The Boys Next Door Ch. 06

"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 — 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' casual touches burning her skin, a group of college-age guys passed by, their heads whipping around to stare at Diana like they'd coordinated it: one, two, three. And 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 eighteen 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.

"You think you just graduated, baby," Ian said in her ear, his voice low but audible over the noise. "This is where your education begins."

But suddenly, that education looked just out of reach. Her legs refused to move. Leaving her glasses in the car had been a mistake. The dance floor was one big blur. The club was crowded, thick with people. After everything she'd done the past two weeks, this should be easy, right? But she was frozen, rooted to the spot.

"Air," she whispered. Two sets of hazel eyes looked at her — one pair inviting, the other challenging. They hadn't heard. "I need some air," she yelled over the music. Her heart was hammering now, and she couldn't catch her breath. Dammit, she hadn't really changed, had she? Still so fucking shy. "I just need to go outside for a minute." The door was five feet away. She had to get out, now.

"Di." Brendan's hand dropped on her shoulder. "No ins and outs under 21."

"That's fine. There's not going to be any in. Just out. And I—"

She broke off, because Brendan was giving Ian a significant look over her head and Ian was nodding.

"Back in a sec," Brendan said in her ear. He gave her shoulders a firm squeeze and kissed her cheek. His steady touch calmed her — a little. She gripped Ian's hand, grateful for his tight hold on her palm. "Ian's going to take care of you. Just trust us, okay, Di?"

She managed one nod. Panic sloshed through her stomach, mixed with embarrassment. Normal people came to places like this to have fun. What the hell was wrong with her? But Ian was grasping both her arms, walking her rapidly over to a quieter spot against the wall, pushing her firmly against the black-painted concrete and holding her there. She gulped for breath. The wall felt so good against her back. Solid. She felt Ian squeeze her shoulders, heard him order her to breathe. She just wanted to relax into his touch, but she was one tight knot from head to toe.

"I'm a freak," she said despairingly.

"Damn straight you are." Ian gave her a wry grin. "You're really weird. See what happens when you study all the time, and never hang out with your friends, and ignore your nice next-door neighbors, and pretend you're scared of boys when you really want them to fuck you into next week—"

"You wish." Her face flamed.

His grin widened. "That's better. Remember your graduation speech?"

"I wrote it for you too," she blurted.

A pause. Ian cupped the back of her neck, his hand warm against her skin. Diana could barely hear his answer over the floor-shaking bass, but she was pretty sure he said, "Thought so."

She managed a smile. "There's a nice library down the block. Too bad they're closed."

Ian's appalled expression was everything she could have hoped for. She started to laugh.

"Ten minutes, Diana." He leaned close, his voice warm against her ear. Urgent. "Ten minutes here, and if you want to leave after that, we leave. Okay? We go home or get ice cream or go to the fucking library or whatever you want."

"And Brendan drives?"

Ian shook his head. "Fine. Brendan drives. You're in charge, baby."

What a joke. She wasn't even close to being in charge. But as Ian massaged her neck, tugging her hair lightly, she began to relax. There was no mistaking the concern on his face. But his eyes also traveled the slope of her shoulders and collarbone to the creamy roundness of her cleavage, swelling from her tight red dress. Heat spread out from his gaze. Her stomach unknotted. When she pressed her forehead against Ian's shoulder, a finger slipped under the strap of her dress, teasing her smooth skin. His touch sent sudden arousal straight between her legs, and now she just wanted him to slide the strap off her shoulder, pull her dress down to expose her full breasts, and—

"Okay." She nodded quickly. "Ten minutes."

Swiftly, Ian clapped a hand on her back and maneuvered her through the crowd. He was moving too fast for her to get overwhelmed by the flickering lights and the fuzz of bodies as he pushed through all the people, propelling her to the very center of the dance floor.

"Ten minutes to do whatever me and Brendan say." That reckless grin was back on his face.

"Hey," Diana protested. "That wasn't part of the—"

But muscled arms wrapped around her now. Palms ran up and down her back, catching on the clinging material of her dress. Her head swam. Ian was touching her in public, in a way no one would ever mistake for big-brotherly, and the openness of it sent shudders down her body. People were in motion all around them, jostling. A large hand cupped her ass, squeezing the roundness and pulling her closer.

"Ian—" she gasped.

But at the same time, she was waking up to his rhythm, without even thinking about it. Moving with him. Responding to the music. Pulling him closer, exploring his broad back through that black shirt, digging her fingers into solid muscle when a slap on her ass made her jump. And his hands all over her back, fondling and pinching everywhere they went, were tame compared to some of the grinding couples and groups on the dance floor. Heat spread through her body.

Over his shoulder, she saw a shape that looked like Brendan up at the bar, chatting with all the bartenders. Then he was back, three drinks in hand and his dimples showing. Diana tried to point to the black X on her hand — there was no point in talking over the music — but he just grinned and offered her the biggest glass.

