Page 8 of Room Seventeen

Fucker. He thinks he’s Casanova reincarnated. Dante pulls up another chair and slides it between us with Bastian moving to give all his focus on her instead of the dance floor.

“I’m not interrupting a bromance date, am I?” She takes in my clean-shaven jaw, Dante’s long hair, and Bastian’s black eyes.

There’s a hint of a smirk on her lips that draws all three of our gazes. Her knee starts to bounce with obvious nerves. I can’t imagine someone her age bar hopping regularly or picking up flings. Despite the bad girl outfit, this isn’t her scene. I make reading people my business and this girl would rather be in bed with a book. But she’s here for something and we’re willing to give it.

“Maybe a little, but I get tired of all the shit talk and chest-thumping. I’d rather hear your voice in my ears all night long than theirs.”

Her cheeks warm visibly at what Dante says.

“Have you been here before?” Bastian signals for a fresh glass and pours her a drink.

“Thank you. Umm… to New Orleans or Dante’s?”

Bastian takes her hand again and I see her knee stop bouncing on contact. Interesting. “Both,” he says smoothly.

“No. First time for both.”

“Oh, we have a virgin on our hands,moy brat,” Bastian’s words roll off his tongue and it hangs between all four of us as the window of opportunity he intended. He’s never been known for keeping his thoughts to himself so I’m not surprised by what comes out of his mouth anymore.

Nor is our guest, it seems. I know what Bastian is trying to do, but she’s not playing.

“My friend and I are passing through. We will be gone in the morning.” She points in the direction of a good friend of ours, Reaper. He’s the president of a motorcycle gang that’s trying to do good in the world. The irony is they don’t mind getting dirty in order to accomplish that goal.

“Is that your friend sitting with him?”

Her gaze tracks mine, her body leaning my way. I’m hit with another dose of her scent and it tells my dick to get ready.

“Hmm-hmm. It is. Arabelle. She’s a delicate thing in need of some roughing up.”

“Arabelle is in good hands. Reaper is a good man.”

“How do you know him?” I see worry inch across her expression for her friend, but it’s Dante who answers for me.

“He’s a friend of ours. Has been for a while. He’s former military and comes from a deep-rooted family back in Tennessee.”

Her shoulders relax and those pretty, big brown eyes glimmer with relief.

I sit up and settle my larger hand over hers where she plays with the untouched vodka.

“Is your friend the only delicate little birdie in need of “roughing up”?” I ask, holding her eyes with my own. “Are you sure you want to do this, baby bird?”

Soft brown eyes come up to meet mine and she tucks the edge of her lip between her teeth before releasing it a second later. She plays thebad girl dying to fuck yougame pretty well. It would work on someone a little younger and a lot less in control of themselves.

I tip her chin my way. “We all know what’s going on here. There’s no need to pussyfoot around.”

My touch gives her pause before she shakes her head. “She’s not the only one.”

“Do you have someone waiting for you back home?”

She turns her attention to Bastian. “Does it matter?”

Con releases her hair from the bun she has pinned high on her head. Long, thick locks of dark hair tumble around her shoulders and down her back. Some fall over the deep cleavage offering a sweet view of her breasts.

That’s a shame.

“It does to us, little birdie.”

Her tongue sweeps over her bottom lip. I can almost see her spread out on a large bed, the three of us devouring her body, claiming her in ways only multiple men can, and that pretty pink on her cheeks flushing her entire body.

Tags: Penelope Wylde Erotic
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