Bet on Ecstasy (8 page)

When she whimpered in a near beg, he enjoyed the sound, almost as if she knew he could give her another orgasm. He liked that she thought he was capable, because in this regard, he was. Some men didn’t understand the G-spot, but luckily for Kyra, both of them excelled in everything they did. With his free hand firmly pressed against her bottom, he slid his fingers inside her hard and fast, in up and down movements. After two strokes, Kyra attempted to move away from him, but Smith wrapped an arm around her waist and pinned her to him.

He continued pumping them inside of her, and Kyra screamed so loud that Smith’s cock throbbed in acknowledgment of the sexy sound. Wetness spread over his fingers and dripped down onto his palm. But he didn’t stop his determined thrusts until her voice had gone quiet.

As he yanked his fingers out, she wobbled and whimpered, and he preferred seeing her that way. Blindfolded with his tie, unable to stand properly, cheeks flushed, and satisfied. Though he wasn’t nearly finished with her.

He turned her to him, pushed her back against the staircase, and hooked one of her legs over his arm. He stared at her parted lips just under the blindfold and positioned his cock against her slick heat. Then he unleashed the strength behind his muscles onto her body.

Right now, he didn’t care about her pleasure. He only cared about his. He fucked her how he wanted to—raw and dirty. Fast strokes slamming against her repeatedly, which sent all that lovely wetness of hers spreading out between them.

He inhaled her feminine scent mixed with the rich musk of her arousal, and that’s all it took to send him over the edge. Heat rushed down his spine, carried into his sac, then coursed like flickers of flames into his groin. With a loud roar and a final thrust forward, his cum shot from his cock, leaving him jerking and bucking.

By the time his mind returned to a state of coherent thought, he discovered he rested his forehead against hers and her deep pants sent warm breaths over his chin. Yet, the sound of a door closing brought his focus. He lowered her leg from his arm and backed away from her. “Stand there. Don’t remove the blindfold.”

She straightened, her lips pressed into a firm line. “You’re not leaving me, right?”

He smiled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Sweetheart, leaving you is the last thing on my mind.”

WITHIN THE DARKNESS, Kyra heard footsteps, but she couldn’t tell if they were Smith’s leaving or Brock’s returning. She could only stand near what she knew was the staircase as the warm air caressed her naked flesh. Her entire body shook from the inside out. Even her muscles were weak, and her body hummed in happiness from two impressive orgasms. The inability to see left her somehow excited and frightened.

Thrilling…

Part of her wanted to remove the blindfold to see the view around her, the other—naughtier—part didn’t. She’d always wanted someone to blindfold her, but none of her ex-boyfriends had ever asked. Smith had asked her permission, yet he’d also held the tie in his hand as if he’d planned to persuade her if she refused. Somehow, that confidence he had exuded mixed with the naughtiness excited her.

The footsteps drew closer, and Kyra tilted her head, trying to identity who approached. Then she heard someone walking around her and her heart hammering in her ears, and that was about it. The warm air brushed over her skin as the person settled in front, and then the blindfold tightened with her smile as she recognized the
who
by her now.

Brock.

She hadn’t expected to know the difference, but even with the blindfold, she discovered she could tell the men apart. It surprised her how connected she felt to them, how comfortable she was standing there naked for them. When a finger slid over her shoulder and down her arm, she knew Brock stood with her.

Smith’s hands were gentle, yet determined. Brock’s touches were teasing, but confident. Maybe some wouldn’t notice the subtle difference. It seemed she did. The light tickling touch drew a shudder from her that had her inhaling, and she realized even their smells were different. Smith smelled like lemon mixed with sandalwood. Brock smelled like citrus and musky tones.

The latter was all that consumed her.

A low chuckle sent a hot wave of heat pooling low in her belly. “Damn, kitten, you’ve proved me wrong.”

She shivered under his playful touch along her spine. “Wrong?”

Brock’s minty breath caressed over her face. “I didn’t think you could possibly get me any harder, but…” He rested his erection against her thigh. “Do you feel how hard I am?”

