Chapter Four
Warren
My confession makes her brows pinch in this cute way that has me wanting to reach out and rub her confusion away. Instead, I lower the zipper to her dress an inch at a time until the curve of her breasts blooms from the opening, revealing her pink nipples like blossoms.
“You know then?” She rolls her eyes like she sees how obvious her statement is.
I nod.
“But the question is, did you?”
It was pure luck that had Jemma walking through my front door two nights ago.
We agreed to host a New Year’s masquerade party at our manor. All students and faculty were invited. A small token of appreciation toward the university for putting up with our demands. And an easy way to monitor the brighter minds. Ones we want to mine for ourselves. The cyber security community is only as good as its coders and Jemma is the best we’ve come across in a couple of years with great potential. But that’s neither here nor there at the moment.
Up until that night our girl never attended any of our parties so imagine our surprise when the queen we want for ourselves showed up.
We didn’t get to the top of the world’s elite by not taking opportunities when they presented themselves.
We kept our distance. Bided our time for two years. Before that moment, we hadn’t planned to act on our lusts. We all agreed to wait until she graduated. Let her stretch her wings and find what she wanted out of life. At twenty-four how could a family or even a complicated relationship with three overbearing assholes be anywhere near what she wanted?
But then she showed up in the skimpiest outfit ever made and the amount of men falling over themselves to ask for a dance or hand her a drink forced us into action, throwing out our inner voices of reason.
Going that long unable to act on our desires left my insides raw for too long and marred all our better judgement, but what was done was done.
The second we had her in our arms a quiet peace calmed the animalistic part of me that kept me from ripping her little outfit off and coming deep inside her pussy.
Our little nerd dressed up as Queen Frost was anything but cold under our hands and tongues. She melted so sweetly and I’m desperate to get her back under me. The sight of a blue cape, sparkly blue lipstick that looked drop dead gorgeous on her perfectly bowed lips and a skirt that barely covered her pussy lips will forever be burned into my memory. And that top. My back molars grind together. The skimpy white piece of cloth tied under her breasts was more of a tease than anything that actually covered her.
It pained me to let her walk away when we all wanted to cuff her to our bed for a longer session. But we somehow stood back as she slipped out the door wearing our milk.
Marked. Claimed.
She’s ours now whether she knows it or not. Nothing will stand in our way from here on out.
I want to tell her all of this, but first we have a plan.
I brush her hair away from her face and she raises those thick black lashes, showing me more than she realizes in those deep green eyes. She trusts us and for that gift alone she has my heart.
How she thought we wouldn’t recognize those jeweled beauties behind a mask, I don’t know.
Whatever happens in the next few minutes, one fact remains: I’m not giving her up. They don’t have to say it—I know my best friends feel the same way. Jemma has been on our radar for longer than we care to think about. Going the two years since joining the Westmoore faculty ignoring our lust for a woman better off without us is hard to admit to.
Fear of what comes next has her worrying the delicate inside of her bottom lip.
“Professor Thurston.” Her eyes are wide, glazed over with lust. I can smell her arousal like a wolf ready to claim its mate. We all knew it was her that night, but did she know it was us fucking her like the world was ending at the stroke of midnight? The question burned in my brain for two long days. Only Preston and Black kept me from ripping across town to find her and the answers I need.
“Let’s try an easier question first. Why aren’t you home with your parents instead of being here?”
We all know she spent Christmas at the small diner she works at. It tore us all up, but at least we knew she was among friends. But our girl is tight-lipped about anything beyond the code she’s working on. Hell, even that she keeps close to the vest. A trait we admire.
Her sharp intake of air is heavy with frustration. “Home?” It looks like she wants to laugh for a second before a seriousness washes over her face. Erik and Daemon scoop her hands into theirs and the small movement visually relaxes her.
“They work nonstop. Nothing really to look forward to with them, so I stay, use my time for me.”
I recognize the clipped answer for what it is—an appeasement with the desire to move on. I sense a deeper story and one we’ll get to. Eventually.
I offer a small smile. “Another question now that we know your voice works.”