“Good girl,” Clay purrs.
“Our good girl,” Eamon growls into the soft skin of my neck, making me gasp sharply as something hot teases down my spine.
“Our good girl, looking for two big dominant men to claim her,” he purrs. “To show her how a man treats his woman, not that piece of shit you walked in here with.”
“That why you’re still here, sweetness?” Clay grunts darkly. “Why you’re not running from the room?”
“You—you’re keeping me here,” I whisper back.
His eyes flash, and the corners of his lips turn up slightly in a dark grin.
“Are we now?” He glances past me at Eamon. And suddenly, with a nod, they’re both moving away from me. Eamon moves around to stand beside Clay, the both of them folding their arms over their muscled chests, their eyes burning fiercely into me.
“You’re free to go,” Eamon growls.
My eyes dart between them, my breath hanging like a secret, my pulse racing.
…My feet staying right where they are.
And slowly, the longer I stay right there, the longer the both of them start to smile hungrily at me.
“Aaah,” Eamon grunts. “So perhaps there’s something keeping you here, but it’s just easier to tell yourself it’s because we’re not letting you go. That it?” The both of them move towards me, and I gasp, slowly stepping back until I feel the edge of the card table against my ass.
“Nah, sweetness,” he purrs. “We’re not making you stay. You just want to stay, because you’re dying to know how far you can push this. You’re dying to see if we just fucking snap and start tearing your clothes off, and fucking having you, however we want, until our hunger is slaked.”
My thighs clamp tight together, and I shiver at the sizzling, forbidden heat that tingles over my skin.
“Oh, I think you might just like that,” Clay grunts, his jaw clenched tight. “I think you might just like the idea of two big, older men pinning you down and taking what’s theirs to claim. That what you want, sweetness? You want us to show you what happens to bad girls who hang around bad, bad men like us?”
They move right against me, both of them pressing me into the card table at my back. I gasp at the feel of both their hard, muscled bodies pressing into me. But when I feel something else—something else—forbidden desire teases through me.
I can feel them, pressed against me. Even though I almost think it can’t be. That the rock-hard, throbbing bugles I’m feeling pulsing against my tummy can’t actually be what I think they are. But when the two of them grab me, and when their lips tease over my neck on either side, and when they growl into my skin like I’m a meal they can’t wait to devour, I feel it. I feel those two hardnesses pulse against me, and I know they’re very much real.
“You’re never had a man talk to you like this, have you princess,” Eamon grunts.
I shake my head.
“And you’ve never had two before, have you,” Clay growls lowly.
I blush, biting my lip as I shake my head.
“You’re about to.”
The words leave Eamon’s mouth, and I instantly whimper. They hear it too, because the both of them grin hungrily as they move in, looming over me, hands sliding up my sides as I gasp sharply.
“Show us,” Clay growls.
“Show you?”
His eyes blaze.
“Show us how wet your little pussy is, sweetness.”
I blush fiercely, knowing they can see the spark of it in my eyes.
“Wh—no, I’m…” I shake my head, blushing furiously. “I’m not.”
Clay’s brow arches sharply, and I tremble.
“I’m not, sir,” I whisper, the words sending a thrill through me as I see the fire and the power blazing in their eyes.
“Liar,” Eamon grunts.
“No—” I bite my lip, losing myself in his eyes, and then Clay’s. “No, sirs.”
“Well why don’t we find out.”
Oh God.
The both of them press into me, their hands sliding down my sides, down over my hips and trailing down the sides of my legs. And when their fingers find the hem of my slinky green dress, I shiver.
I start to lose myself entirely with them.
Clay and Eamon both pull, tugging the dress up and peeling it back up my thighs. I can feel my breath panting faster and faster, and as the dress gets pulled higher and higher, I realize just how badly I want this—how badly I want them, even with every single thing telling me why I shouldn’t.
The dress tugs up, until it’s just under the edge of my soaked panties. My eyes close, my breath catches, the fire throbs its way through my body. And then, there’s a final tug, and even with my eyes closed, I can feel the both of them groan.
…And I know why.
Because I know that my panties are soaked, and I know that the two powerful, dangerous, dangerous men pinning me to the table with their filthy words melting through my ears can see it.