Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance (71 page)

For a long time we stayed that way, all three of us breathing together. Our moans bounced off each other in the big room, becoming softer as the seconds ticked by, lapsing into a thick silence.

Panting and covered in a sheen of sweet, musky sweat, Lyle folded his arms behind me so that Owen could disengage first. I heard Owen pad across the room and a tap go on in the bathroom as I fell against Lyle's chest, my eyes still closed, my heart beating so fast in my chest.

As Lyle's manhood slowly loosened in me and slid out, he stroked my hair and kissed the top of my ear tenderly.

I was still in Lyle's arms when I felt a warm, soft cloth being drawn up my thighs. Owen cleaned all traces of our passion from my trembling legs with a diligent and gentle hand.

I felt Lyle lean down and place a hand behind my knees, then he scooped me up smoothly and carried me to the bed, laying me down in the center of it and then curling his body around mind with his head on my shoulder.

In a few moments, Owen crawled to my other side, dragging the blanket and sheet over my shivering body. He kissed my ear and nuzzled my neck as he mimicked his brother’s position and curled around me from the other side.

I felt like I was floating on a warm sea. The hunger had been completely satisfied. A confusing and intense montage of sensations and emotions swirled through me and I let it flow through my body as though I were floating in it.

I woke some time later and sat up with a start. My eyes stung and I squinted against the side table light that was still on. Owen slept soundly, his breath deep and rhythmic through his nose. A light shadow of stubble was already growing across the square jaw.

To my left Lyle slept with his arms thrown up over his head. His brow was furrowed as if in concentration. He looked like a diver caught in mid-dive. Every muscle along his rib cage was knit neatly into every other muscle, like an anatomy diagram.

The air was heavy with musk and salt. I pulled the sheet up to cover myself and cringed, remembering how utterly naked I had been. More naked than ever. Not just nudity; it was as though the extreme physical experience had opened a door in my emotions and there was a bloody, hot flood still pouring through that door.

I needed to get away.

Sliding carefully down the bed I untangled myself from the sheets and crawled backward as slowly as I could manage. When my feet hit the floor, I dropped to all fours and scanned the carpet for my dress and shoes which were still by the sofa.

My panties were nowhere to be seen. Happily, my bra was only a few feet from where my dress lay in a crumpled heap. I hoped that Melita had a dry cleaner she trusted.

I got my bra back on and wriggled the dress up over my hips. Reaching back, I had the zipper about halfway up before my flexibility and finger strength gave out. Then I felt someone else's fingers taking over and I let my arms drop to my sides.

“Let me do that for you,” Lyle said with a sleepy sigh.

His hands dragged the zipper up slowly and it was such an intimate gesture that I almost wanted to fall into his arms again immediately.

What is wrong with you? It's only a zipper.

His lips traced the curve of my shoulder.

“You know, you don't have to leave. In fact, I would really rather you didn't."

I took a deep breath.

“Oh I think we've all had our fun,” I said with a light lilt in my voice, surprised at how well I kept the bitterness out.

He nodded against my shoulder, nuzzling me with his cheek. His hands slipped around the front of my dress and he pulled me close to him. I could feel his heavy cock pushing between my thighs again and another wave of memories flooded through the door, along with a sadness I couldn't explain.

I turned toward him and placed my hands against his chest, cupping my palms across the swells of his muscular pecs. It felt strange to be clothed while he stood there completely naked. Once again I was amazed at how comfortable he was with no clothes on as though he feared no judgment or criticism at all.

“I had such a wonderful time tonight,” I said, my voice suddenly going hoarse.

He grinned openly. “I told you you would.”

His smile was infectious and I let a grin pinch my cheeks. “Yes you did tell me that.”

I could have stood there all night and stroked his chest and shoulders and simply feasted my eyes on his long, strong form. But I didn't think my heart could take it. I wanted very much to go home.

“Thank you for everything,” I whispered as I slid my feet back into my heels and picked my handbag up off of the table.

“Thank you,” he growled, stepping forward and catching my jaw gracefully between his palms. He tipped my head back and gave me a long, lingering kiss. He just stood there sucking lightly at my lips, a vivid contrast to the raging hunger that he had displayed just a few hours ago.

When he finally pulled back he left me breathless. I had two competing desires in my mind: part of me desperately wanted to leave and part of me desperately wanted to stay.

I stumbled forward and smiled as I felt my cheeks go pink again. It seemed like it was so easy for him to simply connect with me. I felt raw and at the same time knew that the best salve was just to touch him again. And yet I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

“When will we see you again?” he asked.

“I'll have that proposal for you in a couple of days,” I answered smoothly.

“Well that wasn't what I —”

“I know,” I interrupted him. “But it is what I meant.”

He nodded curtly as though accepting my answer.

I walked away from him and opened the door without looking back to make sure that I didn't lose the will to leave.

The light in the hallway was harsh and bright. It had that new carpet smell and everything seemed to have been recently redecorated. I looked over my shoulder and noticed how clean everything was. Or perhaps these kinds of luxury establishments were just always in a state of newness.

The penthouse door began to swing closely closed, the hydraulics hissing softly. I looked the other way down the hallway and saw two figures coming toward me laughing, falling into each other. She had her shoes dangling from her fingers and he held her with both arms around her shoulders, pulling her tight to his front side.