“Very hard,” she rasped.

“Indeed,” he murmured.

What interested her more was that his erection wasn’t covered by his pants. Brock was naked and had already put on a condom. Tonight, the men weren’t playing around, nor were they letting her own the show. They controlled the moment, and right now, she liked that.

In fact, she wanted more.

Could this night possibly sate her?

Doubtful.

Brock wrapped his hands around her shoulders, then eased her forward. Within only a few steps, he pulled her to a stop, and whispered in her ear, “There’s a chair in front of you. Reach down and grab the armrests.”

Kyra leaned forward, and with Brock’s help, wrapped her fingers around the armrests. Then Brock’s cock nudged her entrance and only another second after that—without saying a word—he shoved his cock into the depths of her.

She was ready for him. In fact, she’d never been so wet.

Kyra wondered if her orgasm at the table had revved the men up, because both Smith and Brock appeared to show no patience. Then she wondered if it was her, blindfolded, and naked in the foyer, which caused their primal advances.

Whatever the reason, she liked the rewards.

She liked being the center of their attention.

A slap against her bottom drew her out of her thoughts and into Brock’s control. He gripped her ass cheeks and squeezed them tightly as he thrust in and out. The force as well as the speed with which he pumped into her indicated he intended for this lovemaking to be quick and hard.

Brock’s deep grunts only increased the rise of her pleasure. She loved his manly sounds and the wet sucking noises around them. The feel of him driving into her, the erotic smells drifting through the air, and the primal nature of how he took her all set her aflame.

One of his hands left her bottom, and then there was a tug on her hair, right before he removed her blindfold. “Watch yourself while I fuck you.” His voice deepened. “See what I see.”

The moment the darkness cleared to clarity, she caught sight of herself in the large mirror above the chair she held on to, and her breath caught in her throat. She’d never looked at herself during sex before. Now she looked all mussed.

Brock’s thrusts increased in speed and force. He gripped her bottom and spread her cheeks apart. “Do you see your face, kitten? Do you see your flushed cheeks? How your lips are parted, drawing in deep breaths? The way your eyes are begging me to take you harder?”

Yes, she could see all those things.

Instead of answering him, she looked into the mirror, and behind her, Brock’s piercing eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her burn. Then she caught sight of Smith, who leaned against the staircase. He had re-dressed in his black pants but had remained shirtless.

Brock withdrew his cock, drawing her attention to him. He thrust forward with punishing strength. “This is what I see when I fuck you, Kyra.” He leaned down, pressing the full weight of his body against her sweaty back, and whispered in her ear, “It drives me crazy.”

Perhaps it was that velvety voice, or maybe even that both men watched her now, but that’s all it took to blast her into orgasm. She trembled, screamed, and gripped the armrests as pleasure surged into every molecule of her body. Brock thrust against her until he shouted against his own climax, and behind her, his body jerked and bucked.

Not until a finger trailed her spine did her thoughts return. Kyra tried to catch her breath, feeling boneless. Brock withdrew from her, sliding his hand over her bottom. She straightened. “God, no.”

A well-deserved arrogant smirk filled Brock’s face. “Had enough for now?”

“Yes,” she said, breathless. “I cannot possibly survive another orgasm.” Even if that was only half the reason she wanted him to stop.

With a low, sexy chuckle, which had her rethinking her decision to tell him to stop, Brock removed his hand. A loud snort came across the room, and she looked over Brock’s shoulder to Smith.

The side of his mouth curved. “You are a clever woman.”

Brock’s brow furrowed as he watched Smith, and then his eyes narrowed on Kyra. “Let me take a guess, Smith made you come twice tonight, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Why?” She batted her lashes. “Is that a problem?”

Brock frowned. “I do remember Smith telling you that we take our bets seriously. Are you ever going to let one of us win?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “Not tonight.”

Smith barked a laugh, approaching her. “The bathroom is down the hallway—third door on your right. Brock ran you a bath before he joined us.”

