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Chapter Nine
Adrienne felt as if her breath had been left on the floor. Her head was spinning at how easily they moved with the speed of light, and her brain struggled to comprehend exactly what was happening.
It hadn’t even occurred to her to change out of her long winter skirt, leather boots, and Gucci sweater into something warmer and more comfortable when she arrived at the cabin. Maybe because once she got the fire going and started to clean the place up, she had warmed up enough that it hadn’t been a problem.
But it meant that with their signature agility and fascinating synchronization, they’d divested her of her sweater and skirt despite her outraged protests, and now she stood in a red bra, matching G-string, black sheer pantyhose, and knee-high boots.
“Fuck my soul,” Darien rasped huskily as they all three stood back and looked at her, their eyes darkening as their erections thickened and strained against their jeans.
Dear god. She shouldn’t have looked at their cocks. It was a bad move, and now her body cried out for their touch again, remembering what each of them had felt like buried deep inside her. She was so aroused she could smell the essence dripping from her pussy and soaking her panties.
They had to stop having that effect on her. She didn’t like it.
More to the point, she had to stop reacting to them. Period.
What happened to Ms. Neat Freak? Oh, she knew. They had taken her and turned her into some love-sick bimbo who literally drooled at the sight of them.
Well, not her. She was smart, sophisticated, and mature. She knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t them. They were just too much for her body to handle, and no, she wasn’t up for the challenge at all.
“Have you lost your collective minds? You can’t just throw me around and strip off my clothes just because you’re bigger than me and outnumber me. Idiots,” she murmured under her breath as she bent to retrieve her skirt while they still stared at her as if they owned her They stared as if they’d never seen a grown woman in red underwear, blank pantyhose, and boots before. Maybe they hadn’t.
But her movement as she tried to step back into her skirt triggered the apex predator in them, and before her next breath, Emerson grabbed her around the waist and brought her to sit on his lap, her back facing his chest, her butt nestled on his cock.
He held her effortlessly in place while she worked up a workout level of perspiration, trying to get herself released from his hold.
“Every time you move, you make me harder, pretty lady,” Emerson said hoarsely in her ear. He wasn’t lying. The rock-hard thickness of his cock boldly probed her ass and silenced her demands to be freed while limiting her movements considerably. She didn’t care that she was making him harder. She cared that she was getting wetter.
Why were they doing this to her?
Darien and Austin kneeled in front of her. They each took a leg in hand and removed her boots.
“Much as we would love to keep you in your pretty pantyhose, we need you naked. Completely naked.”
Emerson lifted her up, and Darien and Austin tucked their fingers into the waistband of the hose and slowly, sensually rolled it down her thighs, kissing the skin they exposed it.
“It’s like running our tongues down warm silk,” Austin murmured against her thigh.
No matter how rigid she tried to remain, it was a battle she wasn’t going to win. Emerson pressed his lips against the area just below her ear. She shuddered as his tongue flicked at her manically beating pulse.
After rolling the pantyhose off her feet, Darien and Austin held a foot each, ran their fingers over her instep, then around her arches, before they lowered their heads and kissed her toes.
She staggered backward in Emerson’s arms, only to feel his thickness more pronounced against her now.
Darien and Austin did the same to her panties, peeling the flimsy designer piece off her and then inhaling her scent before taking turns to lick at the wetness saturating the gusset of her underwear.
“Fuck, her taste. I want to bottle it,” Darien growled.
Emerson slipped a finger between her legs, which they kept parted, and dipped into the pool of wetness at her entrance. He lapped at the glistening dampness on his finger, grunting and making his cock twitch behind her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she blushed, but they were making her do that now, abundantly. Worse, she could smell herself. Unmasked arousal mixed with ylang-ylang, vanilla, and patchouli.
When Darien rose and disappeared into the kitchen area, a flood of panic assailed her as their lascivious threats exploded in her head. But, oh, they were good. They lulled her with their sexy touches, delaying her reaction to what they were going to do next.
Austin picked her up from Emerson’s lap, and with expertise—she didn’t want to know how many women he had practiced it on—he unhooked her bra as he carried her to a thick leather bench. He placed her on her hands and knees and threw her bra onto a chair.
“Okay. You had your fun—” she said, immediately trying to climb off the bench.
“We gave you fair warning, pretty lady,” Austin said, smiling, and then just put her back in place.
