by J. L. Beck
In a rush, wetness pools between my legs as I grasp a new understanding of their synchronized moves they perform on my body. “Um, how do I not know this? I mean, I’ve never watched either of you dance, even at the pub back home?”
War tosses his napkin resting in his lap onto the table, and within moments, the dishes are whisked away. “Some things are best left in the past, babe. But not everything. Like this place.”
War managed to arrange a private room for the three of us, having a long-standing friendship with the owner, as he’d explained. After finding the perfect wedding dress, I feel like a princess whose head is in the clouds. I mean, whose life am I living? I have to give the guys the credit they deserve for taking care of Eve and tying up loose ends, so we can all move forward with our new life. “Fill me in on the pros of Vegas again, and don’t leave out any details.”
For once, Cole kicks back, enjoying his flute of champagne. Yeah, Cole’s found bubbly now, and he’s loosening up to the point he and War catting about America’s Playground and when it was their hometown. I take a sip of champagne, the bubbles nipping at my nose, and an eagerness spikes my courage to ask. “Do you still remember your moves?”
Cole blushes for the first time ever, so I beg a bit. “Please, dance for me… We need to get our money’s worth out of this room, and the thought of both of you grinding on me in all the right places turns me on.”
The guys share a look, and Cole leaves the room, while War picks up his cell and starts flipping through his music, as if he’s actually going to dance for moi. Maybe I’ve gone too far, but my core’s on fire, and I’m practically melting I’m so turned on and surprised by these two. Married, in two days… “I never want this moment to end, War.”
War cups my face, landing his mouth against mine. The brush of his lips starts out slow, but when he stakes me with his tongue, finding his rhythm—the perfect rhythm that is War and me—he’s releases a groan to die for.
“I want to climb inside you, babe. Never let you go.”
Raw emotion fills me, fills us both to bursting. He’s so much a part of me.
Behind me the door slides closed, and Cole drops to his knees in front of me. “Getting started. That’s good. I like you wet, sugar. So, take off your thong. Do it for me, now.”
My breath catches at his demand, and I slip my hands up my thigh to my white, lace thong, slipping free of the restriction. I dangle the little string and lace off my fingertip. What if I’m not ready to experience everything with them? Here. “What if someone comes in?”
“Taken care of,” says Cole, as if he’s in control of the world. He brings my panties to his face, and a smile replaces his primal expression. He pockets the tiny wad of lace and smooths my thighs with his palms as he works his hand up until he finds my tender folds. “Slick, hot, perfect in every way, Maddie.”
My breath catches at the rush they’re giving me, and I tip back my head a bit as I spread for Cole, wanting and waiting to feel his mouth on my most sensitive parts. “I like the way your dance begins, cowboy.”
He pulls to stand and leans in, placing his mouth over my ear while fingering my clit. “I’m taking that sweet ass of yours, so get ready.”
My core spasms and fire licks my cheeks. “Oh, God. I think I just came.”
“There’ll be no question when we’re done,” says War against my neck as he cues the music.
The tempo heightens my raging pulse, my desire for them to take me, and for once I let go of my fears, knowing if we want each other, that’s all that matters. Making each other happy is all I’ve ever wanted for them. I really can be everything for them and give them all they want.
Cole slinks to the floor right in front of me, arms extended, as if he’s getting ready to do a push-up, but instead only the lower half of his body moves like a wave, rolling and pumping his hips into the floor.
I wish I was the carpet he’s making love to. I want his weight on me, his heat, his delicious sweat slick against my aching nipples. Reality hits me that I want all of them—the good, the bad. Their past, their future. “This wasn’t on the dessert menu…”
“Oh, it’s a seventeen-course meal, Mrs. Pierce…” War swings his leg over my head, places his ass in my lap, and grinds his hips while palming the floor. He pumps his hard cock against my thighs.
I cup his tush, the motion making me squirm in my seat. I’m still swooning from him calling me Mrs. Pierce, reminding me I have to do something special for them, something out-of-the-box. “You two are wild, and I love this.”
The room grows dark, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch Cole working the wall switch. Shit. Things are gonna get dirty. War strips off his coat, and Cole follows. Next, the two sidle up to me, one on my left and one on my right.
Music slows, the cadence matching their sinewy dance as they grind their twin cocks over my tender breasts. My nipples turn to rocks from their touch. And I’m floating with the stars, thinking if my life got any better, I might die and go to heaven.
War lifts me with ease, spins me so I’m kneeling on the chair, putting my face almost in line with his and my hands in line with his belt, which I unbuckle.
“My turn…” I slip the belt free of its loops, hoping War can’t tell what a novice I am. I mean, I’m like any twenty-five year old who’s read the newest sexy romance, and I can tie a simple knot like a pro. “Give me your hands, War. A girl’s gotta tame her billionaires anyway she can.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah.”
The champagne bottle falls from the ice bucket, spilling liquid and cubes of ice on the floor.
