One Is Hot Enough, But Two?

~SEREN~

For a second, my brain struggles to process the words that were just said.

I blink once, then twice.

“Excuse me?” I finally manage to choke out, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

Surely, I must have misheard them.

“You heard us,” the brown-haired twin says, like he’s discussing the weather, not proposing something that could shatter my entire existence.

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

My mind races, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Am I so drunk I’m hallucinating? Or are these two impossibly handsome men actually propositioning me to... have sex with them?

I glance at the black-haired twin. His expression is unreadable, but his honey-amber eyes burn into me with an intensity that makes my stomach clench.

“We’re offering you a way to get back at your husband,” the black-haired twin says, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “To show him what he’s missing out on.”

“And to have the best sex of your life,” the brown-haired twin adds with a smirk. “Consider it our… celebratory gift for your newfound freedom.”

My cheeks burn, and I’m grateful for the dim lighting of the bar. I can’t believe this is happening. I, Seren Caldwell, who’s been with only one man my entire adult life, am being propositioned by two of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. Not just one, but two.

A part of me is screaming to run away, to get out of this situation as fast as I can. This is madness. Insanity. I’m a married woman—well, in an open marriage, but still. This isn’t me.

But another part, the part that’s been hurt and betrayed and made to feel worthless, is intrigued. Tempted. The alcohol buzzing in my veins amplifies this curiosity, making their offer seem almost reasonable.

“You’re insane,” I manage to say, but it comes out weaker than I intended.

“Are we?” the brown-haired twin challenges, leaning forward. “Or are we just two men who know a hurt woman ready to get back at her husband when we see one, hm?"

He arches a brow and I find myself swallowing, genuinely tempted by their offer.

Getting back at Julian, proving to him that I wasn't the bore he thought me out to be. That I wasn't the kind of woman so stiff in bed that I couldn't satisfy my man and give him a reason to cheat on me.

But with two strangers?

My eyes traveled between them, trying to read their expressions and failing miserably.

Slowly, I shake my head.

Forget the alcohol, forget this ever happened. I'm going to walk away and pretend like this never happened.

That was the logical thing to do... yet, it didn't sound like the right thing to do. Not when Julian’s words replayed in my mind like a broken record.

Not when the memory of him tangled in the sheets with another woman—my charity case—made me feel small, pathetic, and used.

I clench my fist, digging my nails into my palm, while all the while being perfectly aware of the two pairs of eyes lingering on me.

What better way to get back at Julian, to make him regret his own game and reclaim my stolen self-worth, than by accepting the outrageous offer of these two handsome strangers?

But...

My eyes travel between the both of them once again before instinctively dipping towards their lower halves.

With faces and attitudes like theirs, there was no way they didn't pack a punch.

One is hot enough, but two?

That’s a fantasy I never knew I had.

“So, what’s it going to be, princess?” the brown-haired twin asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you going to let us make your night, or are you going to run back to your little husband with your tail between your legs?”

My pride stings at his words, but I know he’s right. If I walk away now, I’ll be giving Julian exactly what he wants—a wife he can control and belittle.

But if I stay…

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine the possibilities. The sheer, unadulterated pleasure. The satisfaction of knowing I’d done something to get back at him. To prove to him that I wasn't the broken woman he'd painted me to be.

The alcohol in my system makes the decision for me.

I take a deep breath, the scent of expensive cologne and whiskey filling my senses. Then, I meet their gazes.

“What’s the catch?” I ask, my voice steady despite the tremor running through me.

“Catch?” the black-haired twin questions, raising a brow.

“Yeah. What’s in it for you?”

He leans forward, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his face. For a second, I almost forget what I was saying.

“The satisfaction of knowing we helped you get back at your husband,” he says, his voice a low rumble that resonates through me. “And, maybe, the chance to see you come undone.”

His words are direct, unapologetically so. They should make me uncomfortable coming from a total stranger, but they don’t. Instead, they send a thrill through me, a heat that pools between my thighs.

“And In return,” the brown-haired twin says, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, “you’ll let us do whatever we want with you, let us fuck you senseless until you remember your personal worth."

A shiver runs through me at his words, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through my veins and I swallow, mustering courage before I speak.

"Names,” I demand. “I'm not fucking total strangers.”

Once again they exchange those annoying glances of theirs before the black-haired twin speaks.

“Alaric,” he says, referring to himself before giving a gentle nod towards his brother. “Dominic.”

Alaric and Dominic, I take in the names, letting them replay in my mind for a split second.

“So?” Dominic questions.

My gaze lingers on theirs for a heartbeat before I speak.

“Fine.”

"Fine, What, Princess?" He presses.

I feel the heat between my tights intensify and press them together, now painfully aware of the fact that my underwear is starting to dampen at an alarming rate.

"Fine, I'll let you fuck me senseless."

A ghost smile crosses Alaric's lips.

"Wise choice, princess." He says right before his eyes find my ring finger. "Put that away before we proceed." He demands, gesturing towards my wedding band. "It's a turn off." He finishes.

Right. My wedding band. A symbol of a marriage that was long dead, even before today's events. With a newfound sense of defiance, I slide it off my finger and place it on the table.

Alaric nods, satisfied. Then, he rises from his seat, extending a hand towards me.

“Shall we?” he asks, his honey-amber eyes burning into mine.

I place my hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through me. His touch is firm and confident. Dominic rises as well, moving to stand on my other side.

I’m sandwiched between them, their presence overwhelming and intoxicating as they lead me through the crowd.

The journey following that blurs by quickly and soon, I'm standing in the center of a luxurious, penthouse suite located at the top floor of the Seven.

A large leather sofa is positioned in the center, backing the high rise floor to ceiling window that shows a full display of the bustling streets of Manhattan. A king-size bed sits on a raised platform to one side, covered in black silk sheets that seem to shimmer in the dim light surrounding the room.

The whole theme of the room makes me painfully aware of the road I'm about to walk down.

And I don't feel an ounce of regret.

The twins move past me. Dominic makes his way over to the bar in the corner while Alaric makes his way over to the sofa.

The leather dips as he sinks into it, eyes fixed intensely on me as he leans back against the sofa and man-spread, revealing the tent in his black trousers.

"Let's not waste precious time, princess," he says, words coming out in a low rumble. "Strip."