“I’ve invited some friends.”
Evelyn tensed, all other thoughts floating away like dust. She and Lucian had discussed a myriad of fantasies. She had a safe word in case she ever felt unsure and he reminded her often that she could use it. Sharing was something she was not okay with and he knew it. He too admitted not being able to tolerate another man touching her.
Her heart pounded like a wild bird caged in her chest. Her tongue slicked suddenly dry lips. Was this part of the game or had he had a change of heart?
“Undress, boys. I believe we can each have a shot at making her come before her lover returns.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. In the span of a second her confidence in his commitment to be the only person entitled to her body wavered, shoved back by her absolute certainty he would not push her too far. Still, she sought reassurance.
“Luc—”
His hand pressed over her mouth. “Quiