Bet on Ecstasy (6 page)

There, in his fierce gaze, was a strength telling her to make a decision. She thought back to why she made the pact in the first place. With no prospects of love and a few boring one-night stands, what did she have to lose?

Not a damn thing.

What could she gain?

Another sexual experience that equaled no other.

In the arms of one man, she found no fulfillment. In the arms of two men, she tasted satisfaction. The thought of Smith and Brock focused entirely on her made her shiver, sending heat rushing from head-to-toe.

Kole’s mouth twitched. “And there it is.” His voice took on a sharp edge as if stating for a fact he recognized her desire for the men.

She exhaled a long, slow breath, still trapped in his stare. “But how can this work between us?”

“They’re not asking for your hand in marriage.” Bella patted Kyra’s leg. “Just more hot and sweaty sex.”

There was the
other
problem. She couldn’t stop thinking about them all day. Was it just sex to her? Unemotional play that kept her safe? She rubbed her eyebrow, knowing the answer was staring her dead in the face. “But what if I start”—she swallowed—“liking them?” This was the serious problem—something about the men made her feel so safe, so comfortable. Becoming attached didn’t seem difficult, and that scared her.

Kole leaned his shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms. “So, what if you do?”

She looked to Bella, waiting for her to agree that a ménage relationship could never work, but Bella remained silent. Kyra finally looked to Kole. “How can a woman want to date two men? It’s wrong…weird.”

“Get
normal
out of your head,” he replied with little heat to his voice. “Is my liking to restrain Bella and flog her
normal
?”

Her immediate response was
no
, but that’d just be rude to her best friend since for Bella it was normal.

At her silence, Kole inclined his head. “In the context of our lives, it’s right because it’s what we want. Just as, in your life right now, you want these two men.”

“Besides,” Bella cut in. “From what you’ve said they’re stinkin’ rich, which means fancy dinners and presents.” She slapped Kyra’s thigh. “Enjoy it. You deserve to have some fun.”

Kyra glanced down to the string on her bed that she fiddled with, and she contemplated. Why was she rejecting the idea of spending more time with men who could satisfy her to her bones? Sure, she entered dangerous territory since it’d been a long time since she had this kind of chemistry with a man…or two men, for that matter.

Would she have regrets if she ignored Brock and Smith’s offer? Could she keep herself distant enough to not let feelings get involved? Part of her doubted it. She felt butterflies thinking about the two men she didn’t even know. The other part of her—the stronger part—declared she could keep this strictly sexual.

“All right.” She raised her head to Bella, then said to Kole, “I’ll message them.”

“Glad to hear it.” Kole gave her a direct, probing stare. “Nothing wrong with going after what you need, Kyra.”

“Right, what I need,” she muttered, which were two gorgeous men, two hard cocks, four hands, and…

Dammit, she needed to stop shivering. Kole’s smile widened, and he clearly fought against his laughter.

Bella bounced on the bed. “I bet once you get sandwiched between those two hotties again, you’ll wonder why you sat here staring at them on the computer for so long, contemplating this instead of fucking them.”

Kyra grunted. “Bella, you’re such a pervert.”

“I know.” Her grin was sure-as-shit satisfied before she jumped off the bed and leaped at Kole, who caught her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist while he tucked her nightie over her butt to fortunately hide a view Kyra didn’t want.

Kyra shook her head, laughing. Her heart warmed at their happiness. Maybe she was slightly envious of their relationship; she wanted that—to find true love. Nonetheless, she was thrilled that Bella had found Kole. “Night, guys. Thanks.”

“Send that text,” was all Kole said before he took a giggling Bella back down the hallway.

Once she heard Bella’s bedroom door shut, Kyra placed her laptop on the floor and tucked herself into bed. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and drew in a deep breath. Before she could chicken out, she got right to it.

I’m in.

She hit the Send button and went to place the phone back on the nightstand when a loud beep echoed in her room right before Brock’s text popped up.

Hello, kitten. Are you always a night owl?

Butterflies rushed through her as she could almost hear his voice. It would appear that way since she was up late, but she was so far from that.

