Page 11 of Sinful Storms

Harriet leaned back against Tristan, raising a brow at her ex. She seemed completely comfortable with the situation, and I couldn’t help wondering if it was Tristan who had the problem, not her. I did see him all over girls at parties, but most of what I’d heard about him had been rumours—most of them substantiated—about the things he got up to in the lower levels of the crypts with one or more girls at a time, sometimes with his best friends in attendance. Before they’d become coupled up, that was.

“Let’s take the party downstairs.” Tristan’s gaze slid to mine, and his lip curled. “Unless you’re too scared, Aria.”

“Fuck you. Let’s go.” I hated the way he could goad me into things so easily, but it was inevitable.

“Don’t touch anything in the fuck dungeon,” I whispered to Tyrell as we descended the stone stairs to the part of the crypts that only Tristan, Knox, Roman, and their select guests were allowed to see. “You don’t know what you might catch.”

Tyrell laughed, the sound amplified as it echoed off the stone walls, and both Tristan and Harriet stopped in their tracks, their shoulders tensing in unison.

“Get a move on,” I hissed, and with a roll of his eyes, Tristan turned away from me, stalking down the long stone passageway to the doors at the end. Using an iron key he fished from his pocket, he opened one of the doors.

The room we entered was dark and oppressive, lit by a few sconces set into the walls. A huge iron bed dominated the space, with a heavy iron pendulum hanging above it, providing the bed with a muted glow. In front of the bed was a cracked leather sofa, and unbidden, my mind jumped to the rumours. Whispers of things that had happened on that sofa. On that bed.

I shivered, and not only from the sudden chill.

Tristan released Harriet and made his way over to a box on the wall. A few seconds later, the music from the party filtered through from hidden speakers, and from somewhere above us, a red glow dimly illuminated the walls.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” Harriet muttered as Tristan returned to slide his arm around her waist. I wasn’t surprised she was getting cold feet. Upstairs, it had been one thing, but down here, with just the four of us, it felt… premeditated, almost. Expectant. Not as much fun as it had seemed when the spur-of-the-moment idea had first come to me.

Tristan glanced at me and then turned to Harriet, dipping his head to her ear. Bathed in the glow of the lights, his blond hair and tanned skin turned red, giving him an almost demonic look. It was fitting. When Harriet smiled and he spun her to face him in one smooth movement, my jaw clenched, and Tyrell growled from behind me.

“Fuck him,” I hissed, angling my head so I could see Tyrell’s profile. “Don’t you want her to be reminded of what she’s missing?”

He tore his gaze away from the couple in front of us, who were now kissing, Tristan’s hands palming Harriet’s ass as she arched into him. Raising a brow, he eyed me doubtfully. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes. Now, get your fucking hands on my tits, and let’s give them a show.”

Approval flashed in his gaze as the corners of his lips kicked up. “You’re something else.”

“I know.” Taking his hands, I placed them on my breasts. “Go for it.”

His chuckle was buried in my hair. “This wasn’t what I expected when you asked me to dance.”

“It wasn’t what I expected, either, but hey, plans change. Just go with it.”

I moaned, low and breathy, and he huffed in my ear. “Stop making me laugh. It’s killing my boner.”

“Watching your ex and imagining that’s you with your hands all over her ass should help with that,” I murmured before moaning again, a little louder this time. If someone had asked me to explain why I was doing what I was doing, I wouldn’t be able to. This hadn’t been my original plan. All I knew was fucking with Tristan was a high like no other, and yes, that in itself was fucked up, but I didn’t really care.

“Mmm, yeah. You’re fucking hot, my girl—my ex, I mean, is fucking hot…but, yeah. I’m into this,” he said after a moment. “Let the show begin.”

He began to lightly knead my breasts through the fabric of my dress, taking the same position he had upstairs with his thigh between mine. As I watched, Tristan’s mouth went to Harriet’s neck, and his eyes opened, meeting mine.

They were so dark, flashing with electric fire. I suppressed a shiver, moaning for real as Tyrell copied what Tristan was doing, kissing down the side of my throat. Why was it so hot having Tristan’s eyes on me instead of focused on the girl he was currently kissing?

I smirked at him, and his eyes narrowed. He spun Harriet around, his hands going to her breasts, and he raised a challenging brow.

“This is so fucked up,” I muttered, closing my right hand over Tyrell’s and dragging it down the side of my body to where the hem of my dress had ridden up almost to the top of my thigh.

“Yeah, but it’s working. Look.”

I tore my gaze away from Tristan to see Harriet staring at Tyrell’s hand with undisguised jealousy. It was blatantly clear that they weren’t over each other, and I was betting that one of them was going to break before long.

I was wrong.

“Stop.”

Everyone froze at the low command, three sets of eyes whipping to Tristan. His face had become expressionless again, his jaw set, and he stared at Tyrell with hard eyes.

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