The man marked in heavy tattoos moves first, pressing me into the backseat with a mighty shove. Whoever is driving the car doesn't veer or even flinch, as both of the handsome bank robbers grapple me into submission.
The plastic ties are cut, replaced by a set behind my back. The cloth tie is reinstalled over my eyes where it is tightened this time around.
I gasp, a cold coercing set of hands shoving me to sit down between the robbers. It was hard not to memorize their faces in that brief split second glimpse I got of them. They're different, but similar, their eyes bright and their auras thick.
The one on my left with bright blond hair adjusts my skirt, the fabric riding up my thigh. I shudder, his fingertips dragging up my leg and pressing into my cold skin. He muffles a chuckle at my unease, the other with dark hair and darker tattoos only snarls in response.
“Enough teasing. She saw our faces; we have to abandon our initial plan."
“Oh, brother. Relax. She's harmless. Right, little bank teller?"
“Supervisor," I stammer, shivering as his hand rests plainly on my knee.
“Oh, my apologies. Supervisor Eden Smith, who lives at three-hundred-and-twelve West Lancast—"
“I get it," I groan, pulling my leg from his grasp. “I won't tell the police anything. I'm sorry."
“See that? She's not an issue, brother."
“Still, we should lay low for a minute. Make sure we don't drop her off on the sidewalk so she can go squawk to the police right away," the brutal tattooed robber says.
His hand squeezes my knee once. “Looks like we're having a sleepover, supervisor."
I don't own a car and am not used to being in one, so the prospect of keeping my motion sickness down is difficult. I instead run my hands down the back of my spine, feeling the ridges of my bones and counting them over in my head. I have no real sense of calming mechanisms worthy of such a tense moment.
The car stops, the engine cuts off, and I finally feel a sense of relief wash over me.
Warm hands pull me from the car and my legs are lifted from the ground. They keep me pinned into the wall of muscle that I can only guess is the tattooed robber. His smell is different, like bourbon and pine, while the blond brother smells like sage and cigars.
It's not long before I'm placed onto a soft leather sofa, my wrists blistering behind my back as I try to pull myself free from the plastic ties.
“She's a squirming little thing, isn't she?"
“She saw our f*cking faces."
Their steps recede from nearby, and I feel alone for the first time since the robbery. At the behest of my skin, I rip one of my wrists free, unhooking the other easily as I sit up. I toss the tie aside and uncover my eyes, taking in the dark apartment with new, panicked eyes.
Everything is brown leather, and brown wood, the same masculine scents from their bodies lingering throughout this penthouse. It's a massive place, at least ten-times the size of my residence. The front door holds my attention though, and I kick off my heels to walk over to it slowly.
Their voices stop me, and I swallow my fear as I peer into the gap between the nearly shut door and the frame. The man with tattoos is standing, peeling off his shirt to expose black inkwork all over his ripped muscles.
His brother, the sensible blond, leans back into the edge of the bed while perched with his shirt still on, though I can make out the indentions of his strength all the same.
“You love ropework, and you can't even tie up the woman correctly to keep her from pulling down the blindfold. Very wise, Dante. Very f*cking wise."
The tattooed beast grumbles, “Shut up, Ryder. I was trying to be sympathetic to her. She was understandably shaken. I didn't want to make it worse. Two guys in the back of a Mercedes, her hands bound behind her back—it's a simple scenario to consider if we were those types of criminals."
“What? That we'd defile her?"
My heart jumps into my throat.
Dante runs his hands over his chest, peering into the wardrobe for a shirt to cover the stark tattoos. “You see her skirt? I'm not saying I was tempted to do anything stupid but let's face the facts—she's sexy but innocent; we're criminals. The natural order of attraction speaks for itself."
He didn't just say that. Attraction? If he did say it, there is no way he meant me. I look at my disheveled appearance and my typical, petite posture. I have mousy brown hair and eyes like algae in excess. These guys are the most attractive men I've ever witnessed.
My chest tightens when they stop their conversation and head out of the room. I make no effort in moving, or in running off. I can only hear Jack's words replaying over and over in my head.
You're such a damn prude, Eden.
I had to do something!
I stare up at Dante as he comes back into the room, convinced that he could break his own teeth just by the intensity of his locked jaw. “What the hell are you doing out of those ties?"
For lack of a better response, I answer truthfully. “I was going to run away, but—"
I stop, Ryder's sapphire eyes drawing down my outfit. I watch him pick apart my appearance in his head, wondering what I would look like without so much fabric on. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I was doing the same to them.
I'm not a damn prude.
“But?" Ryder presses, standing at perfect height next to Dante, the two of them one hell of an immoral pair; and not just from the bank robbery, of course. “Come on, Eden. Spit it out. Why'd you stop to listen in on our conversation when you could've kept running?"
“I was intrigued."
Dante raises his stiff brow. His ivory skin doesn't blush, but mine does, burning hot trails through every limb in my body. I can't even inhale correctly, let alone drink down the sight of these two brothers.
“Intrigued? About what, exactly?" Dante asks.
He leans forward, his arm pressing into the wall behind me while I'm trapped between tattoos and hard muscles. Ryder grins in a manner that makes my core warm, my head light, and my s*x damp.
