Chapter 4
Four
Luna
M y brain stutters. The Ambrose brothers? Their ruby rings. Rings my father gave to them.
My heart threatens to fall from my chest and die. I haven’t thought about these men in years. Before that I was always keeping tabs. Know thy enemy and all that.
Their onyx gazes hold mine a moment longer and then the rest of my body falls prey to their hungry gazes. Dark caresses sweep over the pink swells of my breasts, the painted tips, and all the way down to the other pink flower. The one the artist painted over my barely covered folds.
I watch them drink me in as I do the same to them. Tattoos cover most of their exposed skin—knuckles, necks for the moment. Their faces are clean of any ink, but I can’t imagine they left their chests, arms and back bare.
All three are staggeringly handsome. No, scratch that. They are gorgeous and they are three hundred percent fully focused on me.
Muscled shoulders, thick arms and tapered waists have my mouth going slack. The last time I saw them I wasn’t too interested in men. I had just lost my father, after all. But now, years later, the woman in me recognizes the draw older men have for a younger woman. They know how to pleasure a woman and it’s written all over their confident stances and barely there caresses to my warm skin.
I desperately need to squeeze my thighs shut or excuse myself for a private moment. I get neither. “No, Ivy,” I mutter so softly I’m sure she doesn’t hear me over the music piping through the Society’s speaker system. I tuck my chin to my chest and play shy so I can grit out, “Not happening.”
I don’t care what kind of history I have with them—which is limited—they will have my head the second I try to get sticky-fingered with them.
A second later her saccharine voice fills my head. “Oh, sweetie. You didn’t think this would be easy did you? I told you I know more about you than you think.”
What a lowdown, dirty, conniving, bitch.
“I can hear the insults running off in your head. Get the job done if you want the money.”
Ice fingers dig into my heart. I can’t do this.
“I’m out.”
Now my father really is rolling over in his grave.
“No, you’re not. Get to work. I want those arrogant bastards’ rings and you are going to get them for me.” Making her voice sweet and syrupy, Ivy drives the invisible blade deeper into my chest. “Your sister is counting on you, sweetie.”
My fingers ball into fists at my sides. If I could only get my hands on Ivy, I would…
Nothing. I would do nothing because I willingly walked into this trap. She obviously has some beef with them and I’m the tool for her revenge.
My gaze drags off the floor and lifts to brush up their impressively large bodies, perfectly tailored suits, and tatted up necks to find three sets of hooded eyes hooked on me. They’ve come to the Society to blow off steam and I’ve walked into their den of sin.
The brother on my right takes a step toward me. “I don’t think we’ve seen you here before. We’re pretty familiar with the member’s list.”
His voice is low, rough and laden with the same desire pumping into my bloodstream. My pulse quickens. He’s sex on a stick.
I blush heavily and I know they can all see the pink hitting my cheeks. The artist made sure to leave me bare of any paint from the chin up.
And they all give a throaty sound of appreciation that spikes my blood with a shot of adrenaline. They like the idea of an innocent lover.
I clear my suddenly dry throat and mentally smack myself into the moment. Playing coy isn’t a strong suit of mine. I’m more of a grab what I want kind of gal and make sure no one sees me while I do it.
But tonight, I’m a new cat in the jungle of seduction.
I summon the courage to look them each in the eye. “I’m new, yes. This is my first evening at the Soceity.”
They grin and look between themselves before I’m gifted with all their attention once again.
“I could be your entertainment. If that is something you would like, that is.”
Please say yes.
I need to stall so I can figure out how I’m going to get three rings of the fingers of men who could crush me with little effort.
My eyes drift to their tattooed fingers.
Sure enough, they are wearing the rings my father gave them. White diamonds encircle a cushion cut ruby embedded on top of a thick gold band. They were gifts for closing their first deal, I heard my father explain to my mother a long time ago.
The rings are just like I remember. All three are identical and stunning. I can only imagine the sentimental value these men have bestowed upon my father’s gift to them.
“How did we ever get so lucky, brothers?”
I’m not sure which one it is who speaks. I’m too focused on the startling black eyes caressing over the slope of my shoulders and then down the dip in my waist.
Jasper Ambrose.
He steps close and sweeps the pesky curl that won’t stay in place from my shoulder, his fingers briefly brushing over my skin. Tingle of electricity follows in the wake of his touch. He’s the older brother of the three. Reserved. Swift with his decisions. He’s the leader of the three for a reason. He’s a deal-maker. I remember little else.
I mentally run through the other two names of the men my father considered brothers. Shayne and Voss Ambrose. They are older now and I’ll admit my body hums with appreciation of what time has done to their handsome features. The way all that expensive cloth stretches over impressive muscles is telling.
My father never let them close to me or my sister, but he always talked about the three men who became like brothers to him.
