A Valentine for Two

by Lia Davis

  Dominic woke up next, then Malcolm, both of them kissing me good morning.

  “So where are we?” I asked.

  The two men shared a smile.

  “Should we tell her now?” Malcolm asked.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Let's show her the closet first,” Dominic said, climbing out of bed.

  He was naked still, and I had to admire his nice, tight ass and morning wood. Malcolm joined him, and I admired his body as well. As I watched them, I knew I could get used to staring at these two men naked for the rest of my life, honestly.

  They reached for my hand and I allowed them to pull me to my feet so I could join them.

  “The closet?” I asked with a laugh.

  Dominic pulled open a door, and there was a huge, walk-in closet. He flipped on a light and I stepped inside.

  “Holy shit,” I said, eyes wide.

  I was surrounded by every kind of sex toy you could imagine. On the racks were hangers filled with lingerie. I flipped through them, admiring the leather outfits, the costumes, the corsets – there was a little of everything.

  “You like?” Malcolm asked, grinning from ear-to-ear like a child eager to please.

  “This is awesome, you guys,” I said. “Is this yours?”

  “No, not exactly,” Dominic said, shooting Malcolm a sheepish look. “It's yours.”

  “You mean these toys?”

  “No, we mean the whole house. It's yours.”

  I stopped flipping through the lingerie and then stopped as what they said registered. I turned and stared at them both, dead on.

  “Seriously now,” I laughed. “Don't screw with me like that.”

  “We're not messing with you baby, I swear,” Dominic said. “This is your Valentine's Day gift. This house and everything in it – though you can decorate as you see fit. It's our gift to you on one condition.”

  “What's the condition?”

  Malcolm answered. “You're ours. Completely. We don't want to share you with anyone else.”

  “And,” Dominic said, “you'll obviously be happy to service us. Either together or individually.”

  I laughed, but only because the conditions they were seeing weren't really all that difficult to adhere to. I had no reason to argue or try to negotiate – they were things I wanted already.

  I walked over and in turn, kissed both the brothers. “I'm already yours,” I said. “And I'm always happy to be with you both – together and individually. You don't need to get me a house – ”

  Malcolm cut me off. “No, we didn't have to.”

  “We wanted to,” Dominic finished for him.

  Some girls were happy to get flowers or chocolates for Valentine's Day, and there I was getting a mansion. It was going to be hard to explain to my parents, of course. But I could explain that I was being paid enough that I bought the place myself. Still, it seemed like too much.

  But my men weren't having it.

  They showed me around my new home, all of us still very naked, and I couldn't believe that this was mine. As suspected, we were by the ocean – we were actually overlooking the Pacific. I had my own private patio overlooking the beach. The reason the house smelled like fresh wood was because they'd put in all new floors, brilliant wood floors all throughout. Everything else, they said, was up to me.

  Because it was my home now.

  No more sneaking out and lying to my parents. No more trying to hide my masturbating from them. No more questions about who I was dating. I could do as I please – and what I wanted to keep doing was standing naked in front of me.

  And with a whole bedroom full of toys, I knew the fun had just gotten started.

  About the Author

  Amy Brent writes about strong women and HOT alpha men, who will do anything to protect and love their women. With absolutely no cheating in her books, she promises happily ever after’s that are full of spice, love, lust and passion.

  You can join her Naughty List aka Exclusive Readers Club here

  Newsletter sign up: http://www.moonlightpassionpublishing.com/the-billionaires-property/

  Poor White Trash

  Sara Wylde

  Chapter One

  Charlotte

  Ridgemont Hall Common Room

  Hollingsworth University

  His regard was constant, intense, and definitely disapproving.

  Charlotte Harcourt glanced at her unofficial bodyguard standing in the corner of the room. Even though his attention was on her, she knew that he was acutely aware of everything that transpired around him. Hypervigilance was a way of life for him.

