No Limits Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1: Night Terrors

  Chapter 2: Just Breathe

  Chapter 3: Bad Blood

  Chapter 4: Playing with Fire

  Chapter 5: Breaking Free

  Chapter 6: Making Love

  Chapter 7: Start Me Up

  Chapter 8: Feeling the Pinch

  Chapter 9: Gag Order

  Chapter 10: Playing with Fire

  Chapter 11: Peep Show

  Chapter 12: Hurts So Good

  Chapter 13: Bottoming Out

  Chapter 14: Bottoms Up

  Chapter 15: Close Shave

  Chapter 16: Two Birds in the Hand

  Chapter 17: Raising Cane

  Chapter 18: Favorite Things

  Chapter 19: The Send-off

  Chapter 20: To Kink or Not to Kink

  Chapter 21: Double Your Fun

  Chapter 22: The Gift That Keeps on Coming

  Chapter 23: Eyes on the Prize

  Chapter 24: Manflesh

  Chapter 25: Making Their Mark

  Chapter 26: Forever Family

  More from Nicki Bennett and Ariel Tachna

  About the Authors

  By Nicki Bennett

  By Ariel Tachna

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  No Limits

  By Nicki Bennett and Ariel Tachna

  Exploring Limits: Book Two

  For three actors in a committed gay ménage, balancing work, sex, and romance might be their most challenging role yet.

  The Dom who taught Devon about BDSM is back to reclaim his sub and break up the trio. He leaves chaos across the set of Camelot and Devon reluctant to resume his dominant role with his lovers, Jonathan and Kit.

  But facing their pasts and discovering and exploring new kinks might not be the ultimate test of their relationship….

  Filming is ending on the miniseries that brought the three of them together, and they’re about to go their separate ways, pulled in different directions by family, obligations, and careers. How will they hold onto the love they’ve built when production wraps?

  Each man has a unique idea about how to maintain their relationship, but will promises and memories be enough?

  This volume includes newly edited and expanded versions of the novellas:

  Breaking Limits

  Transcending Limits

  No Limits

  Chapter 1: Night Terrors

  HE STRAINED wildly against the restraints, but the metal only cut into his wrists, adding a trickle of blood to the sweat that coated his clammy skin. The blindfold kept him from seeing, the ball gag kept him from crying out, but nothing could keep the walls from pressing down on him, crushing him beneath their relentless weight. He fought for a lungful of air, but he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the trembling that shook him as the dark and the cold and the silence closed around him. He’d buried him here, and he’d never get out, never get away….

  A hoarse cry broke the stillness of the late summer night. Devon Aldridge’s arms flailed against empty air as he struggled, shivering when the warm breeze wafted over his sweaty skin. His arm struck something and he recoiled violently, pulling away with another raw sound.

  Knocked out of a sound sleep by Devon’s harsh cry and a glancing blow of his elbow, Kit Webster shook his head, trying to wake up enough for rational speech. “Devon?” he asked softly, not wanting to wake their third lover if Devon’s cry had not already done so.

  “Devon?” Jonathan Braedon muttered groggily, reaching for where his lover should have been lying curled against him. His eyes fluttered open when his hand met only empty space and cool sheets. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  Kit sighed. So much for not waking Jonathan. Since they were all awake anyway, he leaned over and switched on the lamp. His eyes widened when he saw Devon huddled in one corner of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, shivering violently. Pushing back the covers, he knelt up, trying to catch Devon’s eye. “What’s wrong, luv?”

  Devon blinked as the voices penetrated his nightmare—warm voices, caring voices—his lovers’ voices. The sudden glare of the light revealed not the dank crawl space of his nightmare, but the familiar bedroom of Jonathan’s rental house. Kit and Jonathan stared at him with worried expressions.