No, I’m not usually up late. Are you?

Yes, always.

She blinked at the screen having no idea what to say next. She frantically thought up something, since the pause was awkward and she knew he was sitting on the other end, probably smiling, waiting for her to respond.

Why?

She hit Send and groaned. This wasn’t about talking and getting to know him better. This was about raunchy sex…again. She needed to stick to the plan. Hadn’t she already told herself the smart part of her was stronger than this?

I’m best on six hours of sleep. About our date, when are you available?

She exhaled, so relieved that he’d shifted back to the
important
. Even if she wasn’t quite sure she liked the idea that he called it a
date.
That wasn’t what they were planning, or she hoped. Another meeting at their office would do just fine.

Tomorrow is good.

Terrific. We’ll see you at Blackfoot at 5:00.

Her heart hammered. This sounded like a date. Was it a date?

Before she got the courage to somehow ask that and set him straight that wouldn’t be happening, another beep came from her phone.

Oh, and Kyra…

She paused, holding her breath.

Wear something sexy for us, kitten.

Chapter Five

Blackfoot, one of Baltimore's restaurants, was fine dining at its best with its modern design and five-star cuisine. Brock had many business dinners sitting at the corner table he now shared with Kyra and Smith. Though none of those dinners included him thinking lewd thoughts.

He couldn’t quite keep his hands off Kyra. Maybe that’s why he sat in next to her to ensure he didn’t have to deny himself. Hell, he even noticed Smith touched her for no other reason than it seemed an impulse.

There was something about this woman…something damn special.

Kyra picked up her wineglass, her eyes still crinkled in amusement at something Smith had said. Brock zeroed in on her pink-painted lips that wrapped around the rim of the wineglass. She took a deep swallow of her wine before she lowered the glass, then licked the moisture off her lips. “Your mother, what was she like?”

“A horrible, godforsaken bitch,” Smith muttered.

It pleased Brock that she finally asked personal questions. So far, she’d been impeccably closed off. Though, regardless of the conversation topic, he also nearly groaned. His cock throbbed as his awareness to the woman next to him was nothing he’d ever experienced. Every move she made seemed like a direct assault on his control not to forget they were in a busy restaurant, bend her over the table, lift her skirt, and drive his cock…

He grabbed his beer and took a huge gulp. This dinner with her would be damn long.

Tonight, Kyra had shown up in a red skirt that looked proper enough, if he didn’t know what was beneath that skirt. Most wouldn’t pay attention to the fact that she didn’t wear stockings, but that told him she wore no garter and likely only had on panties.

He wanted to find out what panties she wore.

Or maybe she didn’t wear any.

Her black blouse had a pink lace cami beneath it, implying modesty. To him, it only made him more eager. His cock hardened in a second flat at the sight of her long legs and her shiny black high heels.

He’d asked her to wear something sexy for their date tonight, but she didn’t show it like most women did. She looked dressed appropriately as if she were going to work. The sexy came in the form of her lace cami that showed a tiny hint of cleavage, and her killer heels. Her idea of sexy paid off; she looked far sexier than a woman who chose to wear something tight and revealing.

She took another sip of her wine, then cocked her head and nibbled her lip, clearly confused at Smith’s statement about their mother. Brock interjected to explain why they had such hatred for the woman who had raised them. “Our mother wasn’t motherly.”

Kyra frowned. “But she adopted both of you, didn’t she?”

Brock leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, understanding her confusion. No one but Brock and Smith knew the truth about their dear old mom. He stayed silent as a waiter strode by the table, then said, “Marjorie was our foster mother, not adoptive.”

Smith took a drink of his red wine. “A foster mother who only took us in for the checks.”

Kyra placed her wineglass on the table and looked at them again, her eyebrows drawn together. “What checks?”

Brock unfolded his arms and lowered his hand to her thigh, spotting the concern in Kyra’s features. A caring woman too, he liked that. “Marjorie received a monthly stipend for each eligible foster child she took in, which was why she fostered kids. It was never about loving children or wanting to provide them a home.”

Kyra stared at him for a long moment before she took Brock’s hand on her thigh and reached for Smith’s on top of the table. “Did she feed you?”