We all jump, but War thrusts his hands forward, encouraging me with his sapphire gaze. “Fuck the ice.”
I’m so hot, maybe I should. War’s willing to being tied, and I edge his arms behind his back. I wrap one strap of the belt around one wrist and circle the other, loose enough if he wants to break free he can unravel the leather.
Here’s the thing about War: in the bedroom...er restaurant, he’s open to me with everything, but I’m still trying to figure out his mind. He keeps checking out Cole who’s standing behind me. Is War searching his brother for approval, permission, or for Cole to join us with a little light bondage, too? Am I being too controlling, kinda stealing their show? Or are they keeping more from me than I can ever imagine? I let my worry slide for now and sink into War’s chest. I sprinkle kisses down his neck, beginning with the soft spot right below his ear.
“Babe…” War moans as he tucks me against his body with his chin.
Cole’s heated breath paints the back of my neck as he hikes up my dress, folding the material into the V back. From behind, he slips his cock into the crack of my ass. “I’ll go slowly. You tell me to stop, I will.”
I gasp at the idea, the deed, and how his words rumble across my skin with his promise to allow me to be in control knowing how hard it is for Cole to let go. Slickness coats his shaft, as if he’s planned this moment, including lube. Butter? I don’t think my ass will care… “Will it hurt?”
“Relax. Breathe, sugar.” Cole groans and sinks deeper.
Outside the room, the band strikes up, drowning out the clink of the belt that bound War’s hands as it falls to the floor, the music streaming from War’s cell, and my cries of pleasure from War who suddenly snakes his hand between us and strokes my clit. He’s a master over my body, circling the ripe bundle of nerves in delicious swirls until I’m tingling all the way to my toes.
Cole heightens my senses as he increases the pressure, tapping on my back door. “I’m gonna come, and you’re not even inside me yet.” I warn the guys.
“This is all about you, sugar, this first time,” says Cole, his deep, dark voice as robust as the Merlot, or, as if he’s king of the jungle and controls the Savannah that is my body with his pledge to take me not once, but again.
I push out my ass, spreading for Cole as War works my clit with his talented thumb. I slip my arms around War’s neck for balance, breathing too fast agai
nst the crook of his neck from the growing anticipation and the bite of pain as Cole increases the pressure, and I think War’s enjoying the show because he’s breathing as fast as I am, and his cock impales my belly, as hard as the marble statue perched in the corner of the room and as expertly sculpted.
“This is gonna go fast,” Cole warns.
Is he talking about me or him or War?
Cole slides forward, spreading me, and pain grips me. I hold my breath. “What if it’s too much?” I barely get out the words as pain and pleasure zip through my body a moment before Cole plunges inside, his girth widening my sensitive opening. His length fills me to the brink of pleasure, so I’m suddenly lost in a bubble of sensation my guys create just for me. “Ah, Cole… Ah, War.”
Maybe it’s the champagne or the wine or the taboo deed that I’ve been wanting. Or perhaps it’s the possibility that I can give Cole and War my body in a new way. Hunger for release heightens, and I rock against Cole, grinding my face into the crook of War’s shoulder. My orgasm stampedes my awareness and overtakes my quivering body that locks around Cole’s cock. “Feel. So…”
“Good.” Cole barely thrusts forward with his powerful hips, he’s so gentle with me, when hot jets of cum fill me to the brim, lubricating his withdrawal.
I collapse against War who pulls me against his chest, winded and lost for words. Trying to dispel the truth that I’m not the first woman they’ve taken at the same time, her name still teases the outskirts of my mind.
“Babe, you okay?”
“Sugar, say something.”
I’m panting, coming down from the strongest orgasm and highest high of my life the twins have choreographed like the dance they performed. And I want this, want more than I even know I’m needing. “Better than okay. When can we do that again?”
The door slides open, the waiter barely blinks, and Cole doesn’t miss a beat. “Check, please.”
Chapter Eleven
Maddie
The restroom mirror is studded in crystals that match the little black pendant lights, and the fixtures are gold. The room is as luxurious as the dining room with all the things I need to spruce up while Cole and War pay the check.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, large brown eyes outlined in black to match my lashes while freshening up my foundation. It must have worn off where I ground my cheek against War’s collar. Should I sneak War a towel to clean his shirt, Cole one to wipe his parts? Uncertainty finds me like a plague and steals my bliss.
A shiver runs down my spine as I think to myself. I wouldn’t dare address what just happened inside that private room, because if I do, I might get all kinds of creeped out, but, hey, it’s Sin City, and I’m not pretending that doing the nasty wasn’t hot as fuck. I smooth my lipstick with the tip of my finger.
I fluff my silky, brown hair so I don’t look just-fucked. Oh. My. God. It’s then that I realize my cheeks are the color of salmon, so I search through my clutch and pull out a bottle of foundation, patting my cheeks and blending the makeup to cover the blush. I don’t want to look like a mess when I walk out of here.
