Chapter 1

1

Lyric

I manage to reach the front desk without coughing my lungs up all over the smartly dressed receptionist. “Hi, sorry, I’m… oh, gosh, I need to catch my breath, hold on,” I gasp.

“Take your time,” the young woman replies as she looks up at me, a concerned expression on her face.

“I’m… damn, how did I get so winded from simply crossing the street?” I nervously laugh as I struggle to pull my thoughts back together. “Right, okay…”

“Can I help you?” she giggles, giving me a warm and welcoming smile.

“Yes. I’m here to meet with Mr. Jack Bowman,” I say, checking my phone messages again. Mr. Bowman’s assistant sent me the details earlier this morning, reminding me to be on time. Oh, the burning irony. “I know I’m a little late.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Bowman checked in just a little bit ago. He should be upstairs, waiting,” the receptionist replies as she checks her computer. “We had drinks and a light brunch sent upstairs about ten minutes ago. I’m sure there is plenty leftover.”

“Ten minutes ago, great,” I mumble. “Okay.”

“Second floor. Just follow the signs and you’ll see it at the very end of the hallway.”

“Thank you,” I reply and immediately head for the elevator. However, I stop after taking two steps when I realize I have no idea where it is. The lobby is spacious and gorgeous, luxury oozing from every corner and ceiling pendant. It is also generously illuminated, but I cannot, for the life of me, spot the elevator.

“It’s over there,” I hear the receptionist say.

I give her a grateful smile and follow her gaze. A few seconds later, I’m on the elevator, waiting for the stainless-steel doors to slide open onto the second floor. The minute the doors open wide enough, I slip through and race down the hallway, following the signs as instructed. I slow down as I approach Executive Suite 208, taking deep, measured breaths in an attempt to appear as calm and controlled as possible.

“You got this,” I tell myself.

I knock once, and after what feels like forever but is closer to a minute, the door opens.

But it’s not Jack Bowman who greets me.

Instead, it’s a very tall man significantly younger than the sixty-something entrepreneur. He’s ridiculously handsome, with short brown hair and a trimmed beard, fine lines showing around his piercing blue eyes. His shoulders are broad, the dark grey, custom-tailored suit he’s wearing hugging his muscular frame in all the right places.

“Can I help you?” he asks. His voice is low and gravelly, dripping with a sweet kind of darkness that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Um, hello. I’m here for the appointment at eleven?” I manage, barely able to form a proper sentence.

He measures me from head to toe, and I suddenly feel naked and vulnerable, also hot.

“We ordered a less ingenue kind of girl, but I think we can roll with this virginal thing you’ve got going on,” the man replies.

“Wait, what?”

“Come in,” he sighs, and takes a step back.

My first thought is to turn around and leave, because clearly, there’s a misunderstanding here. But I can’t leave until I’ve had my interview with Bowman. I know it’s the right room, I’m only fifteen minutes late, and the receptionist just confirmed that Bowman had already checked in.

“Am I being punked?” I chuckle softly as I step inside the suite and cautiously look around.

The door closes behind me as I move further into the room. The man in the grey suit is not alone. My heart skips a beat upon seeing two more tall, dark, and handsome gentlemen come in from the terrace, both of them looking just as confused as the first one.

“Max, what the hell did the agency send us?” one of them asks.

He’s less bulky and more athletic. I’m guessing he plays a lot of tennis, judging by his spry figure, toned, long arms, and muscular legs. His black hair falls messily over his boyish good looks, while his grey eyes drill holes into my soul. He looks annoyingly sexy in tailored beige slacks and a button-up white shirt. He also appears younger than the other two mystery fellas.

“I know,” Max replies with a casual shrug. “But I believe we can make it work.”

“Make what work, exactly?” I cut in. “Excuse me, but I’m here to see Mr. Jack Bowman. We have an interview scheduled for eleven a.m. today. In this suite.”

The third man looks me up and down. He’s bigger than the one they call Max in every possible way. Yet he fits nicely into his dark blue tweed suit. He could probably bench three of me without so much as a strain.

