Page 18
Story: Room One Hundred and Eleven
None of us is taking any chances that something else goes haywire or that she sneaks past us somehow before we can bury ourselves in her sweet pussy and wreck ourselves in the process.
Please, please don’t say no.
I’m losing my mind here by myself. Sure, this was just a good time for me.
Some nasty kink we haven’t explored yet, unlike most others.
Suddenly, it’s more than that.
Because, from the moment I spotted her, I wanted Poppy unlike anything—or anyone—I can remember.
Carter and Aiden return, wearing tuxes.
In the time it takes them to walk to my outpost, Carter checks his custom-made gold watch—which Aiden and I got him for his thirty-fifth birthday—no less than ten times. “She’s got three minutes and seven seconds left.”
“What are we going to do then?” Aiden sighs. “Break down the door and force ourselves on her? Come on, Carter. Even you’re not about to take things that far.”
“Are you?” I’m not so sure. She signed his deal.
This beauty has us all out of sorts.
And hornier than usual.
Luckily, we don’t need to find out. I’m shocked when the handle in front of me turns. Especially without hearing the chain coming off the door first.
Poppy didn’t even lock us out? Our beauty needs to learn to take better care of herself.
Better yet, to let us do it for her.
If I’d bet on her to slink out of the suite with her hackles up or jump as high as a kitten startled by the vacuum when we turned our focus on her in unison, I’d have lost.
A sky-high stiletto pokes through the gap first, followed by a porcelain leg encased in fine black stockings that must connect to those garters I spied in her suitcase earlier. My gaze travels up her thigh. Way up. To the short, tight skirt of a killer, off-the-shoulder dress.
She’s still vulnerable enough to hug herself as she slips into the hallway, but her blood-red lipstick, matching nail polish, and the defiant stare she doesn’t know better than to fling at Carter tell me everything I need to know.
Fuck yes, I knew it.
She’s ours.
CHAPTER 7
Carter
“Ready to go, I see.” I can’t help but smirk at Poppy.
Damn, she’s exactly the right mix of innocent though bold, inexperienced though sassy, soft though strong.
Resistant, though willing.
“Yes, but…”
No buts, not now. Not until we’ve got her in the right frame of mind.
“This is a conversation we should have upstairs. The club has a lounge that’s neutral territory.” I extend my hand to her, though I’d rather scoop her up again. It’s not my right. Not yet.
When she places her fingers in my palm, I squeeze them once before handing her off to Aiden.
Without checking to see if he’s following, because of course he is, I head for the elevators and Club Sin waiting right above us.
Please, please don’t say no.
I’m losing my mind here by myself. Sure, this was just a good time for me.
Some nasty kink we haven’t explored yet, unlike most others.
Suddenly, it’s more than that.
Because, from the moment I spotted her, I wanted Poppy unlike anything—or anyone—I can remember.
Carter and Aiden return, wearing tuxes.
In the time it takes them to walk to my outpost, Carter checks his custom-made gold watch—which Aiden and I got him for his thirty-fifth birthday—no less than ten times. “She’s got three minutes and seven seconds left.”
“What are we going to do then?” Aiden sighs. “Break down the door and force ourselves on her? Come on, Carter. Even you’re not about to take things that far.”
“Are you?” I’m not so sure. She signed his deal.
This beauty has us all out of sorts.
And hornier than usual.
Luckily, we don’t need to find out. I’m shocked when the handle in front of me turns. Especially without hearing the chain coming off the door first.
Poppy didn’t even lock us out? Our beauty needs to learn to take better care of herself.
Better yet, to let us do it for her.
If I’d bet on her to slink out of the suite with her hackles up or jump as high as a kitten startled by the vacuum when we turned our focus on her in unison, I’d have lost.
A sky-high stiletto pokes through the gap first, followed by a porcelain leg encased in fine black stockings that must connect to those garters I spied in her suitcase earlier. My gaze travels up her thigh. Way up. To the short, tight skirt of a killer, off-the-shoulder dress.
She’s still vulnerable enough to hug herself as she slips into the hallway, but her blood-red lipstick, matching nail polish, and the defiant stare she doesn’t know better than to fling at Carter tell me everything I need to know.
Fuck yes, I knew it.
She’s ours.
CHAPTER 7
Carter
“Ready to go, I see.” I can’t help but smirk at Poppy.
Damn, she’s exactly the right mix of innocent though bold, inexperienced though sassy, soft though strong.
Resistant, though willing.
“Yes, but…”
No buts, not now. Not until we’ve got her in the right frame of mind.
“This is a conversation we should have upstairs. The club has a lounge that’s neutral territory.” I extend my hand to her, though I’d rather scoop her up again. It’s not my right. Not yet.
When she places her fingers in my palm, I squeeze them once before handing her off to Aiden.
Without checking to see if he’s following, because of course he is, I head for the elevators and Club Sin waiting right above us.
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