Page 9 of Sold to the Silver Foxes (Forbidden Hearts #6)

TABITHA

I’m pretty sure my brain is not operating on the higher levels.

That’s the only explanation for the deep, weightless calm that’s settled over me, despite the fact that I’m in a lavish, kinky hotel suite with three men I literally just met—three men who collectively bought my virginity.

But somehow, Salvatore’s hands on my back have coaxed me into a state I can only describe as… safe.

If someone told me two hours ago that this was possible—that I could be relaxed in a scenario like this—I’d have laughed in their face. Yet here I am, face buried in a silky black pillow, arms tucked under my chest, exhaling slow breaths while Sal’s strong hands work magic on the small of my back.

Dante is the one who occasionally murmurs a playful aside, his tone lighter. He’s on the bed, which is enormous, so he’s not close enough to touch me. Instead, he’s casually touching himself over his pants.

If I had to guess, I’d say he’s the youngest of the three. He has a mop of loose salt-and-pepper curls that remind me of a soccer player. Eyes like the sea. He’s the tallest too, with a lean, muscular frame.

Nico’s the quieter one, standing near a piece of furniture I can only describe as a large wood and leather letter X.

He has a mismatch between his body and his attitude.

There’s an orderliness about him, thanks to his perfectly trimmed gray crew cut and calculating hazel eyes.

It’s almost like he’d be more comfortable in a boardroom than a bedroom.

But he’s built for more than filling out paperwork, well-muscled. He’s watching me like he’s studying for a test he very much wants to take.

Sal has to be the eldest of the brothers—smile lines bracket his mouth and flare at the corners of his eyes. His silver Caesar cut is sharp at the edges—almost a widow’s peak at his hairline that matches the angles of his short beard. And his eyes are dark, verging on black.

I keep wondering what they look like naked.

Part of me expected them to tear my clothes off the instant we got up here. But they haven’t. Instead, they gave me space to breathe. They’re hot too, a little voice in my head points out.

I can’t exactly ignore it. I’d steeled myself for the possibility that the bidders might be…well, gross or desperate. These three are the opposite. They’re wealthy, sure, but you can tell they’re healthy, confident, and used to getting what they want. So why buy me?

A rustle of movement at my side indicates someone is closer.

For a moment, I wonder if it’s Dante or Nico stepping in, but the hand that brushes a strand of hair from my temple belongs to Sal.

I pick up his faint cologne—something clean and understated, with a hint of spice. Goose bumps prickle across my skin.

“I’m going to roll you over now,” Sal murmurs, voice low enough to be soothing.

I nod, resisting the small flutter of panic that surfaces.

He slides an arm under my shoulders, another under my knees, and flips me gently onto my back.

My white satin slip bunches up around my hips, and heat flushes my cheeks when I realize how much skin is showing.

My thighs, the curve of my waist, maybe a glimpse of my underwear.

He cups my cheek, and for a second, I wonder if he will kiss me on the mouth.

Instead, he bends down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead as he pulls the slip into its original place.

This is nothing like I expected. His small gesture nearly undoes me. It’s so oddly tender that tears threaten. I blame adrenaline and the emotional whiplash of the night, but I blink them back fast. I don’t want to cry now, not when everything finally feels… manageable.

Sal’s voice pulls me back to reality. “Tabitha, I think we’d all like to see more of you. Would you mind undressing for us? We’d like to fully appreciate what we’ve purchased.”

The words what we’ve purchased land with a jolt, reminding me why I’m here. He doesn’t sound smug or cruel, though—he’s simply stating the truth. Swallowing, I search his eyes. There’s no malice there. Just interest. Perhaps a flicker of desire. Definitely curiosity.

I nod, my cheeks flaming. “Okay.”

Sal’s mouth curves in a faint smile, and he shifts off the bed to give me space. Gulping down nerves, I push myself up on my elbows. The pearl necklace shifts at my throat, clinking softly. I’m reminded once again of my safety net. If I need to stop, I can. That knowledge helps me move forward.

I scoot upright, letting my legs dangle off the side of the bed. My slip rucks up, revealing my thighs. Dante arches a brow, but none of them rush forward or bark commands. They’re waiting for me.

A shaky exhale escapes me as my fingers grasp the thin straps over my shoulders.

In one smooth motion, I slip them down. The satin glides over my skin, snagging briefly on my breasts before sliding further down.

