Chapter 2: The Storm Cellar Covenant
The storm had passed, leaving the world washed clean and dripping. Sadie’s body was a map of their possession—rope burns at her wrists and ankles, the crosshatched red lines from the flogger across her skin, the deeper ache where Jace had filled her and where Rhett’s spend still traced a sticky path down her inner thigh. Wrapped in the scratchy wool blanket, the mason jar empty beside her, she felt hollowed out and terrifyingly full all at once.
Jace had built a small fire in the old stone hearth of the root cellar, the smoke curling up through a rusted grate. The light danced over shelves of dusty preserves and forgotten tools. Rhett finished dressing, his movements economical, and came to kneel before her. He didn’t speak. He just took her left foot in his hands, his thumbs pressing into the arch, working out a cramp she hadn’t even registered.
“Stop fussing, Lawson,” she muttered, but the bite was gone from her words. They came out soft, worn.
He ignored her, his touch firm and sure. Jace came over with a damp cloth, warm from the kettle he’d heated over the fire. “Let me,” he said, and Rhett released her foot. Jace began to wipe her thighs clean, the cloth moving with a tenderness that contrasted violently with the frenzy of before. He cleaned Rhett’s come from her skin, then gently between her legs, where she was swollen and sensitive. She flinched.
“Easy, hellcat,” Jace murmured, his free hand coming to rest on her knee. “Just getting you comfortable.”
“I’m not a fucking invalid.”
“Didn’t say you were.” He grinned, that easy, infuriating smile. “Just a well-used one.”
She snorted, a half-laugh that caught in her raw throat. Rhett watched the exchange, his gray eyes unreadable in the firelight. When Jace was done, Rhett handed her her clothes. The simple cotton pantries, the faded jeans, the soft t-shirt. Dressing felt like an act of reassembly, but the pieces didn’t fit the same way anymore.
“You hungry?” Jace asked, rooting through a canvas bag he’d brought down. “Got some of Darla’s peach pie.”
The mention of the diner waitress, of normalcy, was jarring. Sadie shook her head. Her mind was circling back to the kitchen, to the water on her tongue and the confession she’d finally choked out. He was too vanilla. It was the truth, a shallow, sharp-edged piece of it. There was more, miles more, buried under years of silence. They’d pulled that one splinter out, but the wound was still septic.
Rhett seemed to track her thoughts. He sat on an upturned crate beside her. “The real reason,” he said, not a question. A prompt.
“I gave you the real reason.”
“You gave a reason.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The man didn’t like his dick sucked? That’s why you left? Try again, Sadie.”
The air thickened. Jace stopped rustling with the pie, his attention fixing on her.
She pulled the blanket tighter, the wool abrasive on her tender skin. “He didn’t like anything,” she said, her voice low. “He liked a neat house and quiet dinners and missionary sex on Saturday nights with the lights off. He liked the idea of me—the smart, sassy girl from the antique shop—until he actually had me. Then he wanted to sand down all the rough parts until I was smooth and bland and easy to handle.”
“And you let him try?” Jace asked.
“For three years.” The admission tasted like ash. “I tried. I fucking tried. I folded my sarcasm up and put it in a drawer. I counted to ten before I spoke. I let him dictate what we watched, what we ate, who we saw. I let him fuck me like he was applying for a permit.” She looked up, meeting Rhett’s gaze. “And then one day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman staring back. She was quiet. She was polite. She was dying.”
Silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant drip of water from the cellar steps.
“So you left,” Rhett said.
“I burned it down. Took what was mine—which wasn’t much—and I torched the rest. Called him at work and told him not to come home. Changed the locks. Sold the wedding ring for seed money for the shop.” She let out a shaky breath. “Everyone in town thinks he left me. Poor Sadie, left high and dry. It’s easier that way.”
“Why?” Rhett’s voice was a rough scrape.
“Because if they knew the truth—that I’m the one who’s too much, that I’m the corrosive element—they’d look at me the way he did. Like I’m a problem to be solved.” She jabbed a finger toward him, then Jace. “And you two… you’re not trying to solve me. You’re just…” She trailed off, unable to shape the thought.
“We’re using you,” Jace supplied, his tone uncharacteristically flat.
“Yeah.” She nodded, a strange relief washing through her. “You’re using me. For what I am. Not for what you want me to be.”
Rhett stood suddenly. The motion was swift, causing Sadie to jerk back. He crossed the small space in two strides, his hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her wild curls. He didn’t kiss her. He just held her there, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath warm on her lips.