  Jonathan couldn’t imagine what might have disturbed Devon so much, but it didn’t matter now; he had to do something to ease the panicked look in his lover’s eyes. He slid over the sheets, reaching forward slowly to stroke Devon’s leg, his touch as gentle as if he were calming Hengroen, the horse he rode in his role as Arthur in the Camelot miniseries that had brought them together. When Devon didn’t pull away from his hand, he moved closer, drawing the shaking man into a loose embrace. “It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, his voice low and as soothing as he could make it. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

  Devon allowed himself half a dozen heartbeats resting in Jonathan’s strong arms before swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and sitting up. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, trying to force his voice to sound lighthearted. “Probably shouldn’t have eaten that leftover curry right before bed—bloody indigestion’s giving me the heebie-jeebies!”

  Kit frowned, looking to Jonathan for guidance. It seemed an awfully pat answer for what appeared to be more than just a simple nightmare. He wanted to push, to insist on a better explanation, but he wasn’t sure that was the best path to follow.

  Shrugging at Kit’s questioning gaze, Jonathan returned his attention to the man beside him. He’d dealt with a preteen son long enough to recognize an attempt at distraction when he saw one. Drawing a calming breath, he moved next to Devon and put an arm around the bigger man’s shoulders, relieved that at least they were no longer shaking. He tried to think of a clever response to draw Devon out, but he was too worried to be subtle. “Don’t try to bullshit us, Devon. That wasn’t something you ate giving you agita. What’s going on?”

  Kit scooted to Devon’s other side, his arm going around Devon’s waist, waiting for an answer.

  Devon really didn’t want to have this discussion, but he knew Jonathan wasn’t going to let it drop that easily. Rubbing his hand through his hair, he sighed. “It was just a nightmare, Jon. Maybe a delayed reaction to the bloody helicopter ride or something.”

  “That was over a week ago, Devon!” Jonathan knew how much Devon hated flying, even though it had been the fastest way to rescue him and Kit from the mudslide that had trapped them on their way to location filming, but he couldn’t believe that was still bothering him. He traced Devon’s shoulders with his hands, feeling the tension in the set of the broad muscles. “At least tell us what the nightmare was about,” he urged, kneading the tight deltoids with gentle pressure.

  “My mum said talking about a nightmare took away its power,” Kit added. “It always worked for me. It isn’t as frightening when you think about it calmly.”

  Feeling like the world’s biggest prat for making the two of them worry, Devon shook his head. He should have been stronger, should have been able to keep his reaction inside, but Robert’s call had shaken him even more badly than he’d realized. “It was just… I was trapped. Underground. You might have noticed I don’t do small spaces well.” He swallowed hard, hoping at least part of the truth would be enough to convince his all-too-perceptive lovers that it was just a random bad dream.

  Devon’s answer was too calculatedly casual, but Jonathan didn’t know what good it would serve to push any further. Obviously, Devon didn’t intend to share whatever was troubling him. Trying his best not to feel shut out, Jonathan settled for pulling Devon back down beside him on the wide bed. Holding him close as Kit spooned against Devon’s other side after flicking off the light, Jonathan
ran his hand through the tousled golden hair. “Go back to sleep, babe,” he whispered, too wide-awake himself to close his eyes. “We’ve got an early call.”

  KIT DIDN’T know what was going on, but Devon had been off his game all day. His takes had gotten a little better as lunchtime neared, Lancelot’s persona finally winning out over Devon’s fatigue; but then, during lunch, Kit saw Devon on the phone, talking agitatedly, and it seemed he had never recovered. Concerned, Kit decided to see if he could catch Jonathan alone for a minute. Fortunately the director was finished with Lancelot, but he wanted to shoot an interaction between Arthur and Percival one more time, giving Kit the opportunity he sought as they walked back to the trailer once Niall was finished with them. “Did Devon seem to be acting odd to you?”

  “I thought at first he was just tired,” Jonathan agreed, rubbing his beard with the back of his knuckles. “Even after he fell back asleep last night, he was pretty restless. But he’s pulled some all-nighters before this and never blown his lines the way he did today. He wasn’t Lancelot, and that isn’t like Devon at all.”

