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  Max Brickham.

  Amendment. She doubted anyone, Dominant or submissive, was capable of forgetting the man after a first introduction. Brick was Bastille’s version of a statesman, gadfly, and security team all in one. He flirted, fucked, and fought with the same shameless intensity, apologizing to none but also taking care that he didn’t have to. There wasn’t a visitor to Bastille who didn’t want to be around him—and here, thousands of miles from Seattle, the same phenomenon was proving true. Both groups at the bar, women and men alike, had eyed Brick’s arrival with keen interest.

  Actually, most of them were giving the dark-haired, blue-eyed hulk everything but their phone numbers on napkins—except for Josie.

  Which made the next moment, in which she finally noticed his open appraisal of her, almost a comedy in its absurdity.

  Nevertheless, Jo straightened her posture, hyperaware of needing to be Wyatt’s composed emissary, despite how he’d instructed her neck be left bare of her submissive’s collar tonight. The absence of the steel against her neck now made her feel weirdly naked, making her glad for the ability to turn herself into a human ice cube. Sometimes, freeze-drying one’s emotions really was a good thing—

  Unless those sensibilities were assaulted by the hunk of a Dom on the next barstool.

  “Excuse me.” His voice was every bit as smooth and confident as she recalled. “Don’t I know you?”

  Josie turned and lifted a cordial smile—allowing herself to a small inward preen at the two girls behind him, not at all delicate about assessing what she had and they didn’t. Funny how things can just change in twenty-four hours sometimes. This time yesterday, she wanted everything they had. Youth. Freedom. Sleep. Why was the grass always greener for everyone else?

  Though right now she didn’t feel at all like Brick’s grass. More like the house cat in the grass, being eyed by the industrial-strength lawnmower in the next yard over. Well, the next bar stool over. His attention on her was like being sliced with an unerring blade.

  “You have a good memory,” she replied, surprising herself with the evenness. “I’ve been to your club, Bastille, in Seattle before. My name is Josephine, but everyone calls me Josie.”

  She dipped her head in respect, keeping both hands on the bar. Wyatt had never demanded high submissive protocol from her, but she was still glad about knowing a few of the key moves—though that didn’t stop Brick from stepping over, latching one of her hands beneath his own, and lifting it to his lips. Damn it if Jo’s body didn’t go into instinctual overdrive, blood clamoring and heart racing, as he managed to turn the courtly move into something with slightly more meaning.

  “Your eyes,” he murmured. “Christ, they’re like lie-detector probes.”

  Well. Talk about a line to make a girl go still. “I’m not certain whether to thank you or slap you.”

  “Neither.” He shrugged, though on those massive shoulders, even that casual action resembled Mount Shasta about to erupt. “Or both, I guess.” He wielded new blades on her with the pure blue force of his eyes. “It just means I can’t lie to you.” He pushed off his stool to push in closer to her. “Which means I have to confess…I already knew who you were when I sat down.” He rested an elbow on the bar, leaning in a little closer. “And I haven’t forgotten you since your visit to the club.”

  Her breath clutched. “Now I really don’t know what to do with you.”

  Brick threw his head back, barking a laugh. “Oh, little one…I think the better question is what I want to do with you.”

  Okay, whoa.

  And no.

  She hopped off her own stool, waving an explanatory hand along the front of her dress. “Okay, for starters, not such a ‘little one’ here—but I got a gorgeous daughter out of the deal, so no apologies either.”

  “None needed.” Brick’s gaze turned heavy. “You’re stunning…”

  She planted her hands on both hips. “Second, you do remember that I played at your club with my Sir, right? The man who is also my husband?”

  A strange snicker played at his lips. “Oh, yeah. That bastard. I remember him vaguely.”

  Josie’s hands went slack. So did her jaw. Deluxe Version Dominant or not, she was going to claw the man’s eyes from his skull. “Excuse the hell out of me?”

