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As we walk the short distance between the limo to the club entrance, people openly swoon, ogling my men with not just their eyes, but their cameras. People pull out their cell phones and snap pictures from behind red velvet ropes.
I had no idea we’d be so popular. If Liam doesn’t show tonight, he’ll be the only person in the city who doesn’t know we’re here.
Andrei corrals me forward while Ezra crosses his arms and scowls at the onlookers, making a gaggle of girls giggle and whisper to each other.
It’s not often a man like Ezra exists. I understand the appeal.
But it doesn’t mean I have to like when others notice.
As my steps linger, Mikhail quickly snakes his arm around my waist as he takes my left side, leaving Andrei to grab my right hand. The pair pulls me forward, leaving Ezra behind to glare at everyone on his own.
A smile plays across Andrei’s lips as he takes in my appearance from head to toe. In the limo, he may not have been able to see my outfit, but in the glowing club lights, he can see every freckle dotting my shoulders and feel the press of soft fabric against my curves. While he gets an eyeful, Mikhail wolf-whistles and presses a kiss to my temple.
They all look perfect, while I look like a hot fucking mess. I rake my fingers through my curls and try to tamp them down, desperation burning through my veins. Desperation and embarrassment.
Mikhail catches me in the act, and his smile cracks, turning cold in an instant. He grips my hip with bruising force, and as soon as we step through double doors and into a lavish lounge, he swings me around in front of him, catching me before I stumble into the shiny black-tiled wall.
“Malyshka.”
I wince. There’s not an ounce of playfulness in his voice.
“What exactly are you doing?”
I fidget beneath his penetrating stare. “Um. I’m—” trying not to look like the hot mess that followed you in here “—fixing my hair.”
His nostrils flare. “What makes you think it needs fixing?”
My mouth drops. Were we not on the same steamy car ride just now? “It got a little hot in there, Mikhail. My hair frizzes when it’s hot.” I try to keep my voice to a whisper, my embarrassment at an all time high.
I felt fine attending the mayor’s party, but I hadn’t had sex minutes before we arrived. Ezra’s cum leaks between my thighs, and my face flames hotter.
Mikhail curves his spine, bending the few inches it takes to meet me at eye level. “Valentina. You are ravishing. I don’t want you spending a single fucking second thinking otherwise.” His eyes flash dangerously. “It’s an insult. You don’t want to insult your men, do you?”
One glance over Mikhail’s shoulder proves that both of my other men are watching me closely. Even the front desk chick is paying rapt attention.
“No.”
Mikhail crooks a single finger under my chin and tilts my head up. “No, you don’t. Unless...” He licks his lips slowly, like he’s savoring something sweet. “We need to prove how delicious you are in front of all these people? I think it’s Andrei’s turn for a taste, don’t you?”
My face flushes hotter, the scarlet bloom trailing down my neck and across my chest. I’m already being forced to parade around commando while their cum drips down my legs. What else could they possibly do to make this night harder for me?
A heated shiver runs down my spine as I imagine lying flat on my back across the bar, Andrei’s dick wedged between my thighs while Mikhail feeds his cock into my mouth and Ezra thrusts between my tits.
Yeah, it could get way worse.
“I’m okay,” I squeak, pretty sure I might faint if my thoughts continue to spiral. “I don’t need a demonstration.”
Mikhail grins. “When you change your mind...” Splaying his palm across my lower back, he pulls me into his chest. My heart jumps as our lips ghost across each other. “I’ll be waiting,” he promises, flicking his tongue out to taste me.
A pulse of desire thrums straight to my clit, his promise from earlier still ringing in my ears.
I’m next, malyshka.
He takes a step back and gestures for me to move on. Andrei is waiting at the check-in desk.
When I stumble over to him, Andrei catches me in his arms. “Still nervous?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I thought you’d left your inhibitions in the car, darling.” His eyes smolder like molten sapphires, and I try, desperately, to get a fucking grip and not faint.
If these men don’t keep it in their pants, I might die from combustion, and that’s not a good look for this city’s future queen.
