“You always avoid me. Oh, discipline me, of course, but don’t talk about your feelings. They’re scary,” she mocked.

“Callie,” he growled, hating how right she was.

She shrugged him off. Sean’s shirt, swimming on her petite form and hanging to her knees, slipped off one shoulder. The long sleeves nearly swallowed her hands. Though she’d rolled back the cuffs, the garment was still huge. But as she eased the buttons from their moorings, Callie peeled the cotton open bit by bit, exposing fair, rosy skin. Finally, she shook it off. The white fabric cascaded down her arms and fell to the floor. She stood before him in a nearly transparent bra and a tiny thong.

Thorpe swallowed. Jesus, Callie killed his self-control. She tested him, pushed him. Did her best to lure him in. Didn’t the girl see that Sean would give her all the tenderness she needed, all the gentle affection he couldn’t?

Her little pink tongue peeked out, wetting her lower lip. His cock jerked. With a challenging stare from beneath her dark lashes, still coated with way too much mascara, she turned to start the shower. Soon, steam filled the little bathroom.

With her back to him, Callie reached behind her to unclasp her lacy, ridiculously sexy bra. It dropped to the floor, and she wriggled out of the thong with an extra sway to her hips. Thorpe’s stare caressed the dark hair that fell in a sleek veil over her fair shoulders, then ended to reveal the exaggerated nip of her waist and flared to the lush curve of her hip. He began to sweat. Her smooth, firm ass—still with a hint of pink from his hand last night—made his cock unbearably hard. He sucked in a harsh breath.

Callie turned her head, lashes fluttering up. She sent him a hurt stare. So sexy. So tempting him. So fucking wrong because unless Sean was beside him, taking Callie with him, he couldn’t touch her.

“Go on. There’s only so much water on this boat. I want some, too.” And he thanked fuck that the stall was barely big enough for one. If it had been roomier and she invited him in . . . Yeah, that would only end with his cock buried in some orifice that he had no right to even be contemplating without Sean’s presence.

Callie stepped in behind the clear Plexiglas and groaned as the hot water cascaded over her soft skin. He watched as she tipped her head back, sluiced water down her throat, her breasts, over her flat abdomen, her thighs. Damn, he needed a distraction.

“Soap?” she murmured.

Right. The toiletries Sean had bought earlier. He’d set the bag somewhere . . . In the bedroom, on the floor, he found the plastic sack and carted it into her. He fished out a scented bar, along with a citrus-scented shampoo and conditioner. Sean had even bought a couple of packs of disposable razors and a few cans of shaving cream.

He started handing items to Callie. She opened the door and took them in silence, then bathed without a word, quickly scrubbing all the makeup from her face and the Glitter Girls grime from her body. She washed her hair, shaved, then basked in the hot water for a minute more. And Thorpe couldn’t take his eyes off her. Something about the girl—no, everything about her—was sexy as hell, and fantasies of spreading her across his bed, restraining her, then indulging in every last pleasure he could think of fried his brain.

The flavor of her slick folds still lingered in his memory, haunting him. Thorpe had discovered in Vegas that when he wanted to make himself unbearably hard and so horny that jacking off eased none of his restless edge, he thought of that. And he thought of how she’d looked as she came for him.

Suddenly, she groaned, and he yanked his thoughts from his daydream. Thorpe peered closer, visually penetrating the steam to find that she had her hand between her legs, slowly rubbing her clit. Even through the fogged-up shower door, he could see her skin flushing, her nipples peaking. Her breasts rose, then her shoulders fell. She leaned against the white fiberglass of the stall and spread her legs wider with another little moan.

He nearly fucking lost it.

“Callie, you don’t have permission for that.”

Her sultry eyes fluttered open again, not quite focused. “Why do you care?”

Goddamn it, she was goading him. He couldn’t fuck or discipline Callie when he was alone with her. Yes, he had once been willing to cross Sean when he’d thought the fed was a dangerous player. Now? He scrubbed a hand down his face, sweating. But he couldn’t stab Sean in the back. They had an agreement, and he’d live up to his part.

“Neither of us said you could self-pleasure.”

“Sean didn’t tell me I couldn’t. And according to you, we’re back to being just friends. I don’t ask my pals for permission to masturbate.” She sent him a sly smile. “Oh, I also don’t shower in front of my buddies, but here you are.”

Fucking son of a bitch. She was right—not about masturbating. That was something every sub understood was a no-no without their Dom’s permission. But he couldn’t claim to be just her friend, then oversee her shower with sick, voyeuristic glee. Or make love to her later, even with Sean, and claim that it didn’t mean a thing.

Her soft moans lengthened, deepened. Thorpe couldn’t take his eyes off her as she dragged her fingers over her clit in slow, sensual circles. Water poured down her skin. Her breathing roughened. Her nipples beaded even harder. Hell, he was going to lose his ever-loving mind. If he had the right, he’d give Callie the paddling of her life. Then the fucking to match.

Since he couldn’t, Thorpe absolutely refused to endure this torment a minute more.

He yanked open the clear, rigid door between them, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her out. Her drenched form brushed his chest, instantly soaking his clothes and skin. As he dragged her near, he couldn’t miss her dilated blue eyes flaring. Or her rosy cheeks. Her lips were so fucking tempting, parted and red and too damn close to his own.

Swallowing down his lust, he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her against the wall. “You’re done teasing me like this.”

“What? I’m just relieving tension. It’s been a crappy couple of days.” She arched her hips toward his aching cock. “Don’t mind me, friend.”

Her swollen, saturated cunt brushed against his dick. A half-groan, half-growl tore from his throat.

When the hell had he ever wanted a woman even half this much?

Thorpe knew the answer. It wasn’t comforting.

