The Song Bird (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Beth D. Carter Read Free Book Online Page B

smoldering demand.
    Dazed and slightly confounded by his aggression, she reached for him. Her mind tried to throw up a warning, but it was a little too late as a surge of pleasure traveled straight down her spine. Her body was moving independently of her thoughts, molding to the hard planes of his body as her nerves lit with sparks of sensation.
    Vaguely she felt him remove his hands from her face, felt them travel over her body before settling on her rear. He gripped her, pulling her into his groin. Even through the layers of clothing, she felt his hard ridge, large and long, pulsing against her. She had the overwhelming urge to grind into him, to part her legs and pull that incredible hardness into her soft core. It was a feeling so foreign and alien to her that it shocked her thoughts back into place. She pushed him from her. Caught off guard, he stumbled back. When he went to reach for her again, she ducked away and opened the door.
    “Please leave,” she said, panting. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.
    “You don’t really want me to go,” he told her, his voice harsh and gritty with desire. “You’re staring at me like a doe in heat.”
    “Get out, Mr. Masters!”
    He stared at her for a moment longer and then walked to stand in front of her. His light eyes were liquid heat. “I’ll go. But don’t delude yourself into thinking you don’t want me, that you don’t want what’s between us.”
    “I…can’t.”
    “You will,” he said and then left, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

Chapter Seven
     
    With everything that had happened, it took her a long time to fall asleep that night.
    Avilon tossed and turned, and when the cleaning crews arrived, she bolted upward. The half dozen Chinese women worked through the club, scrubbing and cleansing the previous night away. In her opinion, they couldn’t do enough to expurgate the evening’s events. She still felt slightly ill at the memory of Eugene Behr. She had seen much in her travels, but none so evil as the banker’s abrupt personality switch. And to know that he also knew Odell felt very strange. She fervently hoped Amelia had had nothing to do with him.
    Feeling tired and strung out, she rose and prepared for the day. She had a lot to accomplish before singing in the evening, least of all taking one of the horrid dresses left over from the last singer and transforming it into something she wouldn’t mind wearing.
    Not having any other garments, she donned her one dress. She was glad the fashion had faded from the hooks and eyes buttoning in the back to favor an easier jacket bodice over a chemisette. Before, panels over the shoulder had gathered into a blunt point at the dropped waist, and it had been easy to fasten while traveling with her aunt, but when Verity Chambert had passed away, Avilon had had to learn a different way of doing everything. Flounces were still a bothersome hindrance, but a necessary evil. At least they kept her legs warm enough.
    She left her room and headed for the stairs, needing to talk with Annabel. She couldn’t get her words out of her head, that Eli Masters and Jason Braddock liked sharing women. What exactly did that mean? The logistics had been explained, but the concept still boggled her, especially now that her body had reacted so strongly to both men.
    Wasn’t it sinful? Wasn’t it deplorable to want two men? And how did two men not become jealous of each other while…while…the sharing was happening? She marched up to Annabel’s door and knocked softly. She waited a few minutes, but heard nothing, so she rapped again, a little louder this time. Abruptly, the door was yanked open, and Annabel stood there. Her red hair was nothing but knots, pointing in all directions, and her makeup had smeared down her cheeks. She peeped out from one edge of her sleeping mask
    “Oh,” Avilon murmured. “I’m so sorry for waking you.”
    “It is eight in the morning,” Annabel said with