Wicked Bride Games Page 5

  I smile at her, but it only seems to scare her, and she looks away.

  I clear my throat and put down my fork. “No need to be scared,” I say. “We won’t bite.”

  Devon laughs and quickly covers it up with his napkin when I glare at him.

  “But you could,” Naomi says. “If you wanted to.”

  I look at her and smile, wondering if she’ll be as courageous to speak up after one of us has our way with her.

  Not that I think fondly of giving her away to my brothers … even though I know I have to share. She, out of all the girls, has the most potential. Simply because she doesn’t seem impressed by any of it. And I can’t wait to see her resolve crumble.

  “I want to,” Devon adds without shame, peering at her in a way that makes me want to ram his fork into his hand.

  The girls all stop eating, except Naomi, who’s still enjoying her rich tomato soup. I could make it creamier for her. Maybe I will later.

  “What do you want with us?” Camilla bravely speaks up.

  Anthony grins as he places his wine glass down on the table. “Simple. Pleasure. Commitment.”

  “What does that mean?” Stacey asks.

  Anthony eyes her from the side. “We already told you. Anything and everything we want.”

  “No limits …” Latisha mumbles.

  “Exactly.” Anthony winks at her, making her blush.

  “So you want us to be your sex dolls?” Britt repeats like she didn’t already get the memo.

  “Not just that,” Devon says. “There’s more to it than just sex. I’d like to have fun too.”

  “Don’t,” I say, eyeing Devon from the side. He seems offended that I interrupted him, so I point at the food. “We’re eating.”

  “So?”

  “I’d like to keep my appetite. Thank you.”

  Devon rolls his eyes and grumbles but then continues gobbling down his meat like some savage animal. He’s always been like this. Boisterous. I guess that’s normal for someone who’s only twenty-three. Then again, I was never like that. At all.

  “Use a fork, will you?” I throw him one.

  “Mind your own business,” he growls, not even touching the damn thing.

  Sometimes, I really want to kill him. Too bad Father wouldn’t approve.

  “So this house … it belongs to the three of you?” Naomi asks.

  The peculiar question immediately captures my attention. Why would she want to know?

  “Yes, actually. We live in it together.”

  “Pity you couldn’t afford your own home.”

  I throw down my napkin as we have a stare down. Her face remains as emotionless as it was before, with the exception of one thing … a small, victorious smile.

  “If I can afford to buy you, do you think I can’t afford my own home? This is a family home. One we cherish. One that has special meaning to us. And a purpose. We choose to live here.”

  “Really? What purpose?” Jordan asks, swaying her wine glass while looking not even remotely amused.

  “The purpose of these three weeks … is to win one of us,” I say.

  “Put in a different way,” Anthony continues, shifting in his seat. “Three of you will be our brides.”

  All forks drop, along with jaws all around the table.

  Naomi is the only one who manages to hold onto it, although her hand is trembling and she’s stopped chewing her food. I guess that little bit of information finally got her attention.

  “What?” Camilla shouts. “Did you just say brides? As in ‘marriage’?” She makes quotation marks with her fingers.

  “Yeah,” Devon says, “you heard it right.”

  “You signed a contract. You gave away your body. Your soul. Your rights,” Anthony muses.

  “Nuh-uh. No way.” She scoots her chair back. “Fuck this shit.”

  “Going already?” I ask, watching as she gets up from her seat, clearly distressed.

  “A contract for three weeks, yes, sex, maybe, but I’m not fucking marrying any of you,” she says. “I’m outta here.”

  As she turns and storms away, I call out, “You do realize this stops you from receiving fifty million dollars?”

  She doesn’t answer. All she does is throw her middle finger up in the air as she waltzes out the door.

  “Well, I guess that’s settled then.” Anthony picks up his wine glass and takes a casual sip.

  “Her, out of all the girls … hmph,” I mutter. “I never figured she’d be the one to leave.”