My body tenses at the exposure. Slowly, I ease the garment over my hips, then lift my knees to pull it the rest of the way off.

Standing here naked in front of them does something to me. Maybe I’m broken. I should feel scared, shouldn’t I? But right now, all I feel is a low-down throb between my legs.

“Better,” Sal says, voice low. He runs a single fingertip along my jaw, then down to the slope of my shoulder, so close to my breast that I inhale sharply, bracing for more.

But he doesn’t push forward. “Thank you. Now lie back down, if you don’t mind.

I can continue that massage, or we can move on to more. Your choice.”

My tongue darts over my lips. My pulse hammers, and heat pools in my belly. Part of me wants to hide under the covers. The other part, the one that recognizes this is happening , spurs me on.

“I’m ready for more.” I barely recognize my own voice.

Still, they don’t pounce. Instead, Sal looks me over one more time. “Tell us, Tabitha, have you ever been bound before?”

I blink. That’s the last thing I ever expected to be asked. Does he think this is some kind of fraud? “I’m a virgin—I passed Pietro’s lie detector test and everything. I?—”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” he says, waving away my concern. “Some people try BDSM before they ever have sex. I was merely asking if you have.”

“Oh.” My heart stutters, trying to get back to a normal rhythm. “Um, no. I haven’t. Never went past making out and holding hands in high school.”

“And college?” Sal asks.

“No time for guys then.” I shrug. “My classes took up all my time.” I’m not about to tell them more than that. They don’t need to know my sob story—the last thing I need is for them to think I’m the poor girl who’s hitting them up for money.

Sal steps closer now, close enough to touch me. Those dark eyes peer into me as his deep voice rumbles, “And you want tonight to be your first time?”

My throat goes dry, but I’m wet between my legs. It’s the weirdest contrast. “Yes.”

He gives a slight jerk of his head toward something behind me. “We’d like you on the merry-go-bound.”

I’m not sure if I heard him right. “The what?”

In an old-school move, he juts his elbow out from his body, a clear indication for me to take it.

So, I do. His evening suit’s material is fine, finer than any of the jackets I take at the bistro.

But it barely registers. My heart thumps in my chest as we approach the device that looks like a small merry-go-round with a bunch of straps on it.

Oh. Merry-go- bound .

It’s maybe six feet across and has a ton of black leather padding in every direction. The furniture (toy?) stands a little taller than my waist. I’m not even sure how to use it.

“Um—”

“Let me help you up.” He clasps his hands at my waist and gives me a lift onto the thing. Once I’m on it, the way the padding fits against my body makes me want to lie back, so I do.

“Like this?” I’m on my back, but every part of me is supported. There’s even a lumbar cushion near the edge. But it leaves my lower body dangling off the edge.

“Precisely, though you’ll be more comfortable if you place your heels on the edge there, or you can lean them on the bars, there and there,” he says as he points to the metal bars that separate the riders.

In fact, I’m pretty sure there could be up to four riders on this thing. Now that I’m thinking about it…what the hell? I swallow hard. “So this thing…it’s made to have more people on it, right? And people stand around it to touch them?”

“In a way,” Dante says as he approaches. His gaze has gone feral. “But tonight, there’s only you and only us.”

“And it’s not only for touching,” Nico adds as he joins us, pulling his tie apart on his way.

Right. Not only for touching. I knew that. But I’m rambling because I can’t think straight. I’m too aroused. Putting my heels up means fully exposing myself to Sal right now, and the other two once the wheel turns. They’ll see…everything.

Well, they did buy everything, so…

I put my heels on the edge of the rotating platform. Thankfully, there’s a spot for me to rest my feet, so it’s not uncomfortable. What is uncomfortable is the way Sal is looking at me.

Not lasciviously. It’s almost as though he’s conflicted, or having too many thoughts at once. He takes a breath. “May I touch you, Tabitha?”

At this point, I’m so turned on that I might die if he doesn’t. I hiss out the word. “Yes.”

His touch is just as careful as before, two strong hands smoothing down the inside of my thighs. Right when he’s about to get there, though, he skims his hands over my belly, resting them at my hips.

For the love of god, man ? —

“I need a taste.”

“Yes.”

He moves faster than I expected he could, ducking between my legs before wrapping his arms around my hips to bring me to the edge of the platform. He’s kneeling before me, but there’s no question that he’s in control right now. A shock of pleasure hits when something touches my clit.

His tongue. It has to be his tongue. Fingers don’t move like that.