  His eyes narrowed as she reached toward the glass bowl that Pandora Heyde presented to her with no small amount of glee.

  She pulled out the folded scrap of paper with a shaking hand and clutched it to her chest like it was made of diamonds.

  Pandora moved on to the next girl, and then the next until each participant had their draw.

  “Okay, dollies. This is how it works.” Pandora’s shell pink lips curved into a big, terrifying smile. Genuine happiness on Pandora’s face meant someone was about to be utterly obliterated. Only pure mayhem could sketch a smile that big on her face. “You’re going to look at the name on that paper and realize you’re going to see them naked. Tonight.”

  Charlotte bit her lip.

  “Excuse me, what?” another freshie she didn’t recognize asked.

  She sighed. “I just told you what. This is like a key party. Or Seven in Heaven, if you’re twelve.” Pandora drawled the last with a kind of exasperation one could only have with a child. “You find the person on your paper, and you go back to their room with them. You’ll find it keeps out the riff raff. We all have a good time and no one has to slum.” She looked directly at Jace, but he took no notice of her.

  Which obviously drove Pandora insane. She wasn’t used to being thwarted.

  For Charlotte, however, it was old hat. Jace thwarted her every chance he got, only she knew it wasn’t malicious. He simply wanted to take care of her.

  She unfolded her paper.

  Vance Tinsley-Yates.

  The paper crumpled in her palm as her fingers closed in disbelief. The Brat Prince? Charlotte had fantasized about him since she’d first seen him in the quad with the sun haloing his golden hair. He looked like a god.

  She was more than happy to volunteer as tribute.

  The best thing about university for Charlotte was getting out from under her parents’ thumbs. Mostly.

  They meant well, but holy shit, it was hard for a girl to have adventures when they were so worried about something happening to her that nothing ever happened to her.

  Tonight, she was going to have an adventure with Vance Tinsley-Yates. A naked kind of adventure.

  This was on her bucket list. Have a one-night stand. She wanted to know what it was like to have sex just for the sake of it. Not to worry about what anyone thought about her actions but herself. Not to be concerned with what this meant, if this person was going to try and take something from her. If he wanted something from her that was more than herself.

  She found him across the room and he cocked his head to the side, a slow, lazy smile curling his lips.

  Everything about the guy was sheer decadence.

  But even she bit her lip and looked down at the paper, and back up at him, hoping he wouldn’t make her cross the room to him, hoping he wouldn’t make her say it out loud, Charlotte couldn’t help but think about Jace.

  Wonder what he thought of this.

  And if he ever saw her as more than the delicate bloom that had to be protected.

  If he ever thought about what her body would feel like under his scarred hands.

  She sure did. All the time. Probably more than was healthy. Which was why she needed to do this, needed to have a new experience. Jace was all she knew. He’d been her constant companion since she was ten.

  He saved her then, a spindly, hungry boy of fourteen. He’d put himself between
her and harm. Between her and the people who’d kidnapped her. They were going to take a finger as proof of life to punish her parents for hiring a professional negotiator.

  And Jace, he’d been there. He’d saved her.

  He’d gotten boiling oil thrown on him for his trouble and a beating that nearly cost him his life.

  Where Vance was all golden perfection, Jace was all shadows and broken things, but somehow in the utter destruction, he was a kind of perfect, too.

  She held up the paper to Vance.

  He pointed at himself, as if he were surprised. As if he’d won something. It made her feel special. He flipped up the collar on his polo and made a big show of walking over to her.

  Charlotte laughed, though unable to forget about Jace’s hard stare that felt for a moment as if it burned right through her clothes.

  As Vance approached, it was like the sun hurtling toward the earth. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Or her body. She’d never felt so awkward in her own skin before.

  Only there was an eclipse—a great shadow fell long across the warmth of Vance’s light. It was Jace, putting himself between them.

  “I don’t think so, Brat Prince. Back to your castle,” Jace growled.