Her belly fluttered at how neither of them rejected the thought of another night with her. She damn well wanted more too. Hearing their story, learning of their difficult past, and even that they were so close they lived together, it all intrigued her. She wanted to know what made them tick, the lives behind the millionaires. Then she took in what Smith said and frowned. “You’re not joining me in the bath?”

Brock tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled gently. “We have to spend a little time working tonight. Once you’re done, we’ll likely be finished.”

Her chest constricted as the sudden familiarity of his words sent a wave of discomfort to steal her happiness. “Okay,” she managed through her tight throat.

Brock gave her bottom a hard smack and her a quick peck on the lips before he turned away to fetch his clothes. After Smith mirrored the light kiss, they strode down the hallway and entered the office.

Kyra stared at the empty hallway as a memory rushed into her mind.

A young Kyra skipped down the hallway, then leaped into her father’s arms. “Daddy, it’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday, baby.” Her father smiled, pieces of his dark gelled hair broke free and hung over his forehead. “Seven years old, you’re such a big girl.”

Kyra pushed out of her father’s arms as he lowered her to the hardwood floor. “Mommy said we’re leaving soon for my pizza party.”

“I know.” Her father cupped her cheek. “But, darling, I’m sorry to say I can’t make it.”

A slow disappointment slid over her, making her chin quiver. “Why?”

Her father’s brown eyes were shadowed, his brows drawn together, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “An important meeting has come up at work. You know Daddy can’t miss these things.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “But it’s my birthday.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Next year I won’t miss it.” Her father smiled. “I promise, Kyra.”

Kyra blinked out of the memory, staring at the office door Smith and Brock had entered, a cold shiver sliding through her.

Her father never kept his promise.

Chapter Seven

One month had passed in a blur of exciting nights of hot sex. Thirty long days went by with Kyra daydreaming about those erotic adventures during her workday. The passing weeks had left her body happy and her smile genuine.

The hum of the limousine’s engine slowing drew Kyra away from the memory of her wicked nights spent between two delicious men. She looked out her window, noticing the driver stopping in front of the Hotel Monaco Baltimore.

Only a moment later, her door whisked open, and she stepped out into a warm, dry night. The driver shut the door behind her, and tipped his hat. “Have a wonderful evening, miss.”

“Thank you.” She smiled.

It’d been a while since she’d been driven anywhere in a limousine. Her father had enjoyed the luxury of such things, but Kyra preferred a car she could drive herself. Furthermore, no matter how nice the limo was, it would’ve been nicer if Brock and Smith were in the car as they had planned.

She’d seen the empty seats and experienced the slow slide of disappointment before she’d received the phone call from Smith. He told her that they would have to meet her at the charity event tonight because a meeting held them up.

In the month she’d spent with them, she couldn’t even count on two hands how many times they were late or had to rearrange a dinner date because of work. The tension in her chest that had developed the first night she’d slept at their place hadn’t left her. In fact, it’d become worse.

With a heavy feeling forming in her stomach, she pushed the thoughts from her mind, knowing tonight wasn’t about her. Standing on the sidewalk, she inhaled the scents of stale air mixed with car exhaust.

The hotel, which was located in the Ohio Railroad headquarters of Baltimore, had been the annual spot for the charity gala hosted by both MDR Software and the hotel, which benefited Baltimore’s foster families. The silent and live auctions, as well as the three-hundred-a-plate dinners, helped foster kids attend camp and join sports teams, and some even received scholarships to go to college.

Kyra noted that carved into the stone was
1906
indicating the hotel’s age. She'd been in this hotel before, and it was five stars all the way.

The greeter standing at the revolving door with the earpiece and clipboard in his hand told her enough that tonight the hotel was completely off-limits to the public and had been rented out for the evening. She approached, and when she reached the young man, he said, “Name, please.”

“Kyra Garner,” she replied.

Holding a piece of paper in his hands, he read for only a split second, indicating Smith and Brock put her name at the top of the list. “Enjoy your night, Ms. Garner.”

She entered and stepped into the three-story lobby with its original marble floor and Tiffany stained-glass windows. Kyra thought the hotel looked modern and slick, yet somehow timeless too.