by Tia Fanning
A burst of brightness.
She froze.
She saw Jordan first, standing by the wall, his hand on the light switch. He was staring at her like she’d lost her freaking mind.
Jonathan was sprawled out on the couch, one hand pressed over his eye, chunks of ice cream dipping from his damp hair. In his other hand, the remote control rested.
Oriana’s gaze roamed over the devastated coffee table covered with wet, foamy popcorn and landed on the large TV. The movie was paused. A serial killer holding an ax in mid-stroke dominated the screen. His bloody victim lay at his feet, her hands out in a vain attempt to protect herself, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. Closer inspection of the background showed the door the murderer had broken down to reach his target.
As realization of what really transpired dawned, heat rushed to her face, which suddenly had a sensation of layered stickiness. She inhaled through her nose and the scent of vanilla sweetness filled her nostrils. Her brain connected the chilled oozing she had felt earlier on her skin to the ingredients found in a root beer float.
“Aw, man,” she heard Jonathan groan. “I think I’m going to have a black eye.”
The hard chest pressed to her rumbled slightly and a soft chuckle floated over her head. “I saw her slug you. She nearly laid you out.”
Oriana looked at the youngest brother. Oh God. I hit him! “I’m so sorry,” she rushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s not your fault.” Jonathan nudged his chin up. “It’s his. He shouldn’t have scared you like that.”
Following his glare, she found the face of the man whose arms still imprisoned her.
A small smile graced Jack’s lips. “It was not my intention to scare you. Are you okay?”
“I know,” she whispered. “And yes, I’m okay.”
“In that case...” Jack lowered his head and looked deeply into her eyes. “As I was saying before you destroyed the living room…embarrassed?”
Enthralled, she replied, “Not embarrassed to have slept with you, embarrassed because your brothers know.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Because of how they know,” she corrected. “They, um…heard me.”
“Ah.” Jack broke his dark mesmerizing spell and released her. “Jordan, take Oriana to her room so she can shower. Jon and I will clean up in here.”
Before she could blink, Jordan was leading her away.
He brought her into her bathroom. He switched on the water, pulled the shower curtain closed so the spray wouldn’t flood the floor, then indicated that she should put her arms up. Though she was more than capable of undressing herself, she numbly obeyed and let him remove her tank top, then turned so he could unclasp her bra. She was getting so used to having them dress and undress her that she thought she might end up spoiled. There would be no sexy menservants waiting for her back at home.
“Your back and bottom seem to be healing well. How do you feel?” he asked as he pulled down her sweat pants and panties, sending tiny sparks of sensation throughout her body.
She stepped out of the pool of fabric, and turned back to face him. Like his older brother, Jordan kept his eyes at a respectable level—something that kind of disappointed her.
“I’m still a little sore, but overall, much, much better. I think I can start showering on my own now.”
He retrieved a towel from the shelf. Unfolding it, he hung on the wall hook in reach of the tub, then pulled aside the curtain and checked the water temperature. Satisfied, he gently grasped her upper arm.
“I’ll help you in,” he said, lending her his strength as she stepped into the tub. “If you need my help, feel dizzy or weak, or you’re ready to get out, just holler. I’ll be in your room waiting.”
She almost asked him to stay, to have a seat on the porcelain throne and chat with her, but decided against it. She needed a few moments alone anyway so she could clear the fog of lust that manifested in her mind. Clearly, her body was starting to associate bathing with sex, and even now, her core tingled in anticipation and her nipples hardened, yearning for Jordan to do more than dutifully undress her. She wanted his hands to caress her, to soap her up, to…well, to pleasure her.
Damn, spoiled was an understatement. She was an outright greedy bitch. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d just slept with his older brother not a few hours earlier.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He nodded and closed the shower curtain.
She listened to him pad out of the bathroom then stepped completely under the stream, saturating her sticky hair.
Oriana took her time, enjoying the hot water as it cascaded down her body. As she washed, rinsed and conditioned, she replayed the last couple of days in her mind. She had become very fond of the three brothers, and though she’d known them only a short time, they had already captured her heart. She would be a sad day when it came time to leave them. She almost wished she didn’t have to go at all.
What it would be like to stay with them permanently? They could live as one big, happy family—
Whoa there! Was she so desperate for affection? Was her loneliness so absolute that she would actually harbor such childish fantasies? Happy endings only occurred in fairy tales. This was the real world, and life was not so simple.
There’s no harm in dreaming, though.
She spent the rest of her shower imagining a life where she lived with three incredible sexy men as their friend and their lover. When her fantasies became too hot for her body’s comfort, she moved on to what came after “happily ever after” where she was raising three young strapping boys: one with Jon’s wit and charms, one with Jordan’s quiet intellect, and the third with Jack’s self-confidence.
The water began to cool, and Oriana switched off the faucet. Pulling aside the curtain, she grabbed her towel and dried off. She noticed her dirty clothes had been taken away and that new ones sat neatly folded by the sink. A white t-shirt and boxer shorts.