  Instead of being offended, Vance laughed. “Brat Prince, am I? Does that make you the troll in the dungeon?”

  “Maybe it does.”

  She put her hand on Jace’s shoulder and he bristled. “Jace.”

  “Go to your room, Charlotte.”

  “I think Charlotte is a grown woman, isn’t she? She can choose where she wants to spend her evening.” Vance held out his hand to her.

  For a moment, Charlotte was sure Jace was going to break that hand.

  “You use your body like a weapon at all times. You should come play prop for the Grizzlies Rugby team. We’d like to have you.” Vance was utterly unaffected by Jace’s hostility and aggression.

  Charlotte didn’t know if it was just because she had a dirty mind, but the way Vance had said he’d like to have him, well, it conjured all sorts of dirty thoughts.

  Now she was imagining his hands all over the Brat Prince, and she wanted a front row seat.

  Heat suffused her cheeks and she pressed her lips together, as if that could somehow push those thoughts back down into the darkness. At least until it was an appropriate time to take them out and play with them.

  She didn’t know how Vance knew, but the way the expression on his face changed, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Look, your Charlotte likes the idea.”

  “She’s not my Charlotte,” he growled.

  “Isn’t she? You rushed over here to lay your claim, didn’t you?” Vance still hadn’t broken eye contact with her. It was as if Jace didn’t concern him in the least.

  “No. She’s not mine. She belongs to herself, but you will treat her with respect.”

  This time he looked back to Jace. “How have I treated her otherwise? Because I’m going to take her back to my room, if she’d like to come.” That self-satisfied smile was back. “And I’m going to make her scream my name in three languages. Maybe yours, too? I’d say it’s a gift.”

  “You would.”

  “Jace,” she began again, unsure of what to say.

  “Make him at least take you to dinner.” It sounded as if it hurt him to say it.

  “That kind of nullifies the whole point of the one-night stand,” Charlotte whispered.

  “Fine. You do whatever you want. You always do.” Jace turned away from her. “You know where I am if you need me.”

  Pandora’s laughter trilled. “Oh, he’s a dear, isn’t he? How did poor white trash like that ever get into Ridgemont Hall? Rather ugly beast, isn’t he?”

  “Well, Pandy,” Vance drawled. “I’d fuck him before I’d fuck you. So do with that what you will.”

  She’d been ready to jump to his defense, to chew Pandora’s face off, social suicide be damned. But Vance took care of that for her.

  Pandora rolled her eyes. “You’d fuck him for the novelty alone. Run along, now, dollies. Can’t have you lingering in the common area, or no one else will go up. Then all the fun will be over before it begins.”

  “Pandora, I do believe you have other guests to harass.”

  As soon as she was gone, Charlotte got a sinking feeling in her gut. She knew what she was going to do. It wasn’t at all what she wanted to do.

  She couldn’t stand the tone in his voice. The way he made it so clear without even saying so that he was disappointed in her.

  “I’m sorry, Vance. I should probably...” She motioned to the stairs.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, but—” She finished the sentence with a shrug.

  “One more thing,” he said, reaching for her hand. “What if I did take you out? On a real date.”

  “Like I told Jace, it defeats the purpose of this one and done thing.” She smiled. “It’s on my bucket list.”

  “Here’s what. I like you. I like your curiosity. There’s a softness about you that none of these other girls have. A sparkle. I’m intrigued. I’m also the biggest manwhore on campus. Aside from Wrathboner and Dane. I think we’re tied.” He seemed to consider. “Let’s agree to get to know each other. No strings. We’ll both continue our other pursuits as we choose.”

  “I’ll consider it.” She exhaled heavily. “Look, Jace and I are a package deal. If you get me, you get him.”

  “Maybe you’ll tell me more about that sometime. Like dinner on Wednesday night.”

  “Okay.” Charlotte had not only dipped her toe in the waters, but she’d jumped into the deep end.

  What was she thinking playing these games with Vance?

