Page 22

Scarlett

The suite is glorious.

Through the front door, the foyer table is lined with champagne glasses for the taking, so we each grab one and proceed into the main den. I know what this room is meant for, but that doesn’t make it any less of a wonder to behold.

Everywhere I look, people are fucking—tables, chairs, couches, and even the floor. Like a burning car on the side of the highway, I find it hard to stop watching.

Standing around the entwined couples are a bunch of schmoozers, all sipping their glasses of champagne as if they’re completely unaware of their surroundings.

Pulling Penelope closer, I ask, “Can we go to the balcony for a cigarette? It’s a little overwhelming in here.” I need some goddamn air.

Stepping over the half-naked bodies in our path, we make our way through the den to the balcony on the other side of the room. Outside, I immediately spot three men fucking one woman in a hot tub, plus a few more couples on some lounge chairs.

Not really the space I was looking for, but I’ll take what I can get.

I grab the smokes from my clutch to share one with Penelope as we stare out over the railing, trying my best to act like everything is normal .

It hasn’t escaped me that Casanova and Broody weren’t a part of the crowd inside, at least not that I saw. The Rainbow Room is a penthouse suite that takes up the entire 12 th floor, so I’m sure there are bedrooms by the dozen that I just couldn’t see from the foyer.

I can’t help but wonder if tonight is all part of their game. Did they encourage me to come tonight just to fuck with me and totally blow me off? Will they take another girl instead, when they see that I’m with The Prince? Or maybe they finally get the hint that I’m not interested in playing anymore.

Not likely.

“Alright, if I’m gonna do this, I’m going to need something a lot stronger than champagne,” I lightheartedly exclaim.

Pen smiles before dragging me back inside to the kitchen where a bartender is serving mixed drinks. As always, we order our signature cocktails and set off to explore the suite.

Probably not the best idea, but hey. It’s a party.

The sex definitely isn’t limited to the den. Each closed door we pass is emitting loud sounds of pleasure. Spanking, moaning, screaming, crying, muffled screaming, pleading. Every single animalistic sound you can imagine a human making—they’re echoing through the air around us.

One room at the end of a hall is set up like a mini movie theater, with the large screen playing a news station’s broadcast of the ball drop. It’s almost an hour until the new year hits, and it’s starting to look like I won’t be receiving my midnight kiss after all.

We return to the kitchen and throw back as many drinks as we can to pass the time, but I’m not too worried because at the very least, we’ll have each other. It’s not like we’re strangers to kissing at parties anyway.

As we’re taking our third shot, two delicious men in pressed suits walk up to us, and I finally let out a breath of relief. The Prince brought a friend with him, and Pen attaches to him almost immediately. When they ask us to join them in one of the bedrooms, we give each other a quick glance of approval before they lead us away, hand in hand.

This is happening.

“All The Time” by Jeremih, Lil Wayne, and Natasha Mosely is playing on the surround-sound speakers spread out around the suite, and I’m fucking loving this new vibe. As soon as we make it into what seems like the only available bedroom, we’re all on each other in an instant.

I lock lips with The Prince, and Penelope straddles her guy on the bed to kiss his neck. The Prince steps backwards until his knees hit the edge, pulling me down onto his lap to mirror the other couple.

I’m so ready for this. I’ve been a pent-up mess since Christmas Eve with Skylar, and I don’t even care that Pen is about to watch me get fucked. I guess I’m going to watch her too.

I know the alcohol is running deep in my veins when the euphoria sets in. The Prince kisses down my neck, trailing from my throat all the way to the swell of my breasts, and I throw my head back with a low groan as I savor the attention to my sensitive and neglected skin. His lips suck fresh bruises into my tender flesh, and I squeeze my thighs around his hips, grinding down on his cock to seek the friction I so desperately need.

Something about Eden sets my soul and body on fire. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere, the superb bartending skills, or something else…but I’ve never felt as free and transcendent as I do when I’m here.

As if perfectly scheduled to ruin my buzz, the door to our room crashes open behind me. I don’t even get the chance to turn around and see what the commotion is about before I’m being lifted off The Prince’s lap, thrown over someone’s shoulder, and carried out of the room.

