Page 53 of The Boys Next Door
“Cop car,” Brendan murmured from the back. His voice was low, but it cut through the screeching guitars and growling vocals.
Ian braked sharply, slowing down just until the police car was out of sight. Then he floored the gas again.
“Everyone in this car knows the truth, baby.” Ian’s voice was soft and teasing now. “You’re a bad, bad girl. Tonight’s your night to live it.”
Oh God, Ian’s finger had slipped inside her soaked panties, stroking her moist folds, and she squirmed against his touch, gasping when he nudged her clit. Brendan’s thumb rubbed over her neck. Cars were honking, streetlights streaked by, and the music blaring from the speakers vibrated her whole body.
“We’ll look out for you, Di.” Brendan’s voice managed to be soothing — underneath the beats grinding out of the stereo. She couldn’t help arching her back to get more contact with his hand, her thighs spreading wider to Ian’s teasing finger. “You can do whatever you want tonight. But we have a lot of ideas.”
Sweet Jesus, what did that even mean? But what came out of her mouth was, “Just tonight?”
“Attagirl,” Ian muttered.Those hazel eyes flicked constantly between Diana’s curves and the road, pricking her skin with hot need as the car roared over asphalt. She didn’t dare tease him back while he was driving like a maniac — but it was so tempting. She couldn’t resist running just one fingertip over the hard bulge in his jeans. The strangled sound Ian made, his free hand tightening on the wheel, was all the invitation she needed to squeeze his cock fully. She could feel her juices trickling over his fingers.
“So, Di.” She could hear the grin in Brendan’s voice too, and the arousal beneath it. His hand dipped further into her jacket, stroking her breast right where it began to swell out from her chest. “What kind of ice cream did you get?”
*
They were downtown. Lights and noise from the street spilled into the parking lot. Diana’s stomach clenched, nervous and excited, as Ian shoved the keys in his pocket — jeez, he hadn’t even put a seatbelt on — and jumped out of the Jeep. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to get herself under control, and smoothed down her wind-tousled hair. Better check her makeup — oh, she needed more lipstick. She was stalling, she knew. Behind her, she heard Brendan’s door swing open.
On an impulse, Diana took off her black-rimmed glasses and slipped them into the pocket of her jean jacket. Then she sucked in a deep breath and shrugged the denim off her shoulders. The night was hot and sticky, but as the fabric slid over her skin, goosebumps pricked her bare arms and exposed cleavage.
Warm hands closed over hers, helping her out of the car. She squinted, trying to bring the fuzzed edges of the scene into focus. The streetlights were haloed now, the neon softened. She could see, but everything was slightly blurred outside a certain radius, hazed over, making it less real.
But there was no mistaking the delighted smile that spread over Brendan’s face as she straightened up, or Ian’s hungry stare. Oh God, did she ever feel naked, out in the open air without her glasses and jacket.
Two pairs of hazel eyes traveled over the dark hair brushing her bare shoulders, the low-cut neckline that outlined her creamy swells and deep cleavage, the pop of the bright red dress against her paleness, the clinging fabric that showed off her rounded hips and ass and stopped well above her knees to expose smooth skin that hadn’t seen the light of day or night in years. Her high heels lengthened her whole body and thrust her breasts forward even more.
“Let’s go,” she managed, her throat dry.
When Brendan’s hand found her back, guiding her firmly across the concrete, and Ian dropped a casual arm over her shoulders like it just happened to be there, she tried to breathe normally.
Heads actually swiveled to follow them on the bustling sidewalk. No surprise there. Tall, bronzed, and athletic, the twins probably attracted attention wherever they went.
But when Diana let herself look up, out, and around, she flushed at all the eyes on her face and curves. It wasn’t just the twins turning heads as the three of them walked past busy restaurants and bars. People were actually checking her out. Men, women — some furtively, some appreciatively.
As they crossed the street, the twins’ touches burning her skin, a group of college-age guys passed by, their heads whipping around to ogle Diana like they’d coordinated it: one, two, three.
Instead of staring straight ahead and pretending not to notice, she looked right back at them, boldly. One guy almost walked into oncoming traffic, the second’s eyes were glued to her creamy cleavage, and the third tried a smile, then narrowly missed tripping on the pavement.
Diana managed to play it cool until they were out of sight. Then she grabbed Brendan’s arm to keep from falling over herself. Her eyes met Ian's. He just raised his eyebrows.
“You’re walking sex, baby," he growled softly in her ear. "Better get used to it."
Brendan’s hand closed securely around hers, guiding her toward a line of people that stretched down the sidewalk.
Music pulsed from the front door. Inside, bodies gyrated under flickering lights. The building was practically shaking from bass vibrations, about to explode from a good time.
Diana hesitated. She didn’t do clubs. She was allergic to dancing — public, private, any kind. Three Saturday nights ago, when all her friends had been at prom — ironically, or so they claimed — she’d passed the time pawing through five-dollar vinyl bins at her favorite music store, then headed home to get a jump on her Hamlet paper, and told herself it was exactly how she wanted to spend the evening.
“I don’t have a fake,” she said quickly. And the twins had probably had theirs since they were sixteen.
“You don’t need one.” Brendan’s hand was firm on her shoulder. “It’s 18 and up. Come on, Di.”
Ian bumped her hip, nudging her forward. Before she knew it, the bouncer waved them to the door, took the money Brendan held out, stamped their hands, and told them to have a good time.
Inside the dark club, the sound — loud enough from the sidewalk outside — almost knocked Diana down. Red and blue lights criss-crossed the darkness, masses of people around her twisted and danced, and music reverberated off the walls. Instinctively, she grabbed both the twins’ hands.
“Youthinkyou just graduated, baby,” Ian said in her ear, his voice low but audible over the noise. “This is where your education starts.”