15. Lemon
Chapter 15
Lemon
T he moment we step into Atticus' penthouse, it's like the air shifts yet again. I'm standing here, heart pounding, and I almost think I might be having a heart attack. Is that even freaking possible? If it is, then surely it’s happening to me right now.
I never gave much thought to how much his space feels like a temple. Of what? I don’t even know what words to describe it accurately. Pleasure sure, but there’s something else that lurks beneath. Almost beastly and yet oddly endearing. It’s like once I agreed to this thing between the three of us the silk veil shielding me was slowly lifted. I can feel it in my bones.
Ezra's right there beside me, his hand a comforting weight against my back, steering me through the foyer. His touch is playful yet firm, like he's guiding me on some adventure rather than leading me into their lion's den. I can't help but snort softly at the thought. Yeah, right. Adventure is code for this is about to be a roller coaster without seat belts.
"Home sweet home," Ezra drawls, his voice dripping with honey. He's got that smirk on his face that says he knows something I don't, and he's damn pleased about it. I can’t help but roll my eyes, but there's a flicker of a smile tugging at my lips. His charm is damn near infectious.
"Didn’t realize I signed up for the platinum package," My voice is full of sarcasm as I try to hide the embarrassment I’m still stewing in from what happened at the restaurant. I can’t believe they did that, that I let them do that. In freaking public where anyone could have seen. Well, not really with the way we were set back, but if the server had stopped by she definitely would have.
"Come on, Lemon," he teases, winking at me. "Atticus does not like to be kept waiting and I’m quite sure you aren’t ready for what happens when we do."
"Yeah, wouldn't want to annoy the king of the castle," I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. My heart's doing its own little fish out of water flop, but I force myself to keep pace with Ezra as we make our way down the hallway, past the sleek furniture and the grand piano. All of which probably costs more than my college tuition would've been for all four years.
"Relax, you'll love it, eventually. I know I do," Ezra assures me, his fingers brushing along the exposed skin at my waist. A possessive, teasing gesture that sends a shiver racing up my spine.
"Sure, because I've always dreamed of being the meat between two men who could double as Greek statues." I roll my eyes, but there's no hiding the flutter of arousal beneath the bravado.
“Well, I will take that compliment and trust me bellezza, you’re the best kind of meat we want to sink our teeth into,” Ezra chuckles, his fingers pressing a little harder against my skin as he guides me up the stairs toward the door at the end of the hall.
I follow Ezra into the depths of Atticus' domain. A place I’ve never stepped into, only watched with lurking eyes from the doorway. Once, I only did it once, but it was enough to have me questioning everything about myself, about sex.
But I barely have time to take it in before Atticus speaks.
"Strip and get naked." The air is thick with his presence. Commanding and overwhelming. I never noticed it for years, but he’s like sun and everything bends into his orbit. He stands there, a statue of authority carved from stone and ambition, exuding power like it's his damn birthright.
Maybe it is. I don’t really know anything about his family. He’s never mentioned them and neither did my dad. I never even met anyone else related to him.
His voice steals all the breath from my lungs. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I was na?ve to think I was going to be bold like Poppy. God, if she could only see how I’m acting right now. No pleasantries, no warm-up. Just straight to the core of it, like ripping off a bandage. My heart skips a beat or maybe ten because there's something about him just standing there that makes my skin tingle. I'm not sure if he's a god or a devil. Maybe both.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly drier than a desert. My fingers are traitors, shaking as they reach for the hem of my t-shirt. It's like I'm trying to defuse a bomb rather than undress. The fabric feels foreign beneath my fingertips, and it's all because of those eyes. The piercing gaze that burns right through me, leaving nothing hidden. They promise things, dark and dangerous things, and yet here I am, caught in his gaze like a butterfly pinned under glass.
"Well?" he prompts, not impatient but expectant. He's used to being obeyed. And why wouldn't he be? He looks like someone who could command armies, or maybe just hearts.