From a distance, I hear Penelope and the two men going off about what the fuck just happened, but we’re already at the end of the hallway and reentering the den of degenerates .

I kick and scream to the best of my ability, but the position I’m in is making me lightheaded, and every kick just results in a hard thwack to my ass. Not one person has run up to save me or even ask if I’m safe. They all think it’s part of the party’s shenanigans, but I’m in trouble.

Real, ass-spanking, punishing trouble.

We pass through to the opposite side of the den, but before I can scream one last time for help, we enter a bedroom and the door slams shut behind us.

I’m thrown down onto the bed, but I’m quick to gather my bearings now that the blood has drained from my head. Rising to my knees, I turn to confront him, absolutely fuming. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I was fucking busy!”

SMACK.

A hand strikes me so hard that I fall to my side with a gasp, instinctively grabbing my cheek to soothe the singed skin. When I look back, they’re both standing at the side of the bed with their arms crossed—dressed to the nines in navy-blue suits.

In what I think is a sly move, I slide from the bed and charge at Casanova, shoving his chest with both hands to offset his balance.

He grabs my wrists, forcing them down and around his waist, effectively locking me in close with my arms trapped behind his back. I struggle to break free, but he somehow ensnares both of my wrists with one hand, using the other to rip my hair back until we’re face to face.

Panting heavily against each other’s mouths, we share a cloud of hot, angry air before he attacks. He kisses me with such fervor—such passion and heat—that I can’t breathe anymore. For a moment, I almost forget how pissed I am at him for stealing me away from what could have been a new and exciting experience.

He finally pulls away to give me the chance to breathe, only to mock my intelligence. “Did you think we forgot about you? What, you don’t trust us to follow through?” he asks with a smirk .

My lips are swollen, tingling with every word. “Is that a serious question? When have you ever followed through with me?”

All they do is leave me hanging, waiting like a dog for its bone.

“But you came.”

“You threatened me!” I shout, but his face twitches at the accusation, like he doesn’t fucking know what I’m talking about. I turn to Broody, the person who most definitely does. “I found his note. I got his texts. Coming to my apartment was one thing, but my dad’s house? That’s really fucked up, even for you two.”

His entire demeanor flips like a switch before he releases me. “What the fuck did you do?” At first, I think he’s talking to me until he turns to Broody. “You left a note at her house?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Broody gestures toward me. “We wanted her to come, and now she’s here.”

Casanova faces me again, cupping my face between his palms. “He can be a real prick sometimes.” It’s hard to think when he’s thumbing my sore cheek, making me melt into his touch. “Stay with us.” Kiss. “We’re all finally together. Let’s enjoy it.” Kiss. “ No Red Room, just the three of us, here. Let us make you feel good.” Kiss.

I’m startled by the warm hand grazing my neckline when Broody presses himself against my backside, trapping me between them. He swipes the hair off my shoulder before nosing into the crook of my neck, his other hand firmly planted on my waist.

Fighting through the pleasure and sensual touches heating me from the outside in, I lean back into Broody and ask, “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Yes.”

“But…” Casanova cuts in, sensing my tension. “You’re going to like it. I promise.” He thumbs my bottom lip, coaxing my mouth open for a kiss that requires little effort on my part.

Being with them is always effortless when they take control—like two brilliant puppeteers pulling the strings of their broken marionette .

I have to make a decision. I may have chosen to come tonight, but this is my final chance to walk away if that’s what I truly want.

But do I?

How can I walk away when the man behind me is running his tongue from my neck to my ear, electrifying my skin? How can I walk away when the man in front of me is devouring my lips, our moans harmonizing in the most beautiful way?

All I can muster is a nod, eager to keep our lips locked so I don’t have to feel responsible for letting them play me again.

Is it really my decision if I don’t speak it aloud?

Casanova’s instant smile breaks our contact, and when he whispers, “That’s our good girl,” the white flag of surrender waves frantically. “Why don’t we show our friend how well you can take his cock, hm? Fuck, you look so beautiful tonight. It’ll be a shame to ruin that pretty dress.”

Broody is a lot less broody now, slipping from behind me to take his place on the edge of the bed. The sound of his zipper opening makes me shiver, but Casanova gives my cheek a soothing stroke of encouragement before nudging me into action.

