Little lines feathered around his eyes, along with a few others that had formed around his normally big smile. Now, his expression looked somber, lacking his usual spark. Already, she missed the Tate she'd come to know and love. Funny, gentle, considerate and earnest. God, she wanted that man back. She didn't know this one at all. The fact that she'd helped create him killed her.



       
         
       
        

Belle edged closer to say something-anything. She watched him closely, heard his breath hitch slightly the instant she drew near.

"How do I present myself, Sir?"

His jaw firmed, forming a straight, stubborn line. She had the sudden desire to run her hand across it, to brush her fingertips there. To reassure him. She stopped herself. He was too angry and hurt to want her softness now. She would have to be patient and find other ways to prove that, even if she couldn't commit to forever, he still mattered.

"Take your clothes off. Get on your knees and spread them wide. Place your hands on your thighs, palms up. Remember this position. You'll greet your Doms like this to show us you're ready to submit." Every word came in the same staccato grind he used when explaining a point of law or lecturing a client.

She never looked away, focusing solely on his instruction and his dark stare. Their deeper visual bond made her aware that, without uttering a sound, he said so much. Words could lie, but his eyes didn't. Tate might try to put forth a cold façade, but the sweetheart she knew was still in there. Belle's heart melted.

Now that he'd been hurt by women, including her, sex seemed like the only way he could connect with her and retain his pride. Surrendering to him might not fix everything wrong between them, but she could give him her body, her warmth, her comfort, and hope that would help him find a better place.

Belle shrugged out of her shirt and turned to toss her clothes on the bed. Instead, Kellan held out his hand. Without a word, she draped her blouse across his palm and looked his way for confirmation.