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words disguised as praise. He joined them on the couch, leather upholstery creaking as he made himself comfortable. Anticipating his touch with baited breath didn’t stop Hazel from gasping when he kissed her bare shoulder.
    “What do you say, Hazel? Do you need a refresher course in etiquette?”
    Heat zinged through her veins, pooling at her very core. What kind of a question is that ? “Yes,” Hazel whispered, pitching her voice to match her masters’.
    Duh would have been inappropriate.
    Ward hooked a hand behind her left knee and gingerly extended her leg across his lap. He had to bend to place his empty glass on the coffee table, an opportunity he used to bestow a featherlight kiss upon Hazel’s kneecap.
    She wasn’t Sadie and her skin was not bare of blemish or mark. She had scraped her knees one too many times as a child for there to be no leftover scars. If Ward noticed, he gave nothing away. He touched her reverently, curling his finger around her ankle.
    “I forget, does she like having her feet slapped?” Ward asked conversationally.
    Hazel opened her mouth, but the question wasn’t meant for her.
    “Don’t recall,” Dylan murmured into her ear. “Let’s find out.”
    Ward required no further incentive. He flicked his palm against the dip of her sole without warning or mercy. His hold on her ankle kept Hazel from jerking her leg back as she registered the sudden sting.
    She was slightly proud of herself for not crying out. She was more than slightly annoyed that Ward ran his knuckles into the throbbing arch when he could’ve been striking her again.
    “No,” Hazel bit out.
    Ward stilled his hand. “No?”
    He was going to make her spell it out? Fine. “No, I don’t like it… But that don’t mean you should stop.”
    Behind her, Dylan chuckled warmly. “Oh, you’re going to regret saying that.”
    Hazel turned to him and swallowed hard.
    Make me.

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Ward seemed to read the challenge in her eyes. A moment later, his grip became a tight manacle around her ankle, thumb pressed into the twitching tendon beneath the skin, and he struck her foot again. This time, the sting of the blow raced up her spine like an electric shock.
    “Oh!”
    Effortlessly attuned to the spasmodic flinches Hazel could seldom control when she was with them, Dylan caught her wrists. He twisted gently to bring her arms behind her back. Hazel offered no resistance, even as a third blow fell on the ball of the foot. The ache was dulled by callus and thick skin, registering only as a rush of heat.
    “More?” Ward asked, his gaze boring into her.
    Hazel nodded.
    “So brave,” Dylan cooed. His tone was mellow, lilting even, but when he groped her breast, there was nothing tender in his touch. He dug his fingers into her soft flesh with all the boldness she had come to admire in him.
    Harder, she wanted to beg. Make it hurt .
    Ward dipped his mouth to her knee again, raking teeth into that scarred jut of bone. His breath was hot on her thigh as he moved up another inch. He bit down on the next swat, sucking a bruise into the meat of Hazel’s leg.
    She choked out a shout for that. She’d never mastered silence when it came to such delicious torment.
    “That’s right,” Dylan purred in her ear. “Cry out for us.” He pinched her nipple for added incentive, summoning her attention to that small, nerve-filled nub of flesh before letting go. The pain was always worse in the aftermath.
    Hazel squirmed against him but pressed her lips tightly shut, determined to be contrary. She wanted to be punished. She needed it like air. Using her words would’ve worked, too, if she had the guts to try.
    Ward rewarded her pigheaded resistance with a sharp press of his nails into her calf. “Hold her steady,” he told Dylan, before sinking to his knees.
    Anticipation rose in Hazel. Blood surged to her ears, drowning out Dylan’s dirty dig and dimming the trill of Ward’s laugh. Dylan unceremoniously spread