“You two," I admit, shamefully panicked at the pair of them. “And about your assessment of me."
Ryder's smirk grows into a prideful simper. “Eden Smith is flattered, brother."
“I can see that," Dante growls, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my face. “But is she a woman of her word or a coward?"
“Not a coward," I manage to squeal.
Not a prude, either. Definitely not a f*cking prude. Not right now, not with these two standing here, and most definitely not with an opportunity to even the score with Jack.
He cheats on me all the time, and I'm never brave enough to do something about it. Well, now is finally my chance to get back at him with these two hot guys that I'm clearly attracted to. Regardless of what else is about to happen tonight, I have an opportunity here to prove I'm not the woman Jack thinks I am.
Might as well have a little fun before I die....
Dante steps back from me, looking at me appraisingly.
This, however, seems very doable.
Ryder jumps forward, his muscular arms pinning mine to the wall. I bark in surprise, but more so in guttural fear, his lips muffling my scream into a moan. His tongue brushes mine, exploring my bottom teeth between mauling kisses. I sink into the feeling.
He backs away too quickly in retreat, Dante stepping into his spot where his kiss bites viciously down on my bottom lip. I pant through the kiss, yanking my arms free of his hold so I can keep them at my side, my hands toying with the hem of his jeans.
Or maybe they're Ryder's. I can't be bothered to double-check.
Somewhere in the midst of this mayhem, I'm directed out of the hallway. I half expect a warm bed, plush blankets and pillows, if they are civilized, but they aren't.
They're needy, handsy, and demanding, lifting me up and pinning my back down onto a cold, marble slab. I break the kiss with Ryder, wondering how they managed to switch back, while Dante undoes the seam of my skirt.
The brothers hardly look startled by my confusion.
I'm soon very naked, a little chilled, and maneuvered perfectly to be on my stomach, my exposed breasts shocked by the coldness of the marble kitchen island. I hitch a breath, an unwarranted smack resonating on my bare ass.
“Up, Eden," Dante says in his trademark bark. He sounded the same way in the vault today, so hard and pushy. I can only pray his s****l procedure operates the same way. “On your knees, shoulders down."
I abide by his suggestion, catching a glimpse of Ryder coming around to the front of me, his hand brushing my long curls back so he can meet my eyes. It's degrading in a sense, his pelvis pressing forward into the edge of the countertop.
It isn't a coincidence that the anatomy of this island is perfectly squared to his bulging erection. He eventually releases it, letting it prod out of his zipper to bring it just centimeters from my face.
I would be surprised by the girth of it, or the length, but my mind is elsewhere, wondering where Dante scurried off to. I don't have to guess for long. His fingers slide up the exterior of my drenched folds.
I hiss, tucking my arms under my shoulders, trying to give me leeway to bounce backwards, forcing his fingers into my core. They both release a laugh in unison.
“She's a little controlling, huh?" Ryder teases, pulling my hair gently so my chin rests on my arms. He's lining me up, perfecting my position, daring to press his c*ck around the interior of my throat. “Doesn't she know we're in charge?"
“She's going to learn," Dante groans.
I tense, another harsh slap coming against my lower thigh.
There's no way to prepare myself for dual penetration, not like this. I hollow my lips around Ryder's erection, Dante kneeling on the kitchen counter behind me, thumbing his d*ck into my warm, expectant p*ssy.
I would scream if I could manage with my mouth still around Ryder, feeling the intensity behind me only surge, ebbing sweet orgasms through my body without relent.
I pull forward, trying to handle the daring size of Dante, but it only brings Ryder forward, suffocating me with his s*x throat-deep and rattling against the rim of my teeth.
Dante slaps my thigh sideways to force me to part my legs more for him.
Ryder pulls my hand, curling it around the base of his erection so it slides effortlessly against my lips.
“F*cking beautiful," Ryder purrs, tilting his head back, his hand drawing to the back of my head where he guides me, or caresses me; either is fine. “So f*cking perfect."
I try to contain my delight, my thighs throbbing in vibrations that send waves of crashing orgasm over my body. Dante is a savage behind me, slapping and grabbing and f*cking; especially f*cking. So much so that I can't stand it anymore.
“She's so tight," Dante pants, his voice softer now that it's filled to the brim in arousal. “Dammit, I'm going to come already."
“Go for it," Ryder taunts. “I could stay here forever. Her lips are so soft."
“You think she's on birth control?"
Ryder harrumphs. “I looked at her medical history. She got the implant last year in her arm."
“F*cking perfect," Dante growls, his thrusting becoming more ferocious if it's possible.
I would laugh if I had the opportunity to; their conversation both informative and amusing.
The buildup is finally released from all three of us. I swallow, Dante growls, and I collapse in a warm, sweaty heap on the kitchen island.
I can't keep up, can't focus, feeling too buzzed with bliss to understand how I got into this predicament in the first place. The details aren't important, though. I couldn't care less about their drifting glares, their tender touches—or their more abrasive ones. I've neve done anything like this before. It's totally out of character for me–but they're so hot, and I felt an attraction to both of them right away.
All that matters is for once, I proved Jack wrong. If he could see me now on this unsuspecting kitchen island, naked and wet and exhausted, pinned between two burly bank robbers, then he would take back those words from last night.
Eden Smith is not a prude.