Page 20 of Gilded Dreams

“What? What are you doing?” She jerks on the cuffs.

I’m tempted to release her, let her make the choice of coming to us. But where the fuck is the fun in that?

“Not up for a little kinky foreplay, baby?” Brogan silences her, smearing the remnants of her lipstick with a kiss. They’re both breathing heavily by the time he breaks the wet union. “There’s nothing to be scared of. This just opens you up to a little play. Do the cuffs hurt?”

She hesitates a moment but shakes her head.

I catch her gaze and tip her chin up until it’s only me she focuses on. “I’m a selfish greedy mother fucker. But I’m fair. You get one chance to tell us no.”

Ryder reaches a hand around her middle and spreads her folds for Brogan, who is already diving in to lick the slit of her pussy.

“Mmm, wet and juicy.”

Both of my best friends tweak her body and just plain play dirty.

She gasps and the clanking of chains fills the room.

“In that case, my sweet Kandy, you’ll have a safe word if you ever need us to stop.” I make sure she knows I’m being serious, and I don’t continue until she nods her understanding.

“What is it?” Her voice is resigned to her fate. When her blue gaze meets mine again, I’m leveled from the force of emotion tucked behind those lashes. She may be our prisoner now, but we’ve been hers a helluva a lot longer.

I tap the edge of the gift settled between her breasts. A token of love we sent her on her twenty-first birthday. We didn’t know if she’d toss it in the trash or melt it and make bullets to shoot us with. If we ever let her out of our sight again, both options are still possible.

I trace the lushness of her full bottom lip with the pad of my thumb and work my hand around until I cup the back of her head. With my other hand, I brush her hair to the side and nibble on the tender flesh of her earlobe. “Butterfly,” I rasp in her ear.

I wrap my hands in her silky hair and move my mouth over those pouty red lips. The scent of her, the very essence of her body heat makes the blood in my veins simmer with lust. She moans and I lap up every exquisite sound, hungry for every gasp of pleasure coming from her.

“Then, let’s begin.”

Six

Kandy

Cuffed and spread, I’m wide open for anything my SEALs want to do to me. Not a single inch of my body is hidden from their searing gaze. And there’s not an inch of my body they don’t want to see because I feel the burn of their curious gazes touch me everywhere.

Even if I want to hate them, I can’t find the harsh emotions needed to lash out at them, hurt them with the pain they left me with all those years ago. Or to use my safe word. Does that make me weak? Stupid? I don’t know.

I wet my lips and pray I survive the evening with my heart intact. At the very least a sliver of strength to walk away once the cuffs come off.

Hard, shuddering breaths roll through me and I’ve lost all sense of shyness.

Rough hands grip my hips and I’m spun in place. Neat trick.

“Atlas,” I breathe out. Ryder and Brogan are now behind me. Strong shadows splash across Atlas’ face. But I can see enoughto know this man is only getting started. Firm lips peel back in a pure animalistic smile. Warm hands grip my ass and I suck in a harsh breath.

Brogan. I would know his touch among a thousand hands. Rough calluses along the outer part of his thumbs serve as a signature of his touch.

Ryder’s is on his trigger finger. Years as a sniper has worn a rough spot on his right index finger.

But Atlas. I can tell his touch from the possessive clench of his grip the second our skin meets.

My head falls back and waiting lips claim mine. I’m torn between giving in to them and fighting. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. I can’t help it.

My baser instinct is to give my body what it craves and to hell with what my overworking brain has to say about the whole situation.

So I do that and it’s freeing. For now. Come morning I can go back to being workaholic Kandy and they can return to whatever life they lived without me.

“Myhart,” Ryder murmurs against my lips and then he’s gone and so are Brogan’s warm hands. I lift my head to find Atlas still dressed in sharp black tuxedo pants, but he’s lost the tie and jacket, and his shirt hangs open. A wash of pure muscle peeks out at me and I catch the hint of color near the center of his chest.

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