  She was held back from her final advance by shackle-strength hands at her elbows. Wyatt’s usual scent was given an extra dose of sexy because of the fitted leathers he wore, similar in cut and color to Brick’s, now bracing at both sides of her legs—and aligning the bulge of his crotch against the top of her ass.

  “Better save up the excuses you ask him for right now, baby. Who knows when you might need them later?”

  Brick pushed off the bar and sauntered over with an ease that unsettled Jo’s mind…and shot all her blood straight to the apex of her thighs. Despite the men’s good-natured exchange, she went ahead and spat again, “Excuse the hell out of me, Sir?”

  Behind her, Wyatt chuckled.

  In front of her, Brick chuckled harder. “Hmmm,” he mused, stepping closer to smooth his fingertips along the slopes at the sides of her neck. He kept going, though…trailing both hands right down into her cleavage. While Wyatt watched. “You have quite a little spitfire, Hawkins.”

  “Not little,” Josie grumbled.

  “And usually not so fiery, either.” Wyatt molded himself in even tighter from behind, tucking his mouth against her ear. “But I warmed her up a little on the plane ride out here.”

  “Nice work.” Brick softly tucked his fingertips around the top of her corset, running his touch along the tops of her breasts. “And we’re here tonight to make sure the glacier gets melted the rest of the way.”

  “Exactly.”

  One word…she’d probably heard her husband utter a thousand times before.

  One word…suddenly making everything different.

  One word, daggering to the deepest parts of her body, arousing magma that truly had been dormant and frozen for so long…

  Now awakened and alive…

  And terrified.

  Holy. Shit.

  Wyatt had called Brick, asking him to fly all the way out here for this.

  For her.

  Her incredible hero of a husband was really this serious about getting rid of all her ice castles. He wanted her back without a speck of frost, in all her passion and fire and force, even with the extra mama bear rolls on her body and all the demands that turned her into life’s bitch instead of the other way around. But when all of that nonsense was pushed back and melted away, the essence of them hadn’t changed. The strength of them was still here, a mighty and magnificent fortress of its own. Under all the ice, Sir Wyatt and his sweet submissive were really still here.

  They just needed help finding it.

  And Wyatt hadn’t been too proud to ask for that help.

  Even if it meant giving her to another man. A Dom he’d already been watching with her as far back as their trip to that club in Seattle—where Brick had affected her precisely as he did now. Shaking her reserve. Rattling her composure. Cracking her ice.

  A Dom now determined to turn those cracks into a full fissure.

  Funny how fissures started with the tiniest of rifts.

  And how a man could simply grasp her fingertips, as Brick did now, and split open her senses with unfightable awareness.

  He’s going to break you. Beautifully. Brutally.

  And holy hell you’re going to thank him for it.

  “Our room’s ready.” Wyatt directed the information to Brick as he swept around, taking hold of her other hand.

  “Perfect,” their guest answered, his gaze a cutting cobalt beneath that stark skull cut. “Then shall we?”

  Josie took a deep breath, compelling her feet to move as she left the bar between the two men. Their path took them right past the two young women still nursing their martinis—and now throwing her looks of open envy. Somehow, she swallowed the urge to laugh.

  B
e careful what you wish for, girls. Very, very careful.

  Chapter Six

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  Wyatt looked down at his wife’s angular features. He had her braced by both shoulders. She was unable to hide from him even if she wanted, but aversion seemed to be the last thing on her mind anyway. She met his gaze directly and boldly and even smiled. In return, he stared into her, through her, adoring what he beheld. It had been too damn long since they’d looked at each other like this. He was pissed it had taken a flight to Chicago and a night in a dungeon to make them stop long enough to do it, but he swore the next time wouldn’t be so…negotiated. So tense.

  Because tense was what he felt as Brick emerged from the Dominants’ prep room on the other side of the private play room. Physically, he was an equal to the man. Brickham was around his age, early- to midforties, with a defined torso covered in scars that gave away his years of life in jungles, trenches, and desert village alleys. His legs, roughly the size of construction pipes, bulged against his leathers. All in all, he wasn’t a man to be taken lightly, in or out of the dungeon.