“You just missed him,” the mountain says, his tone flat.

“Ivan, hold on,” the tennis player replies, unable to take his eyes off me. “You said you had an interview with Bowman?”

“Yes,” I say with a stern nod. “How could I have missed him?”

Max chuckles dryly. “Artur, I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here.”

“I’m so confused right now,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

A sly smirk forms on Artur’s lips. “What’s your name?”

“Lyric,” I say. “I’m a PhD candidate, and Mr. Bowman graciously agreed to have an interview with me regarding my doctorate thesis. This meeting has been scheduled for a couple of months now. I need it to happen.”

“Lyric,” Ivan mutters. “That’s an interesting name.”

“My mother was on the artsy side,” I shoot back, then start looking around again. “So, where’s Mr. Bowman exactly, and who are you?”

“You should take a seat,” Max says. “We need to talk.”

That sounds ominous.

I’m not sure why I am still here and not running for the hills. Despite the fact that these three ooze danger through every pore, my survival instincts are stalled. It’s as if I’ve just walked into the lions’ den, except the lions aren’t scaring me as much as they should.

“I’ll ask again, who are you, exactly?” I say with surprising confidence, taking a seat on one of the velvet sofas.

The lounge area of the suite is sleek and minimalistic, decorated in soft, earthy tones, while the outdoor terrace offers a splendid view of the hotel’s backyard—sprawling gardens and pools nestled beneath a massive wrought iron and glass roof. All of my senses are overwhelmed as I continue to try and wrap my head around what is going on.

“I’m Max,” Max says. “This is my brother, Ivan. And this is our brother from another mother, our best friend and business partner, Artur.”

“Okay,” I mumble, suspiciously eyeing each of them. “That gives me your names but still doesn’t explain who you are and why Mr. Bowman is absent.”

“We didn’t answer the first, or the second time you asked,” Max says. “Do you think the third time’s going to be a charm?”

“I had an appointment with Mr. Bowman,” I insist, keeping my chin up.

I spot the hint of a smile dancing across Ivan’s lips through his trimmed lumberjack beard. “I do like her slightly prissy attitude,” he tells his brother. “It’s kinda hot.”

“Excuse me?” I croak.

“Here’s the thing,” Max laughs lightly. “Mr. Bowman left the building. He has some… issues that he needs to deal with. Had we known that you were coming, Lyric, I promise we would’ve let the interview happen before sending Jack on his way. Alas, we did not know, so allow us to apologize and make it up to you.”

“You sent him on his way? What the hell is going on here?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Max, you’re confusing our guest,” Artur groans and rolls his eyes. “Don’t mind him, Lyric. Let’s just say Mr. Bowman won’t be available for any interviews, or anything else, for that matter, at least for the next few days.”

“What? Why?”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I hear Ivan mumble.

What is that supposed to mean? I can feel my heart start to race. Artur picks up on my anxiety and takes a seat on the sofa next to me, keeping a warm smile on his face, like a gracious host. “Forgive Ivan, he doesn’t like it when people ask a lot of questions.”

“Or when they talk at all,” Max grumbles, prompting a light laugh out of Artur.

Ivan, however, doesn’t budge or show any type of emotion at all. Yet surprisingly, I start to wonder how I’d feel if he got closer to me…. Curiosity might indeed kill the cat.

“Okay, so what you’re telling me is that Mr. Bowman isn’t here anymore. That, I understand,” I reply, my voice trembling slightly. “I’d still like to know who the three of you are, though. Should I reschedule the interview through you, or do I need to get a hold of his secretary? How exactly does this work?”

Max comes closer and my breath falters. I feel tiny as he gets bigger in my field of vision. “Lyric, here’s the thing. We were just about to celebrate something, and we ordered an escort. Then you showed up at our door.”

“Whoa.”

“I know, right? Pretty confusing,” he shoots back with a wry smile. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still make the most of this conundrum.”

“I’m a PhD candidate and I came here for an interview,” I state, sounding like an idiot to my own ears.

“Yes, and we’ve already explained the interview isn’t going to happen,” he replies. “Do you want to walk out of here feeling like this time was wasted or enjoyed?”

