TripleThreat1 Read Online Free Page B

and allowed my
holster to remain mostly out of site. Being officially licensed as an
investigator and bodyguard had its advantages. I stepped into the room, and the
first thing I noticed was the smell, an olfactory memory that had my dick
paying attention and my mouth watering. Man, sweat, and leather. Fucking
hot. Archer was right—I did miss some parts of our former life.
    Although our house wasn’t the biggest in the exclusive Tuxedo
Park neighborhood, most people would describe it as a mansion. Tonight’s party
was in the seldom-used ballroom. The realtor might have used a little poetic
license to call the room a ballroom, but it was big enough to support a
stockade, a Saint Andrew's cross, a couple of cages and bondage chairs. Nothing
particularly elaborate, but there was enough variety once the other toys were
employed. Basically, when set up as it was for tonight’s party, the room
resembled a small, but well-equipped club, with multiple conversational seating
areas for more intimate exchanges. There might have been an ulterior motive for
hosting the party, but no one could fault either of us on our planning.
    The snap of flogger against bare skin drew my attention to
the seating area to the right of the main doorway. George Delaware . As
usual, he was holding court, this time with three men who were all new to me,
and from the rapt expressions on their faces, they were probably new to the
party scene as well. George was gesturing with one hand and idly swatted at the
ass of his kneeling, hooded slave with the other. He was a self-proclaimed
expert on all things, including the lifestyle. Seeing him reminded me there
were things about managing a club I didn’t miss at all. I walked over and
dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder.
    “Hey, George,” I said and gave the narrow shoulder a
squeeze. He might have his uses tonight, but when we’d had Wilde Sides, George
bore constant watching. A Dom with a predatory habit of claiming and training a
slave only to abandon him after six months didn’t sit well with either Archer
or me. The squeeze to his shoulder was just enough to remind George that our
place—club or home—should not be considered a safe hunting ground.
    Turning, I resumed my scan of the room. The party was already
in full swing, with about fifty guests and a handful of security plus the
waiters, the room was filling up nicely. Good and bad news, when you were
trying to unobtrusively identify a felon. I caught sight of Archer speaking to
a masked pair near the door. Although it was no secret that we were a couple,
we’d decided early on to run the party much as we ran our club. That meant
Archer served as both host and Master and left me as the manager, free to roam,
inside and out, which was why it appeared I was only just now arriving.
    “Zachary? What do you want me to do?” Ah…for a minute I’d
almost forgotten my new assistant.
    Turning, I did a slow scan from bottom to top, appreciating
long expanse of tanned leg, the leather breakaway shorts, and the surprising
hint of cut muscles tantalizingly revealed underneath the mesh and leather shirt.
I had to admit, when I’d called Sadronne’s Specialty Shop and told them I was sending
a new submissive over for outfitting, I hadn’t expected quite this much.
Jeremiah was fucking hot—even if he was a decade too young. And I really wasn’t interested. I repeated the phrase in my mind, just in case my dick
wasn’t paying attention the first time.
    “Hey, that looks better,” I said. It was probably the first
nice thing I’d said to Jeremiah since we’d hired him last week, and I couldn’t
help noticing the pleased flush. His earlier khakis and black polo shirt might
have been okay if we were throwing a barbeque, but it was hardly suitable for a
sex party. Although to be fair, I had deliberately selected the least
experienced man in the applicant pool, in an underhanded attempt to scare him
off before the first month was out. Tonight might