Chapter One
I’m addicted to the adrenaline of the open road. Seven hours ago, when I hopped into my baby blue Plymouth for a spur-of-the-moment road trip, it felt like an adventure. Now that I’m finally here, feet planted on an unfamiliar wrap-around porch, butt-sore and stiff-necked, I’m reevaluating my impulse control issues. Still, I raise my hand and knock on the door.
Maybe this was stupid. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, catching up with my brother’s best friends. But maybe I should have called first. Maybe—
My thoughts are cut short as the door swings open and a tall, dark-haired man peers at me. He’s looking at me like he’s not sure he’s really awake. I can’t really blame him. The last time I checked a clock, it was already well past two AM.
“Can I help you?” He growls from the doorway.
I feel myself shrinking underneath his dark, narrow-eyed stare. Suddenly, I feel tongue tied. Even with tousled bedhead and trying to wipe the sleep from his bleary eyes, he’s hands-down the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
“Who are you?” He demands to know.
“Um, I’m looking for the Armstrong brothers,” I say, hoping to soften him with a smile. I’m racking my brain to try and place him, but it’s been so long since my one and only face-to-face with the Marines Danny called his brothers.
“I didn’t ask who you were looking for, I asked who you are,” he snaps, running a hand through his hair.
My smile falls flat. Maybe I got the wrong address. It’s dark out, and I’m tired, hungry, and sore. Maybe I should just go home. The last thing I want is to get back into the car, but as the irritated man stares me down, I weigh my options. Then he shifts, and I realize he’s wearing faded denim-wash jeans…and nothing else. When my eyes lock onto his tan, muscular chest, my mouth goes dry. My gaze drifts lower to his drool-worthy abs…
“Listen, lady, I don’t know why you’re at my door at three in the morning, or if you’ve gone mute, but blink twice if you need me to call 911, otherwise, I’m going back to bed.”
My eyes leap back to his angular, handsome face. I’m so stunned by his snark, that my eyes widen. His voice isn’t hard exactly, but it has an edge that demands an answer. The wind howls at my back, and I’m freezing in my skin-tight jeans and light coral shirt. I hug myself, trying to shield my body from the cold. “We…we’ve met, a-actually. It…it was a l-long time ago, but…” I trail off, my body tingling as the hot Marine gives me a thorough, assessing once-over. If I expected him to say something, I’m doomed to be disappointed, it seems.
“You… you obviously don’t recognize me.” I give an awkward laugh. “I… it’s mutual, I guess. I can’t remember… which one are you again?” My face burns at my own awkwardness. This definitely isn’t how I pictured this going.
He stares back at me, stoic and unblinking.
The heat in my cheeks burns hotter, full of embarrassment and regret. How had I misjudged the situation so horribly? Yes, it’s been a long time since I met them—ten years, in fact—but we’re bound together by something stronger. Or so I thought.
Realizing the man isn’t going to budge—or speak, apparently—I force my tight vocal cords to work. “Um, hi. It’s me, Darla.”
But if he hears me, my words don’t seem to register. Before I can repeat myself, I hear another voice coming from behind him.
“Who’s there? What’s going on?”
The man calls over his shoulder, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I cringe, partly from the way he grouses, partly from the look he levels at me when he faces me again.
I clear my throat. “It’s… I’m D-Darla. Darla Dawson,” I say again. Under normal circumstances, I consider myself to be a confident person, but these are far from normal circumstances. Whether it’s the long hours in the car, the exhaustion setting in, or the sullen soldier vibe he’s giving, I feel like a stammering imbecile.
“Dawson? Did she say ‘Dawson’?” the new male voice asks.
The relief I feel is palpable. It grabs me, and I’m so eager to be out of the cold, I find my voice. “Yes!” I hope it will soften the stance of the man on the doorstep, but failing that, maybe the other man inside will hear me. “Darla Dawson!” I look pleadingly at the man guarding the door.
Before he can answer—though his corded arms crossed over his strong chest don’t give any indication he’s warming up to me—I see the head of another man over his shoulder. This man’s face is inquisitive rather than severe.
“Did you say you’re Darla Dawson?”
“Yes,” I breathe, relieved. I feel like I might collapse on the spot.
“Well, what are you doing? Come on it! Brandt, you remember Darla, don’t you? Danny’s kid sister?”
I’m so grateful for this gallant hero rescue, I don’t even object to being called a “kid sister”. As long as he lets me in, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.
“Hmm.” The man who answered the door considers me, his dark eyes raking over me again. His gaze feels different this time, more open and less disapproving. “Darla, huh?”
“Let her in, Brandt.”
Brandt clearly doesn’t like being told what to do, but at least he’s not leveling his annoyed glare at me any longer. After a moment he steps aside; it’s not an invitation, exactly, but he leaves the door open. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I decide to choose the inside of their house over my beat-up Plymouth without working heat.
The other man I glimpsed is just inside the door and he smiles at me with so much friendliness, I nearly melt. He closes the door behind me and even reaches over to give me a quick squeeze. “Darla! It’s been a long while!”
“Yes, it has.” I laugh, but my teeth begin to chatter. “I think I was, what? N-nine? It’s good to see you, Christian.”
His dark brows shoot up. He looks a good deal like his brother, but his eyes are warm and inviting. “Wow, how long were you standing outside? You’re freezing! Come on, let’s get you a blanket, maybe some tea?”
