: Taken By Two Bank Robbers

Eden POV

The man marked in heavy tattoos moves first, pressing me into the backseat with a mighty shove. Whoever is driving the car doesn’t veer or even flinch, as both of the handsome bank robbers grapple me into submission.

The plastic ties are cut, replaced by a set behind my back. The cloth tie is reinstalled over my eyes where it is tightened this time around.

I gasp, a cold coercing set of hands shoving me to sit down between the robbers. It was hard not to memorize their faces in that brief split second glimpse I got of them. They’re different, but similar, their eyes bright and their auras thick.

The one on my left with bright blond hair adjusts my skirt, the fabric riding up my thigh. I shudder, his fingertips dragging up my leg and pressing into my cold skin. He muffles a chuckle at my unease, the other with dark hair and darker tattoos only snarls in response.

“Enough teasing. She saw our faces; we have to abandon our initial plan.”

“Oh, brother. Relax. She’s harmless. Right, little bank teller?”

“Supervisor,” I stammer, shivering as his hand rests plainly on my knee.

“Oh, my apologies. Supervisor Eden Smith, who lives at three-hundred-and-twelve West Lancast—”

“I get it,” I groan, pulling my leg from his grasp. “I won’t tell the police anything. I’m sorry.”

“See that? She’s not an issue, brother.”

“Still, we should lay low for a minute. Make sure we don’t drop her off on the sidewalk so she can go squawk to the police right away,” the brutal tattooed robber says.

His hand squeezes my knee once. “Looks like we’re having a sleepover, supervisor.”

I don’t own a car and am not used to being in one, so the prospect of keeping my motion sickness down is difficult. I instead run my hands down the back of my spine, feeling the ridges of my bones and counting them over in my head. I have no real sense of calming mechanisms worthy of such a tense moment.

The car stops, the engine cuts off, and I finally feel a sense of relief wash over me.

Warm hands pull me from the car and my legs are lifted from the ground. They keep me pinned into the wall of muscle that I can only guess is the tattooed robber. His smell is different, like bourbon and pine, while the blond brother smells like sage and cigars.

It’s not long before I’m placed onto a soft leather sofa, my wrists blistering behind my back as I try to pull myself free from the plastic ties.

“She’s a squirming little thing, isn’t she?”

“She saw our f*cking faces.”

Their steps recede from nearby, and I feel alone for the first time since the robbery. At the behest of my skin, I rip one of my wrists free, unhooking the other easily as I sit up. I toss the tie aside and uncover my eyes, taking in the dark apartment with new, panicked eyes.

Everything is brown leather, and brown wood, the same masculine scents from their bodies lingering throughout this penthouse. It’s a massive place, at least ten-times the size of my residence. The front door holds my attention though, and I kick off my heels to walk over to it slowly.

Their voices stop me, and I swallow my fear as I peer into the gap between the nearly shut door and the frame. The man with tattoos is standing, peeling off his shirt to expose black inkwork all over his ripped muscles.

His brother, the sensible blond, leans back into the edge of the bed while perched with his shirt still on, though I can make out the indentions of his strength all the same.

“You love ropework, and you can’t even tie up the woman correctly to keep her from pulling down the blindfold. Very wise, Dante. Very f*cking wise.”

The tattooed beast grumbles, “Shut up, Ryder. I was trying to be sympathetic to her. She was understandably shaken. I didn’t want to make it worse. Two guys in the back of a Mercedes, her hands bound behind her back—it’s a simple scenario to consider if we were those types of criminals.”

“What? That we’d defile her?”

My heart jumps into my throat.

Dante runs his hands over his chest, peering into the wardrobe for a shirt to cover the stark tattoos. “You see her skirt? I’m not saying I was tempted to do anything stupid but let’s face the facts—she’s sexy but innocent; we’re criminals. The natural order of attraction speaks for itself.”

He didn’t just say that. Attraction? If he did say it, there is no way he meant me. I look at my disheveled appearance and my typical, petite posture. I have mousy brown hair and eyes like algae in excess. These guys are the most attractive men I’ve ever witnessed.

