“You can do better than that Natalie. Say it. Say cock,” he says, voice dripping with flirtation, the hard K sound snapping off his tongue in an oh so sexy way.
“I can't; it's embarrassing,” I say back. I can feel all three sets of eyes watching me intently.
“If you say it, I'll change the subject,” he says, letting all that bad boy swagger into his words. I wish it weren't a turn-on but it is. How is it possible for me to still get aroused after I literally just had one of the best orgasms of my life? “Well, we are all waiting with bated breath for that dirty little word to come out of your sexy red lips. Or do we need to keep talking about your little romp with Whit—” I cut him off before he can say another word.
“Cock. There I said it, now change the subject.” I blurt it out as fast as I can so that he will shut up about me and Whittaker. Jack snorts, shaking his head like this whole conversation is silly.
“Oh, damn. Now that I've heard cock come out of your mouth I'd really like to see it go in.” Hudson's caramel eyes are half-lidded and he is wearing the cockiest grin I have ever seen on a man. It is so annoying that I forget that I was embarrassed.
“I doubt you were clever enough to think of that off the top of you head. How long have you been planning to say that?” I raise an eyebrow. “Now I know the real reason you wanted me to say cock so badly,” I say haughtily. I look at Jack and Whittaker; they both seem content to just watch us bicker back and forth.
“I got you to say it again, didn't I?” he asks, the look on his face getting even more smug than it was before. His mouth turns up in a sinful smirk, scorchingly beautiful but still playful. God, I just want to slap that stupid grin off his face.
“Seeing as you have the only cock in this car I haven’t seen today, maybe you're just jealous?” I'm getting more irritated by the second.
“That's just a technicality, seeing my hand was on your cunt a few short hours ago.” His voice drops and a shiver goes down my spine. My whole face flushes with frustration. How does this a-hole have a witty comeback for everything I say? Lucky for me, Jack cuts us off. He scoops me up and sets me on his lap, slanting his lips over mine. He massages my tongue with his own. Though taken by surprise, I kiss him right back. The kiss is short, sweet and vigorous. When he pulls away, I am left breathless.
“I have been wanting to do that for hours,” Jack says, and my heart flutters at his kind words. It would be so easy to fall for a guy like Jack because he's so sweet. But I need to remember in the end, guys like Jack don't marry regular girls like me. He's now got a cocky grin of his own. But he isn't looking at me, he's looking at his brother. Hudson is still smiling but there is something just a little forced about it. If I can't knock that smug grin off his face, at least someone else can. And that thought makes me smile.
“When we get to Gabriel's, would it be okay if I have a moment alone with him? I really owe him an apology,” I ask Jack. His face softens.
“Honey, Gabe isn't coming to dinner with us,” he says gently.
“Wait. He's not? Is this because of what I said this morning?” I look between the three decadently sexy men. Surprisingly, it's Whit who answers me with a nod of his head. Yes.
Wow. I really fucked up.
“He thinks it's best if the two of you keep your distance until Christmas eve,” Jack tells me.
“No. He's coming to dinner whether he wants to or not. This is a waste of all of our time if he and I aren't a convincing couple,” I say, proud my voice comes out sharp and clear. I don't know why Gabriel not coming bugs me so much; it just does. He's such a jerk, you'd think I would be glad. But I'm not.
“I'd like to see you tell him that,” Hudson says with a snort. Whit looks both surprised and pleased by reaction.
“Watch me,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Gabriel's house couldn't be any different from Jack's grand old Victorian. A huge modern structure of glass and steel, high on a hill overlooking the city. The place just oozes wealth. Even though it isn't my style, I have to admit that architecturally speaking, it's stunning. I make the three men stay in the car, wanting a moment alone to give Gabriel my apology. Surprisingly, no one presses the issue.
I ring the doorbell but don't get an answer. He's probably ignoring me on purpose. Faintly, I can hear Christmas music playing from the backyard. I know that I should probably just call it quits now and go to dinner without him. I turn around, fully intending to do just that, but the broken look on his face flashes in my mind. I'll just pop around back and apologize and let him know if he wants me to pretend be his fiancée, he has to come to dinner. Sounds easy enough, right?