“You’re wrong,” he said, the words vibrating through his chest into hers. “We’re not using you, Sadie. We’re claiming you. There’s a difference.”
Then his mouth was on hers, not gentle, but deep, possessive. It was a branding. She whimpered into the kiss, her hands coming up to clutch at his shirt. When he pulled back, her lips were bruised and tingling.
Jace was there, a solid presence at her back. His hands slid around her waist, under her shirt, palming her stomach, then moving up to cup her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples, already hard and aching. “Rhett’s right,” Jace whispered into her ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. “We’re not sanding anything down, baby. We’re taking you rough, just like you are.”
Rhett dropped to his knees in front of her again. He yanked her jeans and pantries down her hips in one rough pull. The cool cellar air hit her wet cunt, and she shuddered.
“Hold her,” Rhett told Jace.
Jace’s arms locked around her, pinning her arms to her sides, lifting her slightly so Rhett had access. Rhett’s hands hooked under her knees, spreading her wide open. He didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward and licked a broad, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit.
“Fuck,” she gasped, her head falling back against Jace’s shoulder.
Rhett ate her pussy with a single-minded intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. His tongue was flat and demanding, fucking into her hole, then circling her clit with relentless pressure. He used his lips, his teeth, his stubble scraping the tender flesh of her inner thighs. It was obscene, the wet, sucking sounds echoing in the stone room. It was reverence and filth intertwined.
Jace held her through it, one hand sneaking down to rub her clit in time with Rhett’s tongue. “You taste so good,” Jace groaned into her hair. “Like you were made for us to fucking eat.”
She was careening toward an orgasm, her hips bucking against Rhett’s face. “Please… god, please…”
Rhett pulled away, his mouth glistening with her. He looked up at her, his gray eyes dark with hunger. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she sobbed. “I want your cock. In my mouth. Now.”
A faint, approving smile touched his lips. He stood, unbuckling his belt. Jace loosened his hold, turning her in his arms. He kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips. Then he guided her down to her knees.
Rhett’s cock stood thick and heavy, the head an angry red. She didn’t wait for instruction. She leaned forward and took him deep, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. She relaxed, letting him slide further. Her nose pressed into the coarse hair at his base. She breathed him in—sweat, sex, and the unmistakable scent of Rhett.
Jace knelt behind her. She felt his hands on her hips, then the broad, blunt press of his cock against her soaked entrance. He didn’t tease. He pushed in, one long, devastating stroke that filled her completely. She screamed around Rhett’s dick, the vibration making him curse and fist a hand in her hair.
The rhythm was brutal and perfect. Jace fucked into her from behind, each thrust driving her forward onto Rhett’s cock. Rhett controlled the pace of her mouth, pulling out until just the tip rested on her tongue, then surging back in deep. She was a conduit between them, spit and pussy juice slicking her thighs, tears of overwhelming sensation leaking from her eyes.
“That’s it,” Jace grunted, his balls slapping against her. “Take it, Sadie. This is what you need. This is what you’ve been starving for.”
Rhett’s grip tightened in her hair. “Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open, blurry with tears, to meet his gaze. He was watching her, studying every flutter of her eyelids, every strained muscle in her neck. “You’re ours,” he stated, the words final as a judge’s gavel. “You don’t get to be quiet anymore. You don’t get to be polite. You come when we tell you to. You scream when it feels good. You break when we want you to break. Understood?”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t nod. She just moaned, a desperate, affirmative sound deep in her throat.
It was enough.
Rhett’s hips stuttered. “Swallow it,” he commanded, and his release hit the back of her throat, hot and bitter. She gulped it down, her own orgasm detonating as Jace pounded into her, his rhythm fracturing. He came with a raw shout, his body shuddering against hers, flooding her cunt with his spend.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the fire. Rhett gently withdrew from her mouth. Jace slumped over her back, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. She stayed on her knees, utterly spent, Rhett’s come on her tongue, Jace’s leaking out of her.
Slowly, Jace pulled out. He helped her up, her legs trembling violently. He guided her to the blanket by the fire, laying her down. Rhett fetched the cloth again, warm and clean. He wiped her face first, with a surprising gentleness, then cleaned between her legs once more. They dressed her again, their hands slow and deliberate.
Jace lay down beside her, pulling her into the curve of his body. Rhett sat with his back against a shelf, one hand reaching out to rest on her ankle, his thumb stroking her rope-burn.
Outside, the world was quiet. The storm was over. Sadie closed her eyes. For the first time in years, the woman in the mirror felt familiar. She was ruined. She was claimed. She was, impossibly, safe.