“Um, yes, please, that would be great. And…I’m really sorry for coming so late.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He slings a companionable arm around my shoulders, and I allow myself to be led into the living room.
I blink in the sudden light. It feels harsh to my eyeballs after so many long hours in the dark. Once my eyes adjust, I take a look around, curious about my new surroundings. The walls are plain white and completely bare without so much as a picture. The only color in the room comes from the blended brick fireplace.
Maybe they’re minimalists?
There’s a coffee table that can only be described as Lumberjack Chic—it looks like it was put together in the woods without the benefit of a sander and dragged into the living room, where it’s sat ever since. There’s an overstuffed recliner in the corner with plaid fabric so faded, it looks straight out of the seventies. I’m still eyeing the furniture skeptically when Christian comes along and tugs me over to the couch. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I sit obediently.
“What are you doing here?”
The roughly barked question makes me do a double take. It’s Brandt again, his leery skepticism the exact opposite of his brother’s warm welcome.
“I think something’s wrong with her hearing,” he remarks as Christian walks by.
“Be nice,” Christian replies, presumably headed for the kitchen.
Brandt snorts at his brother’s order as he once more crosses those impressive arms.
My gaze is drawn to them. They’re so muscular, it leaves no doubt he works hard. I must be sleep deprived, I muse as my mouth goes dry. I swallow hard and force myself to meet his gaze. “You…y-you said I c-could come,” I say, hating my chattering teeth because they make me sound afraid. I know the best way to handle a bully is to show no fear, so I hate the idea of this guy thinking he’s got anything on me.
He lifts a dark brow and grins.
I hate how handsome it makes him. Jerks shouldn’t be handsome; it should be a law of nature, so girls know to steer clear. Unfortunately, his dark good looks combined with that killer smile is enough to make my pulse pick up. I really need to get some sleep. And maybe schedule a session with my therapist.
“I don’t recall inviting you,” he counters, but his mulish bad temper seems to have eased.
I force myself to relax. “Y-your brothers, t-then. O-one of them d-did. T-told me I could come if… if I ever n-needed a place to stay.”
“Of course we did.” Christian is back, pressing a cup of hot tea into my trembling hands. He waits until he’s sure I’ve got it and only then does he let go.
I don’t even bother to thank him—that can come later, when I’m not stammering like an idiot unfamiliar with the English language—before lifting the mug to my lips and taking a deep sip. The liquid is well on its way to warming me when I feel a blanket being draped over my shoulders. I look up, hoping my eyes tell him how grateful I am.
Christian’s no less handsome than his brother. They share the same dark hair and strong jaw, the same muscular build, though his eyes are friendly and happy in contrast to his dour sibling. I can’t help but feel a little more at ease when he’s in the room.
“You remember, Bro—this is Danny Dawson’s little sister.”
“Little?” Brandt echoes, his lips curving into a wolfish smile.
Fuck he’s hot, and it pisses me off. So much so, I twitch and some of the hot tea comes sloshing out of the mug and onto my hand. “Ouch!” I yelp.
“What’s all the commotion? Don’t you idiots know some of us are trying to sleep?” A new voice booms moments before I hear footsteps thundering down the stairs.
I turn my head just in time to see another man enter the room. Like the other two, he has dark hair, though his is threaded with a few silver hairs—the beginning of the salt-and-pepper look. He has a mustache and goatee. Like his brothers, he’s also tall, and well-built. That’s no surprise, given that all three of them served in the Marines.
“I got up to answer the door,” Brandt grouses in reply, hitching a thumb in my direction.
The older man is just inside the doorway now and pauses to look at me. His gaze isn’t like his brother’s—searing in a way that borders on invasive—but he doesn’t look pleased to see me, either. “And you would be?”
“D-Darla,” I answer, thankful that the cold can explain my stammering, even if the lingering chill has nothing to do with it. “Darla Dawson.”
The oldest of the Armstrong brothers puts his hands on his hips as he surveys me. Then he glances at his brothers. “Dawson?” he echoes.
“Danny’s kid sister,” Christian pipes up.
I know he’s defending me, in his own way, but I’m too on edge to appreciate it. I’m exhausted, I’m cold, and I’m tired of being treated like a bag of trash that’s ripped and leaking foul liquid onto the floor. Being called a “kid” twice in less than ten minutes is the final straw. “I’m not a kid,” I snap.
“Oh, you can say that again.” Brandt’s voice is warm for the first time since he came to the door, but I whip my head around to scowl at him. He doesn’t seem to mind and gives me a sultry wink that has me clenching my teeth and turning away.
“What are you doing here, Darla? At—” the oldest brother lifts his arm and scrutinizes his watch—, “three-fifteen in the morning?”
Before I even know I’m doing it. I jut my chin out defensively. “You said I could come if I needed a place to stay, even though a couple of you don’t seem to remember.” I toss another glare at Brandt, who is lounging against the wall, looking content to simply watch the exchange.
“That’s true,” Christian, the only Armstrong brother who’s been nice to me, chimes in. “We did say that.”
The elder one furrows his brow as he glances at his brother. “Did we? Or are you just trying to get under Brandt’s skin?”
“That sounds like Christian,” Brandt chuckles. “Good point, Carter.”
Carter rolls his eyes at him before turning back to me. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Darla. It would have been nicer if we’d known you were coming…” His voice takes on a slightly scolding tone that makes me flush.
“And if it wasn’t past my bedtime,” Brandt puts in.
Carter nods his agreement.
