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“No,” she replied.
“Are you scared of loving us again?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m afraid I’ll use you and then I’ll leave you.”
He studied her face. She was as serious then as s
he’d ever been. Her brutal honesty shocked him. She certainly knew herself better than he understood her. In fact, what did he really know about Morgan at all now?
“I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to say something and I hope you’ll listen to me. Right at the moment, I love crystal more than I’ll ever love you or Grant. I know you don’t understand. I wish you could.” A second or two later, she said, “Scratch that. I hope you never know the hell I’ve had to endure because of meth.”
“What happened to the woman who was clean and never going back?”
She shrugged. “My opinion changes as my needs and cravings vary. Meth addicts stay in emotional turmoil.”
“I’m glad you realize this,” Grant said, walking in the bathroom. “Maybe now you’ll understand why you aren’t permitted to mention meth or any of its street names.”
He snatched her away from Blake’s arms, pulling her completely free of the shower stall. Then, he hoisted her over his shoulder and flayed her as he walked toward the bed. Once there, he dumped her on the mattress and with a guttural tone, he said, “We have a few rules. It’s time you heard about them.”
* * * *
Grant was officially on her nerves. He had it in him to be a general pain in the ass, but this was too much. He wasn’t just a pain. He was an ass.
When he finished explaining what he called severe offenses and moved on to the various forms and stages of punishment, he said, “Now, because you mentioned crystal in the shower, what kind of punishment will you receive?”
“You’re giving me a whirl around the Catherine Wheel.”
“Yes,” Grant deadpanned.
“If I were you, I’d prepare for more than a spin or two,” Blake quickly informed her.
Apparently her upcoming trip around the world wasn’t open for discussion. She’d never particularly liked the Catherine Wheel. Her brothers, who were active in the lifestyle, happened to have one in their basement. In fact, much to her dismay, unless things had changed, there was an entire dungeon down there.
“I hate dark, damp spaces.”
“I happen to love them,” Grant said, his response loaded.
Morgan should’ve realized her opinion on the subject wouldn’t matter. If Blake and Grant had decided to take her there, she wouldn’t be able to change their minds.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what, sub?” Grant asked, picking up his favorite way to address her. When they were together before, he almost always called her his sub-muffin or sub. She preferred sub-muffin. The term possessed pet-name appeal.
“I don’t want to take a ride on the Catherine Wheel.”
“Too bad,” Grant told her. “Maybe after you take a few spins, you’ll remember why it’s not in your best interest to mention meth again in our presence.”
* * * *
She hated the wheel. Grant and Blake loved it. After they thoroughly dried her body, Grant secured her hands behind her back with gold-plated handcuffs. Then, he and Blake escorted her downstairs to the dungeon, affectionately called out as such by her brothers who’d designed the area for their own submissive’s training program.
Once completely against Morgan being trained as a submissive, her brothers probably wouldn’t be too happy to discover Blake and Grant using their equipment to train, punish, and pleasure their little sister. Oh no, Kit would hit the fan.
Morgan stared at the various contraptions. “They’ve added a lot since I’ve been down here.” After thoughtful consideration, she quickly said, “No wonder Kit and Kemper can’t keep a woman. One trip to this room and she’s probably convinced they’re serial killers or something.”
