I haven’t felt this way about a woman since I was twelve years old, and Rick Morris’ new Playboy bunny step-mom threw him a pool party with all her busty Bunny friends.
Fucking honestly? I’m not sure I’ll ever feel this way about a woman again.
I’ve dated models. Actresses. Heiresses with enough of Mommy and Daddy’s money to afford as many nose jobs and ass implants as they can dream of.
But this girl? Fine, foxy Sofie? She’s hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
I need to have her. Fuck the other two—they can join in if they can keep up. Ollie and Eli had best be bringing their A-game tonight—
Because I’ve certainly brought mine.
I catch her eyes just as the maître d' moves to bring her over to our table. We all stand to greet the absolute fucking goddess before us as the maître d' drops her off, but when she’s done glancing at the other two, her eyes definitely return to me.
“I’m, uh…Sofie Carson. I guess I’m your date for evening?” she says, sticking her hand out with a nervous little laugh.
It’s the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard, and all I want to do in that moment is make her laugh like that again.
But it breaks my heart, too. When she laughs, she looks away from us. Like she’s embarrassed, or just too unsure of herself right that moment to feel confident in having fun.
Well. We’ll fix that right fucking quick then, won’t we?
“Elijah Kennedy,” Eli begins, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. He gives her that politician handshake that makes me question once again what the fuck he’s doing in business. With his brain, his pedigree and those good looks, he could be president of the free world. “And these are my colleagues—”
“Oliver Robertson,” Ollie jumps in, taking up Sofie’s hand when Eli releases it. “I think I should stipulate, though—we’re not colleagues tonight. Just friends.”
When Sofie’s hand is free again, it’s my time to shine. But when I take her slender fingers into my palm, I don’t shake it like I’m some kind of dog who’s been taught the oldest trick in the book.
No. I raise those pretty fingers to my lips, and I kiss them. Twice, for luck.
“Lucas Price,” I say, raising my eyes to hers slowly. She’s got beautiful fucking eyes. Brown, dark enough that you could get lost in them, and sparkling with laughter and light. “You’re even more beautiful up close.”
That makes her giggle again, and even though she covers up that perfect smile of hers when she does it, it was worth the cheesy line. She’s classy, our Sofie. A little innocent-looking, but fearless, too. Especially in that dress.
One glance at the other guys, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing. We didn’t pay for sex, and we certainly don’t expect it. But for a girl like Sofie…
It wouldn’t be a bad way to end the night.
“Has, um…” Sofie begins. I pull her chair out for her, and she lowers herself into it gracefully, glancing up at me with a tiny smile of thanks.
“Cat got your tongue?” I ask as the other guys and I take our seats.
Her laugh. Her damn laugh! It’s so fucking cute I wish I could bottle the fucking sound.
Record it, put it on my phone, listen to it on a 24-hour loop. Fucking hell.
“Sorry,” she says with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever fucking seen. “I’m a little overwhelmed right now, I think. It’s just, like…”
“You weren’t expecting three guys who look like us,” Eli supplies smoothly.
Sofie blushes. Fuck. Even her blush is fucking beautiful.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” she admits. “But aren’t there supposed to be four of you?”
Oliver nods. “Looks like he’s late.”
“I guess you’ll have to settle,” I say with a shrug. “Three men will have to be enough for you tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, darn,” Sofie shoots back with a joking pout. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to find some way to make do.”
“We could make do from my house out in the Hamptons after dessert, if you’d prefer,” Eli offers casually.
“Or my luxury penthouse,” Ollie one-ups him. “After all—it’s closer, and not so tacky.”
“You’re going to have us fighting over you like dogs by the end of the night if you don’t put a stop to this now, you know,” I say.
Sofie laughs again. Whatever nervousness she came in with has dissipated now. In fact, it looks like she’s blossoming with all this attention we’re paying to her.
“I’d rather have you all eating out of my hand,” she says sinfully, leaning forward and scrunching up her nose in the cutest fucking smirk.
