One Dirty Night

More than just physically. More than just sexually.

I liked his fiercely controlled violence. I liked his recklessness, his ruthlessness.

I liked how he made me feel when he finally gave in to the heat between us.

Nicholas was wrong. We would talk about this again. And again. And again.

We would do this. Over and over.

We would fall into this sick addiction and—

“Get up.” Hunter grabbed me under my arm and wrenched me to my feet. Nick fell backward, his lips swollen and eyes feral.

“Go and choose a weapon,” Hunter said to Nick while dragging me toward the bed. Climbing the three large steps, he sat down and planted me, facing him and wobble-standing, between his spread thighs.

“A weapon? What weapon?” Nick asked, pulling up his jeans to hide his glistening erection.

“Buckle up your pants, take off your blazer and shirt so you don’t sweat through them, then go and choose a whip or two.”

I tensed as I shot a look at Nick over my shoulder.

He stood with his hands balled in a sea of black carpet, looking as if hell lapped around his ankles. “A whip?” he asked ever so softly.

“Or a flogger. A paddle. Anything that takes your fancy.” Hunter grinned. “You wanted to embrace your sadistic side, and I know for a fact Ella longs to know just how much of a masochist she is. So…snap, snap.”

Sucking in a breath, Nick tore his gaze from mine and marched to the rack holding all manner of toys. He stared at the selection of leather strips, strings, knots, and tassels for far too long before reaching for his blazer and shrugging it off. Dropping it onto the floor, he grabbed the hem of his white t-shirt and ripped it over his head, revealing the ridges and valleys of his washboard stomach.

Toeing off his shoes and wrenching off his socks, he successfully stole all my sanity as he stood before a rack of depravity, barefoot, bare-chested, and tenting his black jeans.

Freaking hell…how was I supposed to function? How was I supposed to speak when he was every fantasy I’d ever had come to life?

You don’t have to speak…only obey, remember?

I sucked in a breath as Hunter ran his fingers over my collarbone. My gaze snapped to his as he smiled. The glittery lightning bolt on his cheek caught the sconces, looking like a magical brand instead of a painful scar.

“Like what you see, little witch?” His fingers grazed lower, following the curve of my breast and finding my pebbled nipple beneath my bra. “You’ve seen everything that Nick has to offer. You’ve tasted him. And he’s kissed you twice. It’s now my turn.”

I swallowed hard as he followed the line of my waist, then hip, slowly dropping his fingers beneath my dress and sliding up and up, heading toward the pounding ache between my legs.

I couldn’t catch a breath as footsteps sounded behind me, and Nick’s fiery heat scorched my back.

He didn’t stop Hunter from touching me. He didn’t speak. He merely tossed a flogger with multiple leather strands and a thick corded handle onto the bed and bristled.

Hunter threw him a smile as his hand kept climbing. “Your grouchy flatmate got to have your mouth first…but me? I get to be the first to touch you…”

Every bone and ligament snapped into stone as his hand cupped my core.

“…here.”

My eyes slammed closed as every awareness arrowed to the quaking, pulsing need directly in my centre.

Tripping forward, I almost fell, but strong arms wrapped around me from behind, holding me upright and trapped. Nick pressed a kiss against my throat as he grunted, “Spread your legs, Ella. Let him finger you.”

Such a crude command.

Such a dirty, despicable demand.

I inched my knees farther apart, my high heels whispering over the carpet. The moment Hunter had space for whatever he planned to do, he didn’t hold back.