Precious Gems (A Blake Brothers Novel) (The Blake Brothers Book 1)

by Sierra Hill

  Same dark hair, but variations of the wave and length. Roman’s curls around his ears, where Weston’s is smooth and slicked back, exposing high cheekbones and an angular jawline. Both are similar in size, with well-defined lean mass hidden underneath their tailored, expensive suits.

  As I take in their appearances and features, each one stands and offers me their hands in introduction. Roman’s a bit more enthusiastic than Weston, whose hooded gaze gives me chills. As if he has X-ray vision and he’s seeing right through me.

  “So, you’re the jewel thief who fucked us over,” Roman muses, sitting back down and crossing a foot over his knee. While he seems relaxed as he sips from his cocktail glass, the words he chooses speaks volumes to the level of distrust, and maybe disgust, he has for me.

  The table grows silent under their scrutinizing stares, as I flick a glance to Faron, his eyebrows cocked waiting for me to refute my role in this deal gone haywire.

  My voice is shaky, but I square my shoulders in confidence, determined not to let them bulldoze me. It may be three against one, but I’ve dealt with that my whole life.

  “I apologize that my father’s actions have created a small hiccup.”

  Weston, who has been silent, bangs his hand loudly on the table, sending the empty glass skittering and nearly toppling off until Faron intercepts it in his hand. His voice is harsh, cutting like diamond on glass.

  “Small hiccup?” He booms, the sound clashing like cymbals even against the noisy backdrop of the club’s loud music. “Jesus, lady. That’s rich. Because of your father’s double-cross, we’re at risk now. We have a buyer who has been waiting but is growing very impatient. This is bad for our business.”

  I swallow my trepidation, which burns like acid in my throat as Roman calmly puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “That’s enough, West. We’ll make this work. Plus, we have her as leverage.”

  I want to laugh at their belief that holding me for ransom to get my father to play ball will do the trick. He wants nothing to do with me and is probably wondering why he didn’t try selling me to the highest bidder long before now.

  Because he had other uses for you.

  Weston’s head snaps to me, a devious glare, his eyes roving over my breasts, to where the material hangs loosely open at my cleavage, which is pushed up seductively in an underwire bra. My hand instinctively rises in modesty to cover myself.

  “Taking turns fucking her won’t get us what we need,” Weston sneers, his lips curling at the corners. Tipping his head to the side, he licks his lips and cocks an eyebrow. “Although, it’s been a long time since I’ve had virgin pussy. It might be a nice change.”

  “Enough.” Faron’s stern command has Weston’s head whipping toward him, as Faron leans in across the table shaking his finger at his brother in admonishment. “For now, she’s off limits to you two, until I say when. Do you understand me?”

  At first, I’m relieved to hear how protective Faron is of my virginity and virtue. The kisses we’ve shared mean something to him, as well. But then realization dawns and understanding comes into view.

  Does he mean to share me with his brothers?

  Chapter 11

  Faron orders me some champagne, which I gulp down much too fast, as the three men discuss something about a deal they’ve brokered that they need to gain entrance into a party in a castle outside of Paris tomorrow night.

  I’m paying very little attention, as most of my focus reverts to the stages. I sip my champagne that a waitress brought over, engaging only when I’m pulled into the conversation.

  “This is where you are going to make yourself useful to us, Gemma,” Faron murmurs in my ear, as I get a whiff of his expensive masculine scent.

  My head is filled with bubbles and a lightweight sensation, an intoxication from the champagne and music, the dark, sensual atmosphere of the club, and Faron’s own power over me. I seem to go weak at just the sound of his voice, but then mix in his scent and the delicious feel of his fingertips as they glide over my skin on my shoulders, and I’m panting with desire, willing to do whatever they need from me.

  All I want is to go someplace where I can be alone with him. To let him do things to me that no other man has ever done. To touch me in the place where I’ve grown damp and wet and pulsing for him.

