Page 16 of Swept Away (Men of War #1)

G EMMA

We eat at a restaurant and enter the nightclub at around nine.

At a glance, we look like a normal couple–Mason and I–having a good time with our friend, Carter.

After that little escapade in the car, Carter had to go to the restaurant restroom first before coming to our table.

I could only imagine what had happened there.

He looked fresh and in control, his eyes still glinting with hunger.

Mason didn’t say a thing while we were alone.

He only moved his gaze over my dress before ordering drinks for all of us.

I run my fingers through my hair several times as we walk toward the club, afraid the moisture in the air makes it look unkept, but he assures me everything is all right.

His arm is coiled around my waist as we walk into the venue, with Carter swaggering by our side.

We claim our seats in a booth and order drinks.

Wine for me, water for Carter––he’s the designated driver when we return––and hard liquor for Mason.

He doesn’t touch his drink, moving his eyes around the room. The place is packed with loud people.

The alcohol flows, and soon someone starts a brawl, but it’s quickly cut short as the bouncers step in.

It happens frequently, they say, and I believe them, watching the rowdy people, eager to pick up a fight.

A few moments pass, and Mason’s eyes become fixated on a small group at the bar.

It’s mostly men, and Carter quickly notices them, too.

“Is that them?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” Mason murmurs, and I wonder whether going out tonight is about more than us having fun.

The two men exchange looks before focusing on me.

They clearly have something going on in their lives. Something they don’t think I should be privy to.

“How’s your wine?” Mason asks.

“It’s delicious.”

I take a sip and swallow hard.

“Is there a problem?” he adds.

“No.”

His eyes linger on me.

“You don’t like the place?”

I smile.

“I’m fine with the place.”

My contrived answer makes him lift an eyebrow.

“She’s fine,” Carter says, extending his hand over the table. “Let’s dance,” he says to me, and Mason scoots over so I can rise and follow his friend to the dance floor.

A few minutes pass before a slow tune comes on, and he wraps his arm around my waist.

His hard frame presses into me while we twirl slowly.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, noticing the loud group of men they were looking at before edging closer to us.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, moving his hand lower.

“Who are they?”

I flick my chin toward the men.

He casually glances in their direction before moving his eyes back to me.

“Some people we ran into.”

I search his eyes.

“Things didn’t go well.”

“Something like that.”

“It was about the money? Women?”

He laughs.

“It’s usually about the money. They tried to pull a fast one on us.”

“And it didn’t work.”

“You can say that.”

I look at those men.

They have their backs turned to us, oblivious to our presence on the dance floor.

“Do they even know you two are here?”

Nodding, he spins with me so that he faces them.

My gut tells me he wants to keep an eye on them since they’re out of my sight now.

“Are they dangerous?”

He looks down his nose at me, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Are we? Mason and I?” he asks.

I laugh.

“No.”

“Well, they are,” he says casually, looking at them. “They have no business with you, though,” he adds reassuringly.

We get hot as we dance casually, pressed into each other, his fingers moving down my back before entering the back of my hair.

I press my head into his touch and tilt my face up as if begging for his lips.

His lips curl into a sultry smile in response to showing being shown trust and genuine abandon.

And his mouth comes close to me.

At first, he lowers his head and nuzzles my neck.

Then he slides his lips up my neck.

And then he leaves a trail of kisses along my jawline, each of them igniting a fire on my skin.

My nipples harden against my dress.

As if aware of that, he runs his other hand down and cups my boob on the dance floor, ignoring the fact that we are not alone.

The room is dim, and people are focused on other things, but even so, his bold gesture makes me shake inside.

Tenderly, he kneads my breast while sliding his mouth to mine. We connect in a passionate kiss as if it’s only us on the dance floor.

Pleasure moves through me.

Our foreplay becomes so intense that a small circle of bystanders forms around us, and curious eyes move over us.

“Get a room, brother,” someone barks from the audience, and we break the kiss, laughing before he takes my hand and leads me back to the booth.