“Woof,” Eli says with a wink.
“And right on time,” Oliver adds as the waitress arrives with the oysters.
“We hope you don’t mind,” I speak for all of us. “But it looks like Eli has taken the liberty of ordering.”
“This is the part where I say something about aphrodisiacs.” Eli plucks an oyster off the platter and offers it to Sofie temptingly.
“But of course, a girl like you…” Oliver begins.
“…wouldn’t know anything about that,” I finish for him.
Sofie’s gaze passes across all three of us, taking us in, as she licks her lips.
“Oh, no,” she says with delighted faux-innocence as she takes the oyster from Eli’s fingertips. “I wouldn’t know anything about that all. But…”
She tips the oyster back between her lips and makes a beautiful face of pure ecstasy.
I wouldn’t mind seeing that face again in a more private setting, truth be told. I’m sure the other guys would agree.
“Maybe you can teach me?” she says, swallowing with a saucy little grin.
Fuck. This is going to be fun.
Oliver
Wine is a fascinating drink, even by my standards. Scientific studies have linked it to everything from lower blood pressure to cancer prevention. The Italians even claim that women who drink two glasses of red a day feel more intense pleasure during sex—
So as the waitress pours Sofie her second glass of the excellent 2012 Penfolds Grange Shiraz I've ordered with the steak, I'm not about to complain. In fact, as a scientist myself, I'd highly recommend it.
Sofie closes her eyes as she takes her first sip of her refreshed, glass and I realize I'm becoming more and more wrapped up in her with every passing second. Everything she puts in her mouth induces a reaction: delight, pleasure, awe. It makes me fantasize about the expression she'd make with my cock between those big, plump lips of hers—
As a scientist, of course.
As she opens her eyes again, I'm anticipating nothing short of ecstasy sparkling in those pretty brown irises. Instead, to my dismay, I see a flash of panic. She swallows it down with the wine as quickly as it arises, but I can't help but wonder what could make a charming, confident girl like her see white like that.
Then I feel a presence arrive behind me, and I can make an educated guess.
“Gregory Lane,” a haughty man's voice announces. “It seems you've all started without me.”
I turn, annoyed, to find exactly the kind of guy I was expecting, even if I don't recognize his face. He's shorter than Eli, Lucas, and I by at least three or four inches. Dressed in a white suit with a salmon pink shirt beneath it, he has the same haircut as a lot of Eli's neighbors out in the Hamptons.
He looks like one of kids who used to try and beat me up in grade school before they realized that was a mistake. Entitled. Narcissistic. Thinks the sun shines out of his ass. Has enough money that he can pay people to reassure him of that theory.
“Unfortunately, this is a private dinner, Greg, “Eli says. “But if you'd like to chat after, I'd be happy to give you my card.”
There's a reason he runs PR for BioKin and Lucas and I don't touch that shit. This guy is bad vibes all around, but Eli is keeping his cool.
Meanwhile, L
ucas looks ready to deck him for interrupting. I'm partially inclined to do the same.
As for Sofie, she looks like her wine has turned to vinegar in her mouth.
“Ah,” Greg says, strangely smug. “I see there's been some misunderstanding. I'm here for Sofie, actually. I've rented her for the evening, same as the rest of you.”
He takes the only remaining seat, directly in front of Sofie, even though no one offered. I shift closer to her on instinct. So does Eli. Lucas, on the other hand, shifts his chair closer to Greg.
“I'm not sure that rented is the word you're looking for there, buddy,” Lucas says with that slight southern drawl that slips into his accent when he gets his red up. “Try again.”
Greg, to his credit, seems totally oblivious to the fact that he's about to become intimately acquainted with Lucas' steak knife and waves over the waitress instead.
“Why don't you bring us a bottle of Armand de Brignac,” he says, sneering at the bottle of Shiraz on the table. “Just two glasses. After all...” His gaze slides across the table to Sofie. “I remember you have expensive tastes.”
