Page 9 of Rent a Masked Duo

And I realize while my hands tighten around my mug that I want it to… and not just because it means I don’t have to marry a monster.

5

MARK

Ipush back from the table and stand.

Anna’s eyes track me across the kitchen. She’s still holding the coffee mug in both hands, and her knuckles have gone a shade paler than they were a minute ago. Good. She should be a little nervous. I’m a little nervous, and I’m the one who spent most of last night going over this with Jax at the kitchen table after she went upstairs, working through every angle of it and coming back to the same conclusion each time.

Patrick Calhoun took our mother from us. Not directly, not with his own hands, but he took her, and he did it because she got sick and became inconvenient. He’s spent years since then building himself a life out of things he collects and discards, and Anna was going to be the next thing on that list. A twenty-year-old virgin bride with a wart-covered piece of shit for a husband, sold off to pay her father’s debts. The plan when we walked into that chapel was simple: take her, hold her long enough to hurt him, then let her go.

That plan lasted about four hours.

Because now she’s sitting at our kitchen table in a shirt that isn’t hers, offering herself up as a weapon against the same man we already wanted to destroy, and Jax and I have talked this through until there’s nothing left to talk about. She wants it. We want it. Patrick loses either way. And if I’m being honest with myself—which I am, on two hours of sleep, and my third cup of coffee—I’ve wanted her since she looked me in the eye and told me she had a proposition. There’s no version of this where I pretend otherwise.

She sets the mug down as I round the table. Her chair scrapes back a few inches. Not away from me. Just enough to give her room to stand if she wants to. “What’s your name?” she blurts out, a little shaky. “If we’re going to do this, I want to know your names.”

So she’ll know who to moan for? Fuck, if the idea doesn’t make my cock jump, but then he’s been jumping since yesterday. Since pretty much the moment I first set eyes on her, and understood, for all his many faults, Patrick Calhoun does have good taste in women.

Jax snickers. “Right. I’m Jax.” Just like that, but then he’s always the one who jumps out ahead and leaves me to catch up. Before I have the chance to react or wonder if we should’ve used fake names, he adds, “And he’s Mark.”

There goes that.

She absorbs this, looking back and forth between us before her gaze lands on me and stays there. “Mark,” she says. Her voice has gone quiet. “Don’t make me regret this.”

That small, simple request shouldn’t make my chest go all warm the way it does. I push the sensation aside. “Come here.”

She stands. Wiggles, from his crate in the corner, makes a small inquiring noise and then decides this isn’t his business and goes back to whatever he was doing. Anna crosses the kitchen to me. She’s barefoot on the tile. The shirt hangs to her mid-thigh. Her hair is loose and still slightly sleep-tangled at the crown, and I can see the pulse in her throat.

I look past her at Jax, still sitting at the table. He tips his head once. Go ahead.

I bend down and pick her up. She makes a small noise of surprise but doesn’t fight me. Her arms come around my neck. Her legs come around my waist. The shirt rides up her thighs along with the useless baggy shorts, and I can feel the heat of her against my stomach even through my shirt. It takes every scrap of discipline I have left to walk out of the kitchen and toward the stairs, instead of putting her on the kitchen table right there.

Jax follows without a word. What is there to say? We already worked it all out. Every possibility. There won’t be any surprises.

I carry her up the stairs and down the hall to the main bedroom, the one none of us slept in last night. Anna is quiet against my shoulder. I can feel her breathing pick up as we get closer. When I set her down on the mattress and step back, she props herself up on her elbows to watch us, and her cheeks have gone pink in a way I want to see more of.

Jax pulls off his shirt first. His muscular upper body comes into view, and I watch her thighs rub together, desperate for some friction there. I take my shirt off next, and she tracks the motion with her eyes like she has the urge to run her hands over both of us just to see how we feel.

“I want you on all fours,” Jax orders, and her body springs into action. She rolls over and pushes herself up on her knees.

The bed dips, and Jax sits down in front of her, his crotch only a few inches away now. The thick outline of his cock is unmistakable, and I watch her swallow, wondering—I can see the thought move across her face—if it will fit.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make you feel really good, baby. I want your mouth on me while Mark fucks you from behind, nice and slow.”

“Okay… but I’ve never done this either.” She glances at his crotch as he unzips himself and pulls out his cock.

“It’s okay. I know you’ll do great. Just keep your mouth open and relax your throat for me.”

I climb onto the bed behind her and palm her ass through the thin cotton of the T-shirt, then slide my hands up under it and take hold of the hem. She lifts her arms without being asked. I pull the shirt off her in one motion and toss it aside, and there she is. Pink, smooth, untouched by anyone but herself prior to today. Bare from the waist up, still on her knees, waiting.

I sink my fingers into the waistband of the shorts she borrowed from Jax and pull them down her legs slowly, revealing the glistening pussy underneath.

I told myself to practice restraint. That this girl offering us her body, her virginity, wasn’t a green light to use her. That was before I touched her. Before I saw how eager she is. Before watching her perfect, perky tits sway as she waits on her knees to see what comes next. Because for some reason, she trusts us.

And damn it, I’m helpless. My cock is already aching, spreading a wet spot in my boxer briefs. That ache turns to fire that starts racing through my veins and flips a switch in my overheated brain. There’s no room for reason here.

She wants this? Then we’re going to make it worthwhile. We’re going to make it something she’ll remember for the rest of her life as more than a business proposition.