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Greg nodded his thanks, replying, “Nothing that we can think of right now, but the offer is appreciated. We have experience in protecting witnesses, and this situation amounts to taking the same precautions.”
Devin tried not to think about how the last woman they’d sworn to protect had ended up. The scars from their bullet wounds weren’t the only reminders of how they’d both failed. Greg had been right, they had done everything humanly possible to protect and shield Catherine, but that didn’t negate the fact they’d rolled out of her bed in time to dress before all hell had broken loose, leaving him to always wonder if he’d been totally focused on the job. Greg continued to swear without hesitation he had been, but between the two of them, Devin remained the naysayer.
Caden thumbed his hat back. “Let Grayson know. He has law enforcement contacts, which might come in handy. I don’t have to tell you how easy it would be for someone to sneak onto your property from the woods.”
“No, you don’t.” Devin’s gut cramped at the thought. “Which is why one or both of us will be with her at all times. With a large hunting party camping out on the ranch this week, the number of people coming and going will make it harder for a stranger to sneak in. And yes, we’ve already had Kelsey’s foster parents run everyone’s names through their system and they’ve cleared them.”
“As far as they know,” Greg added. “An experienced perp will have access to damned good aliases.”
Connor’s worried gaze swung to Kelsey. “Then let’s hope your former boss is still good at his job.”
It helped, Devin mused, to have friends who offered such unconditional support. He turned to his best friend. “Shall we see how far we can push our girl?”
Greg smirked. “So, you’re ready to admit she’s our girl, now?”
“While she’s here,” he answered without inflection, sliding off the stool.
Kelsey’s pulse kicked up a notch as she watched Masters Greg and Devin return to the table, their eyes resting on her face. Those deep, penetrating looks made it easy to remember their titles here at the club. She liked the contrast between their less formal but just as dominant at home persona and their sterner, more formal mien here at the club. She also liked how her body sat up and took notice the same, no matter where they were or which side of them she was facing. Was it any wonder she’d nicknamed her pussy ‘slutty bitch’?
“What, pray tell, do you find so amusing?” Greg grasped her hand and pulled her up.
“Myself, and that’s all I’m admitting. Where are we going?” She was proud of herself for not wincing at the breathless catch in her voice as she waved to Sydney and Tamara.
“To dance, for starters.” Devin pulled her in front of him when they reached the dance floor, but it wasn’t until Greg pressed against her back that she eased into the slow, pelvis-grinding movements they controlled with their hands on her hips.
She sighed, content to go where they led her. Here, she didn’t have to think, make decisions or worry. Her heartache was forgotten with the tight grip of their hands, the press of those ripped abs and pectorals against her breasts and back and their thick thighs bunching against her legs with each sway of their bodies. Barefoot, she barely reached their chests, and for once she liked how her petite stature worked in her favor.
They didn’t talk, just made free with her body as if they owned her. And she not only didn’t care, but embraced each sweep of a calloused palm down her bare thighs, every light finger stroke up her bare arms, the tender kiss on the side of her neck, the sharp nip on her earlobe. Nestled between their tall, wide shoulders and long legs, it was easy to shut out the other people dancing so close, easy to forget it wasn’t just the three of them in their own little world. Even when Greg unbuttoned her blouse down to her waist and Devin spread the sides open, baring her braless breasts, she found it easier not to shy away from the public exposure standing between the protective embrace of her two cowboys.
“There. Not so hard, is it?” Greg murmured in her ear as he slid a hand under her skirt and cupped one silk-covered buttock.
“Your bodies are shielding me.” That was her excuse, and Kelsey felt more comfortable sticking to it than admitting to the decadent thrill of exhibitionism scorching her insides. She swallowed hard as Devin shifted just enough to allow the couple next to them to see her exposed state.
Cool air and the man’s hot gaze hit her nipples, jolting her with lust. His slow wink sent a warm flush crawling up her neck, the heated buzz surging through her bloodstream potent enough to keep her on edge with wanting more. She whipped her eyes back up to Devin. “I haven’t seen the upstairs yet.” She prayed they took the hint without making her beg for what she wanted.
They exchanged that same look over her head she’d caught them doing several times before, a silent communication only the two of them could decipher. She didn’t take offense, didn’t care about how many times it had taken or with how many others they’d had to practice it on to perfect the technique of being able to read each other’s thoughts and decisions when it came to dealing with a submissive’s needs. She just wanted them to act.
Greg’s hands tightened on her hip and butt as Devin’s grip on her breasts switched to her nipple. “Little bit,” Greg growled low, “you could try the patience of a saint. You’re making it damn difficult to do what’s right.”
“Who cares about what’s right?” Jordan and Theresa certainly didn’t. Neither has my father’s partner and so-called friend. Kelsey shoved aside the useless thoughts. “I’m leaving as soon as this guy is stopped. I don’t have time for you to take things so slow.”
Devin swore, stepped back and grabbed her hand. “I’ve warned you to be more careful about insisting on what you want. Let’s go.”
Her breasts swayed as they ushered her off the dance floor and toward the stairs. Kelsey bit her lip as Devin tugged her up behind him and Greg kept his hand on her lower back. The dimness of the loft did little to hide the scenes taking place at the different stations and apparatus, or to shield her bare breasts from appreciative glances as they took their time walking her around the upper floor.
She shook her head when they paused at a webbed, hanging swing, the woman occupying it with her legs bound in a wide V straining toward the man’s hand pumping a large dildo in and out of her pussy. The padded cross looked interesting, but not the thin cane Master Dan was snapping across Nan’s buttocks. The big, upright wagon wheel drew her curiosity until she read some of the possibilities spelled out on the smaller, spinning wheel. Wheel of Misfortune was an apt name for the contraption. When they walked over to a dangling chain with two cuffs attached on the end, her interest piqued along with her pulse.
“Okay, I’m good with giving this a try.”
They smirked, the jerks, before Greg gave her one of his teasing grins. “Too bad. You don’t get to call the shots. Haven’t we mentioned that before?”
Devin steered her away from the chain station before she could reply. “We’ve already decided on a bench,” he said.
“And you’re the boss, right?” Kelsey meant to say that with sarcasm, but instead, her voice betrayed the sudden, breathless anticipation surging through her.
“Right.” Greg slid her blouse off and laid it on a chair in the corner.
“Bend over, baby,” Devin ordered, his tone steely soft, his hands on her shoulders, guiding her down, gentle. “No more talking unless we ask you a question or for a color.”
