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Weston and Rose exchanged a look, then faced Marek, who was standing on the other side. He toed off his shoes, then walked across the bed to join them on the far side.
“So we’re, uh, having sex then?” Weston asked.
“Not necessarily.” Marek looked at Rose. “How are your ribs?”
She hadn’t even through about them. “They’re fine. Must have been a bruise, not a crack.”
Marek inclined his head. “May I?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure what he was asking permission to do. She was curious, and still aroused.
Marek cupped her shoulders. “Rose, you need to take back your power.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re in charge. Weston is going to obey your commands. He’ll do whatever you say.”
Rose looked at Weston, whose eyebrows went up in surprise, but then he nodded. And he smiled.
He was smiling as if that wasn’t terrifying. As if being told you had to obey another person’s commands wasn’t soul-wrenchingly dehumanizing.
It was possible, just barely possible, that she was projecting.
“And you?” she asked Marek.
“I’ll obey if you’d like. Or I can act as your bodyguard. I want you to feel safe.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her,” Weston protested hotly.
“I know that.” Marek’s tone was matter-of-fact, not placating, and Weston’s shoulders relaxed.
Rose pulled her hand from Marek’s, but not because she was rejecting his idea or his touch.
She looked at Weston. “Take off your shirt.”
Weston flashed her a grin, then yanked it over his head with more enthusiasm than grace.
Rose looked at Marek. “You too.”
Marek also smiled, and took off his shirt by pulling at it from the back. They were smiling. They were excited, not terrified.
Her mind raced with the possibilities of what she could do. For a horrifying moment, some part of her wanted to take the belt from around Marek’s waist and use it. To beat them until they too were afraid, the way she had been so many times before.
She pushed back the dark, cruel thoughts. “Now the pants.”
In turn, each man stripped off his pants. Weston was naked beneath, while Marek wore black boxer briefs that hugged his thighs and ass.
Weston’s cock was semi-erect. He stood unashamedly naked. She glanced once more at the scars that marred the right side of his body, both from the burn and the surgeries that followed. Her heart bled for the young man he’d been, so noble and determined to save her, only to be struck down in such a vicious way by his own parents.
But the time for mourning had passed. She needed to live this moment as if there were no past, no future.
“Take off your underwear,” she told Marek. “I want you naked.”
Marek shucked his underwear, revealing his semi-erect cock.
Rose paused, unsure what to do next. Asking them to take off their clothes had been easy enough, but now that they were naked—both taller and stronger than her, clearly dominant men—she was having to fight the urge to drop to her knees. Last night she’d been able to just enjoy, but she’d been so emotionally and physically exhausted that it had been like acting in a dream. A wonderful dream.
This was a new day, and bright sunlight spilled in the plane’s windows.
