Original Sins by Faith Summers

13

Evie

The driver pulls the Bugatti to a stop on the drive of the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen in my life.

Given the fact that I live in an impressive home myself, and so does Cordelia, that's saying something.

We came through an impressive wrought iron gate after the driver put the code into the security panel, and that led us onto a grand circular driveway.

I spotted a few guards patrolling the grounds, pretty much like what I'm used to, but my breath was stolen away the moment I laid eyes on the house. We're in Oak Brook. I've never been here before but heard the houses around here were glorious.

Housemight be an understatement, though. So might be a mansion. This is more an estate for what I can see of the extensive grounds.

I can’t believe two bachelors live here. The place looks more like a family home.

I guess this is where two gorgeous men with expensive taste live.

The driver—John, I just remembered his name—gets out and opens the door for me.

He’s going to be my driver for the rest of the month. He will pick me up from wherever I am and take me to where the guys need me.

He's a man who I'd peg to be the same age as Dad. He's just as tough-looking, too, and carries the kind of muscle most people who've served in the armed forces have. He looks like he could kill you if you cross him, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he looks at me that puts me at ease.

When I step out of the car, he smiles at me.

“This place is gorgeous,” I state.

"It's impressive." His shoulders ease, and he strides to the trunk to get my overnight bag.

When I see the bag, my heart pitter-patters with a series of palpitations, and a million tiny butterflies go off in my stomach.

I'm here, and I'm going to be staying over for two nights.

My whole body blushes at the thought of these two men who have christened me their Duchess, taking me—taking everything from me.

“Ready to go in?” John asks.

The question feels like more than just what he's asking me, and I wonder if he knows why I'm really here—that I'm here for sex.

Of course, he does. I think with a sinking feeling that I'm not going to be the first woman to come to this house, and I'm sure I won't be the first one he's driven here.

I’m just this month's girl.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good.”

As we climb the steps, I go over everything. First, the contract I practically signed in blood, which was extensive.

There were surprisingly a lot of things that were in a standard contract, but the things that stood out to me were the most striking.

Such as being on the pill, which I already am for my skin, and being the sole property of my buyers. Meaning I’m not allowed to be with anybody else for the time I’m with them.

Of course, I didn't plan to be, but I wondered how anybody would monitor such a thing.

There were a host of other clauses to do with the sexual aspects of keeping the unit pure so my buyers could basically fuck me without a condom and without consequences.

This is all part of a different life than what I’m used to.

Since I don't plan to sell myself again, I breathe past the constriction in my lungs and push the rules to the back of my mind. The only thing I need to focus on is what Cordelia told me, which was: be careful. Forget who I am. Forget my problems. Forget that I’ve sold myself and pretend this is my life for the next month.

After all, it's not like I don't have the biggest crush on Georgiou and Henry.

Take the need for the money out of the equation, and this would be a dream come true.

As we walk through solid oak doors, I take in the beauty of the interior of the house.

Like the hotel last night, the house also has a rococo design and a European feel that reminds me of Italy.

Unfortunately, that also reminds me that I might not be able to go back to Italy. Ever. And that’s sad.

I adore Italy.

My parents are both from Sicily, and when they took Dante and me, it was the most magical experience I'll never forget.

I haven't been since Dante died, and I was hoping to go next year after my first year of college.

Neither is going to be happening—college or my trip.

John leads me up a wide set of marble stairs with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

The faint scent of roses lingers in the air, and when we get to the top of the stairs, I see a massive bunch of white roses in a vase.

“They’re from Georgiou’s mother,” John tells me. “She grows them and makes it her duty to provide fresh flowers every week.”

"That's cool. My mother liked roses too."

“He’ll like that.” He grins.

"Thanks." I'm guessing he probably does know I'm here for sex, but there's something more welcoming in his tone that makes me feel more like a guest, which is better.

We continue down the corridor to another large oak door that he opens. As the door swings open, I see Georgiou standing by the balcony.

He's dressed more casually than I've ever seen him. Today he looks like a regular guy in a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt rolled up his thick forearms. I'm surprised to find a line of tattoos on both arms.

I didn't think he had any. There's also what I think might be the tail of a dragon peeking out from the edge of his neck. Usually, he's wearing a dress shirt and an Armani suit.