  A very attractive woman in heels wearing a short, sparkly halter dress stops at our table next to Roman, waving to the men before leaning down and whispering in his ear. The smile that overtakes his face is downright sinful, as he stands, nods to his brothers, and begins to follow the woman down a dark hallway leading to a door where yet another bouncer stands post. I’m intrigued as I watch the movement of his hand as it slides down the woman’s bare back and then tugs the back of her skirt up to grab her bare ass.

  Faron notices my obvious disbelief, and leans in close, his hand on top of my thigh. “Are you curious about where they’re heading off to? And what they’re going to do?”

  I deny with a shake of my head, but he chuckles a knowing laugh.

  Across the table, Weston fishes out his phone from his jacket pocket, looks down to read a message, and then abruptly stands. “I’ve got to head back down to the Edge to handle a delivery. I’ll see you later.”

  He thumps a hand over Faron’s shoulder as he passes and glares at me before he disappears.

  Now on my second drink of the night, my tongue and body tingle with a foreign weightlessness, the edges of my reason growing fuzzy and loose. Leaning up to Faron’s ear, I ask, “What is this place?”

  “A private club.”

  I scoff. “Obviously. But is it…is it a sex club?”

  Faron looks around the room, sweeping his hand wide. “Do you see any sex happening right now?”

  I look around at the stages, where women are naked and bare, dancing seductively, touching themselves, and inviting men to touch, as well. The room is full of tables where men watch and drink and talk. But there’s no physical sex.

  “Well, technically no. But the women…that’s not normal to see. That woman over there was getting herself off. In front of everyone.” I mouth the words in a loud whisper, which he finds funny.

  Faron raises an eyebrow and bellows a laugh, his hand skimming down my arm, grazing the side of my breast just so. “Does that bother you, little girl? Have you never pleasured yourself before?”

  I swallow the uneasy lump in my throat, still uncertain why he’s brought me here or what he’s trying to prove.

  “Of course, I have…” I turn my face away, embarrassed to admit this to him.

  His finger lodges under my chin as he drags my gaze back to him.

  “You’ve just never seen anyone else masturbate, is that it?”

  “God no!”

  It’s not like I’m completely sheltered or unaware of sexual acts. Growing up, on more occasions than I care to recount, I’d overheard my brother and my dad doing all sorts of loud, sexual things through the paper-thin walls of my bedroom. Sometimes, I knew they’d brought someone home to share their beds, but other times, I could hear the low sounds of whatever porn they were watching and the slick slapping of skin as they got themselves off.

  Back then, it made me feel dirty and gross to know what they were doing.

  But tonight, I wonder what it would feel like to do that. To be so exposed to a man. To have him watch me with the same lust in his eyes that these men have for these women.

  “So, is this club for sex slaves or something?”

  I lean into his hand that strokes over my hair, playing with the strands that have dislodged from my updo.

  “We do not buy and sell here. Everyone here is eager and willing to share their sexual proclivities with others. They are all here on their own volition.”

  He pushes back his chair and offers an outstretched hand to me.

  “Let me enlighten you, Gemma.”

  He takes me down the same hallway Roman disappeared into and steps around a black velvet partion.
A large ornate door blocks entrance into wherever it leads, and a man stands in a booth in the wall.

  “Good evening, sir. It’s good to see you tonight, Mr. Blake. It’s been awhile.”

  “Hello Rodney. I’m taking Miss Phillips on back.”

  “Very well. Has she signed the consent form and NDA? And shall I open a room? Perhaps the Lavender room, sir?”

  Both men look at me as I have an answer to the question that I know nothing about.

  Faron returns his attention to Rodney. “Perhaps another night. For now, it’s simply an introductory tour. I’ll have her complete the paperwork at a later time.”

  “Excellent. Well, have a good evening, Mr. Blake and enjoy yourself. I hope to see you again, Miss Phillips.”