I stare at them, not knowing how to react.

I’ve never had sex before. I’ve had a few close calls here and there, but my studies—my algorithms, in particular—take up most of my time. I’ve been so stressed out about this interview that maybe this is my sign from the universe to take it down a notch.

But something still isn’t making sense here. I’m missing an important detail.

“I’m sorry, what happened to Mr. Bowman again?” I ask.

Max and Artur glance back at Ivan, who replies with a shrug. “She’s going to hear about it by tomorrow, anyway,” Ivan says. “You might as well tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

“Mr. Bowman will be in our custody until he yields to our demands,” Max replies.

I gasp. “Oh, my God! You kidnapped him?”

“Kidnap is such an ugly word.”

“Sequestered him.”

Max gives me a wink. “That’s more like it.”

Dear God, who the hell are these people? And why can’t I just find the nerve to get up and run screaming? “What are you going to do to me?”

“No harm will come to you,” Artur assures me. “A few orgasms, maybe, but I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy those.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Let me offer a more thorough introduction. I’m Max Sokolov. This is Ivan Sokolov. Perhaps the surname rings a bell?”

I stare at him in sheer disbelief. Of course, it rings a bell. My father’s entire political campaign over the past three months has been centered on the Sokolov Bratva, whom he has repeatedly named “the bane of our great city of Chicago.”

Bowman and my father partnered up a while back on a policy proposal designed to rid Chicago of its mobster families—if my father gets the state senate seat in the fall.

“I think she knows who we are,” Artur mumbles.

“Russian mobsters,” I breathe, my eyes growing bigger, my breaths coming quicker.

“Technically speaking, Russian-American,” Max states nonchalantly. “Ivan and I were born and raised here. Artur came over from Moscow when he was a wee little boy, though he’s naturalized. Therefore, also Russian-American.”

“Okay, Russian-American mobsters,” I reply sarcastically.

Ivan chuckles. “Great. We ordered an escort, and instead we get this lovely little prude with a moral code. Now what?”

“Like I said, why consider it time wasted?” Max shoots back.

“You’re joking,” I say.

I’m not sure why I don’t sound or feel as outraged and scared as I should be. Either my brain cells are completely fried from all of the studying I’ve been doing, or I’ve suddenly developed a soft spot for mobsters with big shoulders, hard, strong bodies, and gorgeous chiseled faces.

Artur smiles and heads over to the mini bar. “Let’s look at this situation from every angle, shall we?”

I keep my mouth shut and simply watch as he takes out a tumbler and fills it with ice, then opens a bottle of Amaretto, pouring a double shot. He brings me the glass and I take it with a slightly trembling hand. I down the whole thing, welcoming the almond liqueur and its accompanying chill down my throat.

“Would you like another?” he asks. I nod, and he brings me another glass with a curt smile. “You came here for an interview with Bowman yet we beat you to it. A hairline win, I promise. But we got to him before you did, and truth be told, I’m not sure how he’s going to walk out of this after we’re done with him.”

“If he can walk,” Ivan replies coldly.

They seem so matter-of-fact and chill about the whole thing. They’ve just admitted that they basically kidnapped one of America’s most powerful and influential entrepreneurs like it’s nothing.

“Point is, Lyric, you’re here, we’re here, why not make the most of it?” Max asks.

“Make the most of it?” I repeat after him.

Max comes closer, glancing down at me with hooded eyes. “May I?” he asks, and I nod in the affirmative, though I don’t know what I’m agreeing to. Slowly, he reaches out his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch is subtle, much like the brush of a butterfly’s wings, but it’s enough to send fires coursing through my veins, and I’m unable to look away from him. His cologne is heady and laced with pepper, filling my lungs, and my mind, with all kinds of sinful thoughts. “You know what they say about redheads?”

“No.”

“That they were kissed by fire,” he replies. “I’m willing to bet there’s a fire burning inside of you, Lyric. I can see it in those baby blues of yours.”

I’m speechless. Breathless. Shocked by my own reaction—or lack thereof.

