Would she run from us or would she crave the danger we offer?
I move a little too close and the darkness of her pupils swallows the light brown of her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles and the brave facade she hides behind glitches. I trace the outline of her jaw with a gentle stroke. “How old are you?”
A pretty brow arches. “Again, does it matter?”
“We have reputations to protect and have no desire to take underage girls to bed.”
The pink on her cheeks turns a lovely red but the smirk on her lips says she’s the trouble I pegged her for.
“Twenty-two. Twenty-three on Christmas.” Her pretty eyes sparkle with defiance.
Dante’s phone goes off with a text message. He stands and pulls it out of his pocket.
“It’s Club Sin. They want to know if we are keeping our reservation for the suite?”
We don’t come to New Orleans often. When we do, we usually stay in the upstairs apartment attached to this bar. Since we own both, it makes sense. But we lent the apartment to our friend over there and our word is our bond. So we found other arrangements.
I slide the cute brunette into my lap and trace the sexy lines of her tattoo covering her left arm. Her gasp of surprise calls to the animal in me, but I push the need for the taste of her on my tongue for later.
My hand slides over her hip and I let her feel the hardening length of my cock against her ass.
She shivers against me and those lashes are back to falling closed.
“Kak tebya zovut, krasavitsa?Your name, beautiful?”
She swallows, her lips parted and her eyes holding mine. “Laila.” There’s not a quiver in her voice. Nor a hint of fear.
Intricate lines weave into flowers, vines, hearts, and butterflies and I can’t stop tracing every single one of the inked lines on her arm. Each detail reveals a bit of her soul, just like the ones I share with my brothers. Not blood brothers, but they might as well be for all the horror we’ve shared in life.
Dante moves his chair to my left, pushing me toward the middle of our trio. He links fingers with our new play thing and kisses the inside of her wrist as she settles into his embrace. Black lashes fall over perfect skin tinged with light pink. Bar lighting always sucks but I can take in every detail that matters. She wants this and likes the idea of three men wanting her.
“Come with us.” Bastian pulls a leg to rest over his knee, spreading her thighs just enough to have her shorts ride higher between her thighs. Leaning into Dante, sitting on my lap, and held in place by Bastian, she’s damn hard trouble to pass up on.
“I am Con. The one massaging your calves is Bastian and Dante’s the one about to kiss you.”
My friend sweeps in, taking our guest’s mouth. She gasps and groans around my friend’s lips. The tip of his finger keeps her chin tilted up so he can devour her freely. She parts her lips for him and I marvel at the way she so easily follows his lead. She’ll do well when we have her between us.
He breaks away and they are both panting.
“Where are we going? Club Sin?” Fire and need add a hint of husk to her melodic voice and the sound drives straight to my cock.
“If you feel you are safe enough with us.”
Her fingers dig into my shirt. “I know who you are. You’re known for a lot of shit, but you’re not known for killing women.”
True. Men who steal, violate our terms, or fuck us over are a whole other topic for another day. But I am curious as to how she knows who we are.
“What are we known for?”
Her expression turns smug. “You want to talk about all your criminal records or are we going to Club Sin?”
“Call them back, Dante. Tell them we are bringing a guest.”
Four
Laila
They are Russian mobsters. Bratva. I’ve seen them on TV. There’s not much they don’t have their hands in from what I’ve heard. My mother rages about my stepfather being furious over them taking control of Seattle. Which in turn leads to him beating her. There’s no amount of words I can say to get her to leave the man. I barely got away, but she doesn’t even try.