Initiative (Suncoast Society #31)(16)

Kissing her palm, he then pressed it against his chest. “Such a very good girl,” he whispered, gently squeezing her hand.

He imagined she whimpered, or maybe gasped, but he couldn’t hear it over the music. Her lips parted slightly, a gorgeous pink flush starting to creep up her neck and toward her cheeks.

Yeah, she wanted him. Hopefully wanted both of them. That would be the test, if she could accept both of them. Because no matter how much he wanted her, if she couldn’t take them both, it wouldn’t work. Maybe he could help her out with play, but he wouldn’t take things to a sexual level with her if she didn’t want Darryl, too.

Package deal.

They sat there and talked until after eleven, never actually getting into the pool. Marcy started yawning first. “Sorry. Long day, and we were up early for our flight. I hate to bail on you guys, but I’m falling asleep.”

“I don’t think I’m far behind you,” Corey said. “You all want to grab breakfast in the morning?”

“Why don’t you text us?” Grant offered before either Susie or Darryl could answer. He stared into Susie’s eyes. “If we’re up, we might just do that.”

They all stood and hugged, leaving Darryl, Grant, and Susie there at the table.

Grant held out his hands to her, palms up. She seemed to take a deep breath before reaching out and taking his hands.

Then she looked up into his eyes.

“I think the three of us need to go talk, don’t we?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Her gaze never wavered from his, steady, sure.

He pulled her in for a hug, Darryl stepping in close behind her. “Let’s head up to your room for now,” Grant suggested. “Then we’ll figure out where we go from there.”

It felt like she was clinging to him, as if afraid to let go of him. “Yes, Sir.”

Hand in hand, with Susie between them, the three of them headed inside and to the bank of elevators. Corey and Marcy must have already made it inside one, because they weren’t standing there.

Grant couldn’t help stroking her hand with his thumb as they waited, well aware of Darryl’s nervous energy on her other side.

This almost felt too easy. What would be the hang-up? What would be the road block?

Or was this the Universe’s way of finally handing them a win for a change?





Under threat of death Susan couldn’t have recounted a single damned thing they talked about with Corey and Marcy in any detail. Her entire focus remained on the two men, especially on Grant. Not that she was ignoring Darryl, but Grant’s dominant presence drew her, the literal moth to the flame.

She worried that taking her focus off him for even a moment might mean she lost him. That it had been some sort of daydream or wishful thinking on her part.

And she couldn’t lose either of them. Not until she got to talk to them, to see what they wanted.

It certainly felt like Grant was staking a claim on her. Had it been any other person—other than Darryl, of course—she would have told him to go f*ck himself. She was no pushover.

This was Grant. He didn’t have to win her over or win her heart. He had it. He’d owned it in high school, both of them had.

They had the elevator car all to themselves as they rode upstairs. Her mind spun fantasies of Grant and Darryl kissing her right there, risking the door sliding open and someone witnessing them in the middle of trying to set the car on fire via body heat and passion, but no.

And it was even more sexy, somehow, the anticipation.

As they approached her room and she had to let go of their hands to fish her key card out of the name badge holder, Grant simply held his hand out, palm up.

She needed no order. She dropped the key card into his hand and watched as he opened the door for them, holding it open and indicating for her and Darryl to go ahead.

Inside, he didn’t speak at first. He closed and locked the door, flipping the security bar and deadbolt. Then she noticed he checked the little cover over the viewfinder to make sure it was in place.

He turned and walked over to her, staring down into her eyes for a long, silent moment.

“You know what we are,” he quietly said.

She nodded, her mouth suddenly dried and parched and devoid of spit.

“Say it.”

Heart racing, she had to swallow a couple of times to finally form the words. Her voice sounded weak even to her as she said it. “You’re Darryl’s Master. Or Dominant. And he’s either your submissive or slave.”

The eyebrow slowly arched. “Master and slave. Whose collar is that on your wrist?”

She fought—and lost—against the tears. With her eyes closed, she clutched her right wrist with her left hand, holding them against her chest. “My husband’s.” Pain slammed into her heart as she struggled not to let her renewed grief take her legs out from under her.

He stepped closer, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

She forced her eyes open again. Grant’s face appeared blurry through her tears.

“What were his last orders to you?”

She was aware of Darryl walking to the bathroom and bringing back several tissues, which he pressed into her hands. “We’d talked…before. He’d always said he would want me to move on. And he left a letter with Ed. Our attorney. Well, two letters. One for me when John died, and one that Ed’s supposed to give someone if I get married or seriously involved with someone again.”