That Kind Of Thing Isn’t Appropriate

Liliana Grace Harlan POV

I couldn’t move.

I was paralyzed by the shock of being caught and by the hottest, most shattering orgasm I’d just chased while whispering their names like a prayer.

My body was still shaking, still riding the brutal aftershocks.

Thighs splayed wide, panties shoved crudely aside, hand frozen between my legs, two fingers pressed hard against my pulsing clit, slick and trembling, like my body was waiting for permission to do anything at all.

My brain couldn’t catch up.

Was this real?

Were they actually here in my room, or was I still lost in the fantasy, dreaming them into existence?

My chest heaved, lungs burning, skin flushed and glistening with sweat. Every nerve was still humming, clit throbbing with vicious little echoes, inner thighs slick and trembling.

I’d finally gotten the chance to see them again after two long years and now they were meeting me like this, exposed and wrecked.

They’d seen everything. I was certain, and there was no taking it back.

Part of me wanted to die.

The part that remembered being fifteen and innocent, the part that still knew these men were my dad’s best friends, the part that had once called them “uncle” even when the word stopped feeling right years ago.

That part screamed inside my head: Close your legs. Cover yourself. Apologize. Lie. Say it was a dream, a mistake, anything.

But the other part, the one that had taken over the second I heard their footsteps whispered something darker, something I couldn’t silence.

They saw you come.

They heard you scream their names and now, they’re looking at you like they finally see you.

And that part didn’t want to hide. That part wanted to open my legs wider and invite them in.

Fuck.

I hated how much I wanted them to step closer.

I hated how my nipples tightened under the thin shirt when Nikolai’s gaze dropped to my chest.

Hated how my pussy clenched again, empty, aching when Dante’s eyes flicked to the wet spot on the sheets.

I was ashamed and I was starving.

Two years without them, two goddamn years of wondering what I’d done wrong, why they’d vanished, and why the house had gone so quiet without them.

Two years of touching myself to memories I wasn’t supposed to keep and now they were here, looking at me like the wait was over.

Like I wasn’t the little girl anymore and like I was theirs.

I should have been terrified, I was, but the terror tasted like want and I didn’t know how to stop it.

I didn’t know if I wanted to.

Jaxon’s sharp inhale cracked the silence like a whip.

Dante let out a low, filthy curse under his breath, rough and involuntary.

Elias went dead still, the kind of silence that felt louder than any shout.

Nikolai exhaled slowly, predatorily, the sound coiling straight between my thighs.

They filed in, crowding the doorway at the threshold, stealing every last molecule of air. Four men, big and broad.

Older now, harder, more dangerous than the ghosts I’d been chasing in my head for two years.

The room shrank around them.

Their four sets of eyes locked on me at once, on me, sprawled across my bed like an offering, thighs trembling and slick with my own arousal, fingers still buried deep inside my soaked cunt, chest heaving, lips parted around the ghost of their names I’d been moaning seconds ago.

Not one of them looked away which made my heartbeat stutter and died.

I hadn’t expected them in my damn room, not like this.

Elias tilted his head, that wicked grin widening. “You okay, princess?” he asked, voice low and teasing. “Need a minute… or four?”

No.

I wanted to die or disappear.

Or beg them to finish what I started.

“Well, damn,” Nikolai drawled, voice rough with amusement and raw hunger.

He flicked a glance back at the others. “Looks like our little princess was saving the best part for us." Then his gaze snapped to me again, sharply. “Or maybe… we showed up right on time.”

I snapped my legs shut, but the motion only pressed my slick fingers harder against my swollen clit, dragging another helpless shiver through me.

Heat surged through every inch of my skin until my toes curled.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out but a soft, desperate whimper.

My face burned as I could smell the scent of my arousal thick in the air and I'm sure they could too.

My breath came in shallow, frantic pulls now.

Nikolai dragged a hand over his jaw, the rasp of stubble loud in the silence, eyes darkening as they swept over me slow and deep, like he could read every filthy thought I’d ever had.

“Christ,” he muttered, jaw ticking, arms crossing hard over his chest as if he needed restraint. “Little rabbit’s been busy,” he drawled from the doorway, low and amused, that Russian accent curling around every syllable.

Elias stepped closer, boots heavy on the floor, grin turning predatory.

“Busy and loud,” he added, voice dropping to gravel. “Screaming our names like you’ve been practicing for years." He leaned in, close enough that I could smell leather and smoke on him, eyes dark and unyielding.

“That kind of thing isn’t appropriate, baby girl,” he murmured, the words strict, almost scolding but the way he said them, low and slow, made them drip with heat. “Touching yourself like that… calling for us while you come undone? You know better than to play with fire when we’re not around to put it out.”

I jerked my hand away like I’d been burned, thighs snapping shut, but the motion only ground the soaked fabric against my sensitive clit and dragged a helpless whimper from my throat.

My cheeks flamed and my voice came out as a cracked whisper. “I—I thought you were never coming back.”

Jaxon stepped closer, ignoring the others, smirking sharp and knowing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, voice velvet and steel. “We came right on time.” He stopped at the edge of the bed, towering over me, eyes locked on mine.

His voice dropped low, steady, and terrifyingly calm. “Now tell us, baby girl…What exactly were you doing before we walked in?”

I swallowed hard, caught between shame and heat, pinned under four sets of eyes that saw everything and none of them looked away, not even a little.