Page 7 of An Affair In Paris (Fallen Angel 3.5)

“Whatever you’re having,” I said, punctuating my words by teasing my bottom lip with my tongue.

“Well, I’m having you, so…” Slade took a step closer and lowered his head, but before his mouth met mine, Jagger cleared his throat and thrust a glass of amber-colored liquid into Slade’s chest. Slade straightened and shot Jagger a tight smile. “Thanks, man.”

“Welcome.” Jagger handed me a glass as well, then made his way to the couch. As he took a seat, Slade followed suit, walking around the coffee table and taking up a spot on one of the chairs so they were now both facing me.

The silence in the room was ripe with tension. Them, me—it was a toss-up who was more on edge. There was no denying the sizzling hum of sexual energy coursing between the three of us, and if they thought for one second I was about to bolt, they were in for a rude shock.

Raising my glass, I took a long swallow of the alcohol Jagger had handed me—a little liquid courage never hurt anyone—then stood opposite the two of them.

“So is this how you two usually play this game, then?”

“Game?” Jagger said, cool as ever, but he couldn’t hide the scorching heat in his eyes as he ran them up my legs to finally lock on mine. “This isn’t a game, wildcat. So if that’s what you’re looking for, maybe you should leave.”

Shit. I wasn’t sure what was hotter, the threat in that warning or the promise. “I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I was just thinking how much better I perform when I’m in front of an audience.”

“Fuck me,” Slade muttered, and I looked at him in time to see him widen his denim-clad legs.

“I figure you two should know something about that, right?” My eyes fell to the hand Slade was now rubbing up and down the zipper of his jeans. “There’s nothing more exciting than performing for an avid audience.”

“And is that what you plan to do?” Jagger’s voice drew my attention from Slade, and when my eyes again found his, he raised a brow. “Perform for us?”

I bent over to place my glass on the table, and as I did, I looked at Jagger from beneath my lashes and said, “Would you like that?”

Without a word, Jagger raised his glass to his lips and drained his liquor, then he leaned forward and slid the glass onto the table. I didn’t dare break eye contact with him, not wanting to give him any reason to think I was anything other than one hundred percent on board with this. Then a sensual smile curved his full lips, and if that wasn’t enough to melt my panties, his next words were: “Why don’t you take off that dress, and I’ll let you know.”

I didn’t miss the challenge in his eyes, as though he didn’t think I’d go through with his dare. But if he thought I’d back down now that I had them alone, he was sorely mistaken.

Grinning, I reached for my phone in my purse, and as I opened it up, I saw a handful more missed calls and texts from Halo. I probably should’ve felt guilty about skipping out on an increasingly rare catch-up with my brother, especially considering the company I was keeping. If he knew what was about to go down, I had no doubt he and Viper would have Jagger and Slade’s balls served on a platter. But since I had plans for those particular parts of their anatomy, I’d be keeping my lips sealed, and I had no doubt that Jagger and Slade would be doing the same.

I opened up my music app and scrolled down to the rock playlist, and when the heavy beat of drums filled the room, a smirk of recognition lifted Slade’s lips. Leaving the cell on the table, I straightened, and as I began to slowly sway my hips, the hand Slade had been rubbing along the zipper of his jeans froze. He shot Jagger a look, and something passed between them, something I couldn’t decipher. After a long moment, Jagger gave an almost imperceptible nod, and then both sets of eyes were back on me—right where they belonged. That was all the permission I needed; it was time to tease and torment.

I brought my hands up to the neckline of my black lace dress, fingering the edges and then slowly running my palms over my full breasts. As I gave them a squeeze, I saw both men swallow, and then Jagger scooted forward to the edge of the couch and unbuttoned the sleeves of his black dress shirt. He rolled them up his forearms, his attention still firmly on me, while Slade resumed massaging his growing erection.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Slade rasped, as I slid my hands down over my hips to the edge of my dress. It barely covered my ass, so I turned away from them and gripped the sides of the dress, and as my hips continued to move in time to the music, I shimmied the clinging material up my thighs. There was a sharp intake of breath behind me as I lifted the dress up over the curve of my bare cheeks, where only a sliver of a black satin thong could be seen. Then I bent forward at the waist, giving them a view that would hopefully have them removing a bit of clothing too.

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