  Kit sighed, a mixture of relief and concern. At least he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. “He was doing better right up until he got a call at lunchtime,” Kit added, not sure Jonathan had seen Devon on the phone. “Do you suppose it was his ex-wife calling and making problems over the divorce?” They had talked about Devon’s divorce more than once. It was one of the few things that really seemed to tear Devon up.

  “Maybe, but usually when he’s dealing with Marcy or the lawyers he gets quiet. Today he seemed—” Jonathan searched for the right word. “—brittle, maybe, like he was angry but trying to hide it by joking around.” He shook his head, frowning. “Whatever it is, he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “So you think we should just ignore it?” Kit asked, surprised. “I mean, he seemed really upset. I hate to see him like that.” He hesitated, thinking for a moment. “You know what it reminds me of?”

  “What?” Jonathan didn’t want to just ignore something that was troubling Devon so deeply, but he wasn’t sure what they could do to help if their stubborn lover wouldn’t confide in them.

  “The day we went to the beach house,” Kit replied, “when Devon was in such a mood. You remember, he told us a little about his”—he looked around to make sure no one was within earshot—“past. It reminds me of the mood he was in that day.”

  Jonathan nodded slowly, considering Kit’s insight. Not for the first time, he thought how much the people who only saw Kit’s beauty and charm underestimated him. Kit had a sensitivity to the emotions of others that Jonathan envied. “But once we got him to the beach, he was fine. I thought we’d convinced him we didn’t hold his past against him—in fact, I thought we’d made it pretty clear that under the right circumstances, we even enjoyed it.” He couldn’t hold back a small grin as he remembered just how much they’d all enjoyed Devon’s dominance that weekend.

  “So what changed?” Kit mused. “Could we have done something that triggered another memory? Or I could be miles off the mark, and it could be something totally different. I really think we should at least ask him.” He paused outside the door to their trailer, wanting to be in agreement with Jonathan before they stepped inside and faced Devon.

  “You’re right,” Jonathan agreed, “we have to ask. I’m just not sure that in the mood he’s in, he won’t think we’re ganging up on him.”

  “Do you want to talk to him alone?” Kit suggested, seeing the sense in Jonathan’s concern. “Or I could, if you’d prefer.”

  “Let’s see how he’s doing now that filming’s done for the day first,” Jonathan decided. Kit’s idea made sense, but a part of him didn’t want either of them to question Devon alone. As unlikely as it had seemed at the beginning, they’d managed to make their unconventional threesome work, and his gut told him whatever the problem was, they needed to solve it together.

  Kit nodded and opened the door. Stacy and Carol, their makeup artists, were inside waiting for them, but there was no sign of Devon. Putting on his best face, Kit stepped into the trailer and smiled at the women. “Is Devon finished already?” he asked, playing up his surprise.

  “He was here and gone in about fifteen minutes,” Stacy confirmed. “He didn’t say much, but I got the impression he was in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Yeah,” Carol agreed, “he didn’t even tease us about our plans for the night the way he usually does.”

  Jonathan met Kit’s eyes over the pictures of his son that covered one corner of his makeup mirror. The fact that Devon hadn’t waited for them worried Jonathan even more than his unusual edginess. Something was definitely wrong, and whether it upset Devon more or not, they needed to find out what it was.

  Kit saw the determination on Jonathan’s face and nodded slightly. They would finish up here and get home as quickly as possible so they could get to the bottom of this. Pasting on what he hoped was a passable smile, he looked at Carol. “So, what are your plans for the evening?”

  Jonathan closed his eyes and let his mind drift as Stacy worked, only half listening to Kit’s and Carol’s chatter. He couldn’t help but worry that confronting Devon would only serve to drive their prickly lover farther away. They had no choice but to try, though. They’d just have to make Devon see that they weren’t trying to pry—their concern for him was based in love. He was startled when Stacy broke him out of his reverie with a nudge of his shoulder. “Go home and get some sleep in your own bed, Jonathan,” she teased.

