Page 108 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

Caleb chuckles. “Life’s very rarely fair, Kiera. Besides, I’m half-naked.”

Yes, he is. And if I squint hard at the shadows, I can see the thick outline of his cock tenting his shorts. Screw the mood lighting; I want this place flooded with light so I can see him.

“And you’ve been looking all night,” Nolan quips. “At both of us. Like what you see?”

My cheeks flame. “You’re not supposed to notice,” I grouse, mortified. “Even if you notice, you’re not supposed to call me out.”

“I rarely do what I’m supposed to do,” Nolan replies. “Pretending we don’t want each other is not a game I want to play.”

“What kind of games do you want to play?” I sound exactly how I feel. Breathy. Needy.

Caleb reaches for me. His hands grip my hips, not painfully, but hard enough for me to be very aware of him. “You’re stalling,” he says, his voice coated with steel. “Do you want me to stop?”

His touch inflames me. “No.”

“Then get naked, or there will be consequences, and you will not like them.”

I’m going to explode; I’m wound so tight. The instant one of them touches my clit, I’m going to erupt like a firecracker. It’s going to be the Fourth of July in here.

“Will you spank me?”

His expression sharpens with lust. “Not tonight. Tonight, if you don’t behave, I’ll lay you out on this table.” His gaze holds mine. “I’ll spread your legs, and I’ll taste you.”

I swallow hard. “That sounds pretty good to me, Mr. Reeves.”

His smile grows feral. “I’ll take you to the edge, over and over, and I won’t let you come. No matter how much you beg.”

I want to be defiant and tell him that I won’t be begging, but those words are a lie. Already, need is clawing through me. If he follows through on his threat, I will die. “Take off my swimsuit,” I manage. “Yes, Sir. Jumping now.”

Nolan just laughs. Jerk.

My fingers are shaking. I slide the straps off my shoulders and push the suit down to my waist. Caleb takes over from there, thank heavens, because my courage’s on empty. He rolls the swimsuit past my hips, down my legs, to the floor.

I step out of the pool of fabric.

His growl is pure male need. Primal satisfaction spreads through me. Women flirt with Caleb all the time at Club M. Gorgeous women, beautiful, perfect, and model-thin. But tonight, I’m the one standing in front of him, soaking in the heat of his gaze. I’m the one he wants.

“Come closer.”

I inch toward him. He catches me, pulls me to him. One hand encircles my waist, the other traces a gentle line over my hip, outlining the delicately shimmering wing of the dragon. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

“It took three sessions and hurt like a bitch.”

“I wasn’t talking about the tattoo.”

His lips touch me, his tongue glides over the ink. Glides over my skin. Tendrils of desire writhe over my body, enveloping me in a raging cocktail of need and lust and heat. “Please,” I whimper. “Caleb…” He lowers his mouth to my mound, and my voice dies. Oh God, yes. So much yes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Nolan shift in his seat. He pulls out his cock. Another jolt of pure lust runs through me. He’s watching Caleb touch me, and he’s fisting himself, and I’ve never been as turned on as I am right now.

Then Caleb pushes me back on the coffee table. His big hands part my thighs, and his eyes rake over my naked body. He smiles, cocky and confident. “Want me to stop?”

“I will kill you.”

He bends his head. His laugh resonates in my core. Then I stop noticing anything, because his mouth is back on me, and my fantasies about Caleb Reeves—hot and vivid though they were—have nothing on reality.

At first, it’s slow, almost meditative. He licks me, one long swipe of his tongue between my folds.

I arch my hips, hoping this is the first, pleasurable, prelude, but he chuckles and moves away.

“I’ve wanted to do this for at least the last six months, Kiera,” he says, his voice vibrating against my core.

“I think we can both hold on for just a little longer, can’t we? ”

“Speak for yourself,” I manage.

He laughs again. He kisses my inner thighs, his hands on my hips, holding me in place. He’ll get to my clit when he feels like it, and there’s nothing I can do or say that will make any difference. Argh.

Nolan’s hand moves over his cock. His eyes are on me, and his expression is raw. I watch him watch me. I watch the way his muscles tighten as he strokes himself. The way his face clenches. The tiger’s woken up, and he’s on the prowl, and I’m the prey.

Hot arousal knifes through me.

Caleb finally decides to stop torturing me. He licks me, careful to avoid my throbbing clitoris. Again and again, his tongue swipes through my folds, and every single time, my clit is left aching and needy. My hands form fists. I throw my head back and groan. I’m ready to scream in frustration…

Then Caleb thrusts two fingers into me, and I arch off the table as pleasure shoots through my body.