  “Who’d you expect then?” Naomi suddenly asks out of the blue.

  I narrow my eyes, eyeing her from across the table. I know why she’s asking—what she’s trying to do—but I’m not letting her into my mind that easily.

  “I think you can figure that one out for yourself.” I give her a poised smile and pick up my fork again. “Let’s continue our dinner, shall we?”

  The girls all look at each other. Even though I’m eating my salad, and Anthony is finally finishing his steak, none of the girls are eating. They all look like they’re on the verge of throwing their forks and knives at us. Or one another. Who knows. I already enjoy this game we’re playing, and we haven’t even started yet.

  “But why would we want to marry you? If we all get fifty million dollars anyway, what’s the point in trying to win any of you over?” Lauren asks boldly.

  “Well, there’s the added bonus of becoming part of the family, which means you’ll also automatically become a partner in our business,” I say.

  “Aka … more money,” Anthony adds.

  For some reason, he always manages to finish my sentences. It’s like he can read my mind. Or maybe he just wants to one-up me because I’m two years older than he is. He always hated being the middle child.

  “So you’re basically buying wives,” Lauren says, laughing. “Pathetic.”

  I squint, my eyes twitching from annoyance. “No need to be rude.”

  “Right …” Lauren rolls her eyes. “We’re the rude ones.”

  “Look. You either stay for the money and possibly more or leave without any. Your choice,” Devon interjects.

  “Let’s all get back to eating our dinner. We don’t want it to get cold.” I smile to defuse the situation.

  It’s quiet for a while. No one says a word, and it’s suspicious. I wonder if it’s because of the marriage bomb or because of the added bonus of having our name and part of our company bomb.

  “No,” Jordan suddenly says, her face rigid but weak, like she’s holding it together by a thin thread. “You just told us the most crucial part of this contract, without telling us in advance, and you expect us to just take it?”

  “Just take it?” I muse, swallowing a bite of my salad.

  “This is crazy,” Jordan says, gazing at the other girls to garner support. “Right?”

  None of them speak up.

  A wicked smile forms on my lips as I wonder if this is the craziest she’s ever been.

  It could get even crazier.

  Right.

  Now.

  I scoot my chair back and get up, waltzing toward Jordan. The girls lean back as I focus my attention on her. I grab her wrists, forcing her to drop her utensils, and I pull her up from her chair.

  “He—”

  I silence her revolt by pushing her down onto the table and putting her hands behind her back, so she can’t move.

  “What are you do—”

  I shove my hand under her dress, crumpling it up. “Didn’t I tell you not to defy us?” I say, and in one go, I yank down her panties.

  “No,” she mumbles as I hold her down against the table.

  “Yes. I. Did.” I watch the girls sitting around the table, gulping, staring. I hope they take notice.

  “Your body belongs to us now …” I muse as I slide my finger along her slit. “So let me show you what that means.”

  “Let g—”

>   I push her face down onto an empty plate and make her look at the girls. “Look! Look at how you’re acting. Let them see how insolent you are.”

  “I did nothing wrong,” she says.

  “You signed the contract. Do you want that fifty million dollars or not?” I cup her shaven pussy. It feels so nice in my hand, but all I can focus on is Naomi sitting inches away from me… I imagine it being her pussy.

  God, I’m a sick motherfucker.

  “Do you?” I repeat, applying pressure to her clit.

  After a while, she speaks up with a meek voice. “Yes.”

  “Then you need to realize this body is mine to use however I please.” I bring my fingers to my mouth and spit on them, rubbing it up and down her slit. “Now bend over and stay down.”

  I circle her clit as I hold her hands down on her back, watching the tears in her eyes slowly fade into oblivion, just like her resolve. Just one single tear manages to escape and fall to the table, but it only adds to my excitement.

  She stopped fighting. Admitted defeat.

  And I fucking love to conquer and win.