  The door opens with a mechanical clang, a dark, omniscient noise as we enter. Faron grabs my hand and clasps his fingers through mine. It’s dark, save for the red lighting above each doorway and window, which casts a hazy light over the hallway. Because we’re still at the far end, I can’t see much of anything from this vantage point. Only a few people milling around the windows.

  I choose this moment to ask a question. “Faron, why would I need to sign a consent form?”

  He stops and whirls toward me, his head bent down close to my face.

  “Gemma, to answer your earlier question, yes, the space we’ve entered now is a sex club called The Rough Edge. This is a private club, an offshoot of The Edge downstairs, which is public. It has exclusive membership and an exhaustive set of rules that everyone must follow. In order to gain admittance, a person must be invited, and there’s only a select few who receive an invitation. Participation is voluntary but requires a non-disclosure agreement and their consent. We don’t need sex slaves. We are all, essentially, slaves to sex.”

  My legs tremble and knees buckle, and I know my face is flushing pink. Because I’m so naïve to this world of underground sex and kink – and for pity’s sake, still a virgin - I’m not really sure what everything he’s explained to me even means. I step back, my arms dangling at my side, giving myself some breathing room, and dare to look up at him.

  He cups my face in his palms. “Let me show you what I want from you, little girl. What I want to do to you if you’ll let me. How I want to get off by sharing you in front of others who will watch you get fucked, by me and other men. Do you understand?”

  Faron crowds me. Towers over me and uses his body as an effective method to gain my compliance, pressing me back into the door that’s now locked shut. The heat from his chest burns through me, yet a chill of the unknown runs down my spine.

  My pulse quickens into a rapid gallop, and my nipples pebble and turn into hard diamonds that poke through the lace of the bra and demand attention.

  “Gemma, my level of perversion runs deep, and an innocent like you has no idea just what I want to do to you. Want to have you do for me. I want to make you submit, to break you and allow me to use you in the most depraved ways.”

  Although his words are crude and overtly sexual, and I should be committed because they turn me on, as his thumb strokes gently over my cheek and leaves traces of his warmth behind. It’s a soft gesture of desire, not demonized with his lust.

  And because of that, I answer truthfully and with absolute certainty.

  “Yes, Faron. Show me.”

  Chapter 12

  Never even in my wildest and most sensual dreams could I have actually been prepared for what I see. The debauchery and wantonness of what’s going on behind each set of windows is in each and every case more tantalizing than the next.

  Each room is labeled with a sign above the door, names of various perfumes or fragrances. There is a lavender room. Amber. Vanilla and cinnamon. Clove and jasmine. Sandalwood and bergamot. Rose and ylang-ylang. Faron explains that each of these scents have been known for centuries to trigger electrical neurons in our brains that correspond with our sexual drive and appetite.

  “Any preferences?” he inquires, as a door down the hall opens and a woman steps out, naked except for a shawl wrapped around her bare shoulders, as the scent of a spicy amber wafts out. She stops when she sees Faron, lifting her hand with a coy smile and brushing it over the open lapel at her breast.

  “It’s been awhile, sir,” she says, dropping her eyes to the floor, her voice thick with desire and dripping with sex. “Will you be joining us tonight? I’m sure Malik won’t mind.”

  A protective hand wraps around my shoulder as he pulls me into him.

  “Not tonight, precious. I have other plans.”

  The woman’s head snaps to me, her eyes narrowing, stinging me with their jealousy. But they are quickly disguised by a mask of phony invitation.

  “Your new partner can come watch. I can teach her how to please you, sir.”

  She’s close enough now to reach out and touch me, which she does. Her long, thin finger traces a path along my cheek, softly cooing between her painted lips. Faron swats her arm away, stunning us both at his possessiveness.

  “Do not touch what is not offered to you. Now go. I have no use for you tonight.”

  It’s easy to see how offended she is, the hurt flashing in her devious eyes like a bright shooting flare. But it quickly fades as she inclines her head respectfully and whirls around to leave.

  The tension in Faron’s body is palpable, his shoulders and back strung tight from the interaction with the woman. He offers me no explanation, simply leading me further down the hall toward a window.

