Tymber Dalton - Contractual Obligation

She nearly came off the bed when Tate pressed it against her clit. She cried out as the orgasm went on and on. Relentlessly, Tate refused to back off, forcing her to keep coming as she sobbed and cried through the never-ending pleasure.

Finally, she took a gasping breath. “Red,” she managed.

Both Doug and Tate immediately released her. Doug gathered her into his arms as she sobbed against him.

“Good tears?” they asked in unison.

She laughed and nodded even as she still cried.

Tate flanked her, adding his sweet, warm embrace and completing their trio. When she finally could put coherent thoughts and syllables together again, she kissed Doug and then Tate. “Wow,” she whispered.

Doug grinned. “Good?”

“Damn good.”

Tate brushed the hair away from her forehead. “Oh, I can see when you’re back to one hundred percent and ready for more exhausting fun that we’re going to have a blast filling your sweet head with all sorts of dirty fantasies.”

“As many as you want,” she said.

But for now, all she wanted to do was curl up with them and enjoy falling asleep between them while they watched the late news and softly chatted.

No, she didn’t give a shit what her dad said. She’d live in a hovel with these two men and work any two-bit job she could get before she gave them up.

* * *

Harper didn’t waste making up for lost time with her men. She found the men holding her back in bed over the next several days, still concerned about getting too strenuous with their activities out of fear of injuring her.

“Hey, the doctor said I could do whatever I felt like doing.” She felt like pouting.

Doug stroked her chin. “You pull those internal sutures, you’ll end up back in the hospital and be out of commission longer. Is that what you want?”

She stuck out her bottom lip. “No.” She tried to get help from Tate but found herself stymied there, too. “Don’t turn the puppy eyes on me, sweetie,” he said. “I’m with Doug on this one. I was already nervous enough the other night that we’d hurt you. A few more weeks, then you can swing from the chandelier if you want.”

Actually, on the agenda that evening before they could go home and fuck like bunnies was another business card exchange. Tate said he’d go home, but Harper insisted on both men coming with her.

As being with her, not just as “associates.”

Doug and Tate both tried to reason with her, but she’d have none of that. She put her hands on her hips and stared them both down. “Why are you arguing with me on this?”

The men exchanged a glance. “Well,” Doug said, “do you really want to out us all like this now? In front of Tampa’s movers and shakers?”

She shrugged. “Why not now? You two have plans to go somewhere I don’t know about in a few months?”

Both men shook their heads.

She smiled. “Good. Then it’s settled. You two are both going with me.”

With the holiday season rapidly approaching, Harper knew this particular soiree would be packed. It always was. Meaning more-aggressive-than-normal approaches from people looking for charitable donations. She’d simply refuse to go if she knew her father wouldn’t give her holy hell about it. Considering the thin ice she and her men were already treading with her father’s good graces, ditching the business card exchange wasn’t an option this month. Her father knew she despised going to these things to start with. The fact that she’d attended this one in particular, with no grousing to him about it beforehand, wouldn’t go unnoticed by Harrison Wells.

She explained that to Tate and Doug as they left the office and drove west down Kennedy to the Westshore insurance company’s office building where this month’s exchange would be held. Doug drove, while Tate rode shotgun and Harper sat in back. Unless she was driving, this was their normal seating arrangement.

Something Harper didn’t argue with. Remembering that little exchange with her men still made her panties damp. They’d quickly learned that at home or in private, she was more than happy to cede control to them. They never did anything unprofessional at work.

At least, not unless they locked her office door first.

They pulled up to the building. “You two go on in,” Doug said, “while I find a place to park.”

Tate jumped out and helped Harper from the backseat. In that way, they were always gentlemen. She held on to Tate’s arm as they made their way inside and grabbed nametags. For a brief moment, she playfully considered writing “Harper Wells-Gillis-Holt” on her nametag and waiting for the questions, but she opted simply for her name.

Tate winked at her and leaned in as he filled out his. “I saw that naughty thought flit through your mind,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t rub their faces in it. You already look like the happiest woman here.”

She giggled. Giggling? That was something she never did before Doug and Tate came into her life, yet she found herself doing an inordinate amount of it lately. Giggling, laughing, and full-out deep-belly guffaws.

They stepped away from the check-in tables and to one side of the large foyer. “Oh, shit.” Her good mood evaporated as she spotted Julia Carson hovering three gaggles over.

“What?” Tate followed her gaze. “Is that who Doug told me about?”

“Yes—aw, crap.” Too late for Harper and Tate to look away, Julia realized their eyes were on her. She pasted on a great-white-shark-worthy smile, disengaged herself from her victims, who made a rapid escape, and cruised on over.

“Well, Harper. Hello. Such a…whatever.” One hand already held a half-empty cocktail glass. She held her free hand out to Tate, doing her best to wedge her body between Harper and Tate. “And who might you be?”

Harper grabbed his arm. Tate just looked at Julia’s hand without bothering to take it. Instead, he slipped his arm around Harper’s waist. “I’m Harper’s boyfriend.”

Julia arched a well-plucked eyebrow. “Interesting. I thought you were dating that…him.”

Harper looked behind them to see Doug, who looked pissed upon spotting Julia, stalking across the lobby toward them. He took up a defensive position on Harper’s other side and slipped his arm around her, too.