“That's funny,” Sofie says cooly. “I remember yours being distinctly cheap.”
There's something going on here that Eli, Lucas, and I aren't quite getting, and it's not just how fucked it up it is that Greg here is trying to order champagne during the steak course.
“That won't be necessary,” I tell the waitress. Christ. Even she looks uncomfortable.
“Don't worry,” Greg reassures me. Like I give a shit. “I own Lane Energy. I can more than afford it.”
Not that anyone fucking asked.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Greg?” Sofie's fingers curl around her wine glass so tight, I'm worried she might shatter it.
That bothers me. Not that she's angry, but that she might cut those beautiful fingers on the glass if she does. I put my hand on her knee protectively, just to reassure her.
It's alright, I want to say. Let us take care of this. But I don't want to embarrass her in front of this asshole by suggesting that she can't hold her own.
If only Greg shared that sentiment.
“I paid for you,” Greg says nonchalantly. “Same as these schmucks. Honestly, I would have preferred our little reunion to be a private affair. But if you're letting rich men run trains on you now, I don't see why I shouldn't join in on the fun. After all—”
After all what, we'll never know. Eli is a level-headed guy, and I'm not the type to go starting fist fights in my favorite restaurant, but Lucas has a boiling point, and Greg here has just pushed him over it.
“I think it's time for you to go,” he says, charming as ever.
Before Greg can protest, Lucas is out of his chair and hauling Greg to his feet. Luke lifts the guy up like he weighs nothing at all. Right on cue, security arrives, and Lucas passes the asshole off to them like he's giving them a particularly distasteful Christmas present.
“You can't—” Greg starts to protest.
“Oh, they can,” Eli reassures him smoothly.
Greg's face turns the same pink as his shirt as security drags him out. Pleasantly, Eli, Lucas, and I all wave goodbye.
When we turn back to Sofie, she's hiding her gorgeous face in her hands.
“Oh my god,” she says. “I'm so sorry. He's an ex. I didn't realize…”
“Say no more,” I tell her, shaking my head. “He's gone now.”
“And he's not coming back,” Eli adds.
I squeeze her knee reassuringly and feel her body shift closer to mine. Eli's knuckles brush mine as he does the same to her other knee.
“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” Sofie says morosely. “He's such a vengeful little shit. His family is old money, and his parents have connections…”
“My money is older,” Lucas says, reclaiming his seat. “And my connections are more reliable. Trust me, Sofie. One text to my chef friends, and he's blacklisted. Not just here, either.”
Lucas leans across the table, pulling her hands away from her face and smoothing his thumbs across her knuckles. I put my arm around her shoulders. She's trembling. Eli does the same.
“He'll have a hard time ordering overpriced champagne in Manhattan after that,” I say with a laugh.
“You never know,” Eli jokes. “Maybe McDonald’s will let him supersize it.”
That makes Sofie laugh, and when Sofie laughs, we all smile.
Dessert arrives not a moment too soon. One bite into her crème brûlée, and Sofie is almost back to her delectably high spirits all over again.
“Mmmm,” she moans gorgeously. “God, that's better than sex.”
“Then you've been having sex with the wrong kind of men,” Lucas says.
We all watch as she licks her spoon in a way that would leave any man's suit pants feeling considerably tighter. I know mine do.
“Fuck,” she laughs, digging in for another bite. “You guys have to try this. I could eat it all night.”
I glance at Eli and Lucas. They look about as hungry as I feel right now. And not for the crème brûlée.
“Not quite to my tastes,” I quip. The crème brûlée here is to die for, but Sofie looks even more delicious. “If I'm going to be eating all night, I can think of at least one thing I'd prefer.”
My fingers inch up Sofie's thigh. She glances over at me, inhaling slowly. Her dark pink tongue slicks out across her lower lip, licking up a stray bit of custard.
“So can I,” Eli adds. His fingers crawl upwards, level with mine on her warm, perfect skin. “Actually, I think I'd prefer my dessert to go.”
