Even a Master needs a savior...or two.

Jack’s lovers are soon to be married, and his place as their Dominant is unshakable. Then Jack loses the one thing a Dom requires...control over his life.

Rory can't wait to get married but she can't marry both of her men. If she wants the happily-ever-after wedding she's always dreamed of, she'll have to learn to fight for it on her own.

Spencer 's got the woman he loves and the man he can't live without. Only their future is in danger of being swept out of their hands. He's watching his fiancée fall apart, his Dom fade away and there's nothing he can do about it...or is there?


Rory sat with her hands folded and waited, just as she’d been told. Every grunt and groan from Spencer ricocheted in her ears. She closed her eyes and let the deep, rich tone of Spencer’s pleasure vibrate inside of her. Her need grew larger with every minute, swelling up from her depths and feeling as if it might make her explode. And the waiting was heaven because she had learned discipline and control. Rory’s bouts of anxiety were almost entirely in the past. No hives, no worrying. All her life she’d been struggling to cope. Jack had given her the power to conquer that demon. Now the more she waited, the more she was deprived, the more she was punished, the stronger she became.

Then the wait was over.

Jack strode back into the sleeping quarters still wet from the shower and still hard. “You kept your position. Good girl,” he said, charging toward her.

Jack took her with stark determination, pulling her forward across his lap as he sat down. She held her arms over her head, and he grabbed hold of both her wrists in one strong hand, stretching her as long as possible. His other hand cut through the air and sent a swift breeze past her thighs as it landed the first stinging blow to her ass. Jack’s grip around her wrists tightened as the second lightning-fast slap connected with her. Rory inhaled sharply and let out a whimper on the third blow.

Her toes curled, and her fingers contracted into fists. Spencer stood in the doorway, his bath towel draped around his neck. Jack struck her ass again, and Spencer pressed his lips together, his fingers finding their way around his semi-hard shaft.

Ten full-throttle spankings and Jack seemed satisfied. Her skin stung worse than the worst sunburn she’d ever had. But that throbbing pain was always followed by pleasure, and it was the pleasure that made it all worth it.

He flipped her onto the bed and gripped her thighs hard enough to press his fingertips into her flesh. He was inside of her quickly, like a knife cutting through butter, buried to the hilt. For a moment he stilled and then withdrew. Kisses rained down on her neck and chest, and his words were soft and sweet now that her reward had come. The long strokes filling her ebbed and flowed like the harbor waters around them.

“You looked so amazing sitting there. You know it took every last bit of my willpower to make you wait.” He supported her chin between his thumb and index finger and stilled himself again, staring into her eyes. There was a lot present in that stare. Rory felt the sum total of those emotions sweep over her and cherished the adoring kiss he delivered to her lips. “Say it, Rory. Say that you know it.”

“I know it.”

“I love you. Do you know that too?”


He rolled his hips, sending his shaft to her depths. “Would you like some proof to back that up?”

She lifted one eyebrow with a sly smile. “Every psychological theory needs to have supporting data.”

“You would know, Dr. Campbell-Hartley.”

She moaned a little at the feel of his velvety strokes. Her voice lilted breathlessly in the air. “I’ve only just barely started on my doctorate, and Spencer and I won’t be married until summer.”

“Your future has been told,” he said, dipping his head and kissing her neck.

Rory placed her hand on his shoulder. “Not exactly.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “Spencer and I talked it over, and I’ve decided to take the name Hartley-Rothman.”

Jack stilled and flashed her a look of genuine surprise. For a fleeting second, Rory caught a glimmer of something a lot like fear in his expression. She wasn’t sure.

“Spence?” Jack said without turning toward him. He didn’t take his eyes off of her, and she watched whatever that was in his eyes give way to something more like hope. “Is this true?”

Spencer crossed the room and slipped onto the bed next to them.

“Yeah. She’s going to petition for a legal name change. Are you cool with it?”

The smile started in the corner of Jack’s mouth and soon took hold of his entire face. “What do you think?”

“Even though she’ll be married to me, we wanted to make sure that you had an official place by our side. Nothing else seemed right.”

Rory laced her fingers into Jack’s. “I like the sound of it: Dr. Rory Hartley-Rothman. It has a beautiful ring to it.”

“And your parents, Ror? What do they say about this idea to take my name?”