“You’ve been incredibly naughty. Topping from the bottom. Self-pleasuring without permission. Lying to me.”

“Like you lied to me about merely being friends?” she challenged, brow raised. “What are you going to do about it?”

Damn it, Callie was asking for it. Begging. He slammed the bathroom door, enclosing them together in the tiny space. The move was risky, but the only way he could open the cabinet doors. Finally, he reached inside and fished out a bath towel, then wrapped it around her, covering some of her delectable nakedness. Not enough, obviously, because he still wanted to fuck her into next week, but this was the best he could do now.

Focusing on her freshly scrubbed face, he knotted the white terry cloth just above her breasts, then yanked on it. “Let’s go.”

She dug in her heels. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you get discipline.”

Thorpe lifted her and dragged her against his chest. Because Callie was Callie, she resisted him with everything she had, fighting like a hellcat. Against him, she smelled clean and womanly, and as he passed by the bed, he gnashed his teeth to keep from throwing her on the softly rumpled sheets and taking her in every way he knew how.

Instead, he dragged her toward the galley, fighting off her claws and kicks to the shin.

He squeezed her tight against his body. “You have a Dom who loves you and you’re taunting me to take something I shouldn’t.”

“It’s not like that. Stop manhandling me.” She gritted her teeth and squirmed for freedom, succeeding mostly in mashing her breasts to his chest.

Thorpe dug his fingers into her hair and tugged, stilling her. She was going to get the spanking she deserved. Maybe, if the gods looked down on him, Sean would let him dish it out. And if he was more sexually frustrated than indignant on the other man’s behalf, well . . . Callie didn’t need to know that.

Once they reached the galley, Thorpe tossed her into the room, trapping her between his body and the small faux wood table attached to the wall. In front of the utilitarian stove, Sean looked up with a spatula in his hand, now wearing trousers, and staring at them with a questioning expression.

“Callie needs discipline,” Thorpe spit out.

“Does she?”

He shoved down his frustration that he had to explain himself. Couldn’t they just get to the part where Sean tugged the towel off of Callie’s naked body and smacked her lush, damp ass with his hand so he could see her breasts sway and her face flush, watch the shock of the sting become unbearable arousal and . . .

Thorpe swallowed hard. “She tried to give herself an orgasm in the shower.”

Sean slanted his gaze to Callie, then back again. “Oh?”

“Yes, knowing full well that I watched her.” He closed in on her, trying not to notice how soft her damp body was or how well she fit against him.

He hoped to hell that he and Sean would fuck Callie soon. Maybe once would be enough to satisfy this clawing hunger bleeding his self-control dry. Maybe . . . but highly doubtful.

To his surprise, Sean merely looked down at whatever was in the pan in front of him and began working with his spatula.

“Don’t you get it?” Thorpe questioned indignantly. “Subs are not supposed to touch themselves without explicit permission.”

“I’m aware,” Sean said calmly, flipping over some egg concoction, not seeming at all ruffled.

“Callie was topping from the bottom, doing her damn best to entice me when she was supposed to be getting clean.”

“Hmm . . .” Sean mused, salting the omelet.

How could the fed not be pissed off at that? He’d never struck Thorpe as stupid, but suddenly he was rethinking Sean’s IQ.

Thorpe tossed his hands in the air. “She kept stroking herself even after I told her to stop. She completely disregarded me.”

Sean smiled faintly. “Minx.”

“And? We’ve got to be firm with her. She needs it or she’ll run all over us.” Thorpe felt ready to burst a blood vessel.

Sean reached for the pepper and shook some on top of the eggs. Thorpe had to restrain the urge to throw the pan against the fucking wall. How could Sean be so damn calm? If he wasn’t going to act, this co-topping crap was never going to work.

“Lovely?” Sean turned her way.

“Yes?” She sounded oddly quiet. In fact, it struck Thorpe as unusual that she hadn’t said a word since he’d dragged her into the galley.

“According to Thorpe, you need discipline quite badly.”

She bit into her plump lower lip, and Thorpe had to look away. Water dripped from her hair, down her pale, graceful shoulders, disappearing into the cleavage visible above her towel, now slowly unknotting and inching down her breasts.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured.

Sean turned to look at him. “I can’t leave these eggs or they’ll burn. Thorpe, we’ve had this discussion. You’re more than equipped to give her whatever she needs while I finish up here. Then we’ll eat.”

Sean turned away, staring back into the pan. Callie blinked, then turned to look at him.

A thousand volts of electricity shot straight to Thorpe’s cock. He clenched his fists. “You want me to spank her again?”

“Whatever you think is proper punishment for her behavior. Once you’re done, I think you should give her that orgasm she sought. She probably needs the release, and I always like to see Callie in pleasure.”

Thorpe nearly choked on a thick lump of lust. Hadn’t the son of a bitch seen his erection through his trousers? He must have; it felt the size of Texas. Damn it, if he ripped that towel off Callie and put his hands anywhere on her, much less made her come, Thorpe wasn’t sure he could stop.

Where the hell was his self-control? His stare roved all over Callie, her damp skin, her dark tresses clinging, breasts half visible, and those blue eyes of hers wide and crushing his ability to think of anything except having her naked under him, clawing at his back, and begging for more.

“I can definitely do that, but let me be plain,” Thorpe said between gritted teeth, feeling way north of insane. “I want to fuck her.”

He didn’t dare meet Callie’s stare or he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.

“You made that clear last night.” Sean reached to open the microwave and insert a paper plate filled with bacon. “If you punish her now, we’ll deal with the rest later.”

Then Sean winked at the girl.

What the hell kind of Twilight Zone shit had this morning become? Whatever. It didn’t matter. Sean had agreed that her behavior needed correcting, so he’d fucking take care of it.