Chapter 15
Fifteen
LIANA
Cole’s hand is warm on the small of my back, steadying me as we walk, his arm a solid weight around my waist, and I lean into him for strength.
The emerald silk robe slides against my thighs with every step, and my bare feet sink into the hallway runner.
My freshly shaved pussy is hypersensitive.
Every shift of the silk against my mound sends little shocks through me, and slick is already pooling between my thighs, warm and thick, soaking into the robe’s inner lining.
“You’re shaking,” Cole murmurs against my hair.
“I’m fine,” I lie, but my voice is thin, and my hand is gripping his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping me upright after he made me squirt into his mouth.
He smells so good, and it makes my pussy clench. The heat is building again, that hollow ache low in my belly, until the scent of food hits me.
Rich. Warm. Garlic, olive oil, and something tomato-sweet with herbs. My stomach clenches hard, a real hunger pang.
I haven’t eaten since last night.
Cole steers me through the great room. The floor-to-ceiling windows show the city— a sprawl of lights beyond the glass. The fire in the steel-and-stone hearth throws warm shadows across the white oak floors. The dining room opens beyond it, and that’s where the smell is coming from.
Candles. Dozens of them, in brass holders down the center of the long live-edge walnut table.
White roses in low glass vases between the flames.
There are platters of pasta, bread, and a carafe of red wine catching the light.
The table is set for five. Five places, five glasses, five napkins folded into careful peaks.
And three alphas, already seated.
They look up at the same time. And the whole room goes quiet.
Julian stands so fast his chair scrapes the floor, and he crosses the room to me in three long strides, his hazel eyes dark and fixed on my face. He takes my free hand and brings it slowly to his mouth. His lips press against my knuckles, warm and soft, and his eyes never leave mine.
“Two hours,” he says, his voice rough. “Two hours apart was two hours too long, Lia.”
My face burns. The blush crawls up my neck and into my cheeks, hot and unmistakable, and Julian’s dimple deepens as he smiles.
August stands too. His honey scent curls toward me, warm and golden, and my pussy clenches hard. “Hey Lia, so glad you can join us for dinner. We missed you.”
Ezra is at the head of the table. His eyes are already on me, dark and fixed in a way that makes my stomach flip and my slick thicken between my thighs. He pushes his chair back from the table with one smooth motion. His hand comes down on his thigh, palm flat, and he pats it once.
“Come here,” he says.
I freeze. “What?”
His jaw tightens. The scar through his eyebrow catches the candlelight.
“Come here, Liana,” he says again, softer this time. The command in his voice is velvet-wrapped steel. “I want you on my lap. Your seat is going to be me tonight.”
Cole’s hand leaves my waist. He gives me a gentle nudge forward, and I’m slowly walking across the dining room.
The silk robe whispers against my bare thighs with every step, and I am acutely, painfully aware that I am naked underneath it, that every alpha in this room knows it, and that they can all smell the slick soaking through the silk between my legs.
My heart hammers against my ribs. My pussy is throbbing, empty, hungry, and Ezra’s eyes never leave me.
When I reach him, his hands find my hips. They’re large, warm, his fingers spanning the curve of my waist, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing. One smooth motion, and I’m on his lap, settled sideways across his thighs, my back resting against the solid muscle of his arm.
I can feel him immediately.
The hard ridge of his erection presses firmly against the curve of my ass through his slacks.
Thick. Hot. Already leaking, if the damp spot I feel through the silk is any indication.
He doesn’t hide it. Doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t even acknowledge it beyond adjusting me slightly, his hands on my hips, shifting me so I’m pressed more firmly against him.
“You fit perfectly,” he says against my hair. His voice is low and rough with lust. “Like a puzzle piece.”
Cole takes the chair to Ezra’s right. Julian slides into the one to Ezra’s left. August settles across from us, his bright eyes never leaving my face. The four of them have arranged themselves around me like I am the dinner.
The candles flicker. The fire pops in the hearth.
From his perch by the windows, Pepper fluffs all his feathers up to twice his normal size, his emerald body puffing out like a small, furious balloon. He tilts his yellow head and considers me with one suspicious yellow eye.
“Pretty!” he announces, loud and scratchy, in Julian’s voice.
Julian groans, dropping his forehead into his hand. “Pepper. For the love of god. One meal. One meal where you don’t talk too much.”
Pepper tilts his head exactly ninety degrees. Considers the room. His pupils pin to tiny black points.