  Positioning his body behind me, he spins me around in a demonstrative way where my eyes land on a couple inside the room. His grip secures me to him, pinning me there to watch the scene unfold in front of me.

  “Watch them.”

  I inhale a breath as I peer in, the room relatively dark, except for a low light in one of the corners that washes the room in a yellow haze. I blink a few times, adjusting to the darkness, until I see movement.

  Toward the opposite wall is a large wooden structure, maybe six foot high. It looks like an X attached to the wall, with leather shackles of some sort on each point. The nearly naked woman is being restrained on the structure, her legs in a spread eagle position, as a man, whose back is to me, wearing a leather mask runs some type of instrument over her exposed breasts and then pulls his wrist back and flicks the end over her very pink and turgid nipples.

  I gasp, stepping back into the safety of Faron’s broad chest.

  “Don’t worry, Gem. It’s erotic pain. She likes it because it feels extraordinary. It aids in the heightened pleasure of their encounter. The tease of the flog against her sensitive flesh and aroused pussy is soon going to push her into a frenzied orgasm when she’s finally given the okay to come.”

  Faron’s hand trails down my arm, slipping over my hip and across my waist until it rests between my legs. A dull ache has been building there since the moment I came here tonight, slowly growing more needy and intense, pulsing furiously in need of touch.

  A moan slips out of my mouth as he snickers in my ear. “Does it excite you, little girl? Being a voyeur and watching the sexual appetites being fed and curated right before your eyes?”

  He presses his solid length, hard and rigid, firmly into the crevice of my ass.

  “You know what turns me on the most?”

  I shake my head against his chest, leaning back, rubbing my ass in a suggestive and desperate grind.

  “Knowing that this arouses you. Knowing your body responds so greedily to it. Knowing your virgin cunt is dripping wet with the need to be filled.”

  Everything inside me lights up. Flashes of heat and sparks of lust douse me like fuel, burning through my body like a rocket on its re-entry to Earth.

  “Yes,” I reply, even though it wasn’t a question to be answered, simply the truth. I lift my arms over my head, clinging to his neck, as his hand slinks down the center of my legs, finds the edge of my dress and hikes it up past my hip bones.

  “Please, touch me.”

  His
fingers tease circles around the front panel of my panties as I arch into him boldly and wantonly. And then his fingers still, leaving me panting and frantic.

  “You will address me as Sir when we’re like this going forward,” he demands, biting the tip of my earlobe hard, the sharp pain in contrast to the pleasure bubbling up through my blood. “Do you understand me, little girl?”

  I nod wildly. “Y-yes, sir.”

  “That’s good. Are you still watching them?”

  My eyes had been half-lidded from the shameless desire coursing through me, but when I reopen them, I see that the two lovers have been joined by a third player, another man. Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s Faron’s brother, Roman.

  I watch with singular focus, curiosity and a yearning hunger, as Roman drops down to his knees between the woman’s spread legs and spreads her lips of her pussy before slowly licking her from back to front, while the man behind him strokes his stiff cock in his hand.

  I’m a little shocked to witness this from Roman and a foreign proprietary lust registers inside my head, squeezing my heart with a jealousy I can’t pinpoint.

  But none of it is as important than the glide of Faron’s fingers as they deftly slip inside my panties and into my wet heat.

  “Oh Christ, little girl. So wet. So perfect.”

  My common sense sends cautionary jabs at my brain, reminding me that I am in public and Faron has me half-exposed for anyone to see.

  But my sensual desire and the need to be taken by this man wins out. I don’t even try to fight it because the only way I will come out of this with my sanity intact is to submit to what he’s giving me. To take everything he offers and beg for more.

  The slickness of my pussy is everywhere, dripping down my legs as he uses it to open me up, spreading my lips wider, dragging his finger through my juices. His thumb dips inside and then circles my clit as my knees nearly buckle at the relief I feel from his touch.