I lost track of them over the years and now I wish I’d stayed up to date on all things Ambrose brothers.
“Lucky, yes. But we don’t have long to play.”
Jasper must be in his late forties, but he makes age look sophisticated with a light brushing of silver in his hair and creases at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his beard is a new turn on I didn’t know I enjoyed. My eyes drift over the silver in appreciation.
His expression gives very little away as he watches me take in his appearance. It’s like reading at a cement wall.
His touch on my lower back is a different matter, however. A callused palm comes to rest just above the swells of my ass, his ring cool compared to his heated touch.
He has a sharp jawline, aristocratic features with a rough-around-the-edges feel to him that gives off a dangerous vibe.
Then again, that is all three of them.
And sadly it makes him more alluring to a girl like me. My mother was always saying I like the wrong kind of boys. She never understood I took after her. My dad wasn’t a violent criminal, but he was a criminal, nonetheless.
There’s just something irresistible about a bad boy.
Jasper’s phone goes off and he steps back, quietly answering. But no matter how far away he moves, his eyes don’t leave mine.
“Don’t let him kill the mood for us. We have as long as it takes to discover what makes you scream.”
Shayne Ambrose. A little too direct and the biggest playboy of the trio. For a while he was always in the news as the hottest bachelor in Seattle. His best feature is the smoldering panty-melting grin he’s wearing. Like he has a dirty secret he wants to tell only me. The upward tilt to the right edge of his lip clings to his kissable lips. He is the middle brother and probably the most straightforward. I would bet he talks more than the other two, too. Clues of my assumption lie in how he considers every painted inch of my body and the way his eyes light up with a million questions he can’t wait to ask.
Wavy black hair plays along the collar of his button down and the perfectly trimmed beard brushing over his angular jawline makes the woman in me shamelessly purr.
He stands close enough behind me I can feel the fabric of his expensive suit against my bare, painted flesh.
“A tigress.” The tip of his rough finger traces the orange lines of the graceful jungle animal draped across my shoulders. Electricity feeds through that small connection and it’s like a switch inside me flips on. One second I’m playing the part of a club treat, and the next it’s no longer a game.
My heart keeps with that tiny revelation. I doubt these men are interested in an inexperienced virgin. But I can play a little before I make up an excuse and leave.
I pull my gaze from Jasper to look at his brother. “The tiger is my spirit animal,” I offer truthfully. The older man’s eyes hold mine in a way that feels he can easily see down to the depths of my soul. Hopefully, he can’t see all the lies I have buried in there.
“Is that true?” I watch Shayne through the mirror’s reflection as he continues to trace the tail of the animal over the side of my shoulder to where it curls around my breast. “Powerful, courageous and strong-willed.”
His voice has a roughness to it. Like thick cigar smoke rolling over chiseled ice. It’s cool, and calm, but you just know every word he says hides dangerous edges.
Adrenaline mixes with my blood, causing my nipples to harden. The artist who painted me into a jungle delight left my nipples bare and Shayne loves the view. His nostrils flare with obvious interest.
I swallow thickly and try to tamper down the rebellious heat growing inside me. I want him to continue stroking me, but he moves his touch to the ends of my rebellious hair. “Look at you. Beautiful black curls you can’t control, plump pink lips and all that glorious lickable green paint. It’s like you were brought here just for us.”
Ha. If he only knew.
He leans in and brushes his lips against my ear. “Green is my favorite color, by the way,” he purrs. Good lord this man. I look and catch the hungry look on his face.
“Is that so?”
He draws my hand to rest over his shoulder “It’s the God’s honest truth, tigress. Now tell us one of your secrets. What are your secret fantasies?” Shayne leans in, pressing his front to my back.
The question draws a throbbing answer within me. I ignore it. “Sorry, handsome. I’ve already been asked that once this evening. You’ll have to be more creative.”
Shayne’s smile deepens and the dark gleam in his eyes flickers with sexual interest. “Since you’re standing here with us, I’m going to say whoever the unlucky bastard was, didn’t stand a chance at fulfilling your desires. Let us try.”
I hold his gaze through the mirror.
“What makes you think you are the man for the job?”
I’m playing with fire and it might be fun to get a little burned. I don’t recognize the inner vixen coming out to play but I like her.
Shayne’s heat level between us cranks up high enough to shoot goose bumps over my skin. My brain doesn’t know how to react to him, but my body does.
Hot liquid slips from my channel at the same time his arm comes around my midriff and his large hand settles over my quivering stomach. One press, and my ass is against his hard length.
I lightly gasp, my mouth falling open with surprise and need. So much need. The heated touch of his skin on mine contrasts the cold metal of his ring. It’s a point I mentally latch onto and center myself or I might fall into the carnal urges this man brings to the surface with a mere touch.