  And he was going to dominate Josie as no one but Wyatt ever had.

  The knowledge caused a strange rockslide inside of him, like an avalanche caused by a controlled explosion. Certain pressures were relieved in some areas though multiplied in others. This step was necessary. Josie knew too many tricks to hide from him, too many ways to bend his sympathy. Brick wouldn’t be allowing that bullshit.

  That much was evident by the apparatus set up by Dreamland, per Wyatt’s specific orders, after consulting with Brick about a session best suited for the theme of the night. Defrosting his beautiful little brick of ice.

  Now, Josie fully studied all the equipment, as if needing to as proper preparation for answering Wyatt’s question. He didn’t miss the heavy gulp she got down while doing so. It almost resembled some mad scientist’s experimental lab, with a flat steel table outfitted with leather straps beside a tank of glowing blue water. Different levers apparently operated interaction between the two. Nearby, the room’s leather-covered bed was set up with a full cart of impact play toys, along with a stack of blankets and pillows for aftercare.

  They were a long way from aftercare.

  But if all of Wyatt’s instincts were firing right, his woman was going to need a hell of a lot of it.

  Fuck.

  For a split second, he was tempted to order Brick out and call all this off. Josie wasn’t going to like parts of this. Maybe all of this. He hated the idea of her being uncomfortable or in pain—at least not the kind he hadn’t brought for her ultimate pleasure. But wasn’t that Brick’s end goal too? To get her through the crucible, so she was stronger and happier on the other side? To break her down so he could build her up? To bust open her ice so she could finally see the sun again?

  Or was he just feeding himself the boot camp bullshit in order to feel better about the hugest mistake he’d made in their relationship?

  “I am.” Josie’s declaration snapped his focus back—onto her, where it belonged. “I am ready for this, Sir. I trust in what you both want to do here.” She took both his hands in hers, squeezing him in reassurance, doubling his self-doubting pangs. How amazing she was. How strong. His beautiful girl…

  “I love you, Josephine.” He spoke it from every depth of his heart, dropping his head to meld his lips to hers.

  “And I love you, Master.” Her whisper fisted his whole chest.

  “Touching.” Brick strolled past them, quipping the words with dry efficiency. “Now let him go, sweetheart. He won’t be far, and he’s still your ultimate control here. He knows your safe word and your limits better than me, so you call that fucker out if you need to stop during any of this, all right?”

  “Yes, Sir. Of course.” Josie finished it with a subtle shiver and a hot flush. Strangely, it didn’t bother Wyatt to witness either. Brick’s acquiescence to his ultimate authority here, along with the knowledge that he was allowing the man only temporary access to his girl, brought a rush of new sensation to him. Empowerment. Brick may be the mad scientist here…but he was the boss with his finger on the ultimate control panel.

  Let the experiment begin.

  “Strip,” Brick commanded her, not breaking his stride toward the steel stairs leading to the raised platform with the bondage table. “Then bring your pretty naked self up here to me, girl.”

  Resisting the urge to help her, Wyatt walked to a leather loveseat positioned on another raised dais, just high enough to view all the fun across the way. As he sat down, the room filled with background music. Brick liked lots of guitars and a fuck-me-hard beat for his D/s scenes. The man’s head bobbed in time to the music as he checked various gauges and knobs connected to the glowing blue tank. Not that Wyatt was paying much attention to him, as his woman carefully stripped out of her clothes. Inch by incredible inch, she revealed more of her perfect nudity, captivating Wyatt’s gaze—and dick. He grabbed his length through his leathers, acknowledging the ache that hadn’t fully gone away since her mind-blowing orgasms during the flight, riveted on the proud puckers of her areolas, the gentle flair of her hips, the entrancing cream of her thighs…and the beautiful slit at their center.

  She shivered as her foot hit the stairway’s first step, but the proud angle of her head never faltered. Once she stood on the platform behind Brick, he turned and studied her, head to toe and then back again. With his next perusal, he let his hands follow, boldly feeling her everywhere, until Josie bit her lip to keep from gasping. But she failed even at that when Brick cupped her mound and slipped a finger up her tunnel. Then a second.