  “Who says he’ll be anywhere near his own bed?” Kit replied with an impish grin. “Last I heard, the king had plans for the evening.”

  “My only plans right now involve finding some food.” Jonathan laughed, careful to keep his tone teasing. He picked up Excalibur from where it leaned against the side of their wardrobe closet, having gotten in the habit of taking it home with him when they left the set so he could practice his swordplay during their rare free time. “C’mon, Percival, let’s see if we can hunt down the king’s champion and see if he’ll join us.”

  “I could eat.” Kit levered himself out of his chair and headed toward the door. “See you tomorrow, ladies,” he added as he stepped out into the cooling night air, shutting the door behind them after Jonathan joined him.

  Inside the trailer, Stacy paused in putting away the cleansing supplies and straightening the counter. She met Carol’s eyes speculatively. “You think…?” she asked.

  Carol looked at the door, then back at Stacy. “Nah,” they said in unison after a moment, returning to their work so they could get on with their own plans for the evening.

  AFTER DEVON’S uncharacteristic behavior all day, Jonathan was relieved to see Devon’s car parked in the drive as they pulled up behind it. He cocked an eyebrow at Kit, then shrugged. “Looks like the lion came back to his den after all,” he muttered. “Let’s see if we can find out what’s got him so worked up.”

  Kit nodded and got out of the car, waiting for Jonathan before walking inside. They no longer knocked at one another’s houses, having long since exchanged keys. Deciding to opt for humor, Kit chirped, “Hi, honey, we’re home.”

  Devon grimaced, draining his tumbler of scotch and giving serious consideration to downing another before facing his lovers. At least they didn’t seem to be irritated at him for leaving without a word. He should have tried to think up some plausible excuse, but he was still too shaken by the day’s events to think of anything clever. Falling back on his experience that partial honesty was the best policy, he turned to greet them, rubbing the back of his head, which really did ache. “Sorry for leaving like that,” he grumbled. “I’ve had the headache from hell all day, and when Niall cut me loose, all I could think of was getting home and taking something to get rid of it.”

  Kit crossed to where Devon was sitting on the couch, took the glass from his hand, and set it on the table. “If it’s a headache that’s bothering you, this isn’t the cure. I’m sure
Jonathan will get you a glass of water. Close your eyes and let me see if I can help you relax,” he suggested, probing the tense muscles of Devon’s neck with gentle fingers.

  After carrying the tumbler and the half-empty whiskey bottle into the kitchen, Jonathan returned with a fresh glass of ice water and the bottle of aspirin he’d retrieved from Devon’s kitchen cabinet. He set the water on the table, shook out two tablets, and handed them to Devon. With a comforting smile, he knelt at Devon’s feet, pulled off his shoes and socks, and set them off to the side. Taking one of the strong, slender feet in his hands, he began to rub it soothingly, alternating long, gentle strokes with firmer pressure at the reflexology points on the instep and the base of the toes. “Just relax and let us take care of you, Devon,” he urged, watching his lover’s face as both he and Kit continued their ministrations.

  Letting his eyelids fall closed, Devon arched his shoulders, trying to let go of his tension beneath the calming touches. This is what’s real, he told himself. This is what I need to concentrate on. The hell with what that bastard said. The pounding ache that had inhabited his skull all day long was finally beginning to ease when the ring of the telephone sounded from the kitchen. His eyes snapping open, Devon jumped to his feet before either of the others could think to answer it.

  “What the fuck?” Kit muttered, looking at Jonathan. He got up and started after Devon. He had no idea what was going on in Devon’s head, but it was past time they found out.

  Jonathan caught Kit’s arm, preventing him from following Devon and pulling him back to wrap his arms around Kit’s narrow hips. “Let him go, Kit-Kat,” he urged, looking up from where he still knelt at the foot of the couch. “We’ll find out what’s bothering him, but he won’t appreciate feeling like we’re eavesdropping or spying on him.”

  “It just eats at me to see him so upset.” Kit gestured helplessly toward the kitchen. “There’s got to be something we can do for him. Something.”