Snow and Seduction: A Steamy Reverse Harem Winter Collection

by Amanda Rose

  “And she hasn't even seen the best part yet,” Hudson continues with a sexy wink.

  I try to shake off the fog of lust. These Northington brothers might be literally the hottest men on the planet, but spending too much time around them is a bad idea. They're the typical, handsome, rich, entitled assholes that every city has. So unaccustomed to someone telling them no they are intrigued by it. Ah, to be so lucky. Nothing they say or do can be trusted. Once the challenge is gone, they will drop me like a hot chestnut.

  I need to keep my distance, knock this party out of the park so maybe some of their rich friends will hire me for other events. The thought makes me panic. A week to plan an important event—even one with such a small guest list—is not nearly enough.

  “I have a Christmas engagement party to plan and not a lot of time, so I'd better get going,” I say, not looking either of them in the face. Before I can stop myself, I add, “and I'm not sure what happened between us”—I gesture between the three of us—“but if we had sex, it's never happening again.”

  The Northington assholes exchange a glance.

  “You mean you don't remember?” Jack says, stepping forward and brushing the hair off my forehead. The small gesture makes my breath quicken.

  “You got so drunk you spent half the night over the toilet. We ended up having to shower you off and put you in something clean,” Hudson continues. The dreams … they were real. I stand there in shock, my eyes wide.

  These two wicked dangerous men spent the night holding my hair back while I puked my guts out?

  In the light of day, I find that hard to believe.

  “Nothing happened. Trust me—you'd remember if it had,” Hudson continues, his warm caramel eyes crinkling at the corners. God, these guys are relentless. Get away before you get swept up in this fantasy, Natalie. Guys like this … they marry rich socialites. Normal girls like me will never be more than a hot fuck.

  “I thought we agreed for you both to back off,” I say, pushing past both of them and into the room. I can feel their eyes following me as I walk, painfully aware that this nightshirt, while very cozy and warm, is also short. Jack follows me into the room with Hudson only a step or two behind.

  “That agreement was for yesterday only. And I believe I gave you ample warning about that,” Jack says, his green eyes flashing with need as he walks toward me. Without thinking, I take several steps backward. My thighs hit the edge of the bed as he towers above my tiny frame. My blood is racing; wetness blooms between my thighs. Unconsciously, I rub them together. His pupils dilate and he licks his lips.

  “Fuck.” I hear Hudson curse under his breath from only a few feet away. “Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?”

  Jack leans down, teasing my neck and ear with hot breath.

  “You are magnificent, beautiful but unique. Like a snowflake … one of a kind.” I know his words are lies, but my heart flutters in my chest anyway. “I have never felt physical attraction like this before. It has been an all-consuming ache since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  I can feel what little resolve I had crumbling under the onslaught of unrelenting sexual desire. I glance at Hudson, but he's no longer content to just watch.

  “I know you feel what we do; I could taste it on your lips last night,” Hudson practically purrs against my heated flesh. He climbs on the bed behind me. I am hyperaware of his presence before he even touches me. He kisses his way down the back of my neck, trailing his hands down my sides.

  At the same moment, Jack slides a hand along the outside of my exposed thigh. I gasp from the sheer pleasure of it. Jack's bright eyes hungrily take in the look of ecstasy that crosses my face from a simple brush of his fingertips. The tender ache between my legs has grown to an almost unbearable throb. I take a deep breath and relax into the feel of their expert hands and masterful lips.

  Hudson wraps his strong arm around my waist and pulls me up onto the bed, against the heat of his tattooed chest. He keeps me there, tucked against him with one arm. Surrounded by his uniquely sweet, but undeniably masculine scent, I surrender myself.

  The other man drops between my thighs, pushing them open with a firm but genteel pressure. They spread, revealing evidence of my arousal to Jack. I lay there, open and exposed. Panting. The look I get from him is all male. I can see a rapacious appetite just barely held in check. His green eyes slowly rake over my body.

