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“Relax, Kennedy,” Greyson murmured, his voice a velvet threat that sent shivers down my spine. His fingertip traced the edge of my panties before slipping beneath the fabric, lighting a sudden hum through my body. “Tonight will be fun.”
Greyson’s movements were skilled, and his faint smile was full of dark confidence. I leaned into him, my breath hitching in my throat as his finger delved deeper, circling with a rhythm that had my pulse racing to match.
From the corner of my eye, I could sense the rigid set of Carter’s jaw, the way Jack’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, and Sebastian’s quiet, controlled breathing. Each noise from me, every shift in my seat, was a tease they were forced to endure.
With effort, I tried to shift away from him, and tried to close my knees. Greyson’s hand spanned my thigh, his touch firm, pulling my legs back apart.
“Keep still,” Greyson ordered. “Let them hear how much you enjoy this.”
His command was a blade slicing through the last threads of my restraint. My hips bucked against his hand involuntarily, seeking more, craving the release that he was working me toward with devilish intent. I bit down on my lip to silence the moans clawing their way up my throat.
Greyson’s thumb worked my clit expertly, as if he had taken that quiet as a challenge, and my answering inhale sounded so loud in the silence.
“You could put the radio on,” Jack said dryly.
“This is my favorite thing to listen to,” Greyson answered.
Greyson continued his relentless pursuit, the pressure of his fingers unyielding, sending waves of heat coursing through my veins. His thumb kept toying with my clit, and I closed my eyes, a kaleidoscope of sensation blurring the city streets outside and even the figures behind me in the car.
“Good girl,” Greyson praised, his voice laced with satisfaction as he felt my body tighten around his invading fingers. The sound of my own ragged breaths filled the car, and then, with a final, deliberate flick of his thumb, he shattered my control.
Waves of pleasure crashed over me as my hips bucked, and I wrenched down on my lip, but I could barely remember now why I had to keep quiet. It didn’t matter anyway, my breathing was ragged. My nails dug into the leather seats, my whole being focused on blinding ecstasy.
As the tremors subsided, the car rolled to a stop. I raised my head, the world blurry, to find we had parked outside an enormous old mansion.
There were already dozens of cars here.
“Welcome to the home of the Jackals. You can remove the blindfolds now,” Greyson said.
I raised my gaze to the rearview mirror and saw the tension on the faces of my three other men. I’d intended to play a game to loosen Greyson up and put him in a better mood. Instead, Greyson had made a claim of dominance at every turn.
When it came to the game I’d tried to play, I had the feeling Greyson had won.
5
As we unfolded from the car, the hurt in Carter’s green eyes cut through me like a blade. Sebastian, stone-faced and unreadable, stared out the window, his jaw set in a hard line.
I chewed my lower lip, but didn’t bother to apologize. They owed me far more apologies than I did. I just hated the thought that I’d let Greyson rattle them before they went into the ring.
I crossed my arms, because the night had turned cool, and the dress I wore left so much skin vulnerable to the air.
Then Jack’s arms enveloped me, pulling me into the sanctuary of his warmth. “You’re perfect, Kennedy,” he murmured against my hair, his breath hot on my ear. “And you look perfect tonight.”
The timbre of his voice, low and reassuring, warmed the night…and chased away my guilt and anxiety. I leaned into him, soaking up his comfort.
“Thank you, Jack.” I breathed out, pulling back reluctantly to meet his intense hazel eyes, which sparkled with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher in the dim light.
Greyson held out his arm, his raised eyebrow a silent call back to his side. I resisted the impulse to blurt out that I washumoring him to protect my other men. Greyson had an aura that was intimidating even to me at times, even knowing that he loved me.
Armed men roamed the perimeter, a reminder that the Jackals were always at war. The house in front of us was enormous, and Greyson led us up the steps; two of his men scrambled to open the doors wide for us. They glanced at me and then stared at the ground, their cheeks coloring as Greyson’s eyes passed over them.
The fight club was alive with a thrumming energy, pulsing like a heartbeat through the sprawling old mansion. With my arm looped over Greyson’s corded forearm, I was acutely aware of the deference directed his way; the subtle nods, the cautious distance maintained by others, the way they whispered his name with respect.
The foyer was vast, its high ceilings lost to shadows, with chandeliers casting a golden glow over the scene. Thick, velvet curtains draped the windows, while the scent of cigar smoke and expensive cologne mingled in the air.
Men in sharp suits had beautiful women on their arms, all scantily clad. I was glad I’d clocked the dress code right, and Greyson gently squeezed my arm as if he appreciated me.
As we made our way through the crowd, I noticed the way women stared at me hard—in a way men didn’t dare—as if they were curious why Greyson had selected me…and not them. When we were crossing the massive foyer, I looked up at the catwalk and to the closed doors on the second floor and wondered what happened behind those doors.