I follow the sound of piano along the side of the house. As I get closer, I start to recognize it. It's Carol of the Bells—literally my favorite Christmas song of all time. I come around the house and am rewarded with a full wall of glass. The back door is open and the beautiful melody is drifting into the cold night air. But the sound of the music is nothing compared to Gabriel's masculine splendor. His white button up is completely undone and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing the chiseled lines of his hard chest.
I didn't think it was even possible, but Gabe looks even sexier without the uptight three-piece suit. His eyes are closed and he is gently swaying. It's mesmerizing, watching him play the quick tempo with such mastery, each note like the chime of a bell. I stare transfixed at his tortured beauty. I don't know if I have ever seen anything so moving in my entire life. How did I not see it before? The sad boy hiding behind the anger and cruelty. I can't move or look away, hypnotized like a spell has been cast.
As the song reaches its end, I struggle to hold back tears.
He finishes the final note, opening his stormy eyes. I will never forget the look in them when he lifts his lids, not expecting anyone to be watching. Sadness and pain held only in check by the indomitable spirit of the most agonizingly wicked man on earth. They see me and widen with shock. Then anger. He stands up, ire radiating from him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps, practically growling the word you. His long legs close the distance between us in a matter of seconds. Grabbing my arm violently, he holds me in place. The cold cruelty is gone, replaced with the searing heat of his rage. “How did you get here?” he grinds out through gritted teeth, but his firm grip on my arm doesn't lessen. He is beyond angry, being caught in such a vulnerable position.
“I came … I'm sorry,” I manage to stutter out. The night feels so still and quiet without the sound of music. The words shock him and he drops my arm like it's on fire. He clenches his jaw and glares daggers from his cold gray eyes.
“Apology not accepted. Now get off my fucking property,” he says in a voice like ice. His tone makes me so angry. I know his anger is a defense mechanism, but that doesn't make it okay. I came here to apologize for my cruel words, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let this jerk treat me like crap.
“No. Get ready; we are going to dinner,” I say, grabbing his arm before he can walk away. The flash of fury through his eyes is so intense I should be scared. But I’m just not. He jerks his arm from my grip.
“Get off my property …” His voice drops, getting deeper and more masculine. Primal. He grabs both my arms and pulls me to his chest. “Unless you are interested in going all the way.”
An involuntary shiver of excitement travels down my entire body and goose bumps break out on my skin. He's trying to scare me away, but it wont work. He's going to have to do better than that.
“Get dressed,” I repeat, ignoring the flush of arousal coursing through my body. His jaw clenches and his silver eyes glare down at me. I can see the muscles in his arms tighten at my words, but despite his rage, his hands don't ever squeeze hard enough to to hurt me.
“This is your warning. If you don't leave by the count of three, I'm going to fuck you. And I can get a little …” He lowers his face towards mine, but he doesn't kiss me. His lips hover just above my own. “Rough.” His gray eyes stare
into my blue ones, examining them like they he's looking past the physical to the deepest, most secret parts of me. The only sound in the cold December air is the hushed gasp of our breathing and the pounding of my racing heart.
I look right back and for a moment, I can see the wounds of his dark past dancing behind the asshole facade. But in a flash, it's gone and he lets the shield of cruelty fall back in place.
“One. I'm serious.” His voice darkens with need. Every molecule on his body is coiled, ready to strike. Predatory.
“I'm not leaving without you,” I say, not realizing the hidden meanings behind the phrase. My words fuel the attraction between us. He licks his lips, the motion dripping with a ferine ferocity.
“Two. This is your last chance to get away.” His deep voice is barely a whisper, crushed under the enormous weight of almost tangible desire. His grip on my arms tightens in anticipation. And his breathing gets heavier. Faster. The lust in the air is palpable. He might be the biggest asshole I have ever met, but I want him with a craving so all-consuming it hurts.