  Probably that, even though she was likely to get her heart broken, it was going to be just the adventure she was looking for.

  She took the elevator back up to the tenth floor. There was only one floor above hers, and it was penthouse suites. One occupied by the Brat Prince, and one for the university’s use, at their discretion.

  Part of her wanted to hit the call button and go up that extra floor. To reach out and take this thing that she wanted.

  Except it wasn’t worth Jace’s disappointment in her.

  She’d just have to convince him to see it her way.

  The elevator stopped on her floor and as she walked to her door, she saw Pandora and Conrad Blackwell at their own door. That in itself wasn’t out of place, it was the seeming gulf between them.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he said.

  “I can’t back out. Not if I made everyone else follow through. Let’s just do this. Don’t be a bitch about it.”

  Pandora must’ve gotten Conrad’s name in the draw.

  She didn’t want Pandora to see her, so she hurriedly typed in the keycode and her door opened.

  Charlotte saw that the door to Jace’s room was closed. She approached it carefully, unsure of what she wanted to say. She knocked and got no response.

  “Jace?” she whispered.

  “What?” His voice was choked and harsh.

  “I did what you wanted. I came home.”

  “Go to your room.”

  “I’m not a child to be told to go to bed. Come out and talk to me.” She waited, but only silence greeted her. “Things have been wrong since we got to Hollingsworth. Can’t you just talk to me?”

  “Not right now, I can’t.”

  She pressed herself against the door. “Let me be here for you, Jace.”

  “Charlotte!” It was a demand and plea.

  Sometimes, the darkness took him. It swallowed him whole. If it wasn’t nightmares, it was a black rage that he couldn’t fight. When they were younger, it helped him to be close to her. Only not so much in recent years.

  “Alright, but I’m here for you, too. I’m not useless. I’m not some once-blooming flower you have to keep under glass, either.”

  She spread her palm on the door, and wondered if he really knew what he
meant to her. She wondered if he had any of the same thoughts about her she had of him.

  Charlotte sighed and went to her room.

  Her brain was currently visiting some seriously unapproved areas. Like wondering what he was doing behind that door that meant he wouldn’t open it for her. That desperate hitch in his angry voice. Could it have been something else?

  She was obsessed with his hands. With watching how they worked. How the twisted sinew and puckered flesh moved to his will. She remembered the long hours of rehab, and his silent endurance when even her father had leaned down and whispered in his ear that it was okay to scream.

  He never did.

  She thought about that force of will and his hands. She imagined what it would look like if he was behind that door doing—

  Charlotte should’ve gone back to Vance’s room. Then she wouldn’t be in her own jilling off to a man who didn’t want her that way.

  She was going to talk to him tomorrow and, no matter what he said, she was going to have an adventure. She didn’t want to live like a shadow of the woman she wanted to be. Not for anyone.

  Not even him.

  But she would give in tonight, thinking about him while she touched herself. Pretending it was him with those scarred, brutalized hands on her. Her fantasies went to some strange places. Places she’d never dream of confessing out loud.

  In most of her fantasies, he wasn’t her bodyguard or her protector. He wasn’t doing anything gallant at all. In fact, he was almost villainous. No self-sacrifice, no pain. He was taking her against the wall like a whore, or coming into her room and holding her down telling her this was the price for taunting him as he drilled into her. She’d even imagined him kidnapping her and tying her up, his hands and mouth all over her helpless body.

  She knew that was fucked up, especially because he’d always been her savior.

  Charlotte lay on her bed and let the world fall away as she lost herself to her fantasy. She dipped two fingers into her wet folds, pretending it was one of his, remembering the play of

  muscles in his arms under her hand and wondering if it would be the same while he worked her pussy. Charlotte wondered, too, if she’d even be able to wrap her legs all the way around him or if he’d have to use his big hands to tilt her hips up toward him. She decided she’d like that very much and flicked her index finger over her clit faster.