“Unacceptable,” he declares, in a perfect imitation of Ezra’s pacing. “Dinner. Unacceptable.”
The laugh that bursts out of me is startled and real, loud enough to echo off the high ceilings, and I feel Ezra’s hand tighten on my hip in response. His chest rumbles against my side—not quite a purr, something deeper, a sound of possession that makes my pussy clench hard against the silk.
Pepper, delighted with his audience, bobs his head and dances twice on his perch.
“Goodbye, asshole!” he shrieks, directly at Ezra before flying off into the next room.
“Your bird is a menace,” Ezra tells Julian, pouring red wine into his glass.
“He’s a genius,” Julian says, raising his glass in Pepper’s direction. The parrot preens, rubbing his beak against the perch, utterly pleased with himself.
I’m still laughing, my shoulders shaking, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes, and it feels so fucking good to laugh that I don’t want to stop.
Ezra’s hand slides from my hip to my stomach, palm flat against the silk, and he holds me there while I laugh. His thumb brushes the underside of my breast through the fabric, and my laughter catches, turns into something breathless.
Cole reaches for the pasta.
It’s thick, hand-cut, glistening with oil and garlic, covered in red tomato sauce. He twirls a small bite onto his fork with the ease of a man who has done this a thousand times, and then he leans across the table toward me. His slate-blue eyes find mine.
“Open,” he says.
I open my mouth.
He feeds me. The pasta is rich, warm, the sauce sweet and tangy on my tongue, and I make a small moaning sound.
Ezra’s grip on my stomach tightens. His cock twitches hard against my ass.
Julian’s eyes go dark, his dimple vanishing as his jaw locks.
August bites his lip, hard enough that I see his teeth dig into the soft flesh.
Cole’s pupils dilate. He feeds me another bite, slower this time, his eyes on my mouth as I chew. A drop of sauce clings to the corner of my lip, and his thumb finds it, gentle, pushing it back between my lips for me to suck clean.
I suck his thumb without thinking. My tongue curls around the pad of it, and Cole makes a low, rough sound in his throat.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
From my left, Julian tears a piece of bread from his own plate. It’s crusty, golden, still warm from the oven. He brings it to my mouth, his fingers brushing my lower lip, and I take it from him. The bread is soft inside, yeasty and perfect, and I chew slowly, my eyes on his.
“You’re such a good girl,” Julian says, his voice warm and dark. “Taking everything we give you. So good for us, Lia.”
Across the table, August lifts my water glass. He holds it carefully to my lips, his blue eyes soft behind his glasses, and I drink without using my hands. The water is cool, cutting through the richness of the pasta and bread, and I realize with a start that I haven’t lifted my own fork once.
My hands are resting in my lap. The brothers are feeding me every bite, every sip, every taste. Ezra’s lap beneath me, solid and warm, his cock hard against my ass.
And then I feel Ezra’s free hand move.
It slides slowly under the hem of my silk robe at my thigh. Not in any hurry. His fingertips trail along the inside of my leg, light enough that I could pretend I didn’t notice, feather-light strokes that raise goosebumps on my skin.
I notice.
My breath catches. Sharp. Audible.
Cole, who is mid-bite with the fork, pauses for half a second.
His eyes drop to my face, then to the table where Ezra’s arm disappears under the silk, and he sees.
He knows exactly what’s happening. He doesn’t stop feeding me.
He simply slows down. Brings the next bite to my mouth more gently, his voice dropping to something low and rough.
“You’re so pretty eating dinner for us.”
Ezra’s hand keeps moving. His fingers part my thighs with steady pressure, and I let them. My legs fall open on his lap, the silk robe riding up, and his hand finds my freshly shaved mound under the fabric.
He draws in a sharp breath against my hair.
“So smooth,” he whispers, his voice gone rough. “So soft. You’re already wet for me.”
He’s right about that.
My slick is soaking through the silk, warm and thick, and I feel his erection twitch hard against my ass through his slacks. A fresh wave of slick spills out of me against his palm, and Ezra’s fingers curl, pressing into the soft flesh of my mound.
From my left, Julian feeds me another piece of bread. He is completely aware of what his brother is doing to my pussy under the table, but he’s completely unbothered. His hazel eyes are dark, fixed on my face as he leans in, and I take the bread from his fingers.
“Yes, eat up,” Ezra purrs like a lion, his breath warm against my ear as his middle finger slides between my pussy folds. “You’re our good girl, Lia. Our perfect, good girl.”