“You’ve made it this far,” Artur chimes in. “There’s plenty of booze, we’ve got all the privacy we need, and we’ll make sure you get home safe when you’re ready to leave.”

“When I’m ready to leave?”

“Why, yes,” he says, raising an eyebrow. There’s a playful flicker in his gaze and it’s making my knees turn to jelly. Good thing I’m already seated.

Max’s fingers linger over my ear, slowly but surely making their way down the side of my neck. “You’re free to leave whenever you wish,” he tells me. “We wouldn’t dream of holding you against your will.”

“So I can leave. Right now. Even though you just told me you kidnapped Jack Bowman.”

The men exchange brief glances and smiles. “Our business is with him, not you,” Max replies. “So, yes. You can leave. Or you can stay and see what it would be like to let go of your inhibitions.” His hand finds the back of my neck, squeezing slightly. “You could use a proper unwinding, that much I can tell. Why don’t you let us take care of you, help you relax and forget everything, just for a while?”

“I…”

“But here’s the thing,” Artur cuts in, handing me a third drink. I didn’t realize I’d finished the second one already. “You stay, you get the three of us. We share you, fair and square.”

“Wait, hold on a minute,” I say, trying to shake myself back into some semblance of clarity, but before I can, Max bends down to meet me at my level. His grip on the back of my neck tightens, causing me to tilt my head, my lips suddenly less than an inch away from his as he looks right into my soul.

“You are one of the most beautiful women we’ve ever come across,” Max whispers, his lips touching mine. “Indulge yourself. See what it’s like to be shared by the three of us. And when it’s over, you only need to walk out that door, and that’ll be the end of it.”

Oh, wow, they’re serious.

I should be outraged and appalled, slapping his hand away. But instead, there’s an ache growing in my core. I can feel myself clenching tightly in my seat, liquid heat pooling between my legs. My blood’s boiling, my breath uneven. His lips are so close, all I can think about is tasting him.

“How do we go about this?” I ask, my tone soft and innocent.

Max smiles, then kisses me, and everything turns white for a moment. I melt on the inside, my lips parting as I welcome him. His tongue is eager and playful, exploring and tasting me. I respond in equal measure, and the kiss deepens into something that quickly renounces all forms of control.

“First, you need to get up,” Max says as he pulls his mouth from mine.

I stay seated, my eyes still closed. I can still taste him. The air in the room feels thick and heavy. Slowly, I return to the present and look around. Max, Ivan, and Artur stand close together, barely a foot away. They’re all so big, towering over me while I tremble with anticipation.

“Okay,” I say.

“That’s not the right answer,” Max replies. “What do you say when you’re given an order that you’re desperate to obey, Lyric? Because I can tell from the look in your eyes that you’re desperate to obey.”

“Yes, sir,” I say as I stand up.

He smiles, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Ivan does the same, while Artur’s fingers deftly work the buttons of his shirt. They’re all looking at me, their gazes dark and ravenous with desire. I’ve started something I seem to have no control over, but perhaps that’s the whole appeal. To not have control. To let loose and see where it leads. As weird as it may sound, I feel safe with them. They’re not pressuring me in any way. They’ll let me leave if I wish to.

This is all me. I have the power, and I intend to use it.

“That’s a nice suit you’ve got on,” Artur says. “Very ‘Future President of the United States’ but with a dash of naughty hiding underneath.”

“I was going for feminine but professional,” I reply, unable to stop myself from smiling.

He laughs lightly. “It needs to come off.”

With shaky fingers, I quickly take my jacket off first.

“Go slow,” Ivan cuts in. “We’re not in any hurry.”

“We’re not?”

“You’ve never been with three men before, that much is obvious,” Max chuckles. “Why hasten the experience when it’s best enjoyed slowly?”

I haven’t even been with one , I think to myself.

“Go slow, okay,” I reply, taking a deep breath. I’m worried that if I tell them that I’m a virgin, they might pull the plug, and frankly, I’m way too hot and bothered to step away from this now. “Like this?”