It had to be the sweetest, fruitiest drink imaginable. Orange slices, maraschino cherries, bubbles — you almost couldn't tell it had alcohol, but she guessed it had plenty. Hard to believe that Brendan had convinced the bartenders it was for him, but she had a feeling Brendan could convince anyone of anything. She gulped the cold liquid, ice meeting her lips and carbonation stinging her tongue. Out of the corner of her eye, each twin knocked back a shot, their heads tipping back with identical movements.

"Slow down, Di." Brendan rubbed her arm as she swallowed another mouthful. "Just take your time. We've got all night."

But she didn't want to take her time. She drained the glass, pulled the cherry off its stem with her teeth, and let the sweet burn flood her mouth. Then she reached out both hands to the twins. The floor was sticky with cheap beer, the air smelled like pot, the room was a primal swamp of heat and people. Her hips were actually swiveling to the beat of the music. The fat horns, dirty guitars and thunking drums sent waves of urgency through her body.

And right out in the open, without knowing when it happened, she was sandwiched between muscled males. Brendan must have taken the three glasses away, but she hadn't even noticed. The twins were dancing — no, grinding on her. Jesus, they were so close to her, both of them, and they weren't making any secret about it.

A solid chest anchored her back. Warm hands closed over her waist. Brendan said something in her ear from behind, or maybe he was singing along with the music — she really couldn't tell, because her full breasts kept nuzzling Ian's chest, her nipples rubbing inescapably against his firm pecs through that black muscle tee. More hands squeezed the flare of her hips, pinching her flesh possessively.

And oh God, both of them were rubbing their crotches on her soft curves, the obvious bulges arousing her so she could hardly breathe.

"You guys—" she panted. "We're in public."

"You agreed, baby." Ian bit her earlobe, and she jerked with excitement against the hard bodies closing her in. "Ten minutes to do things our way."

Her face was flaming, her whole body was on fire, and the twins — no, the three of them were putting on a total show, and now she was getting as into it as they were. No one noticed anyway, right? No one else cared. The room was dark, the air was thick with sweat and perfume and body odor, and everyone was in motion.

"You've worked so hard, haven't you, Di?" Brendan's voice caressed her ear. Her neck was damp with sweat. When she wriggled against him, excitement sparking her skin, he pulled her even closer, his thick erection pressing firmly above the curve of her ass. She moaned softly. "Just have fun tonight. We're right here. It's your time to blow off some steam."

Steam was right. The room already felt ten degrees hotter than when she'd walked in with the twins. Swampy beats pulsed through the floor. The dance floor crackled with the energy of a hundred bodies. She was aware of sudden emptiness behind her, saw Brendan up at the bar again, felt Ian pull her tightly against him. God, it was so hot to rub up against him like this in the middle of a jumping room, feel the masses of people jostling them, breathe with him. But she could barely move, and now she wanted to move.

"I need some space," she shouted in Ian's ear.

He looked startled. "To do what?"

"To dance."

She wasn't worried now, she wasn't scared, she didn't give a shit what other people thought. She'd left her box. She didn't have to be Diana Cooper, her face buried in a book, valedictorian of her senior class. That wasn't bad, she was damn proud of her hard work, but her gyrating hips, her bouncing breasts, her thrusting pelvis — yes, she was thrusting against Ian's groin, hard, her whole body aware of the firm bulge in his jeans, and he was grunting in pleased surprise and thrusting right back — those belonged to the girl who starred in her fantasies: hot, confident, strutting, all about pleasure.

"Look at you, baby." As overheated as she was, Ian's little smile sent a shiver through her body. "I knew you could do this."

Her hand closed around another glass, dripping with condensation. Brendan was back, brushing her damp hair off her neck, saying something above her head to Ian that she couldn't make out as she sucked down the cold drink in her hand. The twins were on their second round too — no. Their third. Those were two shots they'd each knocked back just now. No way should she try to keep up with them. Either one could drink her under the table in three seconds. But she'd always wanted to keep up with the twins, hadn't she? Ten minutes were definitely up, but she had no intention of leaving now.

The room spun around her and stopped on Ian's crooked grin. He cupped her head and pulled her close.

"Want to have even more fun?"

"Is that possible?" she shouted.

Ian's hand disappeared into his pocket, then reappeared. Two neat halves of a red circle sat in his palm.

"What is that?" Diana's heart thumped in her chest. This wasn't ice cream, or anything close. It wasn't spiders in the bed. It wasn't even pot in Marissa's backyard. Her whole body vibrated, the bass shaking her bones.

"Find out with me." Ian tossed one half into his mouth.

Brendan squeezed her bare shoulders. "Want to try?" His low voice tickled her other ear. "I'm not doing any tonight. I'll keep an eye on you."

And Ian was murmuring, "It won't mess you up, baby," his hand on her back as reassuring as his brother's. "It's nothing hard, Diana. Just like what you smoked on Wednesday, except this'll get you more up and last longer. I guarantee it's good."

What the hell. The past two weeks had gotten crazier and crazier. Why stop now? Why let Ian go somewhere without her?

