Page 9 of Gilded Kisses

His lips. His callused hands. The scent of his cologne. The sight of Viper’s dark hair between my thighs. It’s been so long since I’ve heard their rich, dark voices. Longing settles in the depths of my core.

My lips part and a heavy breath leaves me.

“Mirsha,” I whisper into the space between us. And just like that fateful night so many years ago, there’s no going back now.

Three

Aster

Itwist my fingers around the cool, fleeting feeling of hope. My godfathers slowly rise and push away from their table.

I track the shadows of my three mafia men as they push to the far end of the ballroom. Each of them slips through arching French doors and into the lush gardens beyond without a backward glance.

Déjà vu hits.

Fear and a rush of excitement winds through me. This is it. One second I am breaking out into a cold sweat and in the next I’m burning up with need.

It’s too late to worry about whether I should do this. Besides, if not tonight, when?

I move between couples seeking pleasure in each other’s arms. If members of this society can have what they want, then so can I. No one has to know and I trust my cousin to keep his mouth shut.

I push the long strands of my hair from my face and take the first step toward either a terrible decision or possibly the best kind of mistake I can commit.

Only the morning will tell.

If you want something, reach out and take it. No one will just give it to you.

Those words were meant for my older brothers from our father. But I took them as my own. After all, I am a Constantine as well.

Sweet, sensual hints of jasmine welcome me when I step through the same doors they just left. To my right are pristine gardens, sensual sculptures and endless amounts of moonlight. I pause for a moment. The ache in me turns vicious when I head to the right.

Okay then.

I do one-eighty and move deeper into the darkness, following a brick path. Moist leaves from an afternoon shower brush against the bare skin of my arms and legs. I opted for a soft cashmere dress that hugs my curves and dips just enough to reveal the golden chain with the heavy crown tucked between my breasts. The last birthday gift I received from Mirsha.

I round a small bend in the path and come to a sudden stop.

I inhale sharply. For a second, I think I have stumbled into Greek gods making out in the gardens of the Society. But no. It’s just the power of silver light and the talented hand of a sculptor.

A huge, lifelike statue towers above me. Smooth, sensuous lines reveal an aroused man bearing the weight of a voluptuous woman. His lips are perpetually a breath away from claiming a tight nipple. His partner holds their shared lover steady frombehind, his hard, polished shaft set to take her most forbidden of entrances. There’s not one detail missing from the piece of art illuminated by the full moon.

Now more than ever, I want to become part of the erotic magic this garden holds and tonight, I hope I can find a cure for this insatiable ache inside me.

Warmth spills between my legs, and I clench them tightly to fight back the wave of lust. As if by some unseen force, I am propelled forward. One step turns into ten and I don’t stop until I see them.

I come to the end of the brick walkway and kick off my stilettos. Moonlight seeps through the branches of a lazy willow weighed down with decades-old moss. This one is much older than the one in my mother’s garden.

Beneath this one I spot the shadows of the men I love. Viper leans his substantial size against the massive trunk. I can tell it’s him by his perpetual relaxed position and the curtain of black hair draped over his shoulders. Luther rests his large frame on an exposed root, his elbows pinned to his knees, a cigar between his fingers. Smoke curls into the night air and drifts along the breeze to drape over me like a warm embrace.

Raw heat tingles from the bottom of my feet all the way to the roots of my hair.

“I can do this,” I tell myself and move toward them. Slow at first, but it’s hard to stay calm when they are so nearby.

Cool, wet grass cushions my weight and masks my presence. Hints of music and cries of pleasure mix with the sounds of a Louisiana night.

I’m just about to step out of the shadows and into the moonlight to reveal myself when strong fingers, followed by a warm palm, glide over my bare shoulder.

“There you are, baby girl. Haven’t you learned to stop chasing men in gardens?”