EB Chapter 65: Wicked Games
I lie in the garden, the sun's warmth caressing my skin, its rays filtering through the canopy of leaves above. The air is alive with the scent of blooming roses and jasmine, a heady fragrance that mingles with the earthy aroma of freshly cut grass. The gentle buzz of bees and the distant chirping of birds create a soothing symphony, but my mind is far from serene. It's a tempest of curiosity, a restless storm brewing within me as I sense the undercurrents of something momentous.
The guys—Sam, Vincent, Eric, Vlad, Bael, and Brandon—are scattered across the garden like a deck of cards dealt by fate. Their laughter, rich and deep, mingles with the rustle of leaves, but it's their glances, fleeting and charged, that capture my attention. They're weaving a tapestry of secrets, their minds a labyrinth I'm determined to navigate.
Katie bursts through the garden gate like a whirlwind, her energy infectious, her presence a beacon of excitement. She brandishes a clipboard, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Eva, darling, you won't believe the extravaganza we've concocted for you this week!" Her voice is a melody, each word a note of anticipation.
I raise an eyebrow, propping myself up on one elbow, the sun warming my skin. "We? And why do I feel like I'm about to be the centerpiece of some elaborate charade?"
The guys exchange glances, their mental barriers flickering like candles in the wind. Sam, with his mischievous blue eyes, takes a step forward, his presence commanding. "Trust us, Eva. This will be an experience you'll never forget." His voice is a low purr, a challenge wrapped in silk.
I narrow my eyes, sensing the undercurrent of their unspoken plans, but before I can probe further, Vincent interjects, his voice smooth as velvet. "Where's your spirit of adventure, Eva? You're always so calculated. Let us show you the beauty of surrender."
I let out a husky laugh, sitting up fully, the sun warming my bare shoulders. "Surrender? With you lot? That sounds like a recipe for chaos." Yet, even as the words leave my lips, a thrill courses through me. These men, my lovers, my guardians, my tempest—they have a way of turning my world upside down, and I find myself drawn into their vortex.
The first hint of their grand design unfolds when Sam approaches, his eyes glinting with mischief. He blindfolds me with a silk scarf, his fingers brushing my lips, sending shivers down my spine. "Trust me," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear, his voice a promise and a dare. I nod, my heart pounding, as he leads me to a table, the soft clink of dishes and the faint aroma of exotic fruits teasing my senses. "Open your mouth," he commands, his voice a low growl. I obey, and he feeds me, his fingers grazing my lips, a slice of sweet, tangy fruit bursting on my tongue. It's a symphony of flavors—mango, passion fruit, and a hint of something exotic. I moan softly, the sound muffled by the blindfold, and he chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. "Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear, sending a jolt of desire through me.
Vincent steps forward, his presence commanding, his eyes dark with intent because I can feel them like lightning striking my skin. "Your turn, Eva. Let's see how well you think when you're distracted." He sets up a chessboard of food with a flourish, the pieces clicking into place.
I raise an eyebrow, accepting the challenge, my competitive spirit ignited. “I smell yummy goodness.”
He chuckles and removes the blindfold. “What you take you may eat. Choose wisely, love. Because if I don’t eat a piece of yours I take, you lose an article of clothing.” The game is a dance of strategy, each move calculated, but Vincent's smoldering gaze keeps throwing me off balance. With each piece I lose, an article of clothing follows, until I'm left in nothing but my lingerie, my skin flushed with desire.
"You're cheating," I accuse, though I know he's not. He simply grins, his eyes burning with unspoken desires.
Vincent chuckles. “I am hungry, but not for food.” I lose the game, but thoroughly enjoy him claiming his prize.
The next day, Eric and Vlad team up for their brand of mischief, their laughter echoing through the garden. I know that I am in for something purely chaotic because Eric will get frustrated trying to keep Vlad and I in check.
I was minding my own business reading in bed when they bind me to the bed with silk scarves, their touches a contrast of gentle and demanding. "It's just practice," Eric says, his voice calm, his hands anything but as they roam over my skin, leaving trails of fire. Vlad joins in, his touch bolder, his lips curving into a wicked grin.
"For what?" I ask, my voice breathless, my body arching into their touch.