And for tonight’s main event, we have the Dynamic Duo versus the Bacardi Barracuda…

“Hello, Julia,” Doug said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Now at an uncharacteristic loss for words, Julia took a step back. Harper could see her trying to digest the situation in her brain. She pointed at Tate. “You are…” She looked at Doug and frowned. “And you…”

Harper heard phantom warning claxons and a ghostly chorus of “We told you so’s” echoing through her brain.

Julia grinned as the dots finally connected. “Oh, isn’t this rich. Daddy’s little girl is a slut. Or is whore the proper—”

Doug and Tate both stepped forward, driving Julia a step back. Harper grabbed their belts and tried to keep them from advancing, but one more step and Julia was trapped in a corner, backed up against the ugliest planter full of fake palms that Harper had ever seen in her life.

“Now you listen to me,” Doug growled. “Just because Harrison had the smarts to dump your skanky ass doesn’t give you any reason to give Harper grief.”

Tate seemed to want his chance. His voice sounded equally low and dangerous. “You’ll stay out of our faces if you know what’s good for you. It’d be a shame if people started hearing about some of your bad real estate deals. Like, oh, say, the three condo buildings in Miami that were foreclosed on because you couldn’t pay the tab to the contractors.”

“What?” Harper exclaimed. Harper looked at him, stunned. This was something even she hadn’t heard. She’d never investigated Julia’s past, but as far as she knew, her history in Hillsborough County was spotless. Julia dealt in real estate, commercial and residential.

Doug nodded. “Or,” he picked up the thread, “that the state board revoked your contractor’s license ten years ago after you defaulted on payments to five other subcontractors because the projects kept failing inspections due to contaminated site issues that you helped cover up in the permitting process in the first place.”

Ah, the barracuda gets de-toothed.

Julia’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times as her face turned a delightful shade of puce. “That was all my ex-husband’s fault!” she hoarsely whispered. “He used my name on stuff. I didn’t have anything to do with it!”

Tate chuckled. “Funny, the records list you.” He tipped his head toward the crowded room, which had yet to notice the confab going on between them. “Maybe we should go ask some of those people in there if they’ve heard about it, see what their opinion is—”

“No!” Julia pushed her way past Tate and looked at them. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll ruin you!”

Harper laughed. “Funny thing is, Julia, I don’t have anything to hide.” She let go of her men’s belts and held out her hands. “Nothing at all.”

Julia nearly tripped into one of the waiters carrying a huge tray of canapés. She turned and scurried for the front doors.

Harper took a deep breath and grinned. “Now that was well worth coming here tonight. How did you guys find out all that stuff?”

Doug smiled down at her. “Gorden is a damn good teacher.”

“You can say that again,” Tate agreed. The two men fist-bumped.

“Now let’s go get some food into you,” Doug said in a semiscolding tone. “You’re due to eat.”

She hooked arms with both men as they headed from the foyer into the main lobby where the snack tables were set up. “Wouldn’t want me passing out.”

“Again,” Tate said, barely concealing his amusement.

“What?” Doug asked.

“Tell you later,” Harper and Tate said in unison then laughed.

Over the next month, Harper fully healed from her surgery. The three of them settled into a dynamic at home and at work that made her realize just how empty her life had been before the men took over her heart and her bed. Her father and Gorden, as well as Tate and Doug’s parents, all accepted their dynamic with a minimum of grumbling or disapproval.

Not that it mattered to the three of them, because they all agreed they would never give up the others ever again.

One Monday morning, Harper had just put down her stuff in the office after getting in her morning workout when Doug and Tate walked in, both looking grim. Tate carried a copy of the Tampa Tribune.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Without a word, he handed her the paper, the Metro section. On the front page above the fold, a headline read, “Local Aeronautics Company Under Investigation.”

She sat and read the story, written by Jared Stockholm. “Son of a bitch,” she whispered. “That bastard. ‘Anonymous source’ my ass. He talked to Bill James.”

“The problem,” Doug said, “is proving it.”

“This is written to sound like it’s some sort of fraud investigation. The GAO is just going through their normal auditing process. We haven’t done anything wrong! We’ve been through GAO audits before, it’s standard procedure. They do it on almost all of the big contracts, unless it’s black ops money.”

Tate nodded. “Unfortunately, this got picked up by the AP wire. I’ve already got a call in to John Eddings in public relations to do damage control.”

Harper stared at the story. “What the hell does James think he’s going to prove by doing this? We’ll clear our name in no time.”

“I think,” Doug said, “he’s hoping to stir up enough doubt and dust to scuttle the three contracts we’re bidding on now for the Navy. He’s partnered with a pissant start-up out of Washington state. Northwestern Pacific Navigational. Who, surprise, makes directional and navigational systems. One of the congressmen on the committee reviewing the contracts is from Washington state.”

“Assholes. Conflict of interest much?” She threw the paper onto her desk. “I sooo don’t need this bullshit right now.” She looked at the men. “I’d expect this kind of pettiness in high school, not from someone who claims to be a businessman.”

“You told him no,” Doug said. “It’s as simple as that. Someone like him, he’s used to getting his way. He’s been a big fish in a relatively small pond. Problem is, until recently he didn’t know just how small his pond was. He thought he was a big fish in a big pond. Now he’s starting to see the light, and he doesn’t like it much.”