“Wha—” she starts, the rest of the word a moan when I place my lips over her pulse point and suck. One hand comes up to grip my bicep, which flexes under her touch, her fingers digging in, and for once, I don’t care that she’s crinkling my suit. I don’t give a fuck that I’ll look untidy as I continue to mark her, wanting everyone to know who she belongs to.
I pull away, my breath heavy, as I straighten up and stare into her hooded eyes. My cock is practically screaming at me to sink balls deep inside her, but I’ve not lost all my control just yet. Though she definitely tests it.
“Time to go.” I step away, adjusting myself in my slacks, her eyes darting down to track the movement, that delicious red coating her cheeks. It doesn’t hide the hickey that I just gave her, standing out like a beacon on her slender neck. Good.
“That was hot as fuck, brother,” Jude says, letting go of her hand when I hold my bent arm out to her. Rolling my eyes, I ignore him, taking an inhale when she slips her hand into the crook of my elbow. “Can you give me one? Pretty please?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jude!” I glare at him over the top of Dove’s head. Even in the heels, she doesn’t reach beyond my shoulder.
“I think that would be pretty hot,” comes a soft voice, and I look down at her, her cheeks blazing now.
“You want me to give my brother a hickey?”
She licks her lips, looking up at me, and I see the desire there, plain as day.
“I–I mean, there is something kind of horny about the taboo nature of it.”
I consider her for a long moment, wondering how far I would go to make her happy. To turn her on.
“Let’s go,” I finally say, breaking our stare-off and leading us towards the door. I don’t miss Jude’s words as we walk into the sunlight.
“If anyone can convince him, you can, Nightingale.”
Little fucker.
We arrive in style, it’s what everyone expects, our vintage Rolls-Royces pulling up outside the entrance. Staff, in suits, rush out to open the door, and I step out, turning back to hold my hand out for Dove. The boys exit their car—I made them get the second car as I wanted our Dove all to myself for the ride over. Suffice to say, she looks even more disheveled, her eyes still have the desperation of someone who’s on the edge of pleasure and has been denied a climax.
She may have ruined us, but I’m still a bastard and not above teasing her in retaliation.
She shies away when the flashes of the cameras blind us, but I keep a tight grip on her hand, pulling her into my side as the others come and stand either side of us, giving the vultures what they want.
“Who’s the beauty, Aeron?” one shouts, and I just give my signature glare in the direction the voice came from.
“Is she your new plaything?” another voice yells, and Knox growls as Jude throws his head back and laughs.
“She’s a beautiful toy, isn’t she?” he asks the crowd, grabbing her hand and stepping forward, making her twirl for the cameras. Her posture relaxes at his antics, and when he pulls her into his side, I see him whisper something into her ear which leaves her blushing and smiling coyly.
“How’s your father, Jude? Still in Dubai?”
“Yes, and having the time of his life finding some more race winners,” Jude replies, his smile wide as he keeps our bird pressed to his side. “Speaking of, as lovely as it is chatting to you all, we must be off, otherwise, we’ll miss all the action.”
And just like that, he has them eating out of the palm of his hand as we walk through the tall glass doors into the reception foyer. I hear Dove’s gasp as she takes in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and the swathes of pink and white flowers and silk that decorate the vast space. It’s busy, but not packed, full of the rich and elite, owners of the horses that are running today. The ladies sparkle, dripping with jewels, long-flowing dresses that cost thousands covering their surgically-enhanced bodies. The men are all in top hats and tails, thousand-dollar suits, and gold watches showcasing their wealth. Fucking sheep, the lot of them.
The manager of this venue, dressed to the nines in gray tails and a top hat, strides towards us, his face split into a wide grin.
“Boys!” he greets in a deep, booming voice, and I can’t help the grin that tugs my lips upwards.
“Uncle Rick,” I say, the breath whooshing out of me as he wraps me up in a bear hug.
“I swear you get taller every time I see you!” I roll my eyes at him as he releases me with a couple of slaps on the back.
“I stopped growing about ten years ago, Rick.”
“How old are you?” Lark’s shocked voice interrupts us, and I turn slightly to face her.
“Thirty-two, sweet Dove,” I reply, holding her gaze as her eyes widen.
“That makes you ten years older than me, you fucking pervert!”
