TripleThreat1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

go a long way toward
accomplishing my goal. Or it might show me what our black-haired, green-eyed college
boy was made of.
    “All right, kid, you’re with me.” That wiped the smile from
his face. He hated when I called him kid. “We’re going to make our way around
the room. Remember, if anyone asks, you’re posing as my new trainee—but only if
I’m not here to answer for you. Otherwise keep your mouth closed and eyes lowered.
We might have Franklin’s current description, but he’ll wear a mask tonight. You’ll
make nice window dressing and provide a distraction in case someone is
watching.”
    “Is that likely? I didn’t get to hear much about your case
this past week—”
    “No. But you were useful to me in other ways.” I’d been busy
as shit with the arrangements for tonight’s big event, and to my surprise,
having Jeremiah around to take care of some of the details had proven more
helpful than I’d anticipated. As far as bed play or sex games—just not what we
needed in our relationship.
    Maybe I really was just getting old—as good a reason
as any to explain my reluctance. Archer and I had played with a third plenty of
times, particularly during our early club days. Ménage was fucking hot. But
somehow this felt off to me…maybe because Jeremiah lived in our home and
presumably would sleep in our bed. I shook the thought from my mind. I felt
Jeremiah’s sidelong glance, but he didn’t say anything. In the week he’d been
with us, I hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know him. Archer’s patience
would wear thin and he’d probably order contact sooner rather than later. Until
he did, I would keep my distance.
    For now, we had work to do. We’d moved away from the others
to ensure we weren’t overheard, but I leaned down to speak closer to Jeremiah’s
ear. Catching a whiff of his clean, outdoorsy soap made me think of an
oversized shower for three. Not going there.
    “Okay, this is a very straight-forward case. You know Franklin
Hartfield stole from his wife. He’s obviously got good connections since he had
top quality false identification and plastic surgery to alter his appearance.
We know he was in Atlanta in the past month because of the contact with his
wife and with the man who created his false ID. We also believe his lover may
have helped him cover up the scheme to fake his death. Figuring out his motives
and how his mind works is what Archer’s good at. The very best. I’m not bad at
tracking down the rest of the details. Together we make a good team.”
    “And you don’t need me…I get that, okay? ” Jeremiah turned
to look around the room, his gaze settling on the stockade, and the group of
people watching Master Cartier work the bullwhip over Cliff Goling’s back. I
smiled. Cartier was as impressive as always in his full leather facemask, the straps
crossing his chest and back, and skintight pants. Cliff had always been Cartier’s
favorite subs. I’d always suspected they had a regular gig set up between them
outside of our club, but for their own reasons, they preferred to meet at the
club as casually acquainted members—and they were in no way exclusive. Cartier
stood at a distance that gave him maximum extension with the snap of his arm,
and the crack of the whip was impressive.
    “Isn’t that going to tear open his skin?” Jeremiah asked. I glanced
over gauging his actual interest. He didn’t look repulsed, merely curious.
Points for Jeremiah, but Jesus, this man was inexperienced. I thought back to
his questionnaire. He’d participated in occasional casual spankings during sex,
hand only. I expected that meant a partner slapped his ass once or twice. It
would be interesting to see his reactions tonight.
    “Watch for a minute. Cartier—he’s the Master—maintains a
safe distance, so that the blows are delivered with the right amount of force.
He’ll lay a pattern of stripes over the sub’s shoulders, back, and ass.” We
watched as Cartier