“A fling.”
She laughed aloud. Kemper’s nose twitched,
and he obviously thought the pronouncement was a little childish and immature, too. “A little over a year and we’re still barely more than a one-night stand?”
“I didn’t ask you for a commitment.”
“No, maybe not in so many words. I’ll give you that, but you made me feel like I was Keesling property, and if I put that to the test now, I guarantee I could stir more angst in this small town than the townspeople would know what to do with.”
“Are you threatening me, Holly?” Kit asked.
Kemper shook his blasted head like he was afraid of what would come out of her mouth next. She should’ve told him to chill.
“I don’t have to threaten. If I wanted a little something something on the side, do you really think I couldn’t walk down the streets of Blountville and find what I’m looking for?”
She wouldn’t dare. Surely they knew she cared too deeply for them.
“I wouldn’t advise trying that,” Kemper told her.
Apparently not.
“Me either,” Kit said, a little more vocal strength in his warning.
She was offended. “You two aren’t a couple of stupid cowboys. You know what it means to be in the Keesling bed around here. Doms from Johnson City and Bristol, hell, as far away as Knoxville, would search me out if they thought I was in the market to replace you.” A beat later, she eased their mind. “I wouldn’t dream of doing something like that and you both know it. If you’d search your hearts, you’d know why, too.”
“Yeah, well, just so you know. Those Doms you speak of? They’d be sorely disappointed seeing as we never trained you for submission.” Kit’s gaze worked her over like a tractor plowing fields. He took his own sweet time and covered every inch.
“My thoughts exactly,” Holly said, walking away. She was suddenly overcome with regret. She’d missed a lot of remarkable loving.
Holly sat on the bench, her palms flat against the cold leather surface. Why had she resisted being trained by them? Had she been afraid if she submitted to them she would give them too much power over her body and mind, or was it her heart she’d tried desperately to protect? Had she feared she’d lose a part of herself, or was she scared she might become so reliant upon them that she’d never be able to let them go?
“What are you thinking?” Kit asked.
“I may have made an error in judgment.”
“You make a lot of those.”
“Let her talk, Kit.”
Holly winked at Kemper. He was hers through and through, and yet other women had seen a side of him she’d yet to experience. Other lovers had enjoyed Kit and Kemper in a way she’d never seen. Subs and slaves knew things about them that she didn’t, and for some reason, all of a sudden, she was greatly troubled by the truth.
Other women perhaps knew the Keesling duo better than the one living with them for well over a year! She should’ve been ashamed of herself for denying them what they perhaps wanted most. Moreover, she should’ve been regretful because by refusing them, she’d denied herself a world of exquisite pleasures, the kind of satisfaction women rarely find in one lover, much less two.
Holly rubbed her arms briskly. “Someone should turn the heat on down here. It’s cold.”
“It’s cool,” Kemper told her. “It’s the perfect temperature. Believe me, on some nights, it’s hotter than an inferno down here.”
She’d like to test that theory out for herself. What she’d give to see the steam rising from a couple of hard bodies.
“I believe you,” she said, narrowing her gaze on Kit again. “So you never answered me. What if I wanted you to make me your slave? Where would we go from here?”
“Are you teasing or offering?” Kit asked, his lust-filled eyes trekking up the leg she crossed over her knee.
She hiked up her skirt and showed off a high panty cut with the imprinted slogan, “Eat me,” which was actually a new brand she’d just started wearing. For about a hundred bucks, edible underwear and lingerie were available in all shapes and sizes.
She wore a four.
“Tease,” Kit growled, staring at her pussy.