His hair is also ruffled with that just-got-out-of-bed look everyone would find sexy as fuck.

He grins when he sees me, and I smile back.

"Thank you, John," Georgiou says to John, who dips his head. "Please take Evie's things to her room."

My room?

“Of course,” John replies and bows his head to me too.

“Thank you,” I say to him because he was nice to me.

With that, John leaves us and closes the door behind him.

I look back to Georgiou and make my way over to him.

“Hi,” I breathe, bringing my hands together.

“Buonasera, Duchess.”

I smile. I don't think I'm going to get tired of that name anytime soon. And not the way he says it with a hint of the same Italian accent he told me a good evening with.

“Buonasera, I haven’t had to say that in a while.”

“No?”

“No.”

"You can tell me where you're from if you want to. You know I'm not allowed to ask." He narrows his gaze at me, and I realize he wants to know.

“Sicily. I have grandparents and a few relatives who still live there.”

"Me too. I have a grandmother, and most of my extended family live there. I go there every year, so I bought a house on the coast."

“Wow. I love the coast. I love water.”

"Well, you can enjoy the pool later."

“Thanks. That would be great. And I get my own room?”

A smile of pure sin lifts his handsome face. “Yes. You have your own room and space. Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. You have a gorgeous home.”

His gaze drops from my eyes to my lips, then down to my breasts nestled in the bodice of my little summer dress.

"I'm glad you think so, Duchess. But, right now, I'm more interested in what you taste like." He levels me a stare, and I gaze back at him with anticipation of what he's going to do to me. "Come here."

I walk closer and stop a breath away.

He catches my face similarly to how Henry did it last night, and we gaze at each other.

"Where's Henry?" I ask and smile wider.

“On his way. He got stuck in traffic. Since he got to kiss you last night and I didn’t, he’s okay with us getting started without him. He’ll join us when he gets here.”

“Okay.”

If I had to guess who was more alpha than the other, I'd say it was Georgiou, although, at first glance, he seems more reserved and brooding.

He leans close like he's going to kiss me, and I prepare myself for it, but he stops when he gets an inch away from my lips.

“Duchess, you look at me like you know me, or you’ve heard of me.”

It’s a statement, but really it’s a question he shouldn’t be asking.

It’s obvious he’ll play by the rules. But only to a certain extent.

That’s the kind of statement that could trap me if I answer the wrong way.

Swiftly, I think on my feet.

“Giordanos Inc.,” I say. “I know it’s a shipping company. I wondered if your name was the same.”

"It is." One corner of his sensual lips lifts into a sexy half-smile that tightens the knots in my stomach. "What do you know about Giordanos Inc?"

His gaze bores into me, and I'm smart enough to know he's not just asking me if it's a shipping company.

I've already confirmed I'm Italian, and I might be locked away in a tower most of the time, but Cordelia told me every Italian in Chicago knows that family's name, so they know mobsters run the company.

“I know enough.”

"Relax, I just don't want you to be scared of me because of who and what I am. People get off on fear, I don't," His voice drops to a low whisper that caresses over my skin. "I get off on desire. Fear hinders desire. When you unleash desire, it makes you fucking crazy and makes fucking addictive."

Fucking.

My head feels light, and the ache between my thighs feels worse than ever. If he touched me, he'd feel how wet I am for him.

“Does it?”

"It does. When I fuck you, I only want to feel your desire."

My damn mouth goes dry. I don’t think he could be any sexier if he tried.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of him in some way, but I’d also be a liar if I said the potent desire running through my veins already has me addicted to him.

"So, Evangeline, the question is, are you afraid of me?" he asks, and I shake my head.

“No.”

“Let me check that for myself.”

My eyes widen when he reaches from the hem of my dress and pulls it up my thighs. My knees quiver as his fingers connect with my skin, and he slides his fingers beneath the lace of my panties.

My mouth falls open when he releases my face to cup my sex and brush over my pussy lips. His thumb pushes into my pussy, and he rubs over the hard, sensitive nub of my clit.

His smile widens, and I know exactly why. It's because he feels just how wet I am for him.

I can hear it as he pumps his finger in and out of my passage.

My God… that feels so damn good, but I bite back a moan to at least look like I can control myself and not fall apart from the mere touch of his fingers.

He pulls right up and straightens up.