Ivan is out of his shirt first, and oh boy, does this man look sculpted in marble. Ropes of muscle and rippling pecs covered in dark tattoos that spread across his chest and down his massive arms. I spot faint scars here and there. I reckon each tells a story, but I can only lick my lips as I watch his hands reach for his belt buckle next, his wild green eyes continuously searching my face.

Artur’s pants come off. This man is pure athletic muscle. Every inch of him is toned to perfection, with black and green tattoos dancing over his shoulders and down his back. He moves closer as I work to unbutton my satin shirt. I’m so flustered and I’m having trouble, my fingers can’t seem to cooperate properly. “Let me help you, otherwise we’ll be here until tomorrow,” he says.

“I thought you said we weren’t in a rush,” I quip.

“We’re not, but here,” he replies and gently takes my hand, bringing it down to cup his manhood through his pants. I gasp as I feel the hardness and generous size of his erection. “Get what I’m saying?”

“And then some,” I mutter.

He finishes unbuttoning and peels the shirt off my shoulders, while I unbuckle his belt and fumble with the zipper before his pants finally hit the floor. These men are rock-hard for me, and I am soaking wet for them.

How did this happen? So quick, so spontaneous. This is so unlike me.

I came here for an interview for fuck’s sake.

“Kiss me,” I tell Artur, desperate to get out of my own head.

He smiles and obliges, capturing my mouth in a hungry kiss while Ivan and Max lose the rest of their clothes and gather around me. Artur keeps my lips and tongue busy while Max runs his knuckles down my right arm. Ivan kneels and helps me out of my pumps, gently massaging my feet while Artur’s fingers swiftly remove my pants and panties in a single swoop. Max unhooks my bra, and just like that, I stand naked between these giant men.

Naked and wet as hell.

“This is insane,” I gasp, looking at each of them for a hot second.

“It’s how we live,” Max says. “We share everything. For as long as we’ve known each other, we’ve shared everything. How does it feel, Lyric?”

“Strange.”

“Do you want to continue?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

I feel a devilish smile slitting across my face. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Come.”

I follow Max into the master bedroom. It’s huge—its walls covered in navy-blue wallpaper, the carpet a fluffy cream that soothes my feet with every step that I take. The midday sun pours through the tall windows, and I bask in it for a while before Artur and Ivan join me.

“Don’t move,” Artur says, trailing kisses down the side of my neck. His lips, his tongue, were made for teasing me. I struggle to breathe properly as I feel Ivan’s kisses tumbling down my spine, one inch at a time.

Max comes around to stand in front of me and slips his hand between my legs. “Fucking hell, you’re ready, aren’t you?”

I moan and hold on to his shoulders as his fingers slide through and tease my slick folds, my swollen clit. “Oh, God.”

I look down, dazzled by his erection. His cock is huge and deliciously thick, veins throbbing along the shaft. I feel Ivan come closer, hard between my buttocks, grinding and teasing while my fingers dig into Max’s shoulders.

“You taste fantastic,” Artur whispers in my ear.

Max lowers his head and takes my right nipple in his mouth, while Ivan’s hand reaches around to fondle my left breast. His fingers close around the nipple and pinch, tighter and tighter until I whimper against Artur’s lips. They are remarkably well coordinated. This foreplay is a feast for all of my senses. I lose my self-control when Max’s fingers penetrate me.

“Oh, God,” I groan and tilt my head back, letting it rest on Ivan’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t stop.”

“I have no intention of stopping,” Max says then kisses me.

I’m theirs for the taking and I have no intention of stopping this. Tension builds up inside of me like a ball of electricity about to explode. One more stroke of Max’s fingers, one more lap of Artur’s tongue, one more nipple pinch from Ivan, and I might lose my ability to stand upright.

Then Max gets down on his knees.

Ivan wraps his arms around my torso to keep me in place.

Artur spreads my legs.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” Max says, looking up at me.

A second later, he dives right in and proceeds to devour my pussy. I moan harshly as Ivan squeezes and kneads my full breasts, as Artur runs his fingers through my hair and watches me as I’m brought closer to the edge. He strokes himself, insanely aroused. But it’s Max’s tongue that delivers the ultimate damage, while he finger-fucks me into oblivion.

