by Amanda Rose
I feel Colden come inside me with a grunt about a second before I feel my own release. It comes out of nowhere, like lightning, a blitz of overwhelming erotic pleasure. My climax tears a ragged scream from my throat. Gabriel moans behind me, spilling his hot seed and collapsing against my back.
For a moment, the three of us lay there in peaceful quiet, nothing but the crackling sound of the fire and the panting of our collective breath to break the silence.
Gabriel is the first one to move, sliding himself gently out of me and taking a step away from the bed. I roll off of Colden, lying there on my back for a long moment, watching the orange and red flickers of firelight play off the high ceilings.
After a moment, I feel the trickle of semen down my thighs.
“Shower?” I say with a laugh.
I'm beyond surprised when both men decide to join me.
CHAPTER SIX
About halfway through my shower, I realize that I just left food on the stove and in the oven. I rush downstairs to find that Jack has it completely under control. It's all out and ready to eat. I'm so excited, I give him a big hug that quickly turns into a panty melting French kiss.
Colden and Gabriel come down the stairs behind me and all five Northington brothers escort me to their fantastical dining room. The table is so long, it looks like something out of a fairytale, its gleaming wood surface decorated with an elaborate red and gold runner. Every few place settings, there's a holiday bouquet in a large vase or a candle, surrounded by old-fashioned decorations.
I didn't decorate this room … so something else must have. I'm just not sure which man to thank—perhaps all of them?
After dinner, I rope them into helping me decorate the Christmas tree. Surprisingly none of them argue with me. In fact, they all enthusiastically join in. Once the tree is done, we watch It's A Wonderful Life, my all-time favorite Christmas movie; it also happens to be Jack's favorite.
“All right. I'm going to head to bed. I have some things I have to check on first thing in the morning. Jack, I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me tonight?” I ask.
I swear, five sets of eyes swing toward me; Jack raises his eyebrows and gives me a big grin.
“Like you even needed to ask,” he says with a smoky chuckle. He's the only one who looks particularly happy about it. Both Colden and Gabriel look downright pissed.
I go up to Colden first and give him a tiny kiss on his cheek. Next, I move over to Hudson and he tilts his cheek for me to kiss, at the last second turning his face and giving me a big smack on the lips, then a wink. When I go to Gabriel, he reaches behind my head and guides my face to his, kissing me deep, massaging my tongue with his own until I let out a small moan. Lastly, I approach Whittaker. Before I can kiss him, he takes my hand in his, lifting it to his lips. His dark eyes watch me intently the entire time. His soft lips brush the back of my hand in the sweetest of kisses, but goose bumps break out all over my skin. He just smiles at me, his seductive look just brimming with silent invitation. By the time I'm finished kissing them goodnight, I'm already wet and wanting.
“You all need to just back off,” Jack says, holding out his hand for me to take, the vivid green pools of his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I swallow, suddenly nervous, all too aware of my own racing heart. My palm slips into his firm grip and nestles into the curve of his hand like we were made for each other. I don't know what it is about these brothers, but I feel connected to them somehow, beyond the physical. Don't get me wrong—they all send my body into a fit of lust—but it feels like it's more than that.
I follow the lean length of Jack's athletic body up the stairs, and right as we get to the threshold, he scoops me up like I'm weightless. My heart thunders in my chest and my stomach is in knots.
“I guess I'm not quite the Casanova I thought myself to be, or my fiancée wouldn't be frowning at the prospect of us fucking,” he jokes, and the sound of his smoky voice is like a cool balm on my anxious heart. There it is again, that humor and good cheer. Jack uses it to push back the darkness. Where would his brothers be if he hadn't been there with a smile and a laugh to chase away the shadows, soothe the soul?
“No one would ever frown at the prospect of having you in their bed,” I say, needing him to know how much his small gestures of comfort mean to me. No one in my entire life has even once made my heart sing with either lust or … love the way these five have. Love? What would someone like me know of love? My face must be lined with worry because Jack pinches his brow in confusion.