“Well,” I let the word hang there, dripping with sarcasm, trying to ignore the stern looks on both men’s faces—and trying even harder to pretend the heat building between my legs is nonexistent. “I guess I’ll just be on my way then.”
“Hang on.” Carter sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “No one is saying that. You have to understand that you’ve got us at a disadvantage. You just showed up here in the middle of the night with no warning—”
“You’re right,” I cut him off. I can see by the way he presses his lips together that Carter doesn’t appreciate being interrupted. Well, too fucking bad. “I should have called. But I thought you were men of your word,” I challenge, spearing them all in turn with my frustrated gaze.
“Are you finished?” Carter asks, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
I narrow my eyes. “No. But you clearly have something to say, so go ahead.” I know I’m being rude, but I can’t seem to help myself. Somehow, the warm reception I expected has gone horribly wrong and I’m disappointed, but owning up to that feels humiliating. So, if they want to think I’m difficult instead, it’s not like it can make things any worse.
“Darla, you’re asking a lot here,” Christian speaks up.
I look to him, and even though I can see the concern in his face, he too is becoming scoldy.
“You can’t just show up at someone’s house without warning and expect—”
“Danny said if I ever n-needed it, you…you guys would help me,” I try to explain, my lower lip trembling. I clamp it down with my teeth, and when I’m sure I’ve got it under control, I continue. “You said it. You texted me that, more than once.”
“True,” Carter agrees, and his stern visage relaxing a tiny bit. “But we also expected a heads-up beforehand.”
“You can’t just pop up on someone’s doorstep when even God is sleeping and expect us to throw a welcome parade,” Brandt adds.
They’re right. I know that, but instead of being the balm to my annoyance, I feel my chest flare with anger. There’s hurt and disappointment too, not to mention the fact that I need to get some sleep. But it all comes out as anger. “You know what? Fuck you.” I pivot around the room to look at each of them, and I’m angry enough not to feel bad when it’s Christian’s turn. “You don’t want me here?” I shrug off the blanket and toss the mug hard enough that I hear it crack when it lands. I’m furious, and the sound of it breaking and seeing the lukewarm tea sloshing onto their floor feels like proper vengeance.
For about two seconds. Then I begin to feel a sense of horror overtake my fury. What the hell is wrong with me? Coming here was a mistake. Big fucking mistake.
I turn away and begin walking toward the door. Well, they won’t be extending an invitation again, that’s for sure. Even knowing my outburst was unacceptable, even though I know there’s no reason they should, a part of me hopes they will stop me.
My fingers brush the doorknob when I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder. Without looking, I try to shrug it off, but the grip tightens.
“Not so fast. You owe us an explanation, don’t you think?”
The speaker doesn’t wait to see what I think before lifting me up by the waist and carrying me. I’m facing the door, watching my escape route get farther away with each step. It’s strange—I just wished for this to happen, but now that it has, my stubborn pride is battling my desire. Of course, I hadn’t quite imagined being carried back in like a sack of groceries.
Which is why I do want any girl would. I fight his hold, twisting and turning, kicking my legs. “Put me down! Stop it! If I want to leave, you’ll let me—”
I find myself unceremoniously released, and a hard, stinging smack to my jeans-clad bottom stops me in mid-rant. When Carter moves into my line of vision, his rugged, handsome face is no-nonsense. My ass stings where he smacked it, and my eyes widen.
“You come to us with no warning and practically bang our door down in the middle of the night, and think you can act wrong done by?”
My lip begins to tremble despite myself. The sheer weariness I feel makes his firm tone hit harder than it normally would. “Sorry,” I whisper.
But that doesn’t mollify his annoyance. My apology doesn’t even seem to register judging by his irritated expression. “Now, explain,” he commands in a very no-nonsense tone.
I feel some of my earlier anger blaze in my chest, but it’s tempered by the fact that I can still feel the imprint of his hand tingle across my ass. “You said I could come here,” I say again, quieter this time. “Whenever I needed. Well…I needed to.” I shrug. “So, I came. Since the invitation obviously isn’t open any longer, I can just—”
He holds up a hand, and damn if I don’t yield to it. I hate myself for doing it, but my vocal cords seem to fear him now. “It is an open invitation. However, a heads up would have been nice.”
“Yeah, a little text that says, ‘Hey, guys, I’m on my way, and oh, before I forget, I should probably mention I’m a hellcat’,” Brandt puts in from his perch against the wall.
I give him a look that would make a lesser man apologize, but he just smiles, looking amused. “My brother never mentioned what an asshole you are.”
His dark brows shoot up, though he’s clearly far from being offended. “Yeah? Don’t feel bad—he didn’t let us in on your sunny disposition, either.”
“Maybe I don’t have a bad temper; maybe you’re just shitty hosts,” I snap.
“Young lady, I would advise you to watch your mouth,” Carter says, gazing down at me with an expression grim enough to leave no doubt he means it.
My tingling ass prickles in warning.
Brandt merely whistles and then chuckles as though I’ve made a joke.
It irks me that nothing I say seems to affect him.
“My big bro tried to make you feel right at home, for all the good it did him.” Brandt nods at the chipped mug and the mess on the bare wooden floor.
I feel the unpleasant heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks. As much as I hate to admit it—and will never give him the satisfaction of hearing me say it—he’s right. I glance at Carter who’s still giving me the behave-yourself-young-lady look, which is the only thing that makes me fight the urge to cuss Brandt out. “Well, maybe you should take some lessons from your older brother then.”