"You won't let anything happen?" She had to shout in Brendan's ear over the throbbing beats.

Brendan might look all grown up, but his sudden wide grin brought back a vivid picture of him as a kid. "Nothing you don't want to happen."

Turning back to Ian, Diana tilted her head, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth. When the half circle landed on her tongue, sweet like gummy candy, her sweaty skin prickled. She just couldn't resist giving Ian's fingers a little lick.

Then her lips opened again, in surprise this time, when Ian's hot mouth closed over hers. Oh...yeah. Oh yeah. He was kissing her in the middle of the club, nipping her lower lip in front of hundreds of people, hands gripping her waist, and while she moaned into the determined tongue probing her mouth, shock zinged straight to her pussy when Brendan's lips closed on her neck, sucking on the tender skin.

Her face was scarlet, but who could see that under the red lights? She couldn't stop laughing between kisses, excitement rushing from head to toe. They were in public, everyone would know about the three of them, and hadn't she wanted that? Her thighs clenched around her dripping pussy, aching with need. But now Ian's eyes were closed, his body against hers, his hands on her waist. Brendan pressed against her ass, rubbing her hips.

Music flowed around them, vibrating her body between the twins, the smell of sweat and skin all around. The room was fuzzing out, the corners softening, everything warmer and more intense, color and light and sound overlapping into a wash of heat.

Warm skin pressed against Diana's arm from the side. Soft skin. Floral perfume filled her nose, wafting over the earthy smells of the room. A girl — no, two girls were dancing with them, right in their space, up close. Diana hadn't noticed them approach, hadn't seen where they'd come from, but there they were, gyrating around her and the twins with the kind of confidence Diana envied. One of them flipped back long, glossy brown hair and flashed a dazzling smile at Brendan — of course — but apparently at her, too. The other girl, red curls brushing her shoulders, wriggled behind Ian, whose eyes were still closed.

Diana could only guess how often this happened to Brendan and Ian when they went out. Girls swarming over them, beautiful girls doing all the work while the twins just reeled them in.

Green eyes met hers. The girl behind Ian had swiveled closer. Her silky halter top left her flat belly bare. Diana was vaguely aware that she was staring at the girl's sleek arms, lithe hips, and the soft swell of breasts tenting her halter top. When their gaze locked, Diana tried to give her the evil eye. Not that she had experience intimidating other girls, and clearly it didn't work, because the girl just smiled big at her and — oh God — starting rubbing her half-naked body against Diana's hip.

Jesus, firm breasts brushed her arm, a voice was laughing in her ear, and before she could react, her skin rippling to the music, the girl twisted away, grabbing her friend's hand and whispering to her while gesturing to Diana sandwiched between the twins.

Brendan leaned toward the girl with a friendly smile, putting his hand on her back below her red curls, his other hand secure on Diana's waist. Diana couldn't make out a word they were saying, but some kind of conversation was going on, with the other girl chiming in. Trust Brendan to make friends with everybody. Probably talking about the weather.

"Do you think they're cute?" Brendan's breath was warm and sudden against her ear, taking her by surprise. One hand strayed to her stomach, giving the slight curve an intimate squeeze. Peering over her shoulder, Diana caught his mischievous smile. Both girls were watching them, a few feet away.

"They're gorgeous," she said honestly. The type of girls who belonged with the twins, the type she'd always seen them with: willowy, toned, and tanned, wearing their confidence like they'd been born with it.

"They want us, sweetness."

Diana blinked, stunned. "You mean they want you guys."

"No," Brendan whispered. "The three of us. Especially you."

But she knew that already, didn't she? She'd known from the minute that girl had rubbed up against her.

"Ever wanted to kiss a girl, Di?"

"Brendan...I—" she stammered, completely disoriented again by the lights and buzzing beats. Her skin was scorching, her nipples ached from rubbing against Ian's hard chest again and again, and if Brendan unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the floor right now, she wouldn't even stop him. Ian's eyes were still closed, his hands squeezing her waist and pulling her even closer.

Brendan just smiled at her. "Have you?"

Diana stared at the girls dancing nearby, afraid to look and wanting to. God, they were beautiful. When the redhead caught her looking, she blew her a kiss. Quickly, Diana turned back to Brendan. "I...yeah. I've thought about it," she whispered, flushing.

Brendan pulled her close, holding her back securely against his muscular chest. "I bet you have, sweetness," he murmured in her ear. "Why don't you find out?"

Oh God, this was beyond crazy. "I don't want to watch you with other girls," she managed. "Either of you."

Brendan's soft chuckle tightened her whole body. "Not like that, Di. They want to watch you. With us. And they want to be with you."

"Look, I've never..."

"I'm right here, Diana." She trembled when he pressed her lips against her neck. Her lacy panties were beyond wet. In a second, she'd be grabbing Brendan's hand and pushing it between her soaked thighs in the middle of the club, stripping off Ian's muscle tee so she could taste his skin... "Ian's right here. We'll both look out for you. Aren't you curious? Aren't you wondering how her lips will taste?"