When he sees I intend on staying, a delightfully vicious smirk crawls across his face.
“Three.” With a growl, he scoops me up bride style. He carries me like I'm weightless through the glass doors towards what I presume is his bedroom. I see the piano and the need hits me like a ton of bricks. I have to have him inside of me now.
“Piano,” I manage to gasp breathlessly. Without a word, he sets me down. I wobble somewhat precariously. I don't have to stand there for long though. He violently shoves the bench out of our way, sending it flying several feet across the room.
Gabe spins me around and shoves me over the keys of the black Steinway, kicking my legs apart. Pushing my dress up, he grabs one side of the delicate lace panties and tears them. The intact side slides down my leg and rests on my high-heeled foot. He grabs my hair roughly. I moan and arch my back, giving him better access. My exposed sex is throbbing with a desperation I have never before felt. Then he is just there, the hardness of his shaft probing the wetness of my opening.
Gabriel enters me hard and fast with a deep groan of approval, slamming his body into me with the force of a man possessed. The guttural sounds coming from him are the sexiest things I have ever heard in my life. Wild and masculine. The deep feral noises of relief and the soft cries coming from my lips mix with the symphonic clang of keys. Every inch of my body is on fire and my eyelids flutter. My cunt pulses faster, encouraging him to increase the tempo. He does, fucking me harder. Driving his stiff cock into me over and over again, bruising my hips against the piano. A familiar pressure builds and my pussy clamps down.
The sweet song of sex between Gabe and I is short and hard and rough. And electrifying. I finish first, screaming and writhing against his powerful hips and the firm grip of his hand in my hair. But he doesn't stop thrusting. He rides my orgasm all the way through, pumping a few last times as I go limp beneath him. When he finally finishes, it's with a violent shudder.
He pulls out and backs up. My legs are weak and shaky, so without his strong arms holding me up, I can't stand. Still panting, I collapse onto the floor in shock. When I look up at him, he is lost in thought and the chiseled features of his face are unreadable.
“Holy shit. That was amazing,” I say with a laugh. “Now get dressed for dinner. And don't take too long. Your brothers are waiting outside in the limo.”
Gabriel doesn't smile, but he doesn't frown either. He just looks down at me and, after a moment, reaches out his hand for mine, pulling me to my feet.
I realize my torn panties are still stuck to my right heel.
“Guess you'll just have to go to dinner without them,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.
I glare at his back as he moves away and leaves to get dressed.
When he returns, his face is as cold as ever … and it's almost like the moment between us never happened.
The rest of the night goes like you'd expect.
The Northington brothers treat me to a beautiful restaurant that is way above something I could ever afford. Expensive wine. Phenomenal food. A ton of flirting. It's the best date I've ever been on. Sad, I know, that the best date I ever had is all fake. But I decide I might as well enjoy myself.
We talk about all kinds of things, most of it frivolous, like our favorite Christmas movie or whether we prefer our Christmas lights to blink or not. The five of us end the night with after-dinner drinks at Jack's house. We stay up so late, just getting to know each other that I decide to stay the night in a guest bedroom.
Alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
I'm sitting next to the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
Well, at least top five.
Angelic blue eyes and soft shoulder-length golden hair are not what you would expect on a man as savagely gorgeous as this. His face is like something out of a romance novel, with strong chiseled features and a sharp slash of mouth schooled in an emotionless mask of boredom. Even dressed in an expensive suit and tie, Colden Northington has this rugged quality to him. Masculine. Beastly. Stunning.
He ignites a primal lust deep in my belly, something base and animalistic. My femininity wants nothing more than to succumb to primordial desires and mate with the virile male sitting only a few feet from me. A thin scar runs down the length of his face, from his forehead all the way over his right eye and onto the corner of of his mouth. And he is huge. Massive. And like seriously ripped. Not a single Northington brother was under six feet, but Colden … he dwarfs them all. He has this whole Nordic Viking warrior sort of look to him.