And though I don’t expect it, this seems to be the thing that finally rocks Brandt. His eyes flash at me, and he’s not laughing anymore, that’s for sure. In fact, the look on his chiseled face makes me feel uneasy, as does the way he begins to stalk toward me, his expression growing more menacing with each step.
Brandt looks like he hasn’t entirely decided if he likes me, but he’s leaning strongly toward not. I’m trembling, but the excitement of the last few minutes has staved off the cold. I try my best to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I want is for him to see that he’s unnerving me.
When he stops in front of me, the look he gives me makes me shiver, though my pussy pulses hotly between my legs. “I have different ways of doing things than my brother.” Without warning, his hand snakes around and his fingers tangle in my hair. Then he pulls my head toward his, and his lips come down on mine in a hard, bruising kiss.
I should fight him, like I did when Carter picked me up. Brandt captures my mouth possessively, like he has a right to it, and I freeze. When his tongue parts my lips, I don’t stop him. Instead, I grant him access, and as his tongue sweeps inside, I’m hyper aware of his fingers wound tightly in my hair, of the full-body tremble threatening to overtake me.
I’ve never been kissed like this in my life. When he lets me go, I’m gasping from shock, from the way he stole my air, and from the way he leaves my core shaking and my pussy clenching.
“Brandt,” Carter objects mildly.
“What? Being hospitable wasn’t working, so I decided to try something new. Besides, just look at her. She liked it.” He smiles lazily, almost cocky, like he can read me better than the time.
“I… I d-didn’t,” I protest, then my shame and blush deepen at the same time. My face is burning, and I drop my head to hide from their eyes.
“You sure about that? Should I check?”
I snap my head up to glare at him, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His smile only grows, and my hand itches to slap the arrogance off his face. At the same time, I can literally feel my arousal pooling in my panties, proving his point. Is it in spite of his smug self-assurance? Or… because of it?
“Well? Should I?”
I glower at him, seething, but even as he tosses gasoline on the fire of my temper, my lips pulse with the memory of his kiss. The mere thought of it is enough to make heat surge over my entire body.
What a pretentious asshole. I want to rip that satisfied smile off his smug face, and I would—if I wasn’t outnumbered three-to-one.
I don’t have to look around to remember there are three big, burly, very hot men in the room. Each of them are much taller than me, with well-built bodies that leave no doubt in my mind that even if I manage to work up the courage, I will regret it.
“Leave her alone.” Carter’s voice rumbles through the room, the older, wiser one who, I hope, will be listened to.
“I’m just telling the truth. We don’t tolerate liars. If she’s going to stay here, she should know.”
There’s a long beat of silence while I weigh my options. My lips are throbbing. Brandt’s eyes are locked on mine, drinking me in, and as much as I want to spit at him, I also kinda wouldn’t hate it if he kissed me again, either.
I should get the hell out of here. Mom’s lecture for showing up a day late will be better than dealing with these jerks. I don’t know what Danny ever saw in any of them.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Brandt says.
“He’s right. It’s too late,” Carter grouses.
“Besides, you’re clearly exhausted,” Christian adds.
The look Brandt gives me is his most arrogant one yet.
I am beyond tired, as Carter pointed out, which is the only explanation for what I do next. I reach out and slap his arrogant cheek. I like the sting in my palm. I like the way his skin ripples, then reddens.
But he doesn’t look surprised, or even bothered by it, which clearly means I didn’t do it hard enough. I reach out to correct that mistake, but he catches my wrist before I can repeat the slap.
“Hey!” I glare at him. “Let me go!” I try to pull free, but he holds me in an iron grip.
“Why, so you can hit me again? And after I was so nice to you, too.” His other hand snakes back around to the back of my head and his lips crash against mine. My lips part in protest, but he clearly takes this as his way in. His teeth graze my lips just before his tongue surges into my mouth, claiming space as though he lives there. The kiss is similar to the first, but even more urgent, demanding, and all-consuming.
I know I should fight him. I should bite his tongue, stomp on his foot. But the pressure of his mouth on mine robs me of the ability to think. My anger is a very real thing coiled inside of me, but at the same time, lust rears up to do battle with my fury. By the time he releases me, my lips feel bruised. The wrist he captured is now set free, and when I raise my hand again, it’s to touch my swollen pouty lips.
No one says anything. The tension in the room is so thick, the weight of it presses against my chest. I stare into his dark, hungry eyes, those full lips turned up in a slightly smug curl. I should get away from him, but as much as my brain screams at me to do just that, my feet won’t move.
This isn’t what I came for. I didn’t come expecting this.
He moves a step closer and grabs the waistband of my jeans. He waits, his eyes searching mine.
Tell him to stop. Tell him to let you go.
I can tell that’s exactly what Brandt is waiting for as his gaze bores into mine, but although my lips part, I don’t say anything. Words abandon me completely, leaving me with nothing but the rapid thudding in my chest, my shallow breathing, and my ass and pussy that pulse with entirely different sensations, and yet, seem to feed off one another.
He leans in, towering over me while his eyes glitter, and I see it for what it is: a challenge.
“Please,” I whisper, and even as the word slips past my trembling lips, I’m not quite sure what I’m asking.
Brandt’s smile grows, and his eyes dance with amusement. Then his hand moves, and before I can even process the loss of it, his fingers plunge inside my pants, brushing against my pussy.