I glance at Ezra, hoping for a lifeline, but he's got that Cheshire Cat grin plastered on his face, the asshole.
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. "Give me a minute, please?"
But even as I say it, I know I'm stalling. Buying time that I don't have. I could turn and walk out of here, but that’s not really a viable choice. I don’t think I really want to, anyway. I just need to overcome the anxiety tugging me under.
"Having trouble?" Atticus asks, and there's a hint of amusement dancing behind those icy eyes, daring me to defy him.
Sensing my hesitation, Atticus shifts, crossing his arms over that broad chest of his. A simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He's waiting, watching, and I want to do this. I just need to mentally jump over the hurdle.
"Be a good boy and help my new pet out," Atticus commands, flicking his fingers at Ezra like he's some sort of well-trained dog. I half expect Ezra to bark in response, but instead, he steps forward with that damn smirk plastered on his face.
"Always happy to lend a hand," Ezra quips, his voice mischievous as he closes the distance between us. And just like that, he's right there, all devilish charm, easing the tension that's strung me tight. There’s something wickedly comforting about the way he moves though, like he’s both the devil and the angel on your shoulders.
"You're enjoying this way too much," I mutter, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as his fingers brush against mine. He’s close enough now that I can see the faint inked lines creeping up from under his shirt collar, tattoos teasing the skin like secrets.
"Oh, I most certainly am. It helps I can still smell you on my fingers as well," he admits, unrepentant, eyes glinting with playful intent. His touch is deft and sure, undoing what my nervous hands struggled with moments ago.
"Relax," he murmurs, voice low and conspiratorial. I snort softly, as I feel my shoulders start to unclench. The bastard's good at this. Too good and it's infuriatingly effective.
"Easy for you to say," I retort, though there's less bite in my words now. Ezra's hands continue their work, never rushing, always deliberate, peeling away the layers until I'm standing there, bare and exposed.
"See? Not so hard, right?" He grins, stepping back slightly, giving me a moment to breathe as he unhooks my bra and lets it drop to the floor. Leaving me with only the barest of fabric covering my pussy. It's then that I catch Atticus watching from the sidelines, his gaze as intense as ever, like he's cataloging every inch of me.
"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, fighting the urge to cover up under that scrutiny. But I don't. I stand there, daring him or maybe daring myself. I’m not even sure anymore.
"Good girl," Atticus says finally, and damn if those words don't make something inside me shiver with anticipation.
I'm standing there feeling like I'm on display at some high-stakes auction. Vulnerability and excitement churn in my gut, emotions that make my pulse race like I've just downed five shots of espresso. Ezra's hands glide over my skin with the kind of casual expertise you'd expect from someone who's damn good at their job. His touch is light, teasing, but there's a warmth to it that somehow eases the tension coiling inside me .
"You're doing great," he murmurs, his voice melting me like butter on hot toast as his fingers trailing over my sides like he's tracing some invisible map. His words are soft, almost reverent, but the heat in his eyes is anything but gentle. It’s like he’s casting magic over me whether I want it or not.
"Yeah, sure. Easy peasy," I mutter with as much courage as I can muster, even though my body is already starting to melt under his ministrations. It's infuriating how quickly he disarms me, like he's got some secret cheat code to my defenses.
Then, out of nowhere, Atticus shifts slightly, a silent command passing between him and Ezra. It's like watching some unspoken language play out, one I don't fully understand but feel the weight of, nonetheless. Ezra catches that cue and suddenly he's peeling off his clothes like he's auditioning for Magic Mike.
My eyes betray me, roaming over his lean, athletic build with a hunger I find surprising. Despite myself, I can't look away as each piece of fabric falls to the floor, leaving him gloriously bare and unapologetic.
His cock is large, larger than I’ve seen with the few people I’ve been with, and it looks smooth and heavy. A shade lighter than the rest of him, with a ruddy tip pointing right at his belly button.
"Enjoying the view?" Ezra quips, catching my eye with a wink that makes heat creep up my neck. My lips curl into a half-smile despite myself.
