Page 7 of Gilded Lies

No words. Nocan weormay we. All three take what they want.

God and all His angels need to look away because this time I’m not stopping this sin from happening.

A whimper catches on my lips, and it takes everything I have not to beg for them to take me right here and right fucking now. I fight not to release all the emotions burning through my body like rocket fuel sizzling every cell of my body from the inside out.

Hands caress, squeeze, and light a fire across every inch of skin their touches can find. Thin silk doesn’t hide much, and these men know exactly where to stroke and kiss.

Lips fall over my tattoo. I never imagined a man working my ink, but the one with the braid traces every line with the tip of his tongue.

“Petals,” he murmurs so damn seductively the virgin walls of my pussy clench. “So damn sweet.”

The one with the braid has found a few glitter spots his friend left behind.

No names, no pressure, I remind myself when my lips move to ask his name. Someone lifts me, and I wrap my legs around them. I can’t tell who because one of them has my mouth in a kiss so delicious I can’t find it in me to lift my eyelids and break the spell that has fallen over us. A hand claims my chin, and another takes my mouth. This one is gentle.

At first. And then he turns ravenous. His tongue dips, curls against the roof of my mouth, and then captures my tongue when I gasp with surprise. He sucks, nibbles, and then repeats the toe-curling string of events all over again.

I fight the hold he has on me and finally open my eyes to see it’s the silent one. Light brown hair. Strong jawline. Perfect fucking lips.

Lips curl around my nipples and I break my kiss with his friend to find the one in the white mask sucking me through the thin silk of my dress. Pleasure sends my eyes rolling. My entire world is not tilting anymore. It is flat-out rolling downhill at a life-altering speed.

“Come,” the quiet one commands with a husk of arousal.

I’m in his arms. Strong hands grip my ass through my dress. One by one, each of his fingers digs into the plump flesh of my ass. It’s short enough to not rip when I wrap my legs around his middle. But the material rides up far enough to expose what I have on underneath.

The thick length of his arousal presses against the wet material of my panties. I would be embarrassed by how wet I am if I wasn’t so damn horny and in need of every dark promise the three have.

He starts walking. I am about to ask where too, when the one to my left leans in and scrapes his teeth across my neck, causing my scream to finally break free. Chuckling, he retraces the path with his wicked tongue, and I shudder, gasping and so desperately ready for the promise of more I see in the depths of his eyes.

“Bring her.”

The one holding me hasn’t stopped kissing me. Frankly, I don’t want him to. Using the pads of my fingers, I trace the edges of his mask. Knowing I cannot peel it off and see the man underneath, I reserve myself to feel every other part of him. Silk hair, hard muscles, and a cock that is going to take my virginity.

I know I should balk and save it for the “right one”. But screw that. I grew up either fearing my sexuality or being told it was owned by someone else. Namely, my former guardian.

But the pastor’s wife was wrong, and my guardian will never lay another hand on me.

We stop moving, and I am slowly lowered to the floor. I take in my surroundings with one sweep and realize this is happening quickly. The rule-follower part of my brain tries to slam on the brakes. But the devil inside me is throwing more coal onto the fire.

Shit. Why do I have to be so damn black-and-white all the time? “I didn’t sign the book. I can’t be in here.”

Sometimes I hate myself and my goodie-two-shoes ways.

“You can be anywhere you want to be.”

The one with the white mask lifts my arm and places a kiss over my key before he steps back and sheds his tuxedo jacket. Behind him the one with the braid closes the door and locks it.

Instead of being scared, the adrenaline jacking my system is from anticipation of what happens next.

“Don’t worry about the rules. Tonight is not about them. It’s about pleasure, right? No one here needs to know what happens behind our closed door.”

Err…that is not how this club operates. Everyone signs the book. The good angel on my shoulder is breaking out her pack of cigarettes while the devil on the other is cackling in glee.

“I’m Danika.”

Well, damn. There goes another rule. The floor under me shakes and I’m thrown off balance as my reality shifts. They don’t need to know that I work here. I can keep a secret. If they don’t ask, I won’t tell.

Damn straight you won’t.My inner voice is usually full of reason and accountability, but tonight she’s throwing up all kinds of bad ideas. Ideas like, what no one knows can’t hurt them.

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