My chest tightens when they stop their conversation and head out of the room. I make no effort in moving, or in running off. I can only hear Jack’s words replaying over and over in my head.

You’re such a damn prude, Eden.

I had to do something!

I stare up at Dante as he comes back into the room, convinced that he could break his own teeth just by the intensity of his locked jaw. “What the hell are you doing out of those ties?”

For lack of a better response, I answer truthfully. “I was going to run away, but—”

I stop, Ryder’s sapphire eyes drawing down my outfit. I watch him pick apart my appearance in his head, wondering what I would look like without so much fabric on. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was doing the same to them.

I’m not a damn prude.

“But?” Ryder presses, standing at perfect height next to Dante, the two of them one hell of an immoral pair; and not just from the bank robbery, of course. “Come on, Eden. Spit it out. Why’d you stop to listen in on our conversation when you could’ve kept running?”

“I was intrigued.”

Dante raises his stiff brow. His ivory skin doesn’t blush, but mine does, burning hot trails through every limb in my body. I can’t even inhale correctly, let alone drink down the sight of these two brothers.

“Intrigued? About what, exactly?” Dante asks.

He leans forward, his arm pressing into the wall behind me while I’m trapped between tattoos and hard muscles. Ryder grins in a manner that makes my core warm, my head light, and my sex damp.

“You two,” I admit, shamefully panicked at the pair of them. “And about your assessment of me.”

Ryder’s smirk grows into a prideful simper. “Eden Smith is flattered, brother.”

“I can see that,” Dante growls, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my face. “But is she a woman of her word or a coward?”

“Not a coward,” I manage to squeal.

Not a prude, either. Definitely not a f*cking prude. Not right now, not with these two standing here, and most definitely not with an opportunity to even the score with Jack.

He cheats on me all the time, and I’m never brave enough to do something about it. Well, now is finally my chance to get back at him with these two hot guys that I’m clearly attracted to. Regardless of what else is about to happen tonight, I have an opportunity here to prove I’m not the woman Jack thinks I am.

Might as well have a little fun before I die….

Dante steps back from me, looking at me appraisingly.

This, however, seems very doable.

Ryder jumps forward, his muscular arms pinning mine to the wall. I bark in surprise, but more so in guttural fear, his lips muffling my scream into a moan. His tongue brushes mine, exploring my bottom teeth between mauling kisses. I sink into the feeling.

He backs away too quickly in retreat, Dante stepping into his spot where his kiss bites viciously down on my bottom lip. I pant through the kiss, yanking my arms free of his hold so I can keep them at my side, my hands toying with the hem of his jeans.

Or maybe they’re Ryder’s. I can’t be bothered to double-check.

Somewhere in the midst of this mayhem, I’m directed out of the hallway. I half expect a warm bed, plush blankets and pillows, if they are civilized, but they aren’t.

They’re needy, handsy, and demanding, lifting me up and pinning my back down onto a cold, marble slab. I break the kiss with Ryder, wondering how they managed to switch back, while Dante undoes the seam of my skirt.

“The kitchen?!”

The brothers hardly look startled by my confusion.

I’m soon very naked, a little chilled, and maneuvered perfectly to be on my stomach, my exposed breasts shocked by the coldness of the marble kitchen island. I hitch a breath, an unwarranted smack resonating on my bare ass.

“Up, Eden,” Dante says in his trademark bark. He sounded the same way in the vault today, so hard and pushy. I can only pray his sexual procedure operates the same way. “On your knees, shoulders down.”

I abide by his suggestion, catching a glimpse of Ryder coming around to the front of me, his hand brushing my long curls back so he can meet my eyes. It’s degrading in a sense, his pelvis pressing forward into the edge of the countertop.

It isn’t a coincidence that the anatomy of this island is perfectly squared to his bulging erection. He eventually releases it, letting it prod out of his zipper to bring it just centimeters from my face.