Mason studies us with curiosity.

“You two are so damn obvious,” he says, amused.

I reclaim my seat next to Mason, while Carter sits next to me.

“I just can’t help myself,” Carter says.

“And you’re not even shy about it.”

“Any problems?” Carter asks, moving his eyes to the bar and running a hand through his hair, the tone of his voice shifting.

Mason pins his stare in the same spot.

“No.”

“Did anyone talk to you?”

“No,” Mason murmurs.

“Should I let you two talk while I make a trip to the ladies’ room?” I ask, and they say no at the same time, their focus shifting to me at the same time.

“No,” they say again.

“No? I can’t go to the bathroom?” I ask, smiling.

“One of us will escort you to the bathroom,” Mason says.

I move my eyes from him to Carter.

They both slide their hands under the table and touch my thighs possessively.

“Should I be worried about those men?”

“No,” Mason says.

“We don’t have to spend the night here,’ I insist, realizing the presence of those men is more important than they want to admit.

“We’re not leaving,” Carter says firmly.

He reaches my hand under the table and drags it to his groin. I palm his impressive hard-on while he gives me a playful smile.

“I can’t move now even if I wanted to.”

Mason's hand stays on my thigh for a little longer before sliding up and crumpling up my skirt between my legs.

“Man, her pussy is hot,” he says, an elbow folded on the table, his eyes scanning the area.

He grabs me under the table, and I shudder.

“I won’t have an orgasm at the table, if that’s what you have in mind.”

“You wanna bet?” they murmur, laughing.

“No fucking way,’ I say, chuckling as well. “I can’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Mason says.

Without changing his demeanor–-you couldn’t tell just by looking at him that he is touching me under the table––he moves his hand inside my panties and does exactly what Carter did to me in the car.

Keeping the appearances, his friend runs my hand across his bulge, his erection pushing against his fly.

“I can’t do it,” I insist, shaking under their delicious approach.

Carter whispers in my ear.

“You don’t have to, baby. You’ll come later. Just let him do his thing, while you rub my cock.”

He touches my skin below my earlobe with his lips, and a flurry of goosebumps travels down my legs.

Mason’s hand moves between my legs inside my underwear, and I give up, defeated. I relax in my seat and stroke Carter, enjoying the soft pulsations swirling in my core.

Mason looks at me while Carter’s mouth is still close to my face.

He shifts slightly and leans closer as well.

I have both men close to me, both breathing over my lips, and I start to break under their touch.

Carter kisses me first, tongue pushed in, his lips pressing against mine, and then Mason claims my mouth, stroking my clit while thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

A spiral of heat shoots up as I squeeze the other man’s erection.

Suddenly, I stiffen and my pleasure spikes and turns to bliss, shudders moving through my frame while I feel so naughty for letting them do this to me in the club.

A few moments pass, ragged breaths falling from my chest, Mason’s fingers wet between my thighs, when a masculine voice rings in front of us.

“I see you two found yourself a little whore.”

The two men break away from me, Mason’s hand slipping away from my legs, mine falling from Carter’s groin, before they both push out of their seats at the same time and lunge at the three men in front of us.

The new development happens so quickly, I can’t figure out what’s going on before fists start flying and words get pushed out in anger.

One of the men lies on the floor, while the others wrestle with each other.

I collect my purse and hold it tight against my chest, not knowing what to do.

Someone barks at the bouncers to put an end to the brawl, and just as quickly as it had started, the fight comes to an end.

“Let’s go, brother,” Mason says, picking up his things off the table and stretching his hand out to help me out of my seat.

In a swirl, we move away from the table and rush to our car, where we all slide into our seats.

I expect them to be angry.

They smile, entertained.

“That was fun,” Mason says, calm.

“It fucking was,” Carter agrees. “It’ll teach them a lesson.”

“Where are we going?” I ask as Mason sets his car in motion.

“My hotel,” he says, smiling, and I grin in the dim corner.