“Yessss,” she admitted with shameful abandon, gasping and not caring if God and country heard her cries. Within seconds, she shuddered as Nolan’s cock hit the right spot to send her tumbling over the edge into a sweet orgasm that stole the strength from her legs and nearly sent her collapsing to the floor in a heap. Nolan’s hard thrusts rocked her body until he grunted in his effort to keep his cries muffled as he came hard inside her, filling her with his warm seed. He blew out a long breath, still buried inside her and he leaned over and kissed her on the side of her neck. “That my darling, is how you spice up an otherwise boring party,” he teased, slowly withdrawing and tucking his spent cock back in his trousers. She turned and sagged against the wall and he grinned. “You look gorgeous after a good fuck, you know that?” He smoothed a few hairs that’d sprung free from her complicated up-do and then after straightening himself, gave her quick brush across the lips, saying, “Clean up and then have fun and mingle, but if you want to leave early, the limousine is at your service.”
“Are you going to visit me tonight?” she asked, hopeful. She hated sleeping alone and it’d been a week since either of the brothers had visited. “I miss you,” she added in what she hoped was a seductive tone rather than a plaintive whine.
“I miss you, too, sweetness,” he said. “I’ll try but don’t wait up, okay?”
She tried not to let her expression show her disappointment as she pasted a false smile on her face. “Of course.”
“That’s my girl,” Nolan smiled and left to disappear into the throng of people.
The minute Nolan was gone, she dropped the smile, sorely disappointed. The moment the arousal faded, she felt oddly out of sorts. Staring at herself in the mirror, she quickly repaired the damage to her make up and hair, cleaned herself and then went straight to the bartender for a drink. If she were going to torture herself and try her hand at mingling, she’d need a little assistance. “Gin and tonic, please,” she said to the awaiting bartender. She rarely drank but tonight seemed an appropriate time to get a little tipsy. Maybe then she wouldn’t care that the brothers were too busy to visit her and it’d been too long since either had paid much more attention to her than they would an expensive lamp. It was Dillon’s fault, she groused as she sipped her drink. Before he came along, they’d been inseparable. Her body had rang with pleasure as each had taken their turn with her. She longed for that sweet oblivion and it irritated that they’d simply put her on a pretty shelf to await their return as if she were a toy, easily bought and easily forgotten. And as fun as the bathroom quickie was, it was no substitute for what she truly craved: quality time.
Dillon’s words had worked like poison on her mind and she gasped at her own poutiness. Goodness gracious, she was becoming a petulant child. She supposed she was still getting used to the perimeters of their relationship and she’d become spoiled with their constant, almost fevered attention. Although she’d rather poke one of those tiny shrimp forks in her eye than mingle, she steeled her nerves with the help of her drink, and forced herself to smile, laugh and — good God — flirt. She stuffed away her natural inclination to retreat from such crowds and by her third gin and tonic, she was feeling quite chatty. Downright extroverted.
From the corner of her eye she saw Vince and Nolan but she made no overt show of recognition. No one would ever guess that she was their willing sex slave behind closed doors. She smothered a giggle and realized that she was more than a little tipsy — she was nearly drunk.
But it felt good to just let go and relax. She was about to order another drink when she realized she was wobbling a bit in her expensive heels.
“Whoa there,” a voice said as she stumbled into the arms of a man who happened to be in the right place at the right time to prevent an embarrassing spill on her behind. She started to smile blearily at her savior when she realized with a fluttery start that she’d landed in Dillon’s arms. “My brothers are not taking very good care of their pet,” Dillon murmured low enough so that only she could hear. She frowned but in her current state she was too inebriated to refute his claim. In fact, she agreed just a teensy bit. But that was bad of her, wasn’t it? Why was Dillon so beautiful? Why couldn’t he look horrid? With a limp and a lump on his back? “Perhaps you should call it a night,” he suggested when all she did was stare.
She remembered herself and tried to pull away. “I’m fine,” she lied with a bright, completely sauced smile. “It’s these damn shoes that are the problem. I don’t know who can seriously walk in these without becoming crippled. I think I saw these shoes in a Chinese museum where they deformed the women’s feet. No women’s rights in ancient China, that’s for sure. And really, why do women perpetuate this need to torture themselves for the sake of a man’s pleasure? I’ve never seen men walking around in these torture devices, that’s for sure.”
“That’s because men don’t have the lovely shape of a woman’s calf, which is accentuated by a heel. I know for a fact, I would look quite ugly in a heel. However, your calves for example,” he said, his voice caressing her as if they were the only people in the room “are round and soft, with just the right amount of flesh around the bone. When I see your legs, they make my eye want to travel higher to the plump curves of your inner thighs and then higher to the sweet junction between your legs. Then of course, I can’t help but wonder…are you smooth and bare or do you have soft, springy curls covering that sweet pussy of yours?”
She swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away from his. Had he just…oh God, yes he had. And she was ten times the bad person that her senses had gone absolutely nuts with yearning at the thought of his dark head nestled between her thighs, feasting on her dewed folds. She remembered herself with difficulty, stammering. “I…I don’t think this is an appropriate kind of conversation to have with you,” she said, though secretly she wondered what it’d be like to lose herself in the arms of the Buchanan bad boy. Was he rough or sweet, perhaps a combination of both?
“Inappropriate? I don’t know, seems highly hypocritical to stand on moral judgments when, in fact, you sold yourself to my brothers.”
She pulled back, stung. Ouch. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could say to that so she simply lifted her chin with the intent to walk away — even if her gait was a bit unsteady — with as much dignity as she could muster. However, she was shocked to see Vince staring their way, displeasure written all over his face. He wasn’t even pretending not to care or notice. In fact, he’d started to head their way. “You’d better leave,” she warned Dillon, not wanting to see the brothers fight. Vince’s eyes flashed with raw anger and possession, something Penny had never seen before. It scared and thrilled her at the same time.