I’m lost. His mouth plunders me, restraint gone now. His tongue dances over my clit, hard, fast, raw. Every muscle of my body clenches as I hurtle toward climax.

“Ask for it.” Nolan’s voice slices through my haze of lust. “Ask for permission to come.”

Of all the smug, arrogant things to say… I lift my head and glare at him, and he smiles as he strokes himself. “Ask nicely, Kiera.”

Then Caleb sucks my clit gently between his teeth, and my defiance drains away. “Please,” I gasp. My body’s shaking as I struggle to hold back. “Please, I’m so close.”

Caleb slams his fingers deep inside me. “Anytime you want, Kiera,” he growls, just in the nick of time. The dam bursts. The fireworks explode. Shock waves hurtle up my spine. My orgasm rips through me, a tsunami of sensation. It isn’t gentle or sweet. It’s raw and primal and powerful.

I’m going to need a few minutes to catch my breath.

Nolan groans as he comes. For a long moment, none of us say anything, and then I lift my head. “I want to return the favor.”

Caleb wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, an expression of male satisfaction on his face. He starts to say something, and the sound of a shrill ringtone cuts him off.

A phone. It’s three in the morning. Who could be calling so late?

“Fuck,” Caleb swears. He looks at the display and swears again, and then he answers the call. “What’s wrong?”

I can hear a woman on the other side, her voice coated with stress. “Nala’s had another nightmare, Caleb. She won’t stop sobbing.”

Caleb’s hand clenches into a fist. “I’ll be right there.

” He hangs up and turns to me. “I’m sorry,” he says, his expression etched with regret.

“That was my mother. Nala had a rough few years, and she’s prone to bad dreams.” He reaches for my hands.

“There’s a bedroom upstairs,” he says. “Please stay. I’ll be back. ”

“I’ll drive you.” That’s Nolan. “It’s late, and Andrei’s probably fast asleep. I’ve had less to drink than you have.”

“Thank you.” His eyes search mine. “Will you be here when I come back?”

The moon’s still high in the sky. The music’s still playing, the notes soothing, but with an insistent undertone of pulsing drumbeats. The night’s not over yet, and I’m reluctant to let go of the dream and claw back up to reality. “Yes.”

Once they’re gone, I make my way upstairs and claim one of the minimally furnished guest bedrooms. I expect to lie awake for a long time, but the instant my head touches the pillow, I fall asleep.

The sunlight is streaming in through the windows when I wake up. I grope for my phone, and yelp when I see the time. It’s after ten. Crap. I hadn’t meant to sleep in; I even set the alarm so this wouldn’t happen. Or so I thought.

I hurry through a quick shower, brush my teeth—there’s an unopened toothbrush in the attached bathroom—and finger-comb my hair. Getting dressed in last night’s clothes, I make my way downstairs. Caleb said he had to work today. Is he even going to be around?

He is; they both are. I can see Caleb and Nolan in the backyard when I come down the stairs.

I freeze in place for a second, wondering what’s going to happen.

Last night, things seemed, if not simple, then less complicated.

But in the clear light of day, every one of Farid’s warnings comes back to sound in my ears.

Caleb and Nolan are members of Club M. They’re rich; I’m not. They’re used to getting what they want; I haven’t gone out on a date in years. I’m out of my league.

Nolan sees me and lifts his hand in greeting. His smile is wide and uncomplicated. No doubt he thinks we’ll just pick up where we left off. But I can’t. Today, my self-preservation instincts scream at me, warning me to walk away.

Come on, Kiera, I tell myself. Put on your big girl panties and clean up this mess.

I cross the living room. The bag of chips is gone this morning. A pair of laptops litter the surface of an ebony dining table, their screens half turned toward me.

And on one of the screens is an image that stops me cold.

Short black hair. Long nose. High cheekbones. Gray, ruthless eyes.

It’s a photo of Greg Dratch, my sister Bianca’s sleazy ex-boyfriend.

My heart hammers in my chest. My brain feverishly throws questions at me. Whose laptop is this, Caleb or Nolan’s? Why is there a photo of Dratch on it? Is it possible that Nolan or Caleb work for Sirkovich? Are they going to kill me for putting the head of the Kitai Bratva behind bars?

Then my phone rings and my problems multiply. It’s Xavier Leforte, the owner of Club M. My boss. “Kiera,” he says, his voice clipped. “Can I see you in my office, please?”