Brock inclined his head, thinking her sympathy sweet. “That was one thing Marjorie did do. Three meals a day and one snack before bed.”

Kyra looked down at Smith’s hand joined with hers. “Where is Marjorie now?”

“Dead,” Smith bit off.

She lifted her head, and her eyes searched Smith’s. Her voice softened. “You have no other family?”

Brock shook his head, running his thumb over the silky skin near her knee. “Just each other.”

Something shifted in Kyra’s gaze, a tenderness he hadn’t seen from her reaching the depths of her eyes. She’d been so strong, confident, and focused. Now, she looked undeniably gentle. He liked that look on her.

Kyra’s sympathy for their loveless childhood shone in her expression, and maybe now she understood why they stuck together as they did—because they always had to. They’d tried living apart right out of high school when Brock moved in with his ex-girlfriend and Smith rented his own apartment: they were both miserable.

Once Brock's girlfriend dumped him for speaking of wanting a threesome, he moved in with Smith and told him the reasons behind the breakup were because Brock held an interest in a ménage relationship. Smith indicated his interest too, and one month later had been his and Smith's first ménage encounter. They’d never looked back. While they each dated separately, it wasn’t what either of them wanted, so they’d both given up and stuck to sex clubs.

Sharing women just worked.

Brock didn’t want the night ruined because of a past neither he nor Smith could change. He slowly moved his hand upward on her thigh and met the hem of her skirt. When she gave him a look, he paused as she said, “You want to do this
now
?”

“Yes. I want to do this
now
,” Brock replied. “That conversation changed the mood. I want to lighten things.” He smiled. “Watching you come will do that.”

“Do I need to remind you we’re in a restaurant?” Kyra looked around quickly as she held his hand, stopping his travels. “And that we’re surrounded by a lot of people.”

“Nope, I’m well aware.” He attempted to move his hand up her thigh, but she pinned his hand to her leg.

Her eyes narrowed, even if the refusal on her expression looked weak. “What if I say I don’t want you to?”

Smith lowered his voice. “Kyra, we all know you won’t, because you don’t want him to stop. Move your hand away. Let us have some fun with you.”

Only a short pause followed before Kyra released Brock’s hand, allowing him to continue to move his hand up her thigh. “Tell us, Kyra, what do you do for a living? Your ad never said anything about your employment.”

She shivered beneath Brock’s hand. Her breath whooshed out before she sucked it back in, and once again, gave them a disapproving look. “And you want me to talk while you're doing
that
?”

Brock’s hand inched higher up her sexy thigh and finally sneaked up underneath her skirt. “Open wider for me.” He hesitated until she opened her legs for him, then continued. “Yes, that’s right, nice and wide.” She spread her legs wider, giving him access to her panties, which he was pleased to discover were lace. “As to your question, yes, Kyra, we’d like to learn more about you.”

He tickled her inner thigh, close to the edge of her panties, and she inhaled a sharp breath. “I work in management for Silverholt.”

Brock glanced at Smith to see his eyebrows arching before Smith asked, “The PR agency?”

“Yes,” she exhaled.

Now, Brock understood the level of confidence she had exuded. Kyra had worked among and dealt with many CEOs and other high-profile clients. “What do you do for the company?”

He tucked his finger under the hem of her panties and moved them aside, exposing her pussy. Her cheeks now flushed brighter, and her pupils dilated as she whispered, “Manager of public relations.”

Brock slid his finger over her swollen clit, and when he lowered his touch, he wasn’t at all surprised to find her hot and wet. “How long have you worked for Silverholt?”

Her eyes rolled back into her head and closed for only a second before she snapped them open to him again, all heated and very sexy. “I’ve worked there since I graduated from school, and I’ll always work there.”

Smith gave Brock a curious look, and Brock also didn’t understand her reply. He turned to Kyra as he continued to rub her lower lips, drawing her arousal up to her clit and swirling the bud. “Why are you so sure you won’t leave?”

“My father owns the company.” She licked those plump lips, and her voice became raspy. “Or I should say he
owned
the company.”