“I have a feeling your body will respond to anything we subject you to.”
The confidence in him is palpable.
And he’s right. My entire body lights up. “I don’t think you are wrong,” I admit. I see no reason to play coy or hide the truth. I arch in a way that has my ass pressing against him more firmly and he takes that as a sign to taste the paint on the curve of my shoulder. The heat of his tongue is delicious and I enjoy seeing his lashes close and him savor my sweetness for a moment.
We both lock eyes in the mirror. “Tell me one fantasy, lover.” Shayne’s voice dips to a low rumble. “You can whisper them to Voss and me while Jasper isn’t here. We’ll play and he can watch if he wants to spend all night on the phone. Would you like that?”
The playfulness in Shayne’s voice loosens the tension between my shoulder blades.
“Do you leave him out of your games, often?”
“Only when I’m feeling selfish and baby, you make me want to keep all of you for myself.”
Energy buzzes over my skin causing my breasts to become heavy with the need to have his hands on them again.
“Easy, Shayne. Don’t scare the pretty jungle flower away before we get a taste of her nectar. You know there’s no way you get to keep her all to yourself.”
My attention moves to the other brother. Voss “Ace” Ambrose. I never learned why he is called Ace. In his line of work, it’s probably not a cute story.
The fine lines at the edges of his eyes offer hints of his age. If I had to guess mid-thirties. But I know he’s closer to forty. The fine material of his suit moves and molds to the broad form of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms. He’s the observant brother and evidently the voice of reason. “Jasper would kill you with his bare hands if you tried to take a jungle flower like this one away from him.”
Another seeking hand slides along my waist to join Shayne’s. Powerful. Possessive. Even as the youngest Ambrose brother, Voss has at least ten years on me. That makes Jasper nearing twenty years my senior.
With them both standing with their shoulders touching, my view of Jasper is cut off.
I know what this is and for the life of me I can’t seem to care that these one-liners are as fake as my reason for being in their private booth.
I have a few of my own. “I have a lot of secrets, if you’re willing to tease them from me.”
A throaty growl comes from my left. “I’ll take that as a personal invitation.”
Mirroring his brother’s stance at my back, Voss gathers my hand and I angle my head to watch him press the soft warmth of his lips to the inside of my palm.
It’s an intimate gesture; one that feels directly tied to my core. My insides clench and I’m embarrassed to admit the heat my body is giving off is all because of my inner siren getting worked up. The sad thing is, I’m drowning in self doubt and lack of experience in the seducing arena.
It’s easier to focus on them while I get my nerves under control.
I lift my chin to look into the dark depths of Voss’ eyes. One second something close to worry rakes across his handsome features and then it’s gone. Did a deal go wrong? Is he worried about something and I’m a distraction? A million questions pop off in my head, but I don’t have a right to any of the answers.
I thought I understood darkness. But looking into his eyes I see memories trying to breach the surface that has chills running the length of my spine. But I blink and the shadows scurry away. He locks his emotions down and the sensual man with the heated cravings returns to lean in and press a kiss to the head of the tigress over my shoulder blade this time.
I run through all these details in less than five seconds and that is a good thing because Voss cuts my thread of thought when his lips come over mine.
No preamble, no asking. He simply takes what he wants.
And I give it to him.
I’m here for a job for Christ’s sake and these men think I’m their evening entertainment. Guilt seeps in. I mean, can I take the one-night stand they want with me? Probably. Should I? Most definitely not.
What if they recognize me as their friend’s daughter? I can’t predict how they will react. Would they be disgusted, intrigued or a mix of both?
It’s a lot of baggage to drag up for a chance encounter. It seems easier to just leave our tentative connection untouched and I pretend to be the stranger for as long as I am with them this evening.
It’s cleaner and I like clean.
Voss tightens his arm around me, and I meld into his hold. Every inch of my body is against his as he turns me away from the mirror to face him. The feel of his length against my thigh is a delicious tease. He could literally spread me out between him and his brother and I would gladly give them every inch of me.
And my virginity. Right here. Right now.
I’m on the pill so I’m not worried about babies and bottles coming from this encounter.
I catch Jasper watching from the other side of the booth. His eyes clock the way Voss slides a hand down my thigh and raises my leg to settle over the top of his.
Shayne moves in and takes the top half of my weight. One small move and I have both my legs wrapped around Voss’ middle with Shayne palming my breasts.
God, yes. These two have no qualms about taking this fast and I am all for it.
I drop my head to Shayne’s shoulder and moan when he offers his brother a taste of my exposed nipples.
Warm lips encase the hard tip. My barely visible thong catches the spill of hot liquid pooling between my thighs.
Forget rings, the Belladonnas and the fifty grand.
Can’t I have a little fun before I ruin the night for all of us?