  Hudson unbuttons the top of my nightgown. He trails his hands along my now exposed chest before taking the tender swell of my breast in his strong hand. He works the sensitive flesh with practiced perfection, releasing it only momentarily to gently tease the pebbled points of my nipples.

  Jack slides his hands along my legs, all the way up to the black lace of my favorite panties. He sensually reaches out, pulling the slip of fabric off and tossing them on the floor. Desire races through me; a moan of ecstasy escapes my lips. My sex is throbbing with the need to be touched.

  Hudson slides his hand down to the sensitive spot between my thighs, working my body into a frenzy with only a few flicks of his masterful fingers. I swear, I see fireworks behind my eyes. I arch my back in response. This seems to excite him. His breathing gets faster, deeper. And I can feel the hardness of his arousal against my back.

  Jack takes a few steps away from the bed, dropping his pants to the floor and exposing the long hard length of himself. He's so big. He grabs his shaft in a firm grip. From where he's standing, only a couple of feet away, he has a perfect view of my sex.

  “I'm bigger,” I hear Hudson whisper. I try to think of something witty to reply, but my words are lost in the waves of ecstasy. He flicks his finger over a particularly sensitive spot and I moan more loudly than I intend. He groans in response.

  Jack pumps himself slowly, matching the pace of Hudson's fingers as he works my throbbing clitoris. His green eyes stay locked on my face, watching my every move. When I moan, it seems to spur him on, making him move faster. The muscles in his arm flex as he works himself toward climax. The noises he makes are deep and guttural. Primal. Almost longing.

  My trembling body can't move, yielding to the overwhelming pleasure. Hudson doesn't speed up; instead he keeps a steady pace. The pressure at the base of my spine begins to build at a rate I could never have thought possible, my want reaching a crescendo. Jack is pumping himself fast and hard now, his frenzy picking up, his breathing in time with mine.

  The orgasm comes to me so swiftly, I don't have time to prepare myself for the violent and uncontrollable burst of white-hot intensity that rips a scream from my throat. My whole body shudders then goes limp in Hudson's strong arms. I don't get to enjoy my post-orgasm bliss because standing in the doorway is the last person I would want to be here right now.

  Gabriel Northington is stoically standing in the doorway, exuding confidence and cruelty. The tempest-tossed depths of his eyes are just as stunning as they were yesterday. He narrows them at me with a decadently dark smirk. Everything about him just exudes opulence.

  A navy three-piece suit, black Oxfords, and a silver tie are draped over his tall lean frame. He looks like a demon—deadly, dangerous, and powerful but also elegant … refined … savagely gorgeous. Cold as the frost, that's him. Gabriel adjusts his glasses, pushing them in place with a single finger. He chuckles darkly under his breath.

  “Ms. Winters, you managed to exceed even my expectations. I didn't think I would see you in such a compromising position for several days at least.” He pushes into the room. I sit up, pulling the fabric of the unbuttoned nightgown around myself in an attempt to cover my naked form. Immediately, I miss the warmth of Hudson against my back. If this jerk hadn't interrupted us, who knows what would've happened.

  “Get out,” I say, proud my voice comes out clear despite the mind-blowing orgasm I just had.

  “Is that any way to talk to your fiancé?” he asks, clearly baiting me. I clench my teeth and try not to respond. How am I going to pull this off? Five seconds in the same roo
m with him and I already want to back out.

  “If my 'fiancé' is going to act like a petty jealous child,then yes.” I make air quotes around the word fiancé. He already has me so riled up, I forget that my nightshirt is unbuttoned. The fabric opens, exposing my bare chest to Gabriel. I pull the fabric together, closing the top button so that it at least sort of covers me up. “Now get out,” I say as sternly as I can.

  “No. They got a taste. I want mine.” He reaches up and loosens his tie. The motion is so disrespectful, I have to fight back the urge to slap him. I'm about to back out of our deal when Hudson speaks up.

  “You heard the lady—get out,” he says, tone serious. Gabe clenches his jaw and looks between the three of us.

  “Jack?” Gabe asks.

  “Go open a bottle of wine. We'll join you in few,” Jack says with a sigh.