“Brandt, come on. What are you doing?” Christian this time, providing rescue I’m not sure I even want.
He pulls his hand back, and my brain is so fuzzy with everything that’s happened, and the overwhelming sensations rushing through me, that I can’t even process who’s speaking.
“I was testing a theory,” he answers smoothly. “And I was right—she liked it. But hey, don’t take my word for it. See for yourself.”
Before I can attempt to make sense of what he’s saying, I find myself being shoved toward Carter, who reaches out a hand to steady me as I sway on the spot. His eyes rake over me, dark, like Brandt’s, but more serious, somber. His jaw is a hard line of disapproval. Of what? Of Brandt, and his possessive touch? Of me and my early morning wake-up call?
Staring into his handsome, unsmiling face, I can’t help but feel guilty. I have acted badly pretty much from the moment they let me inside. The grave line of his mouth makes my bottom tingle, like a premonition.
“Is he right?” the eldest brother asks.
I flush. Somehow, looking up at him makes me remember the first time I met the Armstrong brothers. I’d been nine years old, and they had come to visit Danny while they were on leave. I’d been in awe of all of them: the heroes of my big brother’s stories in the flesh. And they were even better in person—strong, confident, each with their own commanding presence.
Being in front of them now, all grown up, though, and having behaved very badly… seeing that they aren’t going to allow it…somehow, it turns me on in a way I never thought possible.
I can’t say that, though. I’m far too proud—and totally humiliated at the way my mutinous body has been caught in its betrayal.
“I’m waiting, Darla,” he says, the narrowing of his eyes showing that he’s running out of patience. Unlike his brother, Carter doesn’t seem amused. There’s no smirk, no smugness, just a clear demand for answers.
My pulse is racing, my belly is in knots, but the heat in my jeans is radiating toward him, threatening to burn through the denim. I’m amazed he can’t feel it. I’m starting to become aware of something else, too: the dampness in the crotch of my panties, and the fact that I’m growing wetter with each second.
Carter reaches out and brushes his hand over my breast. His eyes are on me the entire time, moving, watching for any sign of discomfort. I know if I so much as make a face, he’ll stop.
But I don’t.
And neither does he. His fingers seize my nipple that is so hard it can be easily seen poking against my bra and shirt. When his fingers clamp around it, I make a breathy, mewling cry that comes from somewhere deep inside me.
He bends his head, and his lips brush against my ear. “So, Brandt’s right after all,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear. I shiver, not just from being caught, but from the fact that I’m not sure what comes next. There’s a gleam in his eye that leaves me feeling unsettled.
I’m not sure if he’s going to continue, or if he’s going to stop. Nor can I decide which I’m hoping for.
“What are we going to do with you, Darla, hmm?” He murmurs. As his dark eyes search my face, my pussy clenches, removing all doubt in my mind about what I want.
My ass shivers, but not because I fear another swat. The worst thing he could do right now would be to send me home, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
He clucks his tongue, and the look he gives me makes my womb clench. Then he shoves me—not hard, but not gentle, either—toward the last brother.
Strong hands catch me, and I inhale sharply as I stare at the floor. I’m trying to calm my racing heart, but before I can, I feel firm fingers hooking underneath my chin and my head being guided up.
Christian’s eyes are green, with brown flecks. They’re also warm and kind. The knots in my belly tighten, and almost as though he can sense them, he holds my chin in a firmer grip. His eyes have arrested my own, and without letting go of my gaze, his hand finds the button on my jeans and he pops it open.
I’m holding my breath, and not even aware of it until my chest becomes tight.
“Breathe, baby.” Without warning, he yanks down my pants and underwear in one quick pull, and suddenly, I let out the pent-up air in a frenzied exhale.
How do they do that? How do they all seem to read my thoughts? No, they’re reading my body. It makes a delicious wave of excitement skate through me, tightening everything from my nipples to my toes.
He offers me a hand, which I take, then I’m stepping out of the puddle of my jeans and panties. When another shiver steals over my skin, I feel goosebumps rise on my legs, and it has nothing to do with being cold. My entire body feels electrified with pure longing.
“Brandt is right. You like a bit of manhandling, don’t you?”
I never thought I did, but… I drop my eyes to the floor, flushing, unsure if he actually wants an answer.
Unlike his older brother, Christian seems content with my silence. He walks me over to the couch, moves in front of me, and takes a seat.
Exquisitely aware that I am completely naked from the waist down, I peek up at him, then my eyes dart away. The air is so thick with lust, I can practically feel it pressing against me, along with the tension of not knowing what comes next.
Christian, who I’m beginning to think of as the nice one, seems okay with making me wait. When he finally touches me, it feels like forever, even though it’s only been a minute at most. I nearly come undone with a simple brush of his large, smooth hand. He slides his palms, ever so slowly, under my shirt and up my stomach. Everywhere his fingers glide, my skin tightens with the pulse of his touch. Then he finds the clasp of my bra and unhooks it.
“Just so you know, only good girls get invited to stay.”
I hear the drawled, slightly teasing words before I find myself being spun around. I come face-to-face with Brandt once more. It briefly occurs to me that Christian is now getting an up-close view of my naked ass.
“Here, let me help you with that.” He reaches for the hem of my shirt and whips it over my head.
I cross my arms against the sudden assault of cool air on my naked flesh, but not before my bra falls part-way down, releasing my breasts.
