Page 152 of Dukes of Peril

My brother shakes his head, some of the stoniness falling from his expression. “Yeah, and like you said, that’s not your fucking fault. That’s on him. Not you.”

She shrugs, idly reaching out to touch the moon on Remy’s hip. “It doesn’t change anything. The second I see him, I’m that scared little girl again, one wrong move from being locked in the box.” She presses her cheek to Remy’s shoulder, looking wrung out. “He said I’m weak-willed–that I’ve been Stockholm Syndrome’d.”

“So you went in the elevator to prove you could do it.” His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s the slightest tilt of his head—like he’s assessing—fuck. He’s analyzing the situation.

“Sy—” I start, knowing none of us like to be under Dr. Freud’s microscope. But he waves me off.

“I was wrong. You don’t have Daddy issues,” he says, sitting next to her. “You don’t want his approval. You don’t wantanyman’s approval—”

“That’s for sure,” I blurt. Sy glares at me and I shut up.

Taking her hand in his, he lifts it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Lavinia, you fought us every step of the way, setting up boundaries, forcing us to work on your terms, making us adapt to you.” He forces her to look at him. “Each one of us has hurt you, but you’re still here–not because we changed you. Becauseyouchangedus.”

“That’s not weak-willed,” Remy agrees, brushing her hair back. “You’re a star, Vinny, just like the sun. You pulled us into your orbit.”

Darkly, Sy adds, “And let’s make one thing perfectly fucking clear. No one gets to tell you if you're fit to be our Queen butme. And you’re it, baby.” He tips her face upward, brushing his lips over hers. “And you’re not just mine, you're theirs, too. And that makes you even more special.”

Remy shoots me a look, eyebrows raised. He’s thinking what I’m thinking—that my brother, who spent his life pent up and angry, has got some serious game.

Lavinia melts in his hands like butter, head tipped back against Remy’s shoulder. Her eyes slip closed. “Will one of you–” Teeth digging into her lip, her words bite off.

“What?” Sy asks, cupping her cheek. “Tell us what you need, Lav.”

Slowly, her eyes flutter open. “Will one of you make love to me?”

Sy’s eyes meet mine and Remy’s, a silent understanding passing between us. “Just one of us?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

I once told Lavinia I don’t want one-third of her–I want it all. Even though it was an unreasonable request, she’s kept her promise. Anything they get, I get, too. But whereas Lavinia gives each of us everything, she accepts us in pieces–one by one.

It doesn’thaveto be that way.

Her breath stalls at the implication, lips parting in surprise, and I take that as my answer.

“I think,” sliding off the table and down on my knees, I run my hands up her thighs, “our Duchess needs to be reminded that she’s a Queen. By all of us.” I grab the waist of her pants and tug them down. “Lift up for me, LB.”

Her breath quickens as she jolts with the force of my tug. “Nick, what if I can’t take—”

Remy cups her face, turning her to meet his kiss. It’s a filthy thing, his tongue visible as it licks into her mouth, tangling with her own. The moan she makes is quiet and pleased, and almost like an afterthought, her hips rise off the couch, allowing me to peel the pants from her legs.

Sy watches this with darkening eyes, ducking in to whisper into her ear. “You can take it, Lav. You can take anything.”

Remy’s hand lands on her thigh, dipping between her legs to spread her. Without missing a beat, Sy palms the other thigh, pulling her legs open for me. Remy releases her from his slow, wet kiss just in time for her to watch me lean in, licking a hot path up her inner thigh.

“Oh,” she breathes, mouth slick and red. “Oh, god, Nick…”

Her pussy tastes like heaven, wet and warm. As I kiss the hot fire of her clit, I hear the hitched breath she tries to take, see Sy’s hand duck beneath her shirt, easing it up her body, feel Remy restless beside her, vibrating with anticipation.

Sy must get her shirt off, because the next moment I glance up, his dark-skinned palm is gently massaging her tit, his mouth sucking a mark into her shoulder.

“I want to touch you too,” she says, the words a breathy pant. Her hands flail, looking for something to hold on to, and at the same time she finds it, her thighs give a tremble.

“Shit,” Sy curses and I look over, seeing her hand cinched around his cock.

“Let me touch you,” she says again.

Immediately, he and Remy begin fumbling with their pants, pushing them clumsily down their hips and legs, kicking them off with an aggression that borders on comical. There’s nothing funny about the way she reaches for them though, her hands just as greedy as the kiss Sy gives her, pushing his tongue through her parted lips.

It’s easy to feel left out as I watch her slender fingers wrap around each of their dicks, Sy and Remy bucking into her fists with varying degrees of eagerness. Where Sy slams his hips up into her grip, Remy rocks into it, coaxing her mouth back to his with a finger on her chin.

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