Lucas grins wolfishly. “I'd like my dessert all over my face.”
“But we're obviously all thrilled to know that you enjoy the taste of cream,” I finish with a grin to match.
“Mmmm,” Sofie moans again. Her chest rises and falls as she places her spoon back on the tablecloth.
She's smiling, too, I'm happy to see. A beautiful woman like her should always be smiling.
And if Eli, Lucas, and I have anything to say about it, she’ll be smiling all night long. “My limo's outside,” I whisper, dropping my lips to her ear. “If you'd like to continue this somewhere more...private.”
Sofie's eyes look to each of us, one by one.
“You boys sure do know how to treat a lady,” she says with a giggle.
“Still,” Lucas says, “With you enjoying dessert so much, it would be a shame if you didn't have at least one more taste.”
He reaches across the table and dips his finger through the caramelized sugar to the creme beneath, then offers it to her.
Sofie's eyes dart between us again before she opens her mouth and sucks Lucas' finger between her perfect lips.
Honest to god, I've never seen a woman look so much like a renaissance painting and a porno all at once. This girl checks all of my boxes. Every. Single. One.
And if that means sharing... I don't mind, and I don't think the others do either.
“Fuck,” she pants as Lucas' finger slips back out from between her lips. “Limo. Now.”
She stares at all three of us with a renewed hunger.
“Please.”
Eli and I share a grin while we take her by the hands, and Lucas grabs the check.
Sofie
One girl, three billionaires, and the backseat of a limousine.
You do the math.
I know what you’re thinking: What the fuck, Sofie? You’re supposed to be their dinner date, not their dessert! But here’s the thing:
1. I don’t care.
2. I’m fucking tasty, okay?
These men have made me laugh tonight. They’ve made me feel good. Wanted. Hell, maybe even a little adored.
They’re hot, they’re handsome, and they’re totally willing to go down on me. All three of them. Maybe even at the same time.
Plus if the stuff they’re claiming is true, they’ve probably made it impossible for the world’s slimiest ex-boyfriend to eat gourmet in Manhatta
n for the rest of the foreseeable future.
As far as first impressions go...let’s just say I’m impressed. All things considered, if they want this pussy, they’ve fucking earned it.
By the time we make it outside the restaurant, Lucas is practically picking me up in his arms and throwing me into a freaking red limousine. Not black, not white, but Iron Man red.
I tumble through the door in my heels and am greeted by a fully stocked minibar and soft, gold leather seating. Beneath the seats, a row of glowing red LED lights trims the entire space. It reflects off the shiny hardwood flooring, creating a sultry, atmospheric glow. Overhead, soft yellow lights dangle from the roof. Dozens and dozens of them. Like stars.
“Wow,” I say, taking it all in.
Then Lucas smacks my ass, and I remember that I didn’t wear any panties tonight. Thank fuck, right? Bent inside the limo like that, gawking, he probably got a full view of the goods beneath my short little skirt.
I hope Oliver and Elijah got an eyeful, too.
Tonight has been kind of an emotional rollercoaster, and honestly? I can’t wait to take my mind off it.
As the boys pile into the backseat, I can think of a few more things I can’t wait to take off.
My dress.
Elijah’s shirt.
Oliver’s pants.
And every single item of clothing that Lucas is wearing.
We end up seated across from each other. Me on one side of the limo, all three of them side by side on the other. I’m fucking wet right now. I’m ready to turn this limo into a fully functioning bang wagon ASAP.
But the boys have other ideas.
“Come here,” Lucas says, patting his thigh.
As the door closes and the limo starts to drive off, I move over to sit on his lap. Oliver to our left, Elijah to our right.
“I paid the bill,” Lucas explains, his lips against my shoulder, “So I guess that means I get first taste.”
He pulls me against him and just holds me for a second.
I can feel him inhaling, breathing me in. Smelling my perfume. My hair. My skin. It’s been a long time since I’ve just been held by a man.
The King's Virgin Bride Page 27