Jack carries me through the threshold and lays me softly on the bed. My breath hitches; I lick my lips. Slowly and sensually he starts undressing me, beginning with my white silk top. I move to help him, but he stops me.
“No, just relax and I'll take care of you,” he says in that husky, sexy voice of his. Jack finishes stripping my quivering body and then undresses himself. When he disrobes, it's nothing like when Gabe did it. Gabe's was a cruel tease, meant to rile the senses and torment the libido. Jack's movements are slow and soft and attentive, a feast of tantalizing kisses and barely there caresses. My heated skin is already tingling, delirious with excitement.
Before he climbs in bed with me, Jack leans down, cupping my face with both palms and gently pressing his mouth to mine. It is featherlight, little more than a chaste brush of lips. This kiss is the kiss of a white knight—strong, powerful and brave, but also kind, caring, and sweet. I should stop those kinds of thoughts because they only lead to heartbreak, but that is what he feels like … my knight protector.
Lust and attraction are powerful things, but they pale in comparison to the feelings resting deep in my pounding chest, a sense of euphoria so strong it goes beyond the physical to something bigger. And instead of an insistent pulse between my thighs, Jack's kiss makes my toes tingle, my breath hitch, and gives me butterflies like I have never before felt. It's intoxicating beyond words.
“Jack,” I moan breathlessly against the softness of his lips, pleading for the feel of his hard body against the softness of my own. He gets on the bed, sliding the length of his firm body against mine. I moan, the sound comes out a low keen of longing. My sex clenches with appreciation. The strong emotions rolling around in my chest are too much to bear and a frenzy overtakes me. I spread my legs and reach for him.
He catches my hand lightening quick, pressing a kiss to my fingers then grabbing the other before pinning them both above my head with a single hand. He holds me there trembling, forcing me to give in and accept that my dissolute fervor is for another time and place. Apprehensive as I am at the prospect of being the center of such tender focus I relent, letting my whole body go languid.
“You are such a fragrant and beautiful blossom, rare and precious.” He looks into my eyes as he speaks, letting the emerald green orbs convey to me that this is no empty compliment. My whole body vibrates with the need to be touched by him. My chest fills with excitement, my breasts rising and falling with each shuddering breath.
He takes his eyes off mine momentarily and drops his mouth to my nipple, teasing the pebbled point with a flick of his tongue. Then he settles between my thighs. My pussy is tender and sore from fucking Hudson, then Colden and Gabriel.
He pushes his erect cock into my core with agonizing slowness, keeping the verdant fathoms of his perfect eyes locked on mine as he pins my hips with his own, the generous swells of his muscular arms trapping mine above my head. But it's the scope of profound understanding I see in his eyes that truly holds me captive. I feel exposed under his intense scrutiny. Jack's eyes seem to pierce right through me as he begins to move, rocking us at a deliberately mild pace. Languid. Deep. Like he is slowly massaging my hot pussy. The feelings inside are becoming too much; they threaten to spill over. I knew being treated with such careful tenderness would open me up leave me exposed and vulnerable. A familiar pressure builds, but it is much slower and stronger, oozing its way through every pore of my body, infiltrating my mind.
I wi
sh Jack … no all five Northington men belonged to me. I let the fantasy run through my mind, pretending just for tonight it that it is true. As our pleasure reaches its zenith, Jack and I become one, our orgasms releasing in a single perfect moment. Then reality comes rushing back.
Now that it is all over, I am left feeling almost heartbroken. For the first time in my life, I wish there was no Christmas, that Monday would never come. Because it harkens the end of the most wonderful week of my life.
My eyes water and tears gently trail down the side of my face. I try to hide it from Jack, but he's too quick, rubbing his thumb through the trail of liquid.
“Am I really that bad?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood. There it is again, that humor, but this time it isn't enough. The feelings of loss are too much; more tears threaten to come.
“I can't believe I made an angel like you cry,” he says. I don't know why but this breaks through the sadness and I start laugh crying. Jack gives me a hug, continuing to make jokes. Eventually the tears fade.