I would be surprised by the girth of it, or the length, but my mind is elsewhere, wondering where Dante scurried off to. I don’t have to guess for long. His fingers slide up the exterior of my drenched folds.

I hiss, tucking my arms under my shoulders, trying to give me leeway to bounce backwards, forcing his fingers into my core. They both release a laugh in unison.

“She’s a little controlling, huh?” Ryder teases, pulling my hair gently so my chin rests on my arms. He’s lining me up, perfecting my position, daring to press his c*ck around the interior of my throat. “Doesn’t she know we’re in charge?”

“She’s going to learn,” Dante groans.

I tense, another harsh slap coming against my lower thigh.

There’s no way to prepare myself for dual penetration, not like this. I hollow my lips around Ryder’s erection, Dante kneeling on the kitchen counter behind me, thumbing his d*ck into my warm, expectant p*ssy.

I would scream if I could manage with my mouth still around Ryder, feeling the intensity behind me only surge, ebbing sweet orgasms through my body without relent.

I pull forward, trying to handle the daring size of Dante, but it only brings Ryder forward, suffocating me with his sex throat-deep and rattling against the rim of my teeth.

Dante slaps my thigh sideways to force me to part my legs more for him.

Ryder pulls my hand, curling it around the base of his erection so it slides effortlessly against my lips.

“F*cking beautiful,” Ryder purrs, tilting his head back, his hand drawing to the back of my head where he guides me, or caresses me; either is fine. “So f*cking perfect.”

I try to contain my delight, my thighs throbbing in vibrations that send waves of crashing orgasm over my body. Dante is a savage behind me, slapping and grabbing and f*cking; especially f*cking. So much so that I can’t stand it anymore.

“She’s so tight,” Dante pants, his voice softer now that it’s filled to the brim in arousal. “Dammit, I’m going to come already.”

“Go for it,” Ryder taunts. “I could stay here forever. Her lips are so soft.”

“You think she’s on birth control?”

Ryder harrumphs. “I looked at her medical history. She got the implant last year in her arm.”

“F*cking perfect,” Dante growls, his thrusting becoming more ferocious if it’s possible.

I would laugh if I had the opportunity to; their conversation both informative and amusing.

The buildup is finally released from all three of us. I swallow, Dante growls, and I collapse in a warm, sweaty heap on the kitchen island.

I can’t keep up, can’t focus, feeling too buzzed with bliss to understand how I got into this predicament in the first place. The details aren’t important, though. I couldn’t care less about their drifting glares, their tender touches—or their more abrasive ones. I’ve neve done anything like this before. It’s totally out of character for me–but they’re so hot, and I felt an attraction to both of them right away.

All that matters is for once, I proved Jack wrong. If he could see me now on this unsuspecting kitchen island, naked and wet and exhausted, pinned between two burly bank robbers, then he would take back those words from last night.

Eden Smith is not a prude.

: Sleepless Hostage

Eden POV

After the chaos of sex in an immaculate kitchen, and the blur of time afterwards, I wake in bed, flanked by both bank robbers as they hum through their tired, unlawful dreams. What do bank robbers dream about?

Sex with their captive?

Their scent lingers on my naked body, tucked carefully under a soft, weighted blanket that relaxes my aching, sore muscles from being bent over a kitchen island and f8cked.

Everything after the fact was a mindless and hazy memory. How I ended up in bed with them is the least of my issues. How do I get away from them? That’s the next question.

Dante is closest to me, Ryder’s back almost pressing against mine, whereas Dante faces me, his hands pulled in front of his face in a protective boxing stance.

Pure. Gold.

Both words are marked in ink along the plane of his fists, each specifical letter designated for a knuckle, excluding his thumbs that I suppose leave a natural break between the two, oddly specific words.

I try to ignore the sight of the marks, and the way Ryder exhales in his slumber. I peel my way out of the middle, headed for the kitchen to gather my clothes. The door taunts me, telling me to run, but I hardly have my skirt hiked over my hips before heavy steps break out down the hall.

I freeze, somewhere between embarrassment and guilt.

