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She shuddered at the sight of their tattoos, visible on their fingers and peeking out from the collars of their pristine white shirts. If she combined their tattoos with the aura they gave off, she was ninety-nine percent certain they weren’t smartly dressed chefs who could prepare fugu without intentionally killing anyone or whip up a perfect soufflé time and again in their sleep.
No, they were in fact killers or crime lords, mafia, or something like that. And somehow Morgan had crossed their radar. But she reminded herself, that as long as they didn’t have him, he was safe wherever he was.
Almost whistling through her breaths now, she became acutely aware of her broken phone in her pocket. When scary man number one, yes, she had now added the word scary to their epithets, or Gray Eyes, had given her a body search, she may have ruined him for life when he found bare skin instead and he didn’t bother to check her pocket after that.
If they found her phone and managed to fix it, they would have access to what was in it. If she knew Morgan she knew where he would go when he needed to clear his head. She had pictures of them at the cabin on her phone. He had sworn her to secrecy about the location of his haven and she would never betray him. She wasn’t going to take any chances in case they could trace his whereabouts from the pictures.
She was so, so screwed... while being screwed at the same time.
“I need the bathroom,” she said quickly and headed toward the passage. Great. Now they would think she had a hard time controlling herself in the face of fear. Well duh. Did they have any idea how freaking intimidating and fear-inducing they were?
Blue Eyes, blocked her way to the bathroom. She didn’t bother trying to push her way through. She just wouldn’t succeed.
God, she needed to sit. She turned right into Morgan’s living room. They followed her. But nothing prepared her for the sight she encountered as she glanced around. They had turned everything upside down. What the heck were they looking for?
Fuck.
She spun around and faced them. At least she could put more distance between them now that they were in a bigger space.
“Look, my name is—” She bit her lip then used her fingers to fan herself. Could the situation become any more ridiculous? “Lorelei Johnson. That’s my name. I’m an...”
Oh no. Why did it feel as if she were going to come? “Orgasm,” she blurted. Fuck no. She bit harder into her lip, drawing a tiny drop of blood but at least she diverted that close call. “My name is Lorelei Johnson. I’m just an accountant. I work for a small furniture manufacturer. Comfy Office Furniture. You can look me up.” She sped through her words, trying to get in as much as possible while she could.
“I live next door. Morgan is just my neighbor. An acquaintance,” she choked on her lie. “An acquaintance I call my friend because I use those words interchangeably. I know I shouldn’t. I... I ran short of... sugar and I needed it... I was making a cake... I have a sweet tooth and I thought maybe my neighbor, who is my acquaintance would be kind enough to lend me a cup of sugar... That is... aalll.”
She howled out the last word.
Her fate turned up the dial and went straight into an utterly cruel twisted version.
Gone was the subtle humming of the toy. In its place? Roaring, scintillating shocks that spread from the center between her legs through her whole body. She couldn’t control her quivering and opted instead to sit down on one of the chairs in Morgan’s living room. She pressed her legs together so rigidly, that she may have been a statue.
But she couldn’t stop the rolling climax any more than she could stop the world from turning.
She couldn’t believe she was going to come.
Here.
Now.
Trapped in her friend’s house by three men she didn’t know at all, who could very well end up killing her anyway. They obviously hadn’t expected her to interrupt them. She had gotten a glimpse of Morgan’s enemies. She would be able to recognize them in her sleep. The thought shocked her. She had only met them what seemed like five minutes ago but she would never, ever forget them. Not a single one of them.
Her thoughts took a jumbled turn then her mind blanked completely. Crying out in what sounded like sheer misery to herself, she fell to her hands and knees. Her whole body quivered. She lifted one of her hands and bit the side of her palm to stop herself from making any sounds. This was bad enough. Moaning while she came? That would be blasphemous given the circumstances.
Her nipples ached so badly, that she thought they would explode if she didn’t touch them. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything that would remotely add to the fact that she was in fact blowing her own trumpet.
Not daring to breathe in a staggering fashion proved an impossible feat. Conflicting emotions and thoughts punctured her control further. Her mind suddenly became filled with the faces of three men she had never met before. She couldn’t deny that the scorching, feverish heat in her body was because of them.
The sight of them had rocked her world. She had been entranced. And even her fear had added to the crazy and curious arousal that had occurred the first moment she laid her eyes on them. Everything she had just said made zero sense, so she was better off believing that her maybe excessive solo venturing had damaged some key faculties in her brain, namely her common sense.
For one split second, before she gave in, the toy stopped vibrating. Her body instantly backtracked as her heart pounded inside her chest.
She couldn’t describe her relief. But it was all short-lived.
Hazel Eyes, who had been guarding the front door before, dropped down to his haunches in front of her. He slipped his finger under her chin and forced her to raise her face up to his. She was sure her cheeks had morphed into two blood-red tomatoes.
“Did you just come?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a tinge of amusement.
Lorelei sprang up from the floor and tightened her already too-tight belt. She still had her pride if nothing else.
