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Like I can do anything.
Valentin, glancing our way, does a double take and stops talking. Grisha follows his gaze, and they grin.
Bingo. I’ve got them.
I book limos for parties all the time, but I’ve never been in one. I’ve always wondered what went on in them since they are essentially parties on wheels. With a window separating the driver from the back, you can do whatever you want, I figure.
I am ready to give it a shot.
The brothers scoot down to our end of the car, flanking Artem, who gets up and moves to sit next to me. Pressing his lips to mine, I fall into him as he runs a warm, large hand up my inner thigh.
When his fingers land on my pussy, it’s all I can do to hold still and not push into him to increase his pressure, like the greedy girl I am. With the brothers sitting opposite me, Artem pulls my legs further open to give them a show. I’m happy to oblige.
“Take my cock out,” he demands.
As I reach for his fly, his fingers slip inside the leg of my panties, pulling the crotch aside and exposing my excited flesh to the cool air of the limo. It’s exhilarating, his touching me with the others watching, and I finally allow myself to squirm into his touch, because I need it. Badly.
And when he plunges his fingers inside me, my entire body clenches, including the fist I have around his cock.
“Fuck, baby, stroke me like that,” he growls quietly.
The rolling of the limo on the freeway adds to our movement and I gasp, making no other sound, while an orgasm rocks me. I push so hard on Artem’s hand for more pressure I wonder if I might break his wrist, and I don’t even care. I’m a rutting animal, driven by nothing more than instinct, a dangerous desire that I know could very well be the end of me.
* * *
CHAPTERNINE
VALENTIN
We are fucked.
So very fucked.
When we dragged Lily out of Sergey’s gallery on Christmas Eve—or should I say, whenIdragged her out, since it was my idea—I had no end game in mind. I hadn’t thought through what the hell we were going to do with her. Where we’d take her. How long we’d keep her. Not even what we’dtellher. None of that. I was all adrenaline and instinct, which tends to crowd out the details, the fine print, the ability to see beyond a moment in time.
Which, when it comes down to it, is what kept us three guys, and Lily, alive. The simple fact is that we were her only chance at survival, and I wanted to protect her from that asshole Sergey who, if I know him at all, would have come after her with a vengeance. The man’s a loser, but he also knows how to tie up a loose end.
And Lily is a loose end. A big one, to be honest.
But through it all—scooping her up like I did and whisking her away before Sergey could sink a bullet into her head—therewasan unacknowledged notion spinning around the back of my brain. I can’t deny it, now that a couple days have passed and the adrenaline rush has subsided.
I want to know more about her. Actually, I want to knoweverythingabout her. What makes her laugh, cry, come, get angry. All of it.
Hell if that’s not a bizarre reaction to someone I’d only seen pour shrimp cocktail on my friend.
So, with no plan other than to get her the hell out of Manhattan, we dragged her up to the Hudson Valley to one of our safe houses, with no thought about what was next. Pretty fucking out of character for me and to a lesser extent, Artem and Grisha. We usually walk into new situations with eyes wide open. A decent plan laid out. An idea of what we want our end game to look like.
But the last day or so, I’ve been thinking about what’s next for us. I mean, we can’t keep her for-fucking-ever, right?
Or can we?
And now look at us. Smitten like three goddamn pussy lovesick teenagers.
Love. Yeah, I said love.
I don’t know if I love her, but fuck, I like her. Like I want herto stick around for a long time,like her.
She’s the kind of woman every smart man wants. Beautiful, intelligent, independent, smart-assed, and a goddamn animal in the sack.