Dante hangs in the doorway, taking almost all of it up with his six-foot-something frame and his strength infused physique.

My eyes glance over his sculpted body while I cover my chest with my arms, ignoring the dampness pooling between my legs at the sight of him. It’s not worth hiding; he has seen plenty of me already, but it’s natural to me.

Jack always said I was mediocre and plain. We haven’t done anything in months, and never have we done anything like what happened in this kitchen a few hours ago.

“Leaving so soon?”

I let his words braid ribbons around my throat. I choke. “No.”

“Really? Because you snuck out of bed, grabbed your skirt and were about to go search for your top. If you were as perceptive as I imagined you’d be, you would know that your shirt is in the pantry where I hid it earlier.”

“Why would you hide it?” I ask, not daring to move toward the pantry door. He could be lying, testing me, and I’m not interested in challenging his authority.

“Because something told me you’re not the type of hostage to go rushing out of here topless in search of help.”

I grumble to myself. These two are so assumptive in their evaluation of me. Medical records and addresses and probably countless other bits of information. I bet I could ask them for my credit score and they would have it on hand.

“You’re so presumptuous. You and your brother.”

“You pull at your skirt every time you stand, every time you move—every time your boss even glances in your general direction. You have nothing to hide, kitten. You’re a very good sight to see, but you’re shy and cautious. That’s why we took you from the heist. Afterwards, well, that was the spur of the moment.”

I should be mortified right now, but all I feel is rage. Red-hot, sticky, sexual rage.

“I am not shy.”

He smiles, amused. “Then move your arms.”

I glare at him.

What he is asking of me feels impossible, almost downright disrespectful, but he’s right. I can’t claim to be bold and sexual when my arms are hiked over my nipples that he’s already seen.

He gives me a satisfied nod. “It’s okay. Go ahead and grab your shirt. I’ll put the ties on your wrists and we can go back to our normal program of kidnappers and their helpless victim.”

He turns his back to me for a moment, and I can’t stand to let this conversation end on that note. I rip my arms from my chest, my fist hitting the brick of the kitchen wall by accident, catching his attention.

Dante moves to face me, a more amusing grin lingering over his lips now than the prideful I-told-you-so smirk he offered before I moved my arms.

“I am not shy,” I snarl through my gritted teeth. “You don’t know me, dammit.”

“Me and my brother know more about you than you even know about yourself, Eden. I know your routine, your medical records, your favorite color—hell, we even know the name of the hooker your boyfriend picked up two days ago.”

I step back, wounded by that last remark.

“You’re a hapless bank supervisor who needed a decent thrill. We gave that to you. You can go back to being the innocent little mouse you were before. We won’t judge you for it.”

“You’re wrong,” I counter. “You can’t sit here and sum up my life into shyness and innocence. I am neither of those things. Yeah, I’m a little embarrassed to be naked, and I don’t need you, of all people, to tell me how much you know about my boyfriend’s cheating endeavors. I’m plenty aware of it all.”

“Alright, alright. Cool down. I didn’t mean any—”

“No!”

I speak freely for the first time in years, perhaps to the one person I shouldn’t be so brazen with.

“I let Jack cheat because it’s not worth the fight. When he gets aggressive, I get scared, and I back off. I don’t live this life proudly! I live in spite of my decisions! I haven’t had a concrete, sentient desire for the last twenty-five years of my life, but I desired that sex last night. I wanted it; all of it.”

“You sure did,” he cuts in, his brows knit in shock. “So was it a misstep of passion, or are you really the type of woman to allow two bank robbers to have their way with you in their penthouse kitchen?”

“Both,” I admit.

I’ve piqued his interest in the dissection of my mind. Something tells me this muscled, tattooed criminal is more sensible than he demonstrates despite his outward facade.

“I was never given the opportunity to be f*cked in the kitchen by bank robbers, so how can you tell me I’m not that type of woman?”

“You’re an interesting person, Eden Smith.”

“I’m glad you recognize that.”