  “No. She's just as much mine as she is yours,” he says through gritted teeth. That's the last straw.

  “I'm not an object you can fight over. This fucking bullshit is why I turned you down in the first place. All three of you do it but you, you prick,” I say, pointing at Gabriel, “are by far the worst.” My outburst must have shocked him because he doesn't respond. I keep going. “This charade is pointless. No one will ever believe anyone could ever love a heartless, soulless, self absorbed piece of—” Hudson taps me on the shoulder and shakes his head for me to stop.

  I look back at Gabriel.

  I might hate the guy, but the look on his face could break my heart. His stormy eyes are distant. Broken. Lost in thought. Jack and Hudson exchange a worried glance. Without looking at anyone, Gabe turns around and storms out, pausing at the door to the hallway.

  “Congratulations. One night and you've already taken the only family I have.” he says, giving me one last look. The weight of those sad eyes boring into the depths of my soul are something I will never forget. With that, he slams the door closed.

  I can't seem to get the image of Gabriel's haunted look out of my mind. There's so much pain and hurt and darkness in him. I mull over what Hudson and Jack told me after Gabriel stormed out.

  Lucia was right. Almost. Jack, Hudson, Whittaker, and Colden really were orphans. And Bishop Northington really did pull them from a life of hardship and poverty and give them every opportunity in the world by adopting them.

  The sadness and love in Jack's smoky voice as he told me about Gabriel plays on repeat in my mind.

  Gabe, he had it pretty rough. He lived in a broken down trailer, down the street from the group home the four of us were staying at, his only family an abusive drug addict mother and whatever scum she let stay with them. He was beaten, starved, unwanted, unloved, and some other things you'll have to ask him about. Anyway, when Bishop adopted us, that broke his heart.

  For months, Gabe stayed there without us for support. I can't imagine what it was like for him, being left alone like that. He's strong though. And smart. I don't know all the details of what happened, but one day, several months later, Dad came home and Gabriel was with him. He had a black eye and his arm was broken in three places. Years later, I found out that his mom sold him to our dad for five hundred dollars. I know sometimes he lashes out with anger and cruelty, but he's still hurting inside.

  As Jack told his story, I felt my heart shattering into pieces for Gabriel.

  The look he gave me before he walked out that door makes me feel sick to my stomach; I can practically see that wounded little boy hiding behind his eyes.

  My words opened old wounds. I'm not saying that it's okay for him to act like a jerk, but I was cruel. I could have put a stop to his disrespectful behavior without resorting to insults. I feel ashamed and I resolve to do better in the future. I don't think I'll be able to get the look of hurt out of my head unless I apologize.

  The four brothers who are in town are taking me out to dinner, so we can get to know each other a little better. Colden is already in Vail, so I wont be able to meet him until tomorrow. He's going to pick me up from the airport and take me to their chateau. I'll apologize to Gabriel tonight, otherwise I won't get another chance for a while; I don't think I'll be able to get through this if I don't do it before I leave.

  I'm currently at home with Lucia digging around in my closet, trying to figure out what I should wear to dinner. I haven't picked out my outfit yet, let alone gotten dressed. In true girlfriend style, I filled her in on every detail of this morning. I left out the part about Gabe's past though.

  She offered up some of her things to wear, but she's built like a supermodel and I'm short and curvy. There is just no way anything of hers would fit me. I'm starting to panic because I don't really have anything to wear to dinner.

  “What am I going to do? It's not like I can show up to a nice dinner with gorgeous, exquisitely dressed billionaires in jeans,” I say, dropping my face in my hands.

  “Don't worry. They saw you puking your guts out last night and still wanted to bang you. I doubt an old dress is gonna change their minds,” she says, a second before I hear a knock on my front door.

  I hope that isn't the car already.

  Lucia goes to answer it and comes back with half a dozen large silver bags and a big black box in her hands.

  “They're for you, and there's a note,” she says handing me a sealed envelope. “Open it.”

  Inside is a note handwritten in elegant script.