I come hard and unexpectedly all over his face, my juices glistening in his beard. Max keeps lapping me up, drinking me. I cry out, shaking like a leaf, Ivan holding me as he breathes me in, his strength filling me with a sense of safety, a freedom of exploration.

By the time I come down from the heavens, Max is standing up and peering down at me. I look at him through hazy eyes, still twitching in the afterglow as my pussy aches for more.

“You are dangerously addictive, Lyric,” he says.

“So are you,” I reply.

Ivan sighs and pushes me against the bed. I fall on my back, giggling naughtily as I allow myself to be admired by these massive men with their huge erections. They watch me for a while, hands on their cocks, stroking slowly, as I instinctively raise my knees and part my legs for them.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but when Max takes the lead and climbs on top of me, I figure I’m definitely doing something right.

“We’re going to take turns,” Max says, his voice low and sultry while steely fires burn in his eyes.

“Okay. Just… go easy,” I manage, unable to think straight.

I feel his tip testing my entrance. A few seconds later, he’s thrusting into me, each time deeper than the last. I pull in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly. The searing pain only lasts for a few moments, easing up the more he moves, but then Max freezes deep inside of me. “Holy shit,” he says.

“What is it?” Ivan asks as he joins us on the bed.

“She’s a virgin,” Max says.

I shake my head and lock my legs around his waist. “Please, don’t stop. I want this. I need this.”

“Fucking hell,” Max groans, unable to pull out as I tighten my legs, pinning him against me.

I don’t want him to pull away. He’s stretching me so good, filling me to the brim. So this is what I’ve been missing out on. Damn, it’s incredible. I cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, while Artur lays on the side of us, planting soft kisses on my breast.

Finally, Max begins to move again.

Back and forth, slowly at first.

“I’ll go easy,” he whispers against my lips, then raises his head to look at me.

Ivan takes a hold of my mouth while Artur keeps teasing my nipples. Max thrusts himself deeper and harder, building a rhythm between us. The discomfort eventually dissolves into pure, raw pleasure, as I raise my hips to meet him.

“How does it feel?” Max asks, while Ivan runs his fingers through my hair.

“So fucking good,” I reply, my breasts bouncing as he pounds into me.

Harder, faster, deeper. The pressure builds up again, my pussy clenching for another release. It comes fast. A devastating wave, a climax that rumbles through me like an unhinged lightning storm.

I scream in sweet ecstasy as Max fucks me harder and harder, losing himself inside of me. I feel him come. I feel his cock pulsating as he shoots his seed into me, filling me with his essence.

But I’m not given a moment’s respite.

I moan and attempt to catch my breath as Max lays next to me, offering sweet, tender caresses while Ivan takes his place. Ivan is fucking huge. Even bigger, thicker than his brother. I’m stretched beyond belief.

Artur’s fingers find their way down my belly and start stroking my clit. My already swollen nub reacts immediately, and I feel another orgasm approaching.

“Harder!” I scream, my legs locked around Ivan’s waist as he rams into me.

Harder. Faster. Deeper, still. I listen to the sound of skin slapping skin, my juices glazing his enormous cock with every brutal thrust. Artur works my clit in a ferocious string of circles until finally I come once more. A third climax has me unraveling as Ivan lets loose and fucks me into oblivion.

By the time Artur gets to me, I’m on all fours, my knees weak and my pussy hungry for more. Ivan and Max watch, smiling like lazy devils as they relax on the edge of the bed in the afterglow, enjoying the view.

“Oh, God, oh, God!” I cry out when he reaches around and plays with my clit while drilling deep inside of me.

I don’t know how it’s possible, but a fourth orgasm shakes me. Everything turns white as Artur’s hand comes down, smacking my ass. Instantly, I clench myself around him. It’s all he needs to explode inside of me, each thrust more insistent until we’re both spent and sated.

By the time it’s over, I’m weak. Boneless. Breathless.

And so fucking happy that I could cry.