One Ring (Suncoast Society #28)(31)

Don, with Carl holding Mel down, touched the brand to her right ass cheek.

When he pulled it away, the double-M was clearly visible.

“And that, folks, is how you make sure a subbie can get returned to you,” Gilo called out, making everyone laugh.





Mel hadn’t expected the rings. It caught her off-guard, but in the good way.

After they were finished and everyone had congratulated them, they moved to the side, out of the way of the liquid nitrogen demo so her men could untie her.

She stared at the rings on their hands, the one on hers.

They all had the same one.

The missing piece had slipped into place, finally. Even before they’d been having sex—and she’d literally had more sex in the past week than she’d had in the last five years of her marriage to Mike—she felt like she was part of something bigger. Not just friends, but a family.

Once she had put her sundress on—without panties—Marcia raced over to hug her. “I’m so happy for you three!” She hugged Don, then Carl.

“Yeah, well, you should be. You worked your ass off getting us together.”

“No, I worried my ass off for months hoping you would end up together,” she corrected. “I was beginning to think it wouldn’t happen.”

“All good things in their time,” Mel reminded her. “You would have hurt me in the bad way if I’d jumped into the wrong relationship.”

“Yes, but these guys had my seal of approval from the start,” she said. “I knew they were perfect for you, and you for them.”

“You didn’t even know I was kinky a couple of weeks before I met them.”

“True, but I had a feeling this was the right thing for all three of you.” She grinned. “And I was right. Ha! Tilly and Eliza aren’t the only matchmakers.”

“This isn’t a competition,” Carl said, half-joking.

He knew some of the Venture women were every bit as competitive as their men.

Maybe more.

“I didn’t say it was. But I’m glad to say I have a one hundred percent success rate.” She smirked.

“One out of one isn’t a rate,” Mel said. “It’s luck.”

“Quit pissing on my parade,” Marcia said, then dropped her voice, turning serious. “I’m glad this worked out. You all deserve to be happy.” She hugged them, then hurried off to see why one of the volunteers was waving at her from the office door.

Mel snuggled against Don, pulling Carl against her back. This was something she’d enjoyed, even when they were “just friends.” At least once a day, they’d had a group hug.

Now, she could sleep like this, with one of them on either side of her.

Never alone. Not anymore.

And now, they all matched.

“Do you like the rings?” Carl asked.

“I love them. One ring.”

“The preeeeciousss,” Gilo quietly joked from nearby.

Tilly swatted at him, making him and all three of them laugh.





Chapter Thirteen


Six months into their new arrangement and being collared to them, and Mel wouldn’t change a thing.

If her men were telling her the truth, they were happy, too.

The men had given Mel the master bedroom, and most nights, the three of them all slept together in the same bed, when she was home. Usually, if she was traveling and away from home, one of them slept in another room. She didn’t know how they decided that, but it apparently varied from trip to trip. With the third bedroom now being used for storage and a home office, what had been Don’s bedroom was now the “guest” room. Mel’s clothes were in the master bedroom, but the men shared space between the guest room and the master bedroom.

It didn’t matter. The men were happy, she was happy, and things were going well.

Except that Mel didn’t feel good when she headed to the airport for a flight to Atlanta on a Tuesday morning. By the time she arrived at Tampa International and got checked in and through security, she barely made it to a bathroom in time to puke her guts up.

Holy crap.

She doubted it was food poisoning. The men were apparently feeling all right, but she’d awakened feeling…weird. Off. Then again, maybe the eggs she’d scrambled for herself that morning weren’t good after all.

She’d nearly made it to the gate when the feeling hit her again, causing her to run, dragging her carry-on behind her, back to the bathroom.

This is ridiculous.

She bought some antacid, mints, and iced tea at a vendor in the gate area and tried again, taking a seat near a garbage can in case the feeling hit again.

This time, her stomach obeyed.

For the first time ever, she double-checked to make sure an air sickness bag was tucked into the seat pocket in front of her. In the past, she’d silently scoffed at them, being an easy flier who never got sick.

Not this morning.

Fortunately, by the time they were in the air, her stomach had apparently decided to behave. She ordered plain seltzer water with lime and sipped that, relieved when it seemed to have the desired effect, especially combined with the crackers they served.

By the time they landed in Atlanta, she felt much better and headed to the rental car outlet.

That evening, after several hours spent on-site at the client’s location, she checked into her hotel and realized she’d need every last one of the three days they’d slotted for this job. It was far more complicated than she’d first been told, the server room a total disaster, with equipment needing to be taken offline and reconfigured properly before she could even begin to think about doing her job.