The rustle of cloth alerts me, and I freeze. I’m so busy fixing up myself, I don’t hear or feel another person in the bathroom with me until she speaks.
“You’re with the twins.”
It’s not really a question, and I must look panicked because the woman approaches me in a hot minute.
“Can I give you a hug?”
The mystery woman’s husky voice wraps around me like a feline, but I usually like strays. And since I’m the huggy type, I pull her to me, thinking she must need it more than I do, considering I’ve been thoroughly hugged in the past fifteen minutes. Suddenly, I wonder if I smell sexed-up?
She eases back, showing me her smile that’s outlined mauve, so my nerves settle because she seems friendly enough. “You know my fiancés?”
She gapes then snaps her lips closed. “You must have the magic touch to have turned those bad boys into husband material. The two were a mess. I thought they’d fallen off the earth, wound up in jail, or died.”
Pet peeves can take a fine mood and spin it on its head. I smile back, though the last thing I want is for some stranger to tell me about the twins’ past indiscretions, when I’ve seen firsthand what these two have gone through and are still going through to find happiness.
“I did nothing but love them like they deserve to be loved, and I’m not just talking about fucking them like they need to be fucked.” I state the last part, making sure she’s aware how much they’re a part of my life as much as I am theirs.
The woman smooths her silk shirt where the deep collar meets the first button hidden in her cleavage. “Oh, you’re as fiery as the guys warned me you’d be before I came in here. I can see why they care about you so much.” She holds out her hand, which I shake.
Seems a strange gesture after we’ve just hugged, but I go with it, not wanting to be impolite. “How do you know Cole and Warren?” I ask, feeling as if I may have given away too much of myself, but there’s no backing out now.
The woman smiles once more and, even though it’s a sweet smile, I can’t help but feel unnerved by her presence.
“Through their father, Richard. I was sorry to hear of his passing but happy to hear the boys intend to provide for Eve. I mean, they can always go back to Brown Valley; although I sure do miss them bringing in business on Ladies Night.”
Her admission sinks deep into the pits of my stomach, and before I can stop myself I’m speaking, the words come out like proverbial vomit. “Excuse me, but my fiancés haven’t made arrangements to caretake Eve.” Blinking doesn’t seem to rid the nightmare that has now appeared right before my eyes.
The woman before me seems confused as she speaks. “That’s not what Eve said. And she was just here… She explained she had business at the gallery.”
A light bulb goes off inside my head. I’ve never crossed the line I’ve drawn where Cole and War’s past and mine fall away. I know they’ve had full lives that didn’t include me in the slightest. I had no idea about Eve, let alone what kind of gallery she owns and where the business resides. “Yes, of course, because of the—”
“Opening tonight at nine. It’s upstairs from Aces, right across the street from the restaurant and down a couple of blocks. Pierces—the gallery—has a private showing on Thursday nights, and scheduled photoshoots. I’m sure Eve would love to entertain you as she once did the twins.”
The woman interrupts me, and a sheen of sweat forms against my palms. Betrayal isn’t the blade, it’s the handle, and that blunt handle penetrates deep inside my tender heart, twisting until I clutch my chest. Eve’s named her gallery after my guys. I realize then that the entire charade tonight has to have been the men performing for Eve as a way to prove to her they loved me. Was she watching us?
“For fuck’s sake,” I choke out as I spin around to leave, though my feet have a mind of their own as I slip out of the bathroom, checking to make sure Cole and War aren’t in sight before I sneak out of the club.
The cell locates Pierces Gallery, and I hustle across the street, walking briskly as the night air bites at my skin and steals my breath. My insides roil acid, and as badly as I don’t want Cole and War following me, I know they will.
As I enter the gallery, I’m taken aback by what I see plastered on the walls and by the real-life models twisted up in twine and either posed or waiting for their turn at a photoshoot. I drink in what I imagine must be some kind of BDSM gallery, and I’m not one to judge, but when I see Eve, I do.
She’s wearing a dress, if you can even call it that. The front is cut into a deep V, showing off her tits, while the sheer color of it leaves very little to the imagination. Her arms are decorated in twine, as if someone has knitted right over her skin, encasing her arms in rope cuffs.
An unexpected arousal drifts over my body and, if I’m honest with myself, the knotted technique is beautiful and carries an air of sensuality. My nipples
turn to pebbles, my reaction scaring me a bit, and Eve takes notice as our gazes collide.
She sits in a clear plastic chair, sipping a glass of white wine. “You like what you see…”
It’s not a questions, and I cross my arms, but I can tell she’s coins pleasure from her effect on me, leaning back in her chair all nonchalant while I’m feeling self-conscious. The worst part is, I was stupid enough to fall into her little trap, luring me here.
“I thought you might show up,” she says, her tone edged in sultry notes like a high-society Southern belle.
I can’t help but feel intimidated by her class and beauty, her power over everything. “What do you mean, you thought I might show up?” I’m shocked, and surprise rushes my lips as a white curtain falls to my right, revealing an entire wall of photos.