"Well, it’s not bad," I shoot back, even though we both know it's a lie. The way my body reacts is a dead giveaway that I'm more than a little interested in every inch of him. He's something else, standing there without a shred of self-consciousness, and the confidence is annoyingly sexy.
"Get on the bed," Atticus commands, his voice slicing through the air with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. It's not a request; it's another order that rattles my bones.
"Well, aren't we demanding tonight," I mutter under my breath, though I'm pretty sure he hears me. His eyes flash with something dark and thrilling, like he's daring me to challenge him. Spoiler alert: I won't.
Well, not tonight at least.
I swallow hard, heart pounding against my ribcage like it wants to make a break for it. But, of course, Ezra's reaching for me. His fingers brush my arm as he coaxes me toward the massive, intimating bed before us.
"Come on, Lemon," he murmurs, that smooth lilt making my name sound so decadent. "Let's not keep the big man waiting."
There's something about the way he moves, fluid and confident, like he's done this a million times before and still finds it amusing every damn time.
The mattress dips under my weight, the ebony sheets cool against my skin. Ezra’s right there beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins. We're inches apart, yet the space between us feels like we're standing at the edge of something vast and unknown.
"Comfortable?" Ezra asks, arching a brow, his tone teasing but with an undertone of genuine concern that throws me off-balance. I’m not sure why since out of the two of them and even before this all started, he’s been the most welcoming.
"Define comfortable," I sass back, crossing my arms over my chest in a futile attempt at modesty. Not that there's much point anymore.
Atticus moves like he owns the damn world, which feels annoyingly true. He drags that oversized chair of his to the edge of the bed, each scrape against the floor like a taunt. Once he's satisfied with his spot—his throne—he settles in. One leg crosses leisurely over the other, and I can feel his gaze on us like a weighted blanket.
"Ezra," Atticus says, his voice low and smooth as dark velvet. He doesn’t even say anything else, again that secret language passing between them.
Ezra turns his gaze on me, those brown eyes warm yet wicked, and there's no denying the quiver I feel that goes through every part of me. I try to keep my expression neutral, but it's hard when every nerve in my body is screaming.
"Relax," Ezra whispers, his touch both teasing and tender as he traces the curve of my shoulder, inching closer to where the real action's about to start. It's infuriating how easily he crumbles my defenses, like I'm some flimsy house of cards he's hell-bent on toppling.
"You're doing so well, bellezza," he adds, voice giving reassurance that's almost believable.
Almost.
"Yeah, sure. You're not the one naked here spread out like a carnivore’s buffet," I shoot back, trying to muster up some bravado, but it comes out weaker than I intended.
"Not right now, no, but I am very much naked," he laughs. And then his hands are on me, feather-light touches that ignite sparks across my skin, drawing out sensations I didn't even know I had the capacity for.
Atticus commands quietly from his throne, his presence dominating despite his silence until now. His eyes never leave us, an unyielding force in the room.
I lay trembling as Ezra's fingers ghost over my breasts, circling ever closer to my nipples. He toys with me, brushing past them again and again until I'm practically arching off the bed, wordlessly begging for more.
"So responsive," he murmurs appreciatively, finally closing in on one taut peak. He rolls it between thumb and forefinger, sending bolts of electricity zinging through me. I gasp, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
Ezra's eyes flick to Atticus, seeking silent permission, before he dips his head and pulls my nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. I cry out, shocked by the pleasure. He suckles firmly, using his tongue to devastating effect until I'm mindless, reduced to a writhing mess beneath him.
When he releases me, the chill air is an exquisite torture against my sensitized flesh. He lavishes the same attention on my other breast as I pant and squirm, hyper-aware of Atticus observing it all.
"Please..." I whimper, though I'm not even sure what I'm pleading for.
I arch my back, offering myself up to him like some sort of willing sacrifice. And God, do I feel like one. Sacrificed at the altar of my own desires, consumed by needs I never knew I harbored until now.