He chuckles, waving toward the kitchen cabinet nearby. “Your shirt is up there. Grab it and go back to bed. I’m going to speak to my brother about your release later this week.”

I’m happy I didn’t go for the pantry; I knew it was a false claim. He was testing me, and I passed.

I grab my shirt and button it up to a comfortable level and make my way back into the bed I had woken up in. Ryder is slipping into a T-shirt nearby, and I can’t help but let my eyes graze over his muscled abdomen as his shirt drops into place. He’s watching the news channel on a television hung on the opposite wall.

He gives me a look, eyeing my outfit in disdain. Dante beckons his brother into the hall, and I curl up on the empty bed, a little rattled after that conversation but not remorseful of my words.

Everything seems calm again–until I catch a familiar face on the screen. The volume is low, but I sit up to lean into the interview that looks to have happened yesterday after the robbery occurred.

“She’s my world,” Jack says, faking tears during his channel-thirteen interview outside of our apartment building. “I just want her to know I’ll be here when she is returned. Baby, if you’re watching this, I love you.”

I choke, stuck somewhere between resentment and brutal sorrow.

He yelled at me the other night, shoved my head into the living room wall of our apartment, and told me his sexual needs mattered more to him than my level of comfort in the bedroom.

He led some streetwalker into our sheets so he could bury his c*ck into her ass and then let her slip on my robe in a final demonstration of disrespect.

He’s parading in front of cameras for sympathy he no longer receives from me.

I cry feebly as it happens.

Crossing the bedroom, I turn off the television. Nothing more he could say would be further from the truth than what he just vomited into that news reporter’s microphone. I’ve reached my limit on men for the night.

“It’s okay,” Ryder says, walking into the room. I don’t know how long he has been there for my sobbing meltdown, but I guess it doesn’t matter. “You don’t have to be upset. We will get you back to him soon enough.”

I stammer an inhale, confused. “Wh—what?”

He motions to the screen, now black after my impulse.

“I just talked to my brother. He said we can have you home by Friday. This job was in the interest of theft, not hostage-taking.” He strolls forward, forcing me to crane my neck up to look at the tall, handsome man I had given oral to last night. “You’re not going to be harmed in our care.”

I assumed that didn’t include sultry spankings, but I swallowed that notion really quick.

I veer off the topic of going home, uninterested in seeing Jack’s face anytime soon.

“How long were you both watching me?”

He seems taken aback by the question but doesn’t mention it. “A few weeks prior to the heist.”

“So you know everything? Everything about me, about Jack, about our—relationship?” I don’t know why, maybe shame, but it takes me a second to say the word.

He shrugs. “We know the basics. We had to know more about your habits, your reaction to trouble, and your level of heroism when in a pinch.”

I scoff. His nerve is just like his brother’s. Shy and innocent.

“Of course,” he adds, leaning into his words a little more than before, “neither of us anticipated your reaction yesterday.”

I feel lighter with that claim. Maybe I do have a little bit of moxie in my blood after all. Wherever that nerve came from, I enjoyed it, I fed into it. I’d do it again, too, despite what Ryder and Dante believe.

“That does lead to my next question,” Ryder says. “How can we be sure you won’t tell anyone about our faces; our names? We were going to release you the day of the heist, but you pulled that little stunt in the car so you’ve triggered a domino-effect of unexpected events. The police would love to spin this story.”

“You think they’d assume you forced me into sex, right? That’s what you’re saying?”

He nods, perturbed by the thought. I can understand his hesitancy and his concern.

“I wasn’t raped,” I say. “I wouldn’t want that to be my headline. Never. And Dante kept his promise in the vault. No one was hurt. I won’t talk about this; any of it.”

“Any distinguishing identifiers on the perps, or locational hints as to who took you and where they took you to?” he says, playing into my claim, straightening up like a stiff neck detective.

I shake my head in hard denial. “No, officer. My eyes were covered the whole time.”

No matter how brief this conversation was, I remain steady in my decision to keep this all to myself. Bank robbers or not, they gave me the best sex of my life last night.

The least I can offer in return is my false ignorance.