“Sorry. I ruined your after sex high,” I say with a small sniffle.
“Nothing could ruin that high. By far that was the best I've ever had.” He strokes my hair as he talks. “But you know what could make it better? Leftovers.”
We head down to the kitchen and eat leftovers directly out of their containers. Lucia would kill me. She hates when I do this at home. After hanging out and joking for several hours, we decide to take the conversation upstairs next to the fireplace. But before we go, Jack makes me a cup of hot chocolate from scratch.
“You never got the hot chocolate you requested while we were looking at the lights. I just wanted you to know you deserve to have everything your heart desires.” My heart soars at the sweet words. I almost say the only thing my heart desires is to be with you, but I don't want to ruin what has turned out to be a perfect day.
The next morning, I slip into a burgundy top and white skirt and head straight to work. The thing with event planning is there are always last minute problems to deal with. The more often you check in, the easier it is to do damage control. It is supremely early so I doubt that anyone is awake yet. I've got a sea of papers laid out in front of me and I'm concentrating. Whittaker waltzes into the room, radiating authority … and sex. Wow, he absolutely dominates the space. He is already dressed in a sharp three-piece suit, a cup of tea in his large hands. As I watch, he sits in the chair directly next to me, slowly and sensually sipping from the steaming mug.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't like having him this close. He notices me looking and gestures for me to continue with what I'm doing. Normally, it would be too awkward to have someone scrutinizing me as I work, but for some reason … with him I don't mind.
The entire time, I feel his dark gaze on me, and my body starts to heat, so much so that I can't help but wiggle. I'm sure Whit notices as he finishes his drink, setting it down with a genteel clank.
He stands up and leans over me, sending my heart racing. The spicy aroma of Scotch and cinnamon tantalizes my senses. The thick fall of luxurious locks on his forehead and the light dusting of stubble look like they were crafted for his magnificent face. The combination is pure perfection. He plucks the pencil out of my hand, giving me a mesmerizing smile, then presses the hard lines of his heated body against my back and shoulder.
'Join me for a sleigh ride through the snow,' Whit writes in elegant, looping cursive. He tilts his head, and his obsidian eyes blink slowly several times, looking for my answer.
I swallow.
I don't want to break the silence, so I shake my head yes. God, he smells so freaking good.
After last night's breakdown, I almost ran, got on a bus and headed home. But I crave their touch—all five of them. Addicted to their kisses. Obsessed with the feel of their eyes on me. I know that this dream is almost at an end, and I'll be cast aside like yesterday's newspaper. But the thought of leaving them tears a hole in my heart that I fear will never heal. I knew this was a bad idea.
“When?” My voice comes out a hoarse whisper. Shadowed eyes watch me hungrily. Whit licks his lips. At the simple motion, my skin flushes and I lean toward him ever so slightly. He's bewitching.
'I would love if you'd join me … right now?' he scrawls, just below his last question. He gives me a big smile, teeth and all. Whit is absolutely magnetic, electrifying the air around us. How can a man say everything that needs saying without a single word?
“Yeah.” I try to stand up, but I'm flustered and end up tripping over the chair. Whittaker catches me, the movement graceful and effortless, teasing my stomach with butterflies. I find myself completely tongue-tied.
He guides me back to my feet and gestures at the door, ever the picture of grace and poise, of Lucullan luxury and ardent passion. I grab my warm winter jacket off the coat hanger on the way by.
Outside is a freaking one-horse open sleigh, bright cherry red, like Santa's.
Holy crap.
Whit helps me up into the seat and then glides in next to me. He lays a blanket over our laps and pulls me closer. This really is like something out of a Christmas fairy tale.
We glide through forests covered in a perfect blanket of white. I can hear birds chirping in the trees; the winter sunshine reflecting off the newly fallen snow gives a magic quality to the earth, like it's glowing. It is one of the most beautiful things I've ever experienced. I don't know how long the ride is, but it goes by in the blink of an eye. Whit barely looks at the natural beauty of Colorado. Instead, he watches me the entire time, a look of intense fascination on his perfect face.