"So beautiful," Ezra whispers into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. His hands travel lower, teasing the curves of my hips as he strokes the flesh there.
I gasp as the sensations build within me. It feels so wrong yet so right at the same time. I've never been this vulnerable with anyone before, but here I am, sprawled out on Atticus Reid's bed like a present for him and his sexy fucking boy toy to unwrap as they please.
Atticus clears his throat, and I nearly leap off the bed in surprise. "Don't be shy, Lemon," he says in that commanding voice of his that sends chills down my spine and not in a good way this time around. "After all, you're here because you want this too."
The bastard has a point, and we both know it. I came here willingly. Well, kind of willingly, and now I'm stuck playing by their rules. Rules I don't even fully understand yet but am already starting to crave like an addict chasing her next high.
Ezra moves his hands off me, swinging his leg until he’s straddling my legs with his hard cock resting right on top of my mound. He grinds down just a bit, and I swear I can feel the thump from his length against my clit.
I’m so distracted I don’t even notice where his hands are at until they find my breasts, his fingers tweaking and tugging at my nipples until they stiffen into even tighter, aching peaks.
"Sensitive, are we?" he murmurs, lowering his head to draw one taut nipple into the wet heat of his mouth again. I cry out as he sucks hard, using his teeth and tongue to torment the rigid nub before switching to the other. Gone is the soft suckling from moments ago.
He bites me hard. My nipples have never been this sensitive, and right now I feel like they’ll never go down. I might cry if I have to put clothing over them with how stiff and tender they are.
I can feel myself getting wetter by the second, my panties growing damp with arousal.
Just when I think I might come from the stimulation alone, Atticus' deep voice rings out. "That's enough."
Ezra pulls back immediately, grinning down at me as he swings off the bed. I whine at the loss of contact, my breasts swollen and tingling.
"Go prep," Atticus commands.
"Yes, Sir," Ezra purrs. He saunters to the bathroom completely naked, giving me a perfect view of his toned ass. The door clicks shut behind him.
Suddenly I'm alone on the bed with Atticus, acutely aware that I'm lying here in nothing but a pair of panties that are soaked through. I squirm under his intense stare, feeling utterly exposed.
The sheets beneath me are cool against my skin. I wiggle, butterflies twisting in my gut, wondering what prepare really means.
"Look at you," he rumbles. "Writhing and needy after just a little foreplay."
I flush, unable to meet his gaze. My inner muscles clench around nothing, desperate to be filled.
"Don't worry, pet. I'll give you what you need soon enough." Atticus slowly uncrosses his legs and leans forward. "But first, I want you dripping and so desperate for me that you can’t think."
I close my eyes, hoping to just sink into my mind so I can avoid his oppressive gaze.
"Look at me," Atticus commands, all steel and dominance. No room for argument in that voice, no space for anything but compliance. His hand is under my chin before I can blink, firm but not painful, yet there's an edge there, like he could break me with a flick of his wrist if he wanted to.
Those azure eyes bore into mine, and it feels like he's reading every last thought, every hidden desire I've ever tried to bury. Damn him for knowing exactly how to unravel me.
"Last chance," he says, each word deliberate and cutting. "You have until Ezra comes back out."
His grip tightens just enough to send a shiver coursing down my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I swallow, trying to regain some semblance of control even as my heart thrums wildly in my chest.
"This is the last time I will be generous and offer you the chance to run. So think long and hard. Because once he walks back out, I’ll fucking own you. Just like Ezra."
His words hang heavy in the air, and I find myself feeling half fear, half something far more dangerous.
I should be running for the hills instead of lying here, but if I listen to the little whispers of my subconscious, I can hear them goading me on.
How lucky am I to say that I had a man so desperate for me he went to such lengths to have me in his web?
There’s a power in that alone and I hold on to that thought as I turn my head, so he lets go of my chin and I poke my tongue out to sweep across the skin of his wrist unhidden from his suit jacket.
Break me, Uncle Atti.