Their Little Helper: Wicked Writers Wolf Pack Book 5 by Nichole Riley

Author:Nichole Riley [Riley, Nichole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

At exactly 9:58, I’m standing outside the brother’s door, clenching and unclenching my hands while I stare at the damn evergreen wreath like it would give me a pep talk for what I’m about to do.

Can I really do this? Hell, I know my body can do it perfectly fine. That’s definitely not in question. I haven’t been able to get the little hussy to calm down since my conversation with Damien earlier this evening. But my mind, well, that fickle thing is now starting to apply the brakes a bit.

What the hell am I truly getting myself into?

I knew I should have never looked up role play on the internet while waiting for the rest of the evening to pass by before coming up here.

Trust me—there’s some stuff under that particular subject that you would never want to stumble across. I tried to find everything I could get my hands on, but nothing I came across could really give me a definitive visualization for what Damien had described to me.

This is why I am now frozen in front of their door.

I truly am letting my curiosity control my sanity. I raise my hand up to knock but promptly put it back down. I need to be completely sure that when I knock on this door, I am completely willing to accept whatever it is they try and show me. I raise my hand to knock once more and the door is suddenly flung open.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Anson says exasperatedly, “Get your sexy ass in here. I have been waiting for you to knock on the door for nearly five minutes now. We are wasting precious time, poppet.” He grabs my wrist and drags me inside, letting the door click shut behind us.

We go through the living area, and instead of going to the guest room I had discovered them in a few days ago, he drags me to the left bedroom. The master suite.

When we cross the threshold I spot Oren causally leaning back on his elbows on the bed wearing nothing but a white muscle tank and his tan slacks. I feel myself start to drool a bit and roughly swallow it back as I nervously look around at the rest of my surroundings. All four men are in some form of undress and seem perfectly relaxed, unlike myself. If I were to be honest, I might just like this look of theirs best of all.

“Good evening, Miss Coleman,” for the first time that I can recall, Draven is addressing me with a friendly voice as his sips at the light amber liquid in his glass.

“Good evening, Mr. Gunsmith,” I respond awkwardly as I try not to stare at the expanse of chest he has on display with his white shirt fully unbuttoned.

I’ve read countless novels and seen numerous pictures where you could count a man’s individual abdominal muscles, but this was the first time that I had experienced it in person. Were these men trying to play out my fantasy? I inwardly shake my head; no way that would be possible.

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