To her surprise, Jordan hadn’t appeared yet. True, she hadn’t called him, but the bathroom door was open. Surely he would have heard her turn the water off.
Thinking this to be the perfect opportunity to show the guys that she was better, Oriana carefully stepped out of the tub. After completing her post shower toiletries, she got dressed and ventured out into her bedroom.
Jordan was lying on her bed, fast asleep.
Poor guy. How long had she been in the bathroom?
She peered out into the hall. It was dark. Assuming everyone had retired for the night, she approached the bed, intending to wake Jordan up and send him back to his own room. But when she reached his side and saw how cute he looked, she changed her mind. Instead, she turned off the light and crawled into the bed next to him. He adjusted his position, wrapped his arm over her stomach and drew her close.
She fell asleep, thinking how good it felt to be held.
Chapter Eight
Oriana awoke with the virtual sunrise, still in Jordan’s embrace. She gently untangled herself from his hold and tiptoed to the bathroom.
After completing her usual morning rituals, she ventured into the hall and made her way to the kitchen in search of coffee. Everyone’s still asleep. Rather than wait, she took matters into her own hands. A few minutes later, she leaned against the counter, watching the coffee machine percolate her most favorite caffeinated drink in the world.
“Good morning, honey.”
Jonathan strolled in with a smile on his face. He gave her a brief kiss on the forehead, then reached above her, opening a cabinet and removing two mugs. Placing them on the counter, he headed for the fridge.
“Good morning to you,” she replied, touched by his sweet, husbandly greeting. “You seem chipper.”
“Always. I’m a morning person.” He retrieved the creamer, and came back to her side. “Of course, my morning is made that much better when there’s an incredibly beautiful woman waiting for me in my kitchen, wearing nothing by her sexy…” His gaze swep
t up and down her body. “…boxers and t-shirt.”
Rather than giggle at his flirty teasing, she stared at the dusky smudge under his eye, the physical proof of how hard she’d decked him the night before. “God, Jonathan, I’m sorry. I—” She snapped her mouth shut and gazed at the floor, mortified.
“Hey, hey,” he chided, placing the crook of his finger under her chin and nudging it up so she’d look at him. “What did I tell you last night?”
That it wasn’t my fault. But it was her fault. If she had not freaked out in the first place, he wouldn’t be sporting a shiner now. “I’m the one who panicked and slugged you—”
“No, Ori. I don’t want to hear another word about this unless it’s you telling me that it’s not your fault.” He lowered his hand and reached around her to collect the sugar bowl. “Jack should have been more careful. There was no need for him to sneak up on you like that.”
Oriana melted at the protective, somewhat authoritative tone his voice had taken on. Jonathan was the exuberant, carefree brother, the one with a devil-nay-care charm and golden tongue capable of making even the most resolute good girl harbor sinful thoughts.
And lately, she wasn’t that resolute.
Jonathan filled both mugs with dark, steaming liquid, and added lots of cream and sugar to hers, just the way she liked it. He handed her the coffee.
“I wonder where Jordan is.”
“Sleeping,” she said, sipping from her cup.
“No, I stopped by his room. He’s not there.”
“He slept in my room.”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Really? Wow, I’m proud of him.”
“We slept together, but he didn’t…” She smiled. “He didn’t ‘dick me down’ as you so eloquently like to put it. Last night, when I came out of the shower, he was already asleep on my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so I let him stay.”
Clucking his tongue in disappointment, Jonathan placed his mug in the sink. “I’ll be sure to have a talk with him, let him know how rude that was. How dare he go to sleep without attending to your needs first?”
“Leave your brother alone. You tease him too much. You’re going to give him a complex.”
Jonathan took the coffee from her hands, speaking before she could protest the loss. “How will he learn social graces if I don’t teach him?” he asked, placing her cup in the sink as well.
She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “So let me get this straight: You’re going to tell him that the polite thing to have done was fuck me.”
“Exactly.” He cupped her elbow and guided her to the kitchen island. “Or, at the very least, made sure you got yours.”
“Wow, Jonathan,” she drawled drily. “You should really have your own ‘Dear Jon’ newspaper column or something. Think of how many others in the world could benefit from your expertise on good manners and proper etiquette.”
He suddenly yanked her boxer shorts down to her knees.
She gasped. “What—?”
Lifting her by the waist, he sat her on the island’s surface.
Oriana snatched a fistful of waistband, pulling up on the boxers as he tried to tug them down her legs. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice coming out a little more breathy than she’d intended.
Jonathan worked at prying her fingers off the elastic. “I’m going to correct my brother’s oversight,” he explained reasonably. “Don’t misunderstand. This is definitely not a hardship. It’s a responsibility I gladly take on.”
What? “You want to fuck me? Here? Now?”
“I haven’t had breakfast yet. I was hoping to satisfy my hunger.”
The double entendre was not lost on her. Her mouth dropped opened and shock slackened her grip. She watched in surreal fascination as he slid the shorts off her legs and tossed them aside with an exaggerated flair.