Without the two of them blocking my vision, I examine the room they brought me to. We seem to be in the master bedroom, but it’s too dark in here to see the entirety of it. The only source of light comes from LED strips lining the top trim of the walls, casting a sultry glow of red and purple.

The bed is massive, clearly fitted to host an orgy. I wonder how they claimed this room before anyone else could, though. Did they get here early and block people from entering?

Not that it matters anyway. It’s ours now.

Broody sits there, leaning back on one arm while sliding his other hand up and down his shaft, getting worked up for me. He eyes me curiously as I lift my dress and kneel between his knees, shifting uncomfortably as I try to steady myself on the ground.

I’m hesitant to touch him. We may have shared something private on my birthday, but he’s the one who broke into my dad’s house—something that apparently wasn’t discussed and agreed upon.

Now, I want nothing more than to hurt him back.

I don’t realize I’ve been absentmindedly tearing a hole into my dress until a hand covers mine with a tight squeeze. “Don’t even think about it. You agreed to play, so be nice.” Casanova’s voice is stern in my ear, and when I glance over my shoulder, I catch him kneeling on the floor beside me.

Like a good dog on a leash, I heel. For now.

Broody waits for me to fist his cock before leaning back on both hands, obviously apprehensive after witnessing my scolding. He thinks I’m going to hurt him, and that’s good enough for me.

I still might.

I lean forward to pull him into my mouth, sucking and hollowing my cheeks to apply pressure as I sink down further. Carefully, I uncurl my lips and scrape my teeth against him when I pull back.

He jumps back and responds with a sharp hiss, “I’m not going to put up with your bratty shit like he does, I’ll tell you that right now. Keep fucking pushing me, Ruby, and I’ll rip every one of your goddamn teeth out.”

Casanova grabs me so roughly around the nape of my neck that I wail in pain. “Do I need to find another way to make you behave?” he asks. When I shake my head vigorously, he lets out a pleased hum, swiping a few strands of hair away from my face. “Good, then open up or I’ll get the gag. That’s it, just like before.”

I’m doing my best to open my throat and breathe through my nose like he taught me, but I start to panic when his hand presses down on the back of my head.

I’m seriously going to die by dick.

He’s choking me on Broody’s cock, forcing me down until it lodges in the back of my throat. The lack of air has me fighting for my life. I push on his thighs to lift myself off, but Broody grabs my wrists and yanks backwards, using my arms to keep himself suspended.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, Casanova lets go of my head and allows me a gasp of air. Even then, Broody has me stretched so far forward, his cock barely leaves my lips before I’m falling back onto it.

To avoid further punishment, I use my tongue to caress his shaft when I take him in, abandoning my malice. He seems to like it this time, and though I’m not happy about him winning, I’m still on a mission to find his weakness. I need to find that thing that will make him bend—aside from his blatant jealousy issues—and maybe it’s here in the tip of his dick like it is for his friend.

When I give extra attention to the frenulum, he moans so seductively, I have to stop my pride from flaring up, else I’ll fall right into his trap again.

“Fuuuck. Did you teach her this shit?” He rewards my handiwork by stroking his fingers lightly across my skin in appreciation, easing up the tension on my arms.

Casanova chuckles, clearly reminiscing about our own time together when I did this for him. “Nope. Little minx does it all on her own.”

Immediately, Broody’s nails dig crescents into my wrist where he was caressing me only moments ago. Apparently, the idea of me having some sexual experience outside of their torture room is just too much for this caveman to handle.

I’ve just about had it with this guy now. In retaliation, I bite the head of his cock when I come up for air, no longer giving a shit what they do to me.

As long as I make my point.

“God damnit! You fucking bitch, I swear—” Shoving me backwards, he forces me to the floor and climbs on top with a hand wrapped around my throat. His other hand pushes through my lips, where he curls his fingers around my bottom teeth and yanks on them—just like he threatened to .

“Alright, that’s enough.” Casanova pushes Broody off, then grabs me by the hair until I stumble to my feet. Pointing a finger in my face, he says, “Remember, we tried to do this the nice way. Take off your dress and sit on his lap.”

