I glance toward Oliver and Rhett again. Neither of them shows the slightest hint of embarrassment from watching Elliot and me. Oliver just quirks an eyebrow up, a grin appearing on his face.
“I’m not uncomfortable at all,” I say, turning and kissing Elliot. I hear one of the guys swear under their breath, and it makes me smile.
One moment I’m on the leather seat, and the next Elliot is lifting me onto his lap. His hands run over the fabric of my dress, and I realize that it’s low-cut enough that he could push it right off my shoulders. In the front, it’s a deep V, meeting below my breasts and showing off more cleavage than I normally do. And with its low back, he could do it with almost no effort.
Dragging his lips across my collarbones, Elliot places a hand on my upper back. I arch into him, moaning. And then he does it. His other hand reaches up, brushing my skin as he pushes the dress off my shoulder.
For a moment, I feel too exposed. None of these men have even taken their masks off yet. He senses my hesitation, tugging the sleeve back up, but I stop him with my hand on his.
“I don’t want to do anything you’re not okay with,” he whispers.
To be honest, I never thought I’d do something like this. But now that I’m here, feeling the want rolling off all three of them, I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere else. If Elliot doesn’t want to wait until we get to his house, then so be it.
Dragging his hand down my arm and taking the dress with it, I say, “I’m okay. I’ve just never done anything like this before.”
“You’re absolutely sure? I won’t get upset if you say no.”
“Elliot,” I giggle, running my thumb across his cheek. “Keep going.”
He finally lets himself glance down at my breast and lets out a deep groan. The look he’s giving me makes me think he wants to devour me whole.
He leans me back, kissing everywhere on my breast except exactly where I want him to. I grip his arms in tense frustration. When he finally swirls his tongue around my nipple, I moan, my head falling back.
He tugs my left sleeve down, palming my other breast. “You’re so fucking perfect, Wren.”
When he pulls away to look at me, his chest is heaving, and his eyes are darkened with lust. I kiss him, threading both of my hands through his hair. When he nibbles on my bottom lip, I gasp. But before he gets the chance to, Rhett’s rough voice sounds throughout the limo.
“Elliot.”
With a pained groan, he pulls himself away from me and looks out the windows. My eyes go wide as I do the same, taking in the sprawling mansion before us.
Gently, Elliot sets me back onto the seat, pulling my dress back up. After helping me get my coat back on, he presses a kiss to my temple. “Let’s get inside.”
He helps me out of the limo, and I’m about to say goodnight to Rhett and Oliver when they step out as well.
Oh.
For some reason, I thought the limo driver would be dropping them off at their respective houses, too.
“Do you all live together?” I say as Elliot leads me to the front door. Thankfully, the walkway is shoveled and salted, because I don’t think I could handle the snow in my heels.
“Maybe,” Oliver says, grinning as he speeds past us and unlocks the door.
Warmth envelops me as we step into the mansion. Elliot takes my coat, setting it on a bench before shedding his own. I’m so lost in his gaze that I don’t realize the other two have left us.
A twinge of disappointment hits me, although I’m not quite sure what that means. But it’s lost on me the instant Elliot takes me back into his arms. He’s so warm, his heat spreading through me and mixing with my own potent desire.
“Come with me.” He pulls me through the house, up the stairs, and into what looks to be the master bedroom. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more than one master in a house this big.
As soon as the door is closed, the man loses all patience. He lifts me off my feet and throws me onto the bed, dress and all. I giggle as he crawls on top of me, kissing the skin in between the V of my dress.
“Do you know how many months I’ve wanted you in my bed, Wren? How much you occupy my thoughts?”
My only response is a moan as he bites at the soft flesh of my breast. He tugs my dress down again, moaning at the sight.
“I need to get this thing off of you.” He sits up, pulling me with him and searching for a zipper. When he finds it, he has it down in a split second. “Lift your hips for me, love.”
I do, and he slides the dress and my panties off in one go. With a shy smile, I reach up and push his mask over his head. I grab onto his hair, pulling him into a kiss that knocks us both back down.
He rolls us so I’m on top, his hands squeezing my ass. “Stand up for a second. I want to see all of you.”
His words make me blush, but I find my body obeying his command before I even think about it. So I stand there, in front of his bed, completely naked except for my heels.
He leans back on his elbows as he takes me in. I can see the bulge in his pants, but he doesn’t make a move to take his clothes off. The only skin of his I can see is his face, neck, and hands. The back of his left hand is covered with a tattooed rose that, for some reason, I’ve always found incredibly sexy.
I never thought his hands would be running all over my body. But now, I can’t help but wonder what else he’s going to do to me with them.
“If you’re comfortable,” he says in a low voice, “I want you to touch yourself. Show me what you like.”
Any uneasiness in my body leaves. Has a man ever cared so much about what I’m okay with during sex? What I’m comfortable—and not comfortable—with? Just the fact that he’s trying to respect my limits makes me more comfortable.
So I keep my eyes locked onto his as my hand snakes across my hip. I bring it downward until my fingers are slipping from my own arousal. As I find my clit, I let out a soft moan.
“Spread your legs for me, love. Let me see.” His gaze is pure fire, burning so hot, for me.
I step to the side with one leg, circling my clit with my middle finger. My hips rock against my hand involuntarily as the sounds of my masturbation fill the air.
“Fuck. I can hear how wet you are for me, Wren.”
My eyes slide closed, and my head tilts back slightly. I imagine his finger rubbing against my clit, sending sparks through my bloodstream. I shudder.
“That’s it. Move your finger faster.”
I do, and it causes the beginnings of an orgasm to build in me. I gasp when I feel him tweak one of my nipples. When I open my eyes, he’s standing right in front of me, so close I’m surprised I didn’t feel him.
He takes my hand in his, pulling it away from my body. He brings my fingers up to his nose, inhaling. Then he says, “Open your mouth,” and slips my fingers inside. I suck myself off of them.
When I finish, he kisses the tip of my nose. “Good girl.”
I let out a squeak. No man has ever called me that either, but it sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
As he breathes out a whisper of a laugh, he slides a single finger inside of me. The teasing action does nothing for the building tension in my body.