“How was your flight?” he asks stoically. Even cold and emotionless, his voice comes out a sumptuous feast of Lucullan notes. Shrewdly, he watches me with only mild curiosity. His face is schooled into a mask of apathy. He doesn't trust me. The thought itself is frustrating, but I decide since we have to spend the next six days alone together, I won't let it get to me.
“It was amazing,” I say with a smile. I don't have to fake it because that simple statement doesn't begin to describe how incredible it was to fly on a private plane. No security or busy airport terminals. Comfy seats, two flight attendants all to myself, no dealing with the crowded airport. I used the time to get some work done and started planning the Christmas party. “I even managed to set up a meeting with the caterer for tomorrow afternoon if you'd like to join me?” I hope the invitation will get him to warm up to me a little bit.
“Perhaps,” he says. One word, not an iota of emotion in his voice. He is giving me this whole ice king vibe that I just don't buy. Several times, I catch a flash of his extraordinary blue eyes observing me. We sit in silence, watching the scenery go by for about fifteen minutes before I decide I can't take it anymore.
“Have I done something wrong?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.
“No.” He turns to look at me for only the briefest of moments before very pointedly turning back to the snowy landscape outside the window. I couldn't get the message any clearer if he'd sent me a memo. I don't want to talk to you. What have I ever done for him to so strongly reject my every attempt at conversation?
“Am I really so insignificant that I don't merit a proper answer?” I ask, frustrated by the cold shoulder he is giving me. This gets his full attention for the first time since I got in the car.
“I gave you a proper answer,” he says, daring me to argue. As intimidating as he is, I'm sure very few people ever question anything he says, but the tone in his voice just a little too patronizing for me to let it go.
“I don't care who your father is or how rich you are. If you continue talk to me like I'm a child or an idiot, the engagement is off.” I choose my words carefully since we are in a car instead of a limo and there is no privacy glass between us and the driver.
Colden shifts his massive muscular body toward me with unbelievable feline grace. His blank face is too reticent, too perfectly emotionless to be real. Is this mask for me or just an inveterate vizard of a ruthl
ess businessman? He looks me up and down like he is truly seeing me for the first time. Now that the full weight of his intellect is focused on me, I feel self-conscious.
“Oh, now there's a threat that tantalizes my taste buds,” he says, completely stone-faced. The alliteration slides off his tongue enticingly. The frustrating thing about his deadpan delivery is I can't tell if he is mocking me, if he is flirting, or if he is doing neither. His continued impassivity is making me feel so flustered and I hate it.
“Are you mocking me?” I ask, trying to get him to react. When he doesn't, I stare unashamedly, searching the majestic lines of his stoic face for some indication of … any emotion really. He catches my eyes with his own and holds them there. I am drawn into the cool blue of the glacial depths with the same exquisite ferocity I felt for the other four Northington men. My heart starts pounding under the slow, careful scrutiny.
“Why would I do a cruel thing like that to my precious fiancée?” He delivers the question with near perfect diction, like he's snapping each word of the end of his tongue, but not with heat … just … nothing. That's how I know it to be a lie; nobody is that unfeeling.
“I didn't think it possible, but you might be even more frustrating than Gabe.”
“You still fucked him, didn't you?” Colden asks, still bored, still entirely unengaged with the conversation.
“That's none of your business,” I hiss, turning away and my refocusing my gaze out the window.
“I think the men with whom my fiancée copulates is entirely my business.”
I don't bother looking back at him. Why should I? When all I'll see is a perfect face, but the perfect face of a statue, carved of stone and empty of feeling.
“It's not your business because—news flash—I'm not just yours.” I mean to say not just your fiancée.
Even though I know I shouldn't, I flick my gaze back to Colden and see a fire in his eyes, flickering for the span of an instant before it disappears. His body stiffens up and he jerks his head away from me, the muscles in his neck clenching tight with strain.
Billionaires, Boarders, and Bastards: A Limited-Time Collection of Reverse Harem Romance Novellas Page 24
