Page 11 of Gilded Kisses
Here with them, I don’t have to face the outside world in its full ugliness.
But Mirsha’s next words force me to accept a reality I am trying to run from.
“Your father is right. You are better off without the likes of us in your life. Go home and forget about us. Do not force our hand. The last thing we want to do is hurt you. Or kill your father for hurting you.”
Defeat kills the hope trying to bloom in my heart at having his lips on my skin.
“What do you mean? You don’t believe you’re not good enough for me, right?” I demand harshly. What the hell happened? “I can’t live with never seeing you again. Would you really hurt me if I disobeyed you? Would my other godfathers?” I turn my head just in time to see the angular lines of Mirsha’s chiseled jaw clench.
There’s a moment of silence.
“Yes,” he murmurs a few heartbeats later so deeply my heart hurts at the pain radiating back.
I narrow my eyes on him. “You’re lying. I don’t believe you,” I counter honestly and our words clash when he cuts me off.
“You don’t know what we are capable of.” His tone turns tortured, angry. My godfather’s lips linger over my bare shoulder. As he speaks, they feather over my skin in a waythat wants me to throw us both on the ground, grass stains be damned.
“There are many pleasures to be found in pain.”
I strain to hear his words but I swear I hear reverence. Fascination.
“I’ve lived with pain for the six years you’ve been gone from my life. The ache of not feeling you close. The bond we formed. The blood you marked me with. It did something to me I still don’t fully understand.”
He brushes away wisps of hair that have fallen across my face. “You should run from us. Don’t play with grown men wanting dirty things from a girl they should never touch.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I groan, tilting my head a little more to give him more skin to torture with kisses. “I’m a full-grown woman with needs. I’m not that shy eighteen-year-old with fantasies. I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman with ideas of my own and desires for a life full of love, Mirsha.”
His expression flirts with coming off as amusingly sympathetic for a fleeting moment. “And you think three men who raised you are the ones who will fill your needs?”
The question is asked casually, but he forgets to shield the sparks and flames dancing deep in his eyes. If he’d done that, I might backtrack so fast out of here I would time travel.
My heart quickens. But since he’s leaving his emotions front and center for me to discover, I push a little harder. I slip my hand over his and twine our fingers together. “Maybe you need to teach me the kind of pain that comes with pleasure. You know I always like to learn.”
Another low growl in my ear has every inch of skin suddenly burning hot. “Do you know what you are asking for?”
Not a freaking clue, but I’m not backing down. “Show me. Teach me. I want to learn.”
“This is wrong. You know I’m speaking the truth, right? No matter how old you are, your father will take anything we share tonight as a direct challenge.” Mirsha’s expression turns pensive, but once again his true feelings are in his eyes. I know Mirsha, Luther and Viper to be men who never drop their shields. Seeing Mirsha reveal so much to me breathes life into the threads of energy between us.
“I fear losing you forever more than anything he can do to me.”
Firm lips brush over my cheek until his mouth is back on the shell of my ear. “Ahh, Aster. Didn’t I teach you not to go looking for trouble?”
Raw heat explodes through me.
No. That’s wrong. Not explode. What is happening inside me is so much more chaotic and all-consuming. There’s no other way to explain the sudden detonation of fire in my veins.
In front of me, Luther and Viper move from the darker recesses beneath the willow tree to reveal themselves slowly in the moonlight. I hold their gazes despite the low light as they prowl closer.
Silver light brushes against the midnight blackness of Viper’s long hair and Luther’s blond locks. Stealthy and lethal. Like Mirsha, tattoos drape over their fingers and the light of the moon glints off the rings on Viper’s right hand. How many timeshave I dreamed of having the cool, smooth silver caress over my heated skin just one more time?
Both older men are dressed in club attire like Mirsha—tuxedos and crisp white shirts, and perfectly tailored black slacks. They personify the power they wield.
I turn to look into my godfather’s gray eyes. A shadow of sin moves across his haunted expression.
“Did you come looking for trouble? Answer me, baby girl,” he urges with less patience in his voice than he had a moment ago. “Did you think you would come to find us, stir up trouble and then head home like nothing happened? Or are you trying to get back at your daddy after so long?”
As he speaks, the fingertips of his other hand caress up my arm and over the swells of my breasts. He moves until each of his strong fingers encase my throat. His touch is punishing, but not entirely painful. We both feel the pounding of my pulse.