Page 21 of Room One Hundred and Eleven

Fuck, yes.

Contract or not, there’s something here.

Something I want to explore.

A first for her, but also for me. For us.

She and my boys rise as one.

Aiden’s extending his elbow again, like the gentleman he is—and I’ll never be. Instead of allowing her to take it, I lunge and plant my shoulder in her soft middle.

“What—!” Her startled squeak is cut off as I hoist her over my shoulder.

My hand lands on her ass, splayed to keep her firmly in place even when she squirms.

“My dress, Carter. It’s too short.” She gasps. “People will see.”

“Nothing the guests here won’t appreciate.” Knox grins.

Suddenly, though, I’m possessive. Like I never have been with anyone but Knox and Aiden. They’re mine. We’ve sharedplenty of women for a night before moving on. Happy to let them go to their next affair.

Not this one.

Poppy is ours and ours alone.

“Only we’re going to be looking at you,” I promise her.

Aiden glances at her bottom, which my hand easily spans. He nods. “She’s covered.”

Her feet kick against my abs, bouncing off them. The light impact of her pointy shoes only makes me harder. She might be innocent, but she’s a fighter. This kitten has claws.

And when she surrenders to us, we’ll have earned it.

CHAPTER 8

Aiden

When I made the arrangements for room 111, I had no idea how important they would be. As I take in Poppy’s widening eyes and how she sways against Carter when she melts, I’m so glad that I went overboard.

At least according to Carter.

Knox is all for extremes, especially when it comes to having a good time.

No matter what else happens, I’m certain this weekend is going to be that, at least.

Knox closes and locks the door behind us. We’re not leaving until Poppy’s worn out and overflowing with every drop of pleasure we can give her.

“Do you like it?” I survey the cozy set-up.

A linear modern gas fireplace keeps the space toasty, practically begging us to shed our clothes. The warm glow of its evenly spaced flames is echoed by hundreds of dancing flickers from candles of various sizes and heights set on stands, on mantels, and in lanterns around the room.

Anywhere they won’t be a hazard, there are also flowers. Vases overflow with a variety of dahlias in infinite shades ofpink, yellow, and orange. Strewn petals dot everything with vivid color.

“What’s that?” Poppy points at the floor.

“The fuck nest?” Knox can’t help himself. He’s been pissing me off by calling it that since I showed him the design.

And once he said it, it stuck, because how else do you describe this?

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