Sold To The Dragons (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) (16 page)

With a decided twinkle in his dark gray eyes, Blake set my champagne flute on the table. "No...no, sorry, no kisses for you right now. After all, this
is
a torture session. And it's about to get a lot more intense."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Blake, Steven, and I moved out to the formal burgundy-and-cream-decorated dining room to eat our meal. They'd already set the table with cream-colored linens, which contrasted beautifully with the deep red color of several red roses in a crystal vase. The room was dimly lit, with only an electric crystal chandelier set on low hanging above the table, and two red taper candles in silver holders serving as light sources. I couldn't deny that it was all terribly romantic.

I was seated at the head of the candlelit table and then Blake and Steven seated themselves, one of them on either side of me. Their bare chests glowed with golden light, as did their impossibly handsome, strong-jawed faces. I wasn't quite sure how I was expected to focus on the meal. But then again, I knew their intent was that I wouldn't.

After I'd politely thanked them for making the food, and after they'd lifted their champagne flutes in a toast to my "at times, almost maddeningly strong will and almost indescribable beauty," as Steven said, the three of us began eating in near-silence, the only sounds being some soft violin music Blake had put on and the quiet clanking of our silverware. I had to admit I felt a bit silly eating such a formal dinner in lounge clothes that could really even be described as pajamas, though considering the two men with me were almost literally naked, I didn't feel
too
silly.

The food was delicious. Somehow, despite seeming to be quite focused on my torture while in the kitchen, Blake and Steven had managed to cook an outstanding meal. The steak was like butter; the vegetables were perfectly crisp-yet-tender; and the mashed potatoes were the best I'd ever tasted in my life. There was also salad and bread, though I soon became too full on steak and champagne to much enjoy either of those items. And not long after that, I became too distracted by the sight of Blake and Steven's bare, glowing chests to even completely finish my steak. Like the kitchen had, the room became a bit warm, and I asked Blake to please refill my champagne glass.

With his dark gray eyes glinting in the candlelight, he knocked back the rest of his own champagne and then looked at me with the corners of his delectable, full mouth twitching. "I'll gladly give you a refill. But you know what the tradition is, don't you? Whenever a woman requests a third glass of champagne, she must move to sit on the lap of the pourer while he's pouring it. She must also remain sitting on his lap the entire time she's drinking her third glass of champagne."

I'd never heard of that "tradition" in my life, and I had serious doubts about whether it actually existed.

Actually rolling my eyes a bit at Blake, I snorted. "Well, I've never heard of that tradition."

"No surprise. It's only a local Ashcrest tradition. No wonder you never heard of it back in Quincy."

I was still more than a bit dubious. But at the same time, I wanted a bit more champagne. And also, the thought of sipping it while on Blake's lap was making me slightly dizzy, and dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with the champagne I'd already consumed. I realized I couldn't pass up the opportunity to participate in this "tradition." And so, against my better judgment, of which I was wondering if I even had any left, I nodded.

"All right. If this is your 'tradition' here, then fine. I'll drink my third glass of champagne on your lap. But if a woman has to do this to get a refill, then I think the man should be responsible for making it happen. I think you should have to use your shifter strength to pull me onto your lap, because right now, I just feel a little too dizzy from my first two glasses to even get up."

And just a bit dizzy from the sight of his glowing, nearly naked, candlelit body as well. Not to mention that I knew a display of his shifter strength would increase my lightheaded feeling in the best possible way.

After a quick glance at Steven, Blake pushed his chair back, giving me a sexy half-grin that turned my insides to jelly. "Your suggestion that the man specifically pull the woman onto his lap? I think we'll definitely include this as part of the tradition from now on."

With an arm around my back and one behind my knees, he pulled me onto his lap, the task not seeming to strain him in the least. The feel of his strong arms around me, lifting me, made butterflies riot on my stomach.

Then, once I was comfortably and very securely seated on his lap, he poured me some more champagne and handed my glass to me. "Now, you enjoy, while Steven gets our dessert."

I hadn't even been aware there was going to be any dessert, and I wasn't sure I still had room for any. While Steven got up from the table, I told Blake this, but he just lifted his muscular shoulders in a slight shrug.

"We won't make you have much...just a taste. Because now with you on my lap like this, I'm thinking that I may just want to feed you a little bite or two. Which is part of the third-glass-of-champagne tradition as well. The man with the gorgeous woman on his lap also gets to feed her a bite of something sweet as well."

I was full, though not
that
full, and I couldn't deny that the idea of being fed a bite or two of dessert appealed to me. Though food was quickly becoming the very last thing on my mind. The
first
thing was the feel of Blake's already-stiffening manhood beneath my rear. I knew it could become an instrument of torture very soon. It was already making me squirm a bit just as it was.

Once Steven had left the room, Blake lowered his voice a bit, his expression surprisingly serious. "Steven and I know you have a lot on your mind lately, and we know you've been doing a lot of serious thinking, which we respect. But whether
you
think you're worthy of being a mother yet or not,
we
think you are, and we think there's no reason you should deprive yourself of the lovemaking required to make that goal happen. And so, as I'm sure you've caught onto by now, we plan to torture you into it.