No, she had to be dreaming. There was no way this could be really happening.
He parted her knees and cool air brushed against inner heat, the conflicting sensations snapping her out of her stupor.
“Bu-but you can’t,” she stuttered. “You can’t do this—we can’t do this!”
Jonathan captured her calves and, bending her legs at the knees, lifted them up, forcing her body to tilt back like a seesaw. She flung her hands behind her, placing her palms flat on the island’s surface to counter the teeter and support her upper body.
“Why can’t I?” He spread her legs wide and placed the bottom of each foot on the edge of the counter, pressing firmly on her ankles in silent indication that they should, and would, remain there, if she knew what was good for her.
The back of his knuckles glided slowly, gently, from her inner ankle all the way to up to her inner thigh. Her pussy tingled in response to the teasing seduction, and her core throbbed with anticipation.
“Why can’t we?” he murmured.
Why? Why?
She suddenly couldn’t remember why?
“It’s—it’s… I don’t know! It’s unsanitary!”
With a single fingertip pressed in between her slick folds, he effortlessly glided up, and down, and up again. She moaned, wanting nothing more than to wallow in the pleasure he provided, then moaned again, but this time in despair. She should be stopping this, not weeping with arousal.
“Have no fear, my love. Jordan cleaned up after last night’s dinner, and he always wipes down the counters with disinfectant. It’s safe for you. As for the kitchen, I’ll clean everything again when I’m done eating.”
He then strummed her swollen clit with his thumb, and she held back her urge to rock against his hand. “But your brothers—”
“Do not care that we are using the kitchen, either.”
He slipped a finger into her passage, pumping in and out, coaxing her body to respond to him regardless of how hard she willed otherwise.
“You’re pure silk, Ori. Soft. Beautiful. Exquisite.”
“We can’t, Jonathan. I slept with your brother, with Jack, just yesterday.”
“Jack won’t mind. I promise you.” A second finger joined the first, increasing the filling pleasure building swiftly within her channel. “Unless, of course, there is something I don’t know. Do you all have some agreement that binds you two together exclusively?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.”
Jonathan lowered his head, his hot breath teasing the sensitized skin of around her sex. “Relax, enjoy.” He trailed his tongue in meandering swirls. “This is just as much for you as it is for me…and my brothers.”
When he suckled her clit, she nearly shot off the island. His free hand landed on her stomach and pinned her down. His fingers continued to thrust into her while he lapped at her pussy with slow, tortuous strokes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she panted. “This is so wrong.”
“I have never forced a woman to endure my attention, and I will not start today.” He didn’t retreat, but he didn’t continue. Freezing in place, a very steamy place, he captured her gaze. “If you truly want me to stop, just say the word.”
The word! The word! The word!
Hell, she couldn’t do it. She wanted this more than anything. She wanted him more than anything. And Jonathan knew it. His eyes, alight with challenge, dared her to deny herself what her body was so clearly begging of him to do to her—for her.
She lowered her eyes and released a breath of consent.
Rising up, his lips captured hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth while he stroked her heat. She instantly found herself lost in the intoxicating taste of his kiss, helpless against the coaxing of his fingers.
Steadily, his hand increased its pace, forcing her body to hover dangerously on the edge of climax. It was almost sad how quickly she was succumbing. She was supposed to be strong, to resist his charms. Instead, she was moaning like a bitch in heat, her pussy grasping at his fingers and demanding more.
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br /> She loved it.
She loved him.
She loved everything about him.
She loved his control over her. She loved how quickly she yielded. She loved how her body responded to him. She loved how he touched her, moved her, summoned her passion, and dominated it effortlessly despite her attempts to deny him.
With her orgasm nearly upon her, she closed her eyes tight, too embarrassed by her lack of willpower to face him, yet that much more aroused by the notion of this shame, at the realization of how much power he truly had over her.
Like his older brother, Jonathan was a commanding lover. Ha! She was such fool to have ever thought his youth might work against him in this area. That she would have to teach him anything. She knew he would be a giving, sensitive lover, but she’d never expected this. She never expected to be writhing for his touch, creaming herself with every stroke of his hand, every flicker of his tongue. She never expected him to conquer her so completely.
She had allowed her body to be conquered for a second time in as many days. First Jack. Now Jonathan.
God, she was greedy. Her behavior was simply wanton. While she wasn’t necessarily a good girl by any stretch of the imagination, she hadn’t been this sexually uninhibited since college. It was one thing to be confident and secure with her body and her sexuality, it was another to give her body over to a man when, less the twenty-four hours earlier, she had done the same thing with his brother.
That naughty side of her pranced with wicked delight at the mere thought.
She was going to come.
“Come for us, Ori. Let us see you come. We want to see it.”
His sensual words shot through her body like a pinball on the spring launch. She cried out as wave after wave of pure ecstasy rolled over her, intense and utterly consuming. She writhed beneath Jonathan’s passionate onslaught as he continued to work her pussy, urging her to come again and again.