When we get back to the Northington Chateau, Whit helps be jump down. I start to go, but he stops me, lifting up two fingers then one.
“Two things. The first?” I ask. He tosses me a decidedly decadent smirk. Clearly I guessed right. Though honestly, it was like playing charades with a master. Each and every subtle movement of his luscious body spoke volumes, told stories, and the regal lines of his kingly face could convey an array of obvious emotions as easily as you or I could blink an eye. He slides a long rectangular box from his pocket and cracks the top for me to see. It is a tiny, understated diamond necklace. I can't help but think that it was made to go with my engagement ring. Laying on top of it is a small note. He takes the necklace out, putting the box and the note in my pocket.
“Is this for me? You really didn't … ” He lifts his finger to his lips in the universal shh position. When people do that, it is usually rude or condescending, but the way Whittaker does it is just sexy as hell. He unclasps the delicate white gold chain; pushing my hair aside, he sensually slides it around my neck and clasps it. Goose bumps break out all over his skin. He lifts up a second finger, stepping forward and scooping me up in his arms.
Snow begins to fall as Whit slants his mouth over mine, kissing me deep. He encourages me to kiss him back with several skilled flicks of his searing tongue. I don't know how long we stand there in the cold and the snow wrapped in one another's arms, tasting, feeling, memorizing the taste of each other's lips. I can think of very few moments that even come close to matching the magic of this perfect kiss.
I spend the night with Whit.
We end up fucking over and over again—in the hot tub, in the shower, on the floor naked in front of a roaring fire.
Over the next few days, the six of us fall into a comfortable routine. Sometimes, I'm with one of them … sometimes more. All I know is, I get to know them all a little better, get to see the men behind the wealth and luxury. One night, I even get Gabriel to tell me a little about the day his father adopted him. The details are sparse. I don't think he is ready to truly relive the pain he went through, a sentiment I can understand perfectly. The brothers talk about their father Bishop often. The love and respect they have for the man is apparent. Like most sons, they strive to make their father proud, to be the kind of men he would want them to be.
The night before Christmas eve, I lay in bed wide awake, contemplating the end of �
� every wonderful thing I've experienced since I met Gabriel outside NHI headquarters. Jack and Hudson are asleep next to me, one on each side, like that first night, but everything is so different from that day. The things I feel are so much more than they were before. And it hasn't been long. How will I feel in months? … years? My feelings for these five run with a passion so deep when I think about it, my blood quickens and I can't breathe. I know I might sound naive or maybe just foolish, but I can't help but feel that the five of us belong together, that ours is a romance for the storybooks.
How can I possibly say goodbye? Don't I owe it to myself to confess the strength of my feelings? If I don't, I'll regret it until the day I die.
I've made up my mind.
Tomorrow, after the party, I'll tell them.
Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, I will confess my love.
The morning of Christmas Eve, I get up just as the sun rises. Today is a big day, my favorite holiday, and I'm announcing my engagement to five billionaires, meeting their father, and taking a chance on love. I might get my heart broken, but at least I'll know. I wish Lucia were here with me right now. I don't have time to call, but I shoot her a quick text letting her know I will call her tomorrow to wish her a merry Christmas.
I need to change out of the oversized chunky sweater, leggings, and fuzzy suede ankle boots I put on, so I could run around, making sure everything is on schedule. The decorations might all be designer, but those alone aren't enough to impress anyone—not at a party full of billionaires. And I have no idea when the boys' father will be arriving, but I can only assume he will get here before the other guests.
The library looks great; the two story room is almost as big as a ballroom and it's the most likely spot for guest to have their after-dinner drinks. I'm about to head back to my room to get dressed when Whitaker walks in, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. His impressive form practically glides over to me. One look at the hard lines of his gorgeous form draped in a black suit and a red and white striped tie and I'm already wet.