My lips tightened. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the door was still open. When I glanced back, the couple had stopped. Carl stood with his mouth hanging open, his face going gray and bloodless. Whitney's rust red lips opened in a perfect O of surprise and her fingers shot forward as though she was determined once again to get to me. I felt steel bands clamp around my rib cage and all my breath seemed to curdle in my lungs.

The door finally closed,
click
. My only escape was gone. I was going to have to walk down the hall.

End of “Jacks” Book 1 of Billionaire Brothers, II.
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Meg Watson

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Callie

Auger snored softly on the couch with his thick, muscular arm thrown up to shield his eyes from the searing morning sun. His broad chest rose slowly with every breath and soft, growling noises filled the room.

Callie bit her lips together and tried to ignore him and just get her work done on the other side of the small living room/kitchen combo. But every time she commanded herself to simply
concentrate
, somehow the camera just seemed to shift on its own, drawing him back into the frame. Even from across the room, while she pretended she couldn’t, she could see every ripple of every muscle under his skin. The sunlight caught every golden hair on his chest and lit it on fire.

This is stupid. This is stupid,
 she scolded herself silently.
Just get back to work. Ignore the snoring giant on the sofa. Ignore him. Or else.

The door opened behind her and she deliberately shifted her back to it as her brother, Bryce, shuffled through the entryway. Peering at the camera’s display, she pushed tiny buttons and dials to toggle the exposure higher and alter the shutter speed again.

Bryce came up behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder for just a second to annoy her. She pretended not to notice him as he surveyed the scene: Callie looking busy in the kitchen, Auger sleeping with his shirt off under the bay window.

It looks perfectly innocent,
 she told herself as she stabbed the camera’s buttons pointlessly with her thumbnail.
Oh, well… That’s because it is perfectly innocent. I’m not doing anything wrong. Just taking a picture of this damn plate of food, with nothing on my mind at all. Nope. Not me.

So why do I feel so guilty?

Callie sighed through her nose and peered at the LED screen. The composition of the photo was was all wrong, she knew, but she didn’t have any idea how to fix it. And in about 30 seconds, the butter was going to turn opaque and waxen and look completely inedible anyway.

What a waste of a morning,
 she groaned to herself.

Bryce’s voice was sudden and grating at her shoulder. “What is that supposed to be? Some kind of scrambled eggs?” he smirked. His voice felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“Shut it. I’m trying to concentrate.”

He leaned closer, his chin just over her arm.

“What do those buttons do?”

She sighed irritably and said nothing, jerking her shoulder back to dislodge him.
What do the buttons do?
she thought.
 Hell if I know, honestly.

“What? I’m just looking,” he said innocently.

“Bryce, seriously...
back off
,” she hissed, waving her hand over her shoulder and hoping she could smack him in the face by mistake.

Click
. She took a shot then squinted at the result. The image on screen was passably attractive. She could imagine it on Pinterest or a foodie site of some sort. But on closer inspection, somehow all the bits of red pepper seemed to have lined up. They looked like a treasure map to nowhere or the blank spots on a game of Hangman. She reached out and spun the plate a quarter turn and
click
, took another.

“How are people supposed to know if that’s good food if they can’t tell what it is?”

“It’s a fucking
omelet
, Bryce. How do you
not
 know what it is?”

She stood up, frustrated and ready to lash out but when she turned, he had that goofy golden retriever look on his face like when they were kids. He bounced on his toes from side to side and smiled apologetically. Something was up, but she was too busy to ask.

“Naw, go on, sis,” he pleaded, shrugging toward the counter. “I was just playing with you.”

Callie glared at him, her mood stubbornly refusing to brighten even as he grinned and danced from foot to foot.

“Don’t stop,” he continued, whining. “Do your thing. It looks good, honest!”

“Whatever,” she grumbled and flipped through the last three shots on the camera. They would have to do, she knew, at least until she could figure out what she was doing wrong. She gave the plate an irritable poke with her finger.

“It looks good,” he mumbled again behind her.

“Fine,” she sighed, giving up. “You eat it.”

“Sweet!” he exclaimed and went to the far side of the kitchen counter, dragging the plate with him as he pulled out a bar stool.

“Jesus... Use a fork, Bryce!” she complained, getting a utensil close to his hand just in time.

He ate with gusto, shoveling palm-sized portions into his mouth with barely a breath in between. Callie stared at him with an expression of mild disgust. He still ate like a barn animal, which is exactly what their mom had said when they were little.
You eat like a barn animal!

I guess some things never change,
Callie thought wryly.

“This is good, whatever it is,” he slurred between swallows.

“It’s an om— Oh forget it. Thanks.”

She sullenly kicked the tripod legs back together and leaned the camera back in the cramped corner that acted as her staging area/studio/office. Ever since Auger had claimed the sofa for his own, her personal real estate had dwindled dramatically.

“You know, you’re wasting your time with food,” Bryce mumbled thoughtfully, his cheeks bulging. He gestured toward the sofa with the butt end of his fork. “You should be taking pictures of
that
.”

Callie automatically looked where he was pointing, even as she commanded herself not to. Auger was still somehow asleep, a forearm over his eyes, the old gingham quilt diagonal across his broad chest. Like this, he seemed absolutely harmless.

“No way,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“You wouldn’t even have to wake him,” Bryce insisted. “Ladies go crazy for this he-man shit. Just a few pictures, some candid snaps…”