Free Sing for Your Supper by Jaime Samms Page B

a slide of goose bumps over me. With his one arm wrapped around the top of my chest, and his hand prying between my ass cheeks, it was impossible not to make some noise.
    Behind us, Jim’s chair screed across the floor. I glanced over to find his eyes on me, dark, full of lust and desire. “You’re going to have to take those joggers off, T. Now.”
    Fuck me.
    Was I that easy a mark? Or just easy? I obliged him, lifting them over the bandages and letting them fall to the floor, giving him a clear view as Matt’s finger found its mark and pushed home.
    “Ahhh…”
    “Fuck, I love that sound.” Matt buried his face against me neck and nuzzled. His fingers griped my shoulder, holding me against his chest, bracing me, as he pushed another finger into me.
    I gave up. He was too good. Knowing Jim was watching us was too much. I rocked into his hand. “More, please, Matt,” I whispered, trying not to sound like I was begging.
    “All in good time.”
    He’d only had me once, but apparently he had a really good memory. He knew exactly how to play with me to keep me on the edge without sending me over.
    “Please. This is torture!” I shook suds and water around the kitchen and reached for my aching cock. He could play with my ass all he wanted. I’d let him fuck me once, and he knew what he was doing, but I needed to get off now, before I exploded.
    It was Jim, strong, implacable, who caught my wrist and pulled my hand away, not allowing me to relieve myself.
    Behind me, Matt began to shake. His fingers stopped moving, going lax inside my body, and I tried to turn, to see what was wrong.
    “Easy, babe.” Jim was standing behind him, but now he moved, turning us both so that I was no longer pinned against the sink, but facing him, and he could look into Matt’s eyes. “Just me.” He caressed Matt’s face, leaned past me to kiss him, and a gentle, relieved sigh left Matt. He sagged against me, and I reached around to hold onto him.
    Pinioned between the two of them, it hit home at last. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t me singing for my supper. I was vulnerable enough, Jim could look after me like Matt wouldn’t allow him to do, and strong enough Matt could dominate me, as Jim could not allow. I was their missing piece. They were the family I’d never had.
    I sighed softly and they both moved away some.
    “Taylor?” Jim cupped my chin, lifting my head to peer into my eyes. “Bed?”
    I nodded. Matt slipped his fingers free and took my hand as we moved off to Jim’s bedroom. Jim followed, his hand on my shoulder. I might have felt like a lamb, being led to slaughter, except neither of them was guiding me, so much as going where I went.
    I lay down on my side on the bed and Matt sat cross-legged in front of me, while Jim perched on the edge of the bed behind me.
    “We’re taking the bandages off now,” Jim informed me.
    Matt got up, fetched a cloth and the trash can. Jim peeled back the bandages, and at long last, I made myself look at the scars.
    They were unrecognisable as a brand. Just a lot of ugly, puckered skin. I ran my finger tips over the mess. The skin tingled under my touch in an unpleasant, sickening kind of way. I shuddered.
    Matt curled his fingers around the back of my head and kissed my forehead. “Don’t. It isn’t anything. Just a bad memory.”
    Like yours is a bad memory?
    I wanted to say it, but I held my tongue. He wanted me to feel better about it. I wanted to feel better about it, but right now, it was an ugly, painful blight. I wanted his touch, Jim’s kisses—I wanted them both to just hold onto me and not to think about it for now.
    “I thought you were going to fuck me,” I said, trying and failing to keep my voice steady.
    “No.” Jim leant down, big hand on my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. “Make love, maybe. If you want.”
    I nodded. “Please?”
    “You’re just adorable when you beg,” Matt teased, though his fingers riding along my jaw were tender, and his