She didn’t know when she had lost an anchor on her senses, control of her bodily or mental functions.
She only knew that she was completely adrift, rolling in a heated, searing cloud of sensation and emotion, immersed, just a blink before the panic of climaxing. The men’s furor had increased, as if picking up on her desperation. Their own animal instincts responded, pressing the advantage, the sensual parallel to closing in on a kill, feeling the bloodlust take over, without the blood.
She saw their faces and her own reaction grew more primal. She wanted to see them below the waist.
She was disappointed that Lucas sat with his hip on the table, that portion of his anatomy turned away from her.
Jon and Ben were behind her, and Peter was pulled up to the table so he could more easily tug at her breasts.
Matt had moved outside her range of sight.
Then she remembered the screens.
When her eager gaze shot to it, she saw some of what she wanted.
Lucas’s body was highly aroused, his profile intent upon her. Jon likewise tipped back in his chair, watching Ben’s work, his cock straining against his khaki slacks, unembarrassed in his blatant arousal.
And Ben…well, if the size of his erection against his charcoal summer wool trousers was any indication of his true size, she was glad it was pearls and not him inside of her. All of the men were as much or more aroused than she, and suddenly she again had that amazing desire to satisfy all of them, to be as open to their raging needs as to her own.
There was a current close-up of Peter suckling her nipple, nothing of her visible but her breasts. Straining the curve of her throat, she arched more in response to the visual stimulation as his hands framed and squeezed her, giving him more to suckle.
“Please,” she gasped, emitting a short scream as Peter’s tongue went from a swirling rhythm with the sucking pressure of his mouth to a hard flick, bouncing the weight of the jewelry against the nipple. Ben replaced the thumb caressing her opening with his tongue, tickling the tender inside flesh of her buttock with alternating pressure of teeth and tongue. Then the pearls started to come out.
Pop, pop, pop…At each expulsion, she made a guttural noise of reaction, her nostrils flaring, seeking air.
Clit stimulation or not, her pussy had reached its capacity. It contracted, squeezing around nothing, preparing to let her go, pushed passed endurance. Her mouth opened on a long, desperate cry, through which Matt’s voice cut like the smooth power of a shark’s passage.
“Stop.”
Chapter Five
She’d never brought herself to climax with knowledge. Once, when she’d watched a romantic movie with a mysterious hero, she’d found herself rocking on the couch, her hand somehow finding itself between her legs, just a tentative pressure, and all of a sudden there was a snap of sensation that shuddered through her, hard and fast, somewhat unsatisfying but intriguing and shaming all at once.
She willed the two men not to listen, knowing from earlier experience tonight that what had been coming was that pop a million times over, like a sparkler compared to a full Fourth of July fireworks show.
Unfortunately, Ben’s mouth and the last pearl withdrew, as did Peter. He gave her breasts a lingering caress as he pulled away, a gentle tug on one of the diamond jewels. She had a brief glimpse of his aroused countenance, his wet lips, before he slid the blinder of her mask back in place as if on signal from Matt. She fought him, thrashing her head, snapping at his fingers, but Peter had the advantage of mobility, if not of calm.
Hearing the ragged edge of his breath, the tremor in his fingers, she wished she could see his reaction like she had the others. It had been hidden by the table’s height, but she knew it would be there, as enormous as her own need.
Ben’s lips brushed a fleeting caress on her left ass cheek, a tiny nip of teeth that made her jump a little, before he stroked the small of her back with a slick finger and withdrew.
Like a creation of flame, she vibrated with energy, all her exposed secrets throbbing with the need for more fuel, more friction. She felt like weeping or screaming or both, a wanton creature with no desire for control, only possession.
She shouldn’t have recognized herself, this strange, mad creature who had been brought to this pinnacle so easily these three times now, but she did. She knew the face, she’d seen it inside the mirror of her mind, a reflection she never let out. A Savannah that had crept out of hiding, willing now to roar out every desire, every secret, every shameful need, to a roomful of men who had coaxed that alter ego out. It was dangerous, frightening thinking, and some rational part of her said this whole evening was a terrible mistake, from which she’d never be able to reclaim her life, but at the moment all she cared about was the aching want between her thighs, and within her heart.
Fill me with what I never believed existed.And if she was wrong and it didn’t exist, she knew whatever sense of Savannah she had outside of her father’s mold would die. She would die, in all the ways that mattered. But that was perhaps better than living with the emptiness, the lonely pain.
