Tymber Dalton - Contractual Obligation

Doug nipped the back of her neck. “Maybe we’ll write a clause in there that you have to get our names tattooed on your ass.” He sat up and marked out two spaces on her ass cheeks. “There, and there. ‘Property of Doug and Tate.’”

She wiggled her butt at him. “Maybe I need to get you two tattooed.”

Doug carefully withdrew, but rolled her off Tate and onto her back. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. He liked to do that a lot, she’d noticed.

She loved it.

“Maybe,” he growled, “I’ll make you get a clit hood piercing so when you’re sitting in a meeting you’ll feel it and think of how well fucked we’re going to keep you for the rest of your life.”

Her breath caught. She knew he was teasing, but the fantasy of it was enough to send another gush of juices into her already swollen pussy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?” He nipped her below her ear. She was vaguely aware of Tate getting up and doing something, but Doug had her full attention. “We’d take you to the piercing parlor,” he rumbled in her ear, “and put you up on the table. Tell the guy you’re our girl. Tate would hold one of your hands over your head, and I’d hold the other.” He reached down and pinched one of her nipples. “Maybe get these done, too. Have a chain connecting all three to lead you around by at home.”

She whimpered and squirmed, trying to get traction against his thigh to rub her clit, but he wouldn’t let her move.

“Would you like that, baby? To know under your clothes you were wearing our piercings?”

Harper couldn’t respond, her brain totally disengaged by all her available blood flow pooling between her legs and not her ears.

He chuckled as Tate came back. He kept her arms and shoulders pinned to the bed, but shifted his lower body enough Tate could get between her legs.

Then she heard the unmistakable sound of the Hitachi being switched on.

She nearly came off the bed when Tate pressed it against her clit. She cried out as the orgasm went on and on. Relentlessly, Tate refused to back off, forcing her to keep coming as she sobbed and cried through the never-ending pleasure.

Finally, she took a gasping breath. “Red,” she managed.

Both Doug and Tate immediately released her. Doug gathered her into his arms as she sobbed against him.

“Good tears?” they asked in unison.

She laughed and nodded even as she still cried.

Tate flanked her, adding his sweet, warm embrace and completing their trio. When she finally could put coherent thoughts and syllables together again, she kissed Doug and then Tate. “Wow,” she whispered.

Doug grinned. “Good?”

“Damn good.”

Tate brushed the hair away from her forehead. “Oh, I can see when you’re back to one hundred percent and ready for more exhausting fun that we’re going to have a blast filling your sweet head with all sorts of dirty fantasies.”

“As many as you want,” she said.

But for now, all she wanted to do was curl up with them and enjoy falling asleep between them while they watched the late news and softly chatted.

No, she didn’t give a shit what her dad said. She’d live in a hovel with these two men and work any two-bit job she could get before she gave them up.

Harper didn’t waste making up for lost time with her men. She found the men holding her back in bed over the next several days, still concerned about getting too strenuous with their activities out of fear of injuring her.

“Hey, the doctor said I could do whatever I felt like doing.” She felt like pouting.

Doug stroked her chin. “You pull those internal sutures, you’ll end up back in the hospital and be out of commission longer. Is that what you want?”

She stuck out her bottom lip. “No.” She tried to get help from Tate but found herself stymied there, too. “Don’t turn the puppy eyes on me, sweetie,” he said. “I’m with Doug on this one. I was already nervous enough the other night that we’d hurt you. A few more weeks, then you can swing from the chandelier if you want.”

Actually, on the agenda that evening before they could go home and fuck like bunnies was another business card exchange. Tate said he’d go home, but Harper insisted on both men coming with her.

As being with her, not just as “associates.”

Doug and Tate both tried to reason with her, but she’d have none of that. She put her hands on her hips and stared them both down. “Why are you arguing with me on this?”

The men exchanged a glance. “Well,” Doug said, “do you really want to out us all like this now? In front of Tampa’s movers and shakers?”

She shrugged. “Why not now? You two have plans to go somewhere I don’t know about in a few months?”

Both men shook their heads.

She smiled. “Good. Then it’s settled. You two are both going with me.”

With the holiday season rapidly approaching, Harper knew this particular soiree would be packed. It always was. Meaning more-aggressive-than-normal approaches from people looking for charitable donations. She’d simply refuse to go if she knew her father wouldn’t give her holy hell about it. Considering the thin ice she and her men were already treading with her father’s good graces, ditching the business card exchange wasn’t an option this month. Her father knew she despised going to these things to start with. The fact that she’d attended this one in particular, with no grousing to him about it beforehand, wouldn’t go unnoticed by Harrison Wells.

She explained that to Tate and Doug as they left the office and drove west down Kennedy to the Westshore insurance company’s office building where this month’s exchange would be held. Doug drove, while Tate rode shotgun and Harper sat in back. Unless she was driving, this was their normal seating arrangement.

Something Harper didn’t argue with. Remembering that little exchange with her men still made her panties damp. They’d quickly learned that at home or in private, she was more than happy to cede control to them. They never did anything unprofessional at work.

At least, not unless they locked her office door first.

They pulled up to the building. “You two go on in,” Doug said, “while I find a place to park.”

Tate jumped out and helped Harper from the backseat. In that way, they were always gentlemen. She held on to Tate’s arm as they made their way inside and grabbed nametags. For a brief moment, she playfully considered writing “Harper Wells-Gillis-Holt” on her nametag and waiting for the questions, but she opted simply for her name.

Tate winked at her and leaned in as he filled out his. “I saw that naughty thought flit through your mind,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t rub their faces in it. You already look like the happiest woman here.”

She giggled. Giggling? That was something she never did before Doug and Tate came into her life, yet she found herself doing an inordinate amount of it lately. Giggling, laughing, and full-out deep-belly guffaws.

They stepped away from the check-in tables and to one side of the large foyer. “Oh, shit.” Her good mood evaporated as she spotted Julia Carson hovering three gaggles over.

“What?” Tate followed her gaze. “Is that who Doug told me about?”

“Yes—aw, crap.” Too late for Harper and Tate to look away, Julia realized their eyes were on her. She pasted on a great-white-shark-worthy smile, disengaged herself from her victims, who made a rapid escape, and cruised on over.

“Well, Harper. Hello. Such a…whatever.” One hand already held a half-empty cocktail glass. She held her free hand out to Tate, doing her best to wedge her body between Harper and Tate. “And who might you be?”