“Mmmm.” He reaches out and flicks a pebbled nipple. “Do good girls like being spanked?” His hand steals over my ass, fingers sweeping across the swat I got from Carter. My butt tingles, but for an entirely different reason.
“I…I didn’t…that’s not why…”
He looks at Christian and shakes his head. “She just can’t help herself.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but the heat in my cheeks intensifies. I duck my head to hide my humiliation.
“Maybe she’s never been taught how to be a good girl,” Carter says and I see his feet enter my line of vision as he stops in front of me. “We can help her with that, don’t you think?”
Without waiting for an answer, he reaches for my arms and guides them to my sides. My bra straps slide the rest of the way down my arms, and he removes it and drops it onto the rustic coffee table. I keep my eyes firmly on the floor, until he bends down and catches my gaze.
“Do you know what happens to girls with dirty mouths who lie to me?”
His low growl makes my breath hitch. Wordlessly, I shake my head.
“‘No sir,’” he coaches, his voice patient, but firm.
“No sir,” I echo in a whisper.
“We give their mouths something better to do until they can learn to behave.”
My brow furrows as I try to process what he’s saying, but when he opens the button on his flannel pajama pants and pulls out his long, rock-hard cock, my mind goes completely blank.
“Show me you want to be a good girl,” his deep voice is a rumble that vibrates through my chest.
This entire night has taken a surreal turn, and I’m wrestling with so many thoughts, not to mention undeniable arousal. My tightened nipples and wet pussy are ample proof. Still, I hesitate. This is far from what I expected, and as much as I would love to suck his cock, a part of me knows I shouldn’t want to.
Carter must see the indecision on my face and decides he doesn’t want to wait for me to battle it out, because he takes my hardened nipple between two fingers, and gives it a twist.
The sound I emit is more a mewl of desire than a protest. The heat in my face intensifies. “What…what do you want from me…sir?” I ask in a breathless whimper.
Carter’s expression doesn’t change. His face is still etched in serious lines, but I catch the sudden gleam in his eye.
“He wants you to kneel, naughty girl,” I hear a whisper in my ear, moments before I feel hands on my shoulders, gently guiding me down.
I sink to the floor, and look up at Carter, hesitant. His cock bobs in my field of vision, but I look at his face, waiting.
“See? I think she wants to be a good girl.” Christian runs a hand over my hair from behind.
“Hmm. You might be right, Bro.” Carter looks down at me, his face inscrutable. “Take my cock into your mouth.”
My lips part, and I’m not sure if my body is obeying him before my mind catches up, or if I’m just shocked to find myself here, my knees pressed to the cold, hard wood of their barren floor.
He moves an inch closer, and the head of his cock is pressing against my lips. He doesn’t shove it in, though. He waits.
I’ve given exactly one blow job in my life, and it didn’t end well. I told myself it was a one-and-done. Now though, as his thick, purple head bobs in front of my mouth, I find myself reconsidering. The tension in my belly feels hot, and even before I realize what I’m doing, I raise my eyes to his and open my mouth.
He takes that as the only invitation he needs, and his cock surges into my mouth.
At first, it’s too much, and my eyes pop as I’m overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. I reach up a hand and hold onto his leg to brace myself as I try to steady my breathing, but my eyes water as he presses against the back of my throat, and I begin to gag.
Christian grabs a handful of my hair, and his fingers tighten into a fist. “Relax,” he orders.
My body tightens in response to the authority in his voice, from my nipples to my toes. I try to obey him, but all I can seem to focus on is gagging around Carter’s dick.
“Show me how you use that tongue,” Carter says in that deep, no-nonsense voice.
“Relax,” Christian says again, and this time he uses the rope of my hair to pull my head back.
I rock back off my knees, gasping for air. I suck in a sharp lungful of air as Carter’s hard, glistening cock waits for me to catch my breath.
“Do it again,” Christian purrs, his mouth on my ear. “And this time, relax your throat. Let him in.”
It’s as close to an order as he’s given, his voice still soft, but no less commanding than his brothers. My breath hitches as his command runs through me, but I take in a couple deep, calming breaths, and nod. Then I move back onto my knees and maneuver my open mouth toward Carter’s cock again. I look up at him, but he doesn’t seem to intend on doing it for me this time. I stick my tongue out and slowly slide it up his shaft.
He growls low in the back of his throat, and I feel the knots in my belly loosen the slightest bit. When I take the head of his cock into my mouth again, I feel more confident.
I’m moving up and down Carter’s long shaft, getting into a rhythm, when I feel Christian let go of my hair and take hold of my hips. He shifts me, and his fingers brush over my pussy lips. I moan, my mouth full of Carter’s cock, and hear him hiss in a breath from the vibrations. Then I tighten my lips on his shaft and pick up speed, sucking for all I’m worth.
Christian’s fingers slide inside me, two thick digits plunging into my wet depths. He starts out slowly, a gentle explorer, but I’m so wet, his fingers make squelching sounds as they move inside me. My cheeks burn as the sounds of my arousal fill the room.
This is unreal. If I wasn’t living it, I wouldn’t believe it.
Carter’s hand is now threaded into my hair, and his grip is both commanding and stabilizing. My mouth, full of large, stiff dick, is making it impossible not to be in the moment.
“Faster, baby girl,” Carter orders with a firm tug on my hair.
I comply without hesitation, while Christian’s fingers move inside me. Carter grunts, and it feels like a compliment, spurring me on.
Christian picks up speed, and before long his fingers are moving with so much intensity, I’m nearly vibrating on his brother’s cock. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs. “Suck his cock like you mean it.”