My eyes snap wide once more when he licks off my juices coating his fingers, and the look on his face as he tastes my arousal is pure delight. As if he's getting a taste of some rare exotic meal.

"Okay, I believe you. Come here." He crooks his finger, beckoning me to his lips, and I go to him.

He dips his head lower to me, and when he slants his mouth over mine, a blast of electricity pulses from him to me. It jolts my body, and him too.

The impact is so strong we stop kissing, and he searches my eyes.

"Fuck, you're definitely going to be addictive," he husks, and with that, he reclaims my lips, and I claim his too.

Savage energy writhes through me that pushes every worry from my mind, and all I want is to taste him and touch him.

He cups my face and angles me so we can really get going.

I grab onto his shirt, and that makes him pull me flush against him, closing any spaces between us.

The magnetism pulling us together grows into something I don’t think either of us can control.

This is what it feels like to kiss him, and it's different from kissing Henry.

Kissing Henry leaves me breathless. Georgiou is doing the same thing. It doesn't feel weird that I've kissed two different men just shy of twenty-four hours, and it doesn't feel weird that I enjoy kissing the two of them.

I still keep trying to find that thing that’s supposed to tell me I should like one more than the other, but I can’t. I like them both the same.

Georgiou picks me up, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him. Pressed up against his body, I feel how hard the granite walls of his chest is, and the scent of him fills me with more—wanting more.

He carries me over to the other side of the room, where there's a large leather sofa.

He lowers to sit with me and sets me down, but my legs are still loosely around him.

We continue to kiss hard and searching, making out, and I think of how many hours I fantasized about doing just this with him.

Suddenly his kisses become more sensual and almost personal like he can tell what I'm thinking.

He wanted to taste me, but I wanted to taste him too, and I am.

He pulls out of the kiss but smooths his hand up to my cheek.

“Bellezza, le tue labbra sono state fatte per me," he says, telling me in Italian that my lips were made for him.

“Forse lo erano,” I tell him maybe they were and giggle when he brushes the underside of my jaw.

“Fucking maybe, again, Duchess? Don’t make me jealous of my best friend. You gave him a yes last night. I want a yes from you too.” He gives me a wolfish grin.

"Yes," I say, and we kiss again.

This time the kiss feels more hungry, and when his tongue tangles with mine, pleasure explodes in my soul. My body melts against his, and his fingers trail up my side to cup my breasts.

His untamed touch awakens everything I need, and I welcome his fingers as he caresses me.

He’s gentle as he touches me, squeezing me softly as we kiss and catching my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the fabric of my dress.

He pulls out of the kiss to look down at my breasts, and I savor the way he touches and looks at me.

“Show me,” he says, playing with both my nipples.

I straighten up, and he pauses his play as I pull down the top of my dress and the cup of my bra at the same time.

My left breast pops out, and he lowers to suck it.

It's nothing like when Peter did it. Georgiou sucks me like he wants to taste my body.

He holds me like I'm important, and he wants me.

With a quick snap of my bra, he tugs down my dress and takes off my bra then starts sucking my other breast.

“Lie back. We’ll play around until Henry gets here.”

“Okay.”

With my dress around my waist, I lie back against the arm of the sofa and allow him to continue sucking my breasts while petting the skin between my thighs.

I moan as he alternates between breasts and alternates between sucking hard and soft.

Each flick of his tongue over my nipples leaves them tighter with need and painful than the last stroke.

We stay like that for a long time, and I enjoy his feast on me.

He doesn't stop when the door clicks open, but my awareness returns, and I glance toward the door to see Henry coming in with a bright smile on his face.

"Greedy bastard," Henry taunts, and that's when Georgiou looks up at him. "I said you could kiss her."

“You never said where,” Georgiou replies with a cocky smirk. “Or that I couldn’t suck her tits.”

He makes a show of sucking my breasts again, and I'm so surprised by the dynamics of their relationship.

Henry walks over, and I move to get up, but he rests a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Stay, you look good like that. That’s exactly how I want you.”

“Is it?” I manage, feeling my whole body heat with a mingle of undiluted arousal and wild curiosity.

“Oh yes, now feel the pleasure of both of us sucking your tits.”

Before I can take another breath, he drops to his knees, and while Georgiou sucks my left breast, Henry sucks my right.