“Though just know, if you're
really
not into being tortured, just say the word at any time, and we'll leave. Immediately. Just say, 'Blake and Steven, stop. I don't want this.' And we'll go. But until then, we'll stay. Just in case you'd like to give your self-denial skills a workout. Just in case you'd like to see for exactly how long you can withstand torture."

I had a sinking feeling I wasn't going to be able to withstand it for long. I had a sinking feeling that my "self-denial skills" maybe weren't as strong as I'd thought. However, knowing that Blake and Steven surely thought this, too, I thought I might steel my resolve and surprise them a bit. Even if the night was going to inevitably end with the three of us in my bed, I could at least surprise them by how long I could hold out. Maybe I could even turn the tables and tease and tempt
them
to the point of torture. And suddenly, the idea very much appealed to me. In fact, I found it irresistible.

Only breaking eye contact with Blake for a moment or two, I lifted my top over my head and tossed it on the marble floor. "I bet I can withstand torture longer than you think. And I don't want you and Steven to leave at all. In fact, now that I'm in the mood to get comfortable and lose a few articles of clothing myself, I want you both to stay for as long as you'd like. However, if either of you begin to feel overly tortured at any point or it gets to be too much, just tell me right away, and you're more than free to leave immediately. Does that sound good?"

With my arms around his neck and my chest pressed against his, I awaited a response, though I didn't get one right away.

Shifting his hips almost imperceptibly, he studied my face with his eyes glassy for a long moment before responding. "That sounds just fine to me. Though I have to seriously question whether you have it in you to be a torturer. You see, I think Steven and I each have a cruel streak you might lack."

"Oh, really? Well, how's this for having a cruel streak?"

Though his manhood had grown much harder, making me want to stay put and feel it continue to stiffen, I hopped off his lap, took off my pants, and then hooked my thumbs in the sides of my red lacy underwear.

"See anything you like? See anything you'd like me to take off my underwear for so that you can take an even closer look?"

“Yes.”

Blake's breathing had suddenly become so heavy that it was almost comical. His gaze was locked on my front, specifically on the little scrap of red lace that covered my feminine parts.

But, proving I had a cruel streak just as wide as his and Steven's, I just laughed. "Oh, sorry. But I think I'll just go ahead and leave my underwear on for right now."

Blake's frown was so immediate and pronounced that it reminded me of a child who'd had a toy yanked away by a schoolyard bully.

Completely unable to help myself, I laughed again. "You can just consider that payback for when you refused to give me a kiss earlier."

He sulked for just a split-second, drawing his dark brows together, before pulling me onto his lap so suddenly I gasped. "You can be a very, very naughty little thing, Kira. Do you know that?"

Ignoring him, I shifted my hips on his lap, feeling what was now a rock-hard erection beneath me. "Ah, this is nice just to sit here like this. Just with my underwear fully on, the way I intend to keep them for at least the next several hours."

The look of disappointment on Blake's face was priceless. Though at the same time, I knew I could never actually keep my underwear on for as long as I'd said. And maybe not even for a single hour. Or even the next ten minutes. Even through my cruelty and teasing, I couldn't deny that the feel of his long, thick shaft beneath me was having a bit of an effect on me. My feminine folds were already slick, and the sensitive bud between them was tingling with anticipation. My face had also become a little warm, and I slugged back some champagne to cool myself down, though it didn't much help.

Before I could tease Blake, and myself, any further, Steven reentered the dining room with dessert, which appeared to be sliced fruit with whipped cream.

Actually coming to a dead halt, he did a double take at me sitting on Blake's lap in just my lacy bra and underwear. "I leave for literally two minutes...two minutes, and it seems like I've already missed out on some fun."

I took another drink of champagne, set the flute down, and gave him a little smile. "Well,
I've
been having fun, not too sure about Blake, though. Because, see, now
I'm
the one calling the shots. You boys had your fun tempting me in the kitchen in your underwear, but now it's my turn. And I think you'll realize that I can be just as cruel and tempting as you both are."

Blake snorted. "I already realize it."

Steven set the dessert dishes on the table, pulled a chair up next to us, and sat down. "All right, then. Apparently I've missed a little of your teasing, so now you can be cruel to
me
. Now you can come sit on
my
lap."

Knowing it would make Blake frustrated with desire, I did just as Steven requested, or I tried to anyway. But when I tried to hop down from Blake's lap, he just tightened his arms around me with the faintest of growls rumbling in his chest.

He then moved a hand to my rear and gave it a good squeeze. "I'm letting you down for one minute only."

"We'll see."

I began trying to hop off his lap again, and he relaxed his hold on me just enough for me to be able to get free.

I then seated myself on Steven's lap, who immediately tightened his arms around me with a low groan, adjusting me just how he wanted me. "Now it's time for your dessert."

He dipped a slice of peach in the bowl of whipped cream and then slid the sweet fruit between my parted lips.

I took a bite and chewed, closing my eyes. "Mm. So good."

When I opened my eyes, to my delight, both Steven and Blake were looking at me with what could only be described as undisguised lust. Still feeling at least mostly in control, I had to work hard not to laugh.

After Steven had fed me the rest of the peach slice, I picked one up myself, dipped it in the whipped cream, and smudged a little across my lower lip before slowly licking it off with a little moan. "So, so good."