Rory tried to look Jack in the eye, but she faltered and found herself dropping his hand and stretching through a yawn. “I haven’t told them.”

Both Spencer and Jack gave her a knowing look.

“Not because I’m afraid to…I just didn’t think it was important right now.”

“It’s plenty important to me that you don’t alienate your parents.” Jack stroked her cheek with his thumb. “If my mom were still alive, I’d be chewing her ear off about how much I love you two. But as it is, both Spencer and I are short on parents we can rely on. Your folks care about you, and I know it’s important to you what they think.”

Rory nodded softly and studied Jack’s expression, wondering if he was testing her. “They’ll be over for Easter and can see for themselves how happy we are. They already tolerate our relationship with you, Jack. I don’t see why this would be an issue.”

“That’s because you’re great at seeing the good in people, sweetheart,” Jack said.

Spencer kissed her forehead. “And it’s one reason why we love you.”

Jack cupped her cheek. “The other reason is that sound you make when you are about to come.”

“Haven’t heard that sound in a whole twenty-four hours,” Spencer said. “Too long.”

“Way too long,” Jack agreed. He gave her the hungriest look she’d seen yet. It was enough to make her skin spark with tingles. “But this time I’m going to have to take it from you.”

Rory’s mouth opened. She wasn’t sure she knew what he meant by that. “Take it?”

Jack’s gray eyes smoldered, and he slipped his hand around her neck. “Turn over.”

There it was: that instinctual fear, that thrill, that soul-melting burn inside. She obeyed him without hesitation, without an inch of doubt, even when he spoke in that voice. Correction; especially when he spoke in that voice.

Rory laid flat on her belly and listened as Jack directed Spencer to reach into the cabinet below the bed. He pulled out the black leather box sized for tools, longer than his arm. In regal red script, her name was embroidered across the top. Spencer slipped the latch and raised the top. “Pick your poison, Jack.”

“Spreader bar and the longer rope for the binding you will tie.”

“I get to do the honors, huh? Sweet.”

Only a rock climber could rival a sailor in his talent for tying knots. Rope play had come easy to Spencer. He’d told her once, as they shared a bath following a scene with Jack, that tying her up felt like securing her, like keeping her still in a chaotic world. He’d laughed afterward, dismissing his confession as crazy. He’d told her to forget it and started to change the subject, but Rory had reached behind her and cinched her wrists around his neck, draping herself back against his chest.

“We’ll just have to be crazy together because I love that you feel that way, Spence.”

He’d laughed again, and that time she’d felt the vibrations of a full-throated chuckle. “Crazy together then it is,” she remembered him saying, and the words had resonated with her. Their normal, their crazy…it was all the same.

Rory registered the look of steady calm on Spencer’s face as he removed the shiny chrome bar with gray velvet-lined leather cuffs attached at each end. He reached over her to secure her ankles inside the custom-made leather sheaths. A simple buckle ensured there would be no escape.

“Take the reverse prayer position,” Jack instructed.

With her head laid against the soft sheets, she arranged her arms behind her back and pressed her palms neatly together. In her training over the past year, Rory had taken up yoga classes to practice both flexibility and discipline. It was something she’d pursued on her own in her quest to become a more worthy submissive. Rory was a perfectionist. Even she could admit that now. Yoga was a healthy outlet, one of many Jack had helped her uncover.

Spencer got to work on wrapping the black nylon rope around one of her wrists in four precise rows and then continued on the second wrist. Then he took each end and laced the rope around her forearms, immobilizing her in that position. In the mirrored closet door next to their bed, Rory watched him work. The rope was corded around itself for further reinforcement, and then Spencer crafted an intricate butterfly knot to finish it all off. She thought they were finished, but Jack took two shorter ropes from her box. He held her hips and raised them into the air, placing her ass high and open to him. The ropes were looped around each thigh in slide knots that were then connected to her wrists. She couldn’t move her body an inch in any direction. It was even difficult to move her head, and the cool sheet warmed beneath her cheek. She was at their mercy. Rory acknowledged the stretch of her muscles and let her senses drink in every second as they ticked by.

“Do you need a gag?”

“I don’t know.” Truly, she didn’t. There was something in the air that felt different. What had Jack meant when he’d said he would be taking her orgasm from her? It sounded as though she’d be forced to break the rules, to yell out without permission. Would she need a gag? Rory swallowed hard. She hoped so.

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