  She fists the table sheet as I fondle her pussy for all the girls to see. She turns her head and looks at me with doe-like eyes, but she doesn’t open her lips. Not once does she beg me to stop. She knows she had it coming, and she’s accepting whatever I have to offer.

  All for the sweet, sweet money.

  Just as sweet as she is.

  But I don’t even like sweet.

  Hell, I’m only doing this to show the girls who’s boss. Particularly Naomi, who’s still not shown one single drop of fear or pain at the sight of me touching this girl’s pussy. No, the only thing I see in her eyes … is the pang of jealousy.

  After a while of toying with her pussy, I notice she’s closed her eyes, and for a second, her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Wetness coats my finger, mixing with my saliva. I grin.

  Two fingers … thrust straight into her pussy.

  “Tell me who owns you now!” I pull out my fingers after she held her breath for too long.

  “You do,” she says softly.

  I pump into her again, as I can’t and don’t want to stop myself. My cock is twitching from arousal. “Louder!”

  “You do!”

  “Why?” I growl.

  “Because I want that fifty million dollars.”

  “Exactly. You know what you signed up for. Now, show me you’ve got what it takes.” I spank her ass, and she squeals out loud.

  The horrified looks on the girls’ faces only make my cock harder.

  God, I live for this. The control. The dirty, raunchy sexual deviance.

  This is why we do all of this.

  This is worth fifty million dollars.

  “How does it feel? Fifty million dollars between your legs?” I thrust even faster, picturing Naomi lying here underneath me, squirming from my fingers. “Do you want it?”

  “Yes,” she murmurs.

  “Then fucking come for me,” I say with a rough voice, and even rougher fingers as I fuck her tight pussy.

  She gasps and clutches the tablecloth even harder, and I grasp the opportunity to take a fistful of her hair and pull her head up so everyone can see the look of bliss on her face. I continue to fuck her pussy with just two fingers until she explodes.

  And explode she does.

  All. Over. Me.

  It’s not just wetness pooling out of her, running down her legs, and dripping all over the floor.

  It’s not just her loud moan that can be heard from across the hall.

  I can feel it … inside her … her pussy clenching around my fingers, begging me for more.

  But I’m not going to give it to her yet.

  I smile and laugh. “Now, I’ve turned even the most uptight girl into a sex kitten … all for the money.”

  I pull my fingers out and bring them to my nose, smelling the sweet aroma of surrender… and take a lick.

  “Delicious,” I whisper, and I gaze specifically at Naomi, who immediately repositions herself in her chair, scratching the back of her neck. I hope this will incite her enough to play the game just the way I like it.

  Jordan remains on the table, lipstick smudges all over her cheeks and the cloth, her face dull, empty. Completely sated. Her unmoving body looks like that of a pretty doll crushed after forced into a position it’s not used to.

  I broke her already.

  Pity.

  7.

  Accompanying Song: “The Demon Dance” by Cliff Martinez

  Naomi

  That same night

  At night, no one sleeps.

  I try to, but the girls who can’t stop blabbering about how wrong it was what Max did keep waking me up. How he should never have touched her like that. How he should’ve just told her the rules from the beginning. How there should have been a warning. How, in the end, she actually seemed to like it.

  Wait, no. That last bit was just my observation.

  I grab my pillow and shove it against my ears, trying to keep it silent, but their voices are too loud to drown out. I sigh and release my pillow. Staring up at the ceiling, I wonder why they don’t just go to sleep. Hell, it’s not like they’re going to think of something useful now. It’s three a.m. in the morning. We need sleep in order to think … and to be beautiful.

  Because let’s face it, that’s what this competition is all about. And it is a competition. One where three not-so-lucky girls win the right to marry one of them.

  I’m not so sure how I feel about that.

  On the one hand, I really, really want that fifty million dollars. I’d do pretty much anything for it, including spreading my legs whenever Max snaps his fingers, even though I despise him.

  But marrying him … that means I’m stuck with him forever.

