Mark pressed his hand to her ass and squeezed in a rhythm that simulated another act she loved—one that involved her facedown over his knee with her backside bared. The man knew how to give the perfect spanking.
Lydia's breath hitched. She clenched her thighs to fight the rush. That subtle pulse only doubled her predicament. She chided herself for her lust and ordered her blood to cool, her heart to stop racing. Neither listened.
Brent loomed over her now, barely two inches between them. Somehow Mark blocked her from behind and she hadn't realized he'd closed the minuscule distance between them. The heat was enormous ... sweet in its own bizarre way. She imagined herself stripped bare and laid out for their pleasure, their tongues, their fingers ... her toys.
"Do you want it? Us? Inside you? Making you come until your screams shake the foundations of the city?” Mark's hot hand swooped up her back, then down to the curve of her buttock once more.
Her body clenched of its own volition. Need poured through her. They were alphas all the way ... and they were here for her. She was sorry she'd ruined the surprise by outing their identities. What woman didn't fantasize about two hunky men abducting her for a night of ravishment? But then, Lydia wasn't foolish. She'd never have gone off with strangers, no matter how alluring the sexual fantasy might be.
"I do.” Another breathless reply. She was lost.
Brent's nostrils flared. Lydia wondered if he scented her arousal over the Paris night. She sure as hell felt it, dampening her crotch, pooling between her thighs, and threatening to soak the white cotton panties she'd worn under her shin-length paisley skirt.
"Good. Then come with us.” A sharp swat to her bottom punctuated Mark's words.
Arms guarded her back as the men flanked her. They guided Lydia down the street, matching their long strides to her shorter ones, but never once slowing the pace. She expected a cab to be waiting around the corner to whisk them away. None appeared. Only darker streets the farther they walked. So dark Brent flicked on a flashlight he'd had buried in the pocket of his black trousers. Her heartbeat kept time with the taps of their leather soles on the street.
It felt like they'd traveled miles in a few minutes when the men stopped before a black door on a small building that resembled an old telephone box. It opened easily when Brent twisted the knob. A dark void swallowed his flashlight beam.
"Not far now.” Mark urged her forward with a press of his hand to her back.
Lydia anchored her feet to the ground. “No."
"It's all right.” Mark smoothed his hand over her shoulders. “We're going down into the catacombs."
That's what he'd meant when he'd said they were cataphiles. She'd thought he was teasing, that it was part of their seduction. She never imagined he intended them to go below the earth!
Lydia shook her head hard. “No, we're not. No way in hell.” Fear replaced lust. “It's too dark. It'll collapse. No."
"We'll be safe where we're going.” Brent stood at the portal. He reached for her hand and tugged her forward.
Lydia remained rooted in place. “No."
"This is for you.” Mark's breath tickled her neck. He licked the tendon beneath her ear, then nibbled the lobe ... then bit it.
An ache spiked through her. Still...
"You don't understand.” She hauled in a breath, then another, trying not to hyperventilate and not succeeding very well.
"We do understand.” Brent grabbed her shoulders in a gentle grip. “Breathe, Lydia. Look at me.” He snapped his fingers. “At me. Look."
A command. Scary and intense as he might seem to her at times, Lydia knew he was someone on whom she could depend. One of Mark's best friends, and Mark wouldn't allow her to come to harm. She focused on those dark eyes and his words.
He rubbed soothing circles on her shoulders, calming her. “Breathe. In ... and out. In..."
She pulled in a deep breath.
"And out..."
And slowly released
Lydia's breath hitched. She clenched her thighs to fight the rush. That subtle pulse only doubled her predicament. She chided herself for her lust and ordered her blood to cool, her heart to stop racing. Neither listened.
Brent loomed over her now, barely two inches between them. Somehow Mark blocked her from behind and she hadn't realized he'd closed the minuscule distance between them. The heat was enormous ... sweet in its own bizarre way. She imagined herself stripped bare and laid out for their pleasure, their tongues, their fingers ... her toys.
"Do you want it? Us? Inside you? Making you come until your screams shake the foundations of the city?” Mark's hot hand swooped up her back, then down to the curve of her buttock once more.
Her body clenched of its own volition. Need poured through her. They were alphas all the way ... and they were here for her. She was sorry she'd ruined the surprise by outing their identities. What woman didn't fantasize about two hunky men abducting her for a night of ravishment? But then, Lydia wasn't foolish. She'd never have gone off with strangers, no matter how alluring the sexual fantasy might be.
"I do.” Another breathless reply. She was lost.
Brent's nostrils flared. Lydia wondered if he scented her arousal over the Paris night. She sure as hell felt it, dampening her crotch, pooling between her thighs, and threatening to soak the white cotton panties she'd worn under her shin-length paisley skirt.
"Good. Then come with us.” A sharp swat to her bottom punctuated Mark's words.
Arms guarded her back as the men flanked her. They guided Lydia down the street, matching their long strides to her shorter ones, but never once slowing the pace. She expected a cab to be waiting around the corner to whisk them away. None appeared. Only darker streets the farther they walked. So dark Brent flicked on a flashlight he'd had buried in the pocket of his black trousers. Her heartbeat kept time with the taps of their leather soles on the street.
It felt like they'd traveled miles in a few minutes when the men stopped before a black door on a small building that resembled an old telephone box. It opened easily when Brent twisted the knob. A dark void swallowed his flashlight beam.
"Not far now.” Mark urged her forward with a press of his hand to her back.
Lydia anchored her feet to the ground. “No."
"It's all right.” Mark smoothed his hand over her shoulders. “We're going down into the catacombs."
That's what he'd meant when he'd said they were cataphiles. She'd thought he was teasing, that it was part of their seduction. She never imagined he intended them to go below the earth!
Lydia shook her head hard. “No, we're not. No way in hell.” Fear replaced lust. “It's too dark. It'll collapse. No."
"We'll be safe where we're going.” Brent stood at the portal. He reached for her hand and tugged her forward.
Lydia remained rooted in place. “No."
"This is for you.” Mark's breath tickled her neck. He licked the tendon beneath her ear, then nibbled the lobe ... then bit it.
An ache spiked through her. Still...
"You don't understand.” She hauled in a breath, then another, trying not to hyperventilate and not succeeding very well.
"We do understand.” Brent grabbed her shoulders in a gentle grip. “Breathe, Lydia. Look at me.” He snapped his fingers. “At me. Look."
A command. Scary and intense as he might seem to her at times, Lydia knew he was someone on whom she could depend. One of Mark's best friends, and Mark wouldn't allow her to come to harm. She focused on those dark eyes and his words.
He rubbed soothing circles on her shoulders, calming her. “Breathe. In ... and out. In..."
She pulled in a deep breath.
"And out..."
And slowly released
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