Cantara was a beautiful Palestinian whom Raoul and Zeke had met a year ago when she shipped into their home base of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, under strict security. They had been pissed when their colonel and a spook from the CIA assigned them as her bodyguards. A baby-sitting mission? Seriously? They were way better than that. But their attitude slowly changed when Cantara passed every test of physical durability they threw at her, never once complaining. She earned their respect, and as they got to know her better it became apparent that Cantara was as complex as she was beautiful. As determined as she was damaged.
Intelligent, multi-lingual, and fiercely patriotic, she embraced their lifestyle with enthusiasm, claiming it was the element that had been missing from her existence up until that point. She had always known there was something. Raoul had married her in a Las Vegas wedding chapel six months after they met. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had teamed up with Zeke. Both men loved Cantara, knew they had found their soul mate, and needed to prove it by making the ultimate commitment to her.
They had been assigned a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment with its own sitting room in a secure part of the base here in Israel. It had two external doors and Cantara always made sure she went in by a separate one to the guys, keeping up the pretense that they were colleagues and nothing more. You never knew who was watching. They met on the other side of those doors, which opened into the communal sitting room, and where only one bedroom ever got used.
Once they got back to that room, she would become everything she was not in everyday life—subserviently submitting to them both, and doing exactly as she was told. She would expect to be tied up, whipped, punished and then penetrated by them both at once. She had taken to her training like a natural and couldn’t seem to get enough of either of them.
Raoul, angry as he was with her impetuous decision to act as referee for warring militants who had their own reasons for not wanting to see peace on the West Bank, knew he would oblige her now by fucking her every which way until she was boneless. He simply wouldn’t be able to help himself. She owned him body and soul. She satisfied yearnings that gripped him and Zeke more virulently than a junkie craved his next fix. That was why she absolutely couldn’t be allowed to take this assignment.
How to convince her not to, though, that was the question.
“Come on then, beautiful,” he said softly. “I hope you realize that you’re in for one hell of a spanking.”
She sent Raoul a sensual smile and briefly rested her head on his shoulder. “I’d damned well better be,” she said. “Sir.”
Chapter Two
“You have disappointed me, babe,” Raoul said curtly. “Take your clothes off and go crouch in the corner facing the wall while we decide upon your punishment.”
“Yes, Master Raoul.”
They watched her shiver with anticipation, captivated by the slow sway of her slender hips as she moved to soundless music and did a slow, sexy striptease for them. Her army combat pants and tank-top-covered pretty pink lingerie had both men testing the zippers on their jeans as they growled with appreciation.
“Fuck it!”
Raoul unsnapped his jeans, pulled down the zip and let them hang around his snake hips. He wasn’t wearing underwear and an angry erection sprang free, a thick blue vein standing proud down its length. Cantara’s gaze briefly dwelt upon it with evident approval before she remembered she was supposed to be playing a submissive role and lowered her eyes again.
Zeke sucked in a sharp breath when she reached for the catch at the back of her bra, unfastened it, but held the cups over her firm breasts, teasing them. Raoul knew what the little witch was doing. Her plan was to drive both of them so wild that they’d forget about talking her out of the mission she’d so recklessly agreed to. Well, she’d gotten their complete attention, no question, but her plan would still backfire. By reminding them of what they had going between the three of them, they were even less likely to let her do stuff that would get her killed.
Still, Raoul thought, sharing a look with Zeke that said live for the moment. If anyone had learned the hard way that life was to be snatched by the throat and lived to the full, then it was their wilful Cantara. And right now, Raoul figured she had to be feeling pretty damned empowered as she watched him and Zeke react to her provocation. They were Doms extraordinaire, with the willpower and stamina inherent to that role. One she got into the lifestyle and they promised her monogamy, she bombarded them with questions about her predecessors, insecure because she was convinced she couldn’t possibly measure up. Raoul admitted that none of their previous subs had made them lose control in the way she so easily seemed able to, simply by disobeying the rules.
Zeke had unfastened his jeans too, and was gently rubbing his rigid cock as he watched her play them.
“Let it go,” Raoul told her.
She licked her plump lips, blew him a kiss and let the bra fall to the floor. Zeke’s groans grew louder when she cupped her breasts in her own hands and squashed them together until the beaded nipples almost touched one another. Then she started playing with them, offering them to the guys, but remaining just out of their reach. This was gross insubordination, no question. Cantara knew very well she was not supposed to take matters, quite literally, into her own hands.
“Let ’em go, honey, and lose the panties,” Raoul ordered crisply.
Her breasts fell free of her hands, their weight causing them to bounce against her torso as she gracefully stepped out of her panties and threw them at Raoul. He laughed, held them to his nose, and then slid them into his pocket, focusing his gaze on her freshly waxed *. Honey trickled down the insides of her thighs. She ran a finger through it, lifted it to her lips and sucked it slowly into her mouth.
“Shit!” Zeke growled.