  On the other hand, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After all, he’s one rich motherfucker, and if he and his brothers can dish out fifty million dollars like it’s no big deal, then I’m sure there’s plenty more for me to enjoy. If I’m married to one of them, half of that wealth becomes mine.

  Mine. All that money.

  I could do whatever I wanted.

  Buy a five-bedroom mansion, get a boat with an onboard sous chef, go to Paris on a whim just for a shopping spree, and wear designer dresses and Louboutins whenever I wanted to. God, life would be bliss.

  Too bad I’d have to share the wealth with him.

  Pity.

  Then again, if he’s as good in bed as he showed tonight with Jordan … then that might not be such a bad deal after all. I like it when a man knows what he wants and takes it. I don’t like it when he doesn’t do it to me.

  I turn around in bed and watch the girls argue, spilling wine everywhere as they pour down and drink up glass after glass, getting wasted on the idea that they’re stuck doing the bidding of three men for three weeks.

  I don’t know what the point in discussing it is. We all saw what happened. We all know the rules now. We can decide for ourselves what we do now. And I already know I’m staying. It was never a matter of if. It’s only a matter of money.

  Jordan sits in the corner of the couch. Clutching a pillow against her stomach, she’s gone to a place of no return, and her eyes look cold and dead. Britt tries to give her a cup of tea, but she doesn’t even look at it or Britt.

  “Jordan … you’ve got to drink something,” she says.

  Jordan just blinks.

  Britt sighs. I can see her frustration, even though I’m all the way across the room in my bed.

  “C’mere.” She holds out her arms and invites Jordan to hug her, but Jordan’s stiff as a board. Instead, Britt leans in and wraps her arms around her from the side, ignoring all the signals Jordan’s been giving her.

  She doesn’t want to be hugged.

  She doesn’t want to be consoled.

  She wants to be left alone … so her emotions can die a quick d
eath.

  I know because I’ve felt the same way every time I had to beg for a loan.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Lauren asks, rubbing Jordan’s leg, who flinches at the touch.

  “Please don’t …” Jordan mumbles.

  I crawl up from underneath my blankets and get up. “Let her be.”

  The girls look at me. “Weren’t you sleeping?” Lauren asks.

  “Can’t.”

  “Sorry. I know we’re loud,” Latisha says.

  “It’s okay. I can’t sleep anyway with all these thoughts running through my mind.” That’s a lie, but I gotta keep up the good image. The worst thing I can do right now is be shunned by the girls I’m supposed to compete against. I know we’re rivals, but that doesn’t mean I have to treat them as enemies.

  “I don’t understand,” Hyun mumbles, holding her cup of tea close to her chest. “Why would he do that?”

  “You mean touch her pussy?” I say. Hyun’s face turns red. “Don’t be embarrassed,” I add. “I just call it what it is.”

  Lauren opens her mouth again. “She never said—”

  “She doesn’t need to say anything,” I interrupt. “He can take what’s his, anytime he wants, any way he wants. As stipulated in the contract,” I reply as I sit down beside them. “Look. We all signed a contract giving away all our basic human rights. I’d say we should be happy they’re still giving us a proper meal to eat and a comfortable bed to sleep in.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Lauren says, scowling. “Why should we be happy with having our rights taken away? I’m not a fucking concubine.”

  “Concubine … exactly. That’s what we’re going to be now.”

  “I don’t want to,” Asya says.

  I look at her and squint. “Then why are you here?”

  It takes her a while to answer. She shrugs. “My parents … they gave me away.”

  “Wow, wow. What? Are you saying they made you come here?” Stacey asks.

  Asya gazes down at her feet, which is all the info I need.

  “I never wanted this. I never thought they’d actually go through with it.”

  I grab her hand and squeeze. It’s the least I could do. I don’t have much empathy, but I know how to hold a hand, and I know she needs this right now. Even if I only do it so the other girls don’t think I’m a total bitch; when, in fact, I really am just that.