“Savannah, are you listening to me? Can you hear me?”
Matt’s voice penetrated the roar of arousal within her, and she jerked her head, whether in a nod or negative, she didn’t know.
“I knew we could offer you passion tonight, make you understand what could be yours if you were willing to trust and be vulnerable. You’ve given every man in this room an incredible gift. No matter what happens in the next few moments, what choice you make, I want you to know that.” He hesitated, and the raw quality of his voice, the rough desire and emotion mixed, caught more of her attention.
She wondered where he was going with this, but hoped it was somewhere that would ease this craving need.
And soon.
“You’ll walk out of here as cherished and respected as you were when you walked in. Every man enjoys teaching a woman the ways of pleasure, especially a woman he loves, and every man in this room loves you. I wanted you to experience a wide range of sensual possibilities and fortunately, each man here has very individual specialties.”
What was the phrase she often heard her secretary use to describe something blatantly obvious? Boy, howdy. She was close to being hysterical, she realized, and tried to take some deep breaths, get a grip on her raging body.
“I wanted you blindfolded now, because I want you to search only your heart for the answer to this next question. You can go back to the reality of your life as it was before you walked in here tonight. There will be no recriminations, no sense of favoritism. It will all end here.
Everything will be the same tomorrow. You’ve won the right to choose.”
“Choose?” The word felt awkward, somehow unwelcome on her tongue.
She didn’t want to have choices.
When she lost control, she’d been given mind-altering pleasure, made even more intense by the fact she no longer had to worry about whether Savannah Tennyson was making the right decisions. She realized in a heartbeat the significance of Rule Five.
Discipline is a 24/7 exercise. Lose a grip on it even for a moment and you could lose everything you’ve worked for.
Get out of my fucking head.
The reaction froze every system in her body, even shut out Matt’s voice and her surroundings for a blink of time. Everything tonight had been a surprise, something unexpected. But that vicious thought, targeted at her father’s memory and coming out of her subconscious like a snarl from behind the gates of Hell, was the biggest shock of all.
She did have choices. For the first time in her life she was aware that choices existed for her , Savannah, and she was free to make them. Peter, Lucas, Jon and Ben had helped her see that. And Matt. Matt.
“I want to see,” she said sharply.
“I want you to think,” he responded.
“I need you to think very carefully about something, and I want you to have no distractions.”
When he was delivering a deal breaker, his voice would change, modulate, and just like a regular poker opponent, she recognized it.
This was dead serious, no bullshit, no games.
“Here are your choices. Choice number one. You’re obviously in need of physical release. Jon has brought a larger invention, something that will fill you as fully as a man’s cock. Every man here would enjoy watching it give you the level of orgasm your body is ready for.
“Choice number two. You can choose to call it over. We’ll clear the room. I’ll untie you, help you dress, and tonight will never be referred to again, by any of us. Or…” There was a slight pause, and she waited, not sure how she felt about either option and hoping there was another, one that this straining need in her would recognize as the right one and eagerly embrace.
“Choice number three. Your final choice. You can choose one of us to do what Jon’s invention will do.”
It took a minute to sink in. “You mean…”
“Any one of us.” His voice was firm, resolute now. “The rest of us will go.
The man you’ve chosen will stay with you, meet your desires, whether they be physical or emotional. He’ll make sure you get home safely afterward. No demands after that.”
“No demands,” she said hollowly.
“None.”
Unexpected pain landed like a load of bricks on the shuddering waves of pleasure still gripping her, which made her feel like a dog that had been kicked by a beloved master, uncomprehending of why, making the pain that much worse. But the analogy cleared up the source question, and she struggled to channel the pain into fury and lash out.
It built in her, so suddenly that she felt lightheaded, all the blood rushing to her face, but at the same time she was swept by a desolation so exponentially fierce that she couldn’t draw breath from anger, or control the direction of her thoughts or words.
“So you don’t want me,” she said.
“What?”
It was a very rare moment to catch Matt Kensington by surprise, to the extent it could be heard in his voice.
“This was all…a nice game. Fun… amongst colleagues.” She managed to create a sharp laugh, like a razor blade along her own skin. “I can’t thank you all enough for devoting your evening to fulfilling every woman’s erotic fantasy.”