I don’t know if it’s the husky praise, his magical digits, or just how aroused I am, but I feel my climax building. It’s almost too much, the feeling of my body surrendering to pure pleasure. I’m dizzy with everything going on at once, and yet, I’ve gotten into a rhythm with Carter, and I feel his dick growing slicker. Either I’ve become accustomed to him in my mouth, or he’s close to coming.
Christian strums my pussy like it’s his favorite instrument. Considering this is new to both of us, that makes him a fucking savant. Then he brushes a finger against my clit, and I come completely undone.
My pussy tightens greedily on his expert fingers, and I purr, my mouth full of cock. As I’m moaning and gasping while my pussy spasms, Carter’s cock spurts hot cum into my mouth.
“You better swallow every drop,” he orders, and I force myself to obey until my mouth has wrung him dry, and I’ve gulped down his cum.
When he is done with me, Carter withdraws his cock from my mouth, and I rock back onto my heels. To my surprise, Christian promptly trades places with his older brother. He puts two slick fingers in front of me, and a searing blush floods my cheeks as I’m forced to stare at the proof of my arousal.
“Lick them clean.”
His voice is still gentler than anything I’ve heard from either of his brothers, but there’s no mistaking it for anything other than a command he intends me to obey.
My eyes search his face, looking for a trace of leniency, but there’s no mercy in his expression. I grimace, but I stick out my tongue and tentatively lick his fingers. Christian, clearly losing patience with my pace, shoves them into my mouth. My eyes widen, but I dutifully suck them, and instead of the taste of Carter’s seed, my own tangy musk coats my tongue.
After he pulls his fingers out of my mouth, he smiles, grabs my nipple with his wet fingers and grips it. “Are you ready to take my cock, now, naughty girl?”
Even as he asks the question, my attention is captured by the sound of a zipper being pulled down behind me. I know Brandt is the only one wearing jeans, and I begin to turn my head toward the sound, but find my chin captured by Christian’s fingers. He forces my focus back to him.
“I asked you a question,” Christian’s tone makes it clear he will not tolerate my attention wandering away from him.
I look up into his green eyes and after a long moment, I nod. “Yes…y-yes, sir. I’m ready.”
“Show me.”
I take hold of his gray shorts at the hem and pull them down. Immediately, his hard cock springs out. Not quite as long as his brother’s, maybe, but thicker, and traced with bulging veins. I find myself riveted, especially when his shorts are puddled on the floor and I see the whole picture. Just above his hard dick is a mass of dark, curly hair, impressive abs, and a sculpted chest, and just below are his large balls and muscular thighs.
Tentatively, I reach out and take hold of his balls. Then I lean forward and kiss them. I look up, and seeing no objection from Christian, I lick them before slowly pulling one into my mouth.
Now, I feel his hand seize my tresses once more as he groans while I suck. “Next time, you’ll wear a ponytail,” he tells me in a low, guttural voice that makes my belly swoop. “That’s the perfect leash for you.”
I take my time licking and suckling, then I sit back and gaze up at him, waiting for instruction.
Before he says anything, however, I feel movement behind me. My shoulders tense even before I hear his voice.
“Is she wet enough, or do I need to get some lube?” Brandt’s voice is somehow smooth and cocky all at once.
The question alone sets my thighs to trembling and my core shudders. Christian pulls his dripping cock out of my mouth and unceremoniously pulls me back up to my feet. Then his fingers are back inside my swollen pussy, probing. I want to relax and enjoy him, but I am starting to realize what’s about to happen and I’m nervous.
“She’s plenty wet here.”
“Good to know. I’m going to lube her ass up good so I can go in nice and easy.”
My head is fuzzy with everything that’s happened, and frankly, I’m pretty sure I don’t even like Brandt. Yet, they don’t ask my opinion on the matter. While Christian holds me in place, nuzzling and nipping my neck, I feel Brandt’s long finger sliding between my pussy lips and pushing inside. I jolt internally, and my pussy—clearly not on the same page with the rest of me—grips his finger. He strikes in and out a couple of times, then scoops up my juices and makes quick work of smearing my tight, puckered hole with proof of my own arousal.
I shudder to feel him there, even as my face is suffused with heat. I’ve never had anal, and never wanted to, but I’m not sure how to tell them. Suddenly, Christian turns me to face Brandt. Now’s my chance. I need to tell them I—
But before I can even finish my thought, my heart leaps in my chest.
It’s just the dark hair, dark eyes… the Rhett-Butler-frankly-I-don’t-give-a-damn effect, I tell myself. But whatever it is—the way his lip tugs up into a lopsided, devil-may-care grin, or the smoldering look in his eyes—there’s clearly at least some part of me that likes it. Even if it’s only the naughty part.
My eyes drift. He has well-defined, tan shoulders, and a muscled chest that can’t be hidden by clothing—not that he’s trying. My gaze travels even lower and as I study the ridges of his well-maintained abs, my mouth goes dry. As it turns out, he also has an impressive cock. In fact, it might be the biggest of the three, which somehow both excites me and pisses me off.
“You like what you see, don’t you, baby?”
I lift my gaze to his too-pleased face, and I glower. Before I can respond, he steps forward, pushes me back down to my knees, and runs the tip of his cock across my lips. And fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate myself for it, but my lips part for him. Then he bursts inside, hitting the back of my throat in an instant. It’s over quickly, just three quick thrusts, and he pulls out. His cock is throbbing and glistening with my saliva.