Trying to fight against his hold, I shove at his chest, but he springs right back to tear at the sleeve of my dress. Instinctively, I swing my arm and land a slap across his cheek, stopping him dead in his tracks.

His head remains frozen in place where the strike left him, but I can see the rage building on his facial features. His brow tightens, his nostrils twitch, and his jaw clenches shut.

Shit.

When his hand shifts slightly at his hip and I hear the familiar sound of his knife flicking open, I’m the one to stiffen. The only movement I can manage is to raise my hands in defeat, pleading for mercy.

I didn’t plan for this, but it always felt inevitable. I knew one of these days they were going to use it on me…like actually use it instead of just threatening me or leaving tiny wounds. That has to be their big plan for the Red Room. I can’t think of anything worse, and I know that room is for the most dangerous kinks.

These guys obviously have a hard-on for knives, and I’m reminded of the cycling nightmare with my masked predator—the different ways he cuts and stabs me when he finally catches up to me in the woods.

I know these two wouldn’t kill me, but how badly are they looking to hurt me?

“Do I have to cut you out of that dress, or are you going to be good and take it the fuck off yourself?” Casanova turns to face me and takes a few steps before pressing the knife into the dip of my throat. I’ve never seen him so angry.

“I-I’ll be g-good.” I’m shaking, trembling with fear—or maybe arousal—but I quickly shed my dress and panties until I’m completely nude. They’re still wearing their suits, of course, so I’m back to feeling like an exposed skeleton on display for their amusement .

Before I can take a step backwards to the bed, Broody grabs my waist and hoists me into his lap, throwing my calves over each of his thighs so my legs are fully spread. Really, I’m sitting more on his lower abdomen with the hairs on his groin scratching against my ass. I have no idea what the plan is here, and I can’t control the hyperventilation that ensues when I run through all the possible scenarios in my head.

Loud shouts of glee suddenly boom from the den, and I can just barely make out what they’re saying over my heavy breathing.

“Ten! . . . Nine!”

There’s ten seconds until the ball drops, and I’m in the worst position I could have gotten myself into. I’m naked, sitting on the lap of some guy whose dick I just bit, and I’m about to be punished. There’s no doubt about it.

But how badly?

“Eight! . . . Seven!”

Casanova creeps over to us and situates himself between our legs. Down comes his fly, and the beast returns, swollen and leaking from the tip. He strokes the length of it, staring directly at me with his lips pulled into a tight, unamused frown. Swiping his thumb over a bead of precum, he collects it on his fingertip before pushing it into my mouth.

“Six! . . . Five!”

He gets down on his knees and spits directly on my pussy, then runs his fingers through the moisture until I’m dripping wet. Not that I needed it, anyway; I’ve been squirming for their touch since the moment we entered the room.

I throw my head back, reveling in the attention to my clit when he starts circling his thumb around it. Broody wraps his arm around my shoulder to grab my throat, applying enough pressure to keep me still and unable to move my head.

“Four! . . . Three! ”

Casanova must be doing something to Broody’s dick that I can’t see. He starts bucking up into my ass, a moan escaping the lips now wrapped around the space between my neck and shoulder when he bites into my tender flesh.

It doesn’t take long to put together the fact that he was sucking Broody’s cock to wet it again, because I suddenly feel it brush against my inner thigh and it’s as soaked as I am. The head slides up along my pussy, but instead of the penetrating pressure I’m expecting, something else happens.

I soon realize he’s slotting his own cock into position, right on top of Broody’s. They’re both pushing slightly, stretching my entrance to accommodate the pair. They’re stretching me to fit both of them, at the same time.

“Two! . . . One!”

The panic sets in and I fight. I wriggle as much as they’ll allow me to, but Broody’s hold keeps me trapped and Casanova plants a hand on my thigh to steady himself, bracing for impact.

I’m not going anywhere—literally or figuratively. I didn’t leave when I had the chance to, so eager to finally have them, but now I’m sandwiched between them and physically incapable of doing anything but accepting it…exactly how they’ve always wanted me.

“Happy fucking New Year,” Casanova taunts, just as I’m ripped open by the force of them.