  “Oh!” she finally cried out. “Oh!” Then louder, as Brick used his hand to smack her pussy instead.

  “You’ll speak only when spoken to, subbie. Understood?”

  She released a stuttering breath but nodded and rasped, “Yes, Sir.”

  Brick nodded as well, satisfied, but stepped back with his arms folded. “I was right, back in the bar, you know. You are stunning.” When Josie communicated thanks only by lowering her gaze, Brick smiled. The sentiment didn’t find its way into his words. “Your pussy is also sweet and wet and hot. I was surprised by that, since your Dom informed me that you’ve taken great pride in being an ice princess lately. He said you even seemed proud of that.”

  Again, Josie said nothing, though her head descended an inch lower. Wyatt could all but see the gears spinning in her mind, trying to predict Brick’s end game with the reasoning.

  Wisely, Brick didn’t leave her alone for too long with all those thoughts. They were part of the underpinnings of her ice palaces, a truth evident to anyone who truly knew her.

  “Up on the table,” he directed with a clinical chill. “On your back, with hands over your head.” As Josie complied, he continued, “I’m going to help you feel what being a glacier really feels like, sweetheart.” He secured her feet to the table first, her legs spread, and then her hands high over her head. Two straps across her middle, one at her waist and one across her thighs, followed.

  Wyatt was transfixed. From where he sat, he could see how Brick’s stark treatment affected Jo. Her clenching thighs and glistening pussy were proof of her raging arousal. But what had he planned now? The whirring of gears and motors beneath the platform started up as Brick pushed some buttons and threw a lever. The steel bed beneath her shook.

  Then lifted.

  Then slowly flipped over.

  Until Josie, strapped to the platform, was poised facedown over the glowing blue tank. After two seconds like that, she visibly shivered. Clearly, Brick didn’t plan on treating her to a nice dip in a hot tub.

  “Everything okay?” Brick inquired. “Nothing too loose or tight?”

  “N-N-No, Sir.” She trembled again, harder this time. “I-I mean, yes, Sir. I’m f-f-fine.”

  Wyatt couldn’t believe how strongly she turned him on. Her bravery in doing this, even knowing it wasn’t going to be plea
sant, reached to a place of primal satisfaction inside him. She was doing this for him. For them.

  “Perfect,” Brick confirmed, his voice a knowing growl. “Then into the glacier you go, subbie.”

  There was a slight splash as the brackets on the platform unhitched, sending all of Jo’s naked form all the way into the blue water. At once, Wyatt watched as she fought and writhed from the impact. This was a woman who watched the annual polar bear plunge television coverage and called everyone in the group a damn fool.

  It was over in less than three seconds. Brick wrenched the lever back over, reengaging the hitches and pulling her out. Josie, soaked and sputtering and gasping, whipped a furious gaze his way.

  “Bastard!”

  To his credit, Brick only chuckled. “Having fun, glacier girl?”

  “What the fuck do you think?”

  “Well.” He dipped his head, admiring her dripping form. “I think you look goddamn gorgeous with all that water dripping off your beautiful body. And I know your Master agrees with me. He’s over there stroking his cock like he wants to get it inside you right now.”

  “D-D-Damn g-g-good idea. Why d-d-don’t we d-d-do that?”

  A smack cracked the air.

  Josie’s scream followed it.

  “What the fucking hell?” she blasted at Brick, who had just struck an open palm across her pussy.

  “Talking out of turn, subbie,” he scolded. “I let it slide, knowing you were getting used to your first dunk, but now I’ll thank you to stay your tongue.”

  “Wait.” Josie blurted it as if only half his message had registered. Judging from the shock on her face, perhaps that was the case. “What? My— My first dunk? Owwww!”

  “For that, a swat after each dunk now, subbie.” Brick’s jaw now emulated his name. “Want to try for two?”