Dragging me back up, making me feel like a yoyo, he spins me around so that I’m looking up at Christian once more. Brandt reaches around and grabs my breasts, holding them up for Christian, who bends and takes my puckered nipple into his mouth, sucking it until I whimper. At the same time, Christian’s hands loop around and find my ass, squeezing my cheeks hard. I begin to pant.
They stop playing with my over-excited body as though by mutual consent and Christian stands up straight once more, grinning down at me. “Yeah, she’s ready.”
Without a word, I’m pulled backward, my back leaning into Brandt’s chest. Before I have time to decide if I like this or not, Christian takes hold of my thighs and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. Holding me up with one arm, he fists his pulsing cock with the other, lines himself up, and claims my pussy in one long, relentless thrust. My gasp and his groan harmonize, and I close my eyes so I don’t have to see either of them as my face floods with warmth. I don’t know whether I’ve ever been more turned-on or terrified.
I feel embarrassed for how giddy I am, especially considering the circumstances, but I can’t help it. It’s been far too long since I’ve been properly fucked.
Christian moves his hands to my butt cheeks, spreading them wide open for his brother. Suddenly, I feel the head of Brandt’s cock pressing against my tight, virgin anus. I tense up, exhilaration and trepidation coursing through me. “Wait,” I murmur, but my protest is cut short. It’s hard to focus on anything other than Christian’s powerful thrusts.
“It’s going to be okay,” Brandt says.
It is hands-down the nicest thing he’s said since I arrived, and my eyes snap open so I can look at him, almost as if I suspect an imposter. My head is tilted up, resting on his shoulder. I can’t see his face, but he bends down and nips my ear lobe.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m going to make this good for you, baby.”
For the first time tonight, I relax around him. I let my eyes flutter shut again, and I revel in the way Christian moves inside me, his cock seeming to go deeper with every thrust.
Then I feel Brandt’s cock again nudging at my back door, and little by little, he begins to enter me, too. It’s different than I thought it would be. Instead of sheer pain, the new pressure makes the way Christian’s cock is hitting my pussy feel even more incredible. There’s pain, yes, burning, stinging pain, but somehow, Brandt makes it morph into pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Brandt grunts as he pushes deeper into my ass. I feel a thrill shoot through me, from the top of my head all the way down to my curling toes.
Once Brandt is buried to the hilt, the brothers begin to move together in sync. Pushing and pulling my pleasure between them, making me the center of their world. Brandt has one hand on my shoulder, his fingers a gentle, insistent guide, while his other is playing with my nipples, pinching and tweaking. Christian’s hands are cupping my ass cheeks as he moves inside me.
I feel full in a way I’ve never experienced. My skin is electrified, the sensation of their hands on my body causing heat to radiate through me. Christian’s possessive grip on my ass has me purring inwardly like a kitten, and if this keeps up, they might be hearing it pour from my lips real soon.
Brandt seizes my breast and squeezes, none-too-gently.
“Ooh!” I groan, leaning harder against Brandt.
He promptly sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and I nearly come apart right there.
“Come for me, baby,” Brandt growls in my ear, and that’s all it takes.
He’s a bit of a bully, a bit of an ass, but apparently there’s a part of me that likes it. My body seems intent on obeying orders from the Armstrong brothers. I feel my muscles grow tense as I stiffen, and moments later I’m screaming, and my body is shaking along with my voice as I come on Christian’s cock.
“That’s it, baby,” Brandt growls in my ear. “Let us hear how much you like it.”
Christian’s thrusts intensify, and he squeezes me flesh possessively while he pumps inside me. He comes with a roar of his own.
I yell so loudly, for so long, that by the time my cries of euphoria die into exhausted, sated whimpers, Christian and Brandt have finished, their hot seed dripping from both my holes and down my thighs.
Brandt is still holding me upright, breathing heavily, his chest slick with sweat.
I’ve barely caught my breath and my eyes are closed when I hear someone—it sounds like Carter—say, “We should all probably get some shut-eye. It’ll be five before we know it.”
Did he say… five?! My eyes crack open.
“I’ll get her cleaned up and put her to bed,” Carter says.
Another whimper is all I can offer in response. I seem to have lost my voice, and I’m not sure if it’s ever coming back. Still, I gave it to a good cause.
My eyes are still shut, and so heavy I don’t even try to open them when I feel myself being lifted up in a strong embrace. I know it’s Carter because I know his smell from when we were so up close and personal, plus, when I curl into his embrace, I feel his beard caress my cheek.
I don’t have the strength to open my eyes even when I’m laid onto a soft mattress and he parts my thighs. But when I feel the warmth of a washcloth between my legs, wiping my pussy, then going down my legs, my eyelids flutter open.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him. “I didn’t mean to come here and cause problems. I just wanted—”
“Shh.” He moves the washcloth, cleaning me thoroughly. “You need some sleep. We can talk in the morning.” The bed shifts, and I hear his footsteps as he walks away.
I tense, unsure what to do next and too exhausted to ask. Then his footsteps are moving in my direction once more, and I feel the covers being pulled back, except for the part I’m lying on.
“Scoot over.”
I obey, and he leans down and pulls the blankets tight around me.
“Get some rest,” he says, and my eyes close again as though they’re wired to his command.
I swear I feel the brief press of his lips against my forehead, but before I even have time to think about it, I’m asleep.
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