  I know you'll look ravishing in or out of whatever you wear.

  – Whit

  I hand the note to my sister and pull the top off the big black box. Wrapped in gold tissue paper are several dozen red and white long-stemmed roses. I feel myself smile at the thoughtful gesture. Pushing the box aside, I start pulling clothes out of the nearest bag. I'm not much of a fashionista, but some of these things look kinda pricy.

  “No way. I'm so jealous right now,” Lucia says, pulling stuff out of one of the other bags. “Some of this stuff costs a small fortune.” Her eyes are full of wonder, like a kid in a candy store. She opens a shoe box with a squeal. “They bought you freaking Louboutins.”

  “They are just trying to keep up appearances since we are going to be in public together,” I tell her. She looks at me skeptically with her eyebrows raised. Deep down, a little part of me finds this all romantic. And I can sort of imagine what it would be like if we were really engaged. No. This kind of thinking only leads to heartbreak. Keep your distance and get the job done. I open the last bag; this one has a jewelry box. Inside is a delicate little bracelet, stars etched into its shimmering gold surface.

  “Seems a little extravagant, don't you think. And these? Or are they for appearances too?” she says, holding up sexy black lingerie. My whole face goes red with embarrassment. I snatch them out of her hand, quickly choosing a red fit-and-flare dress and black Mary Jane Louboutin pumps to go with the bracelet, and lock myself in the bathroom to get ready.

  An hour later, I hear Lucia shout from the living room, “Your ride's here!”

  I stand back, running my hands down my new dress, and examine myself in the mirror. Not too bad.

  I'm a little surprised at how elegant, but festive I look. My long blond curls are in a waterfall braid style half-updo. The hairstyle is something I saw on Pinterest months ago and have been dying to try. I'm so glad I did. I freaking love it. There is something whimsical about it that adds to the Christmas-y feel of my look. I go classic with my makeup: a simple cat eye made a little more cheery with a gold shimmer shadow and a red lip for a pop of color. I give myself one last twirl in the mirror before heading out the door.

  Time to meet with those billionaire brothers … and hope my fragile heart doesn't get burned.

  Whittaker is sitting in the recessed shadows at the back of the limousine when I climb in. He absolutely commands the space. His lithe muscular frame is draped in the best money can buy. The thick fall of silken locks on his forehead and the light dusting of stubble are the prefect complement to his strong masculine features. And all six foot something of
his magnificent body radiates sumptuousness and sexuality.

  He slowly blinks several times before tapping the seat on his right. Then he smiles, holding his hand out to me, palm up, a wordless invitation to come closer.

  He's magnificent, regal, like some ancient king lording over his domain. Enthralled, my body moves of its own volition.

  I slide onto the seat next to him, the supple leather caressing my thighs. I wish it were his strong hands and not the seat touching my thighs … or other things. The thought makes me blush.

  I hope the limo is dark enough to cover up the fact that I'm as red as Rudolph's nose. The spicy masculine scent of Scotch and cinnamon surrounds me. Shadowy eyes hungrily watch my every move.

  He licks his lips.

  At the simple motion, my skin flushes with arousal instead of embarrassment and I swallow involuntarily. Whit's eyes crinkle slightly and his lips twist in a sinful, decadent smirk.

  I thought the other Northington men exuded power, but damn. Whittaker is enthralling. He's got this tall, dark, and handsome quality that is absolutely panty melting. Pair that with the scorching looks he's throwing my way and the quiet electricity his silence brings to the air … god. In that moment, I want nothing more than to succumb under each careful thrust of his powerful hips.

  “H-hey,” I stutter out. Wow. Good one Natalie. Way to charm the guy. He bows his head slightly in response. I don't mean to act so nervous, but there is just something about him that scrambles my brain and makes me all tongue-tied.

  Whittaker is an enigma—a calm, confident, mysterious lord of opulence and luxury. Whatever I say or do, he just watches me like I'm some scrumptious delicacy. I resist the urge to squirm under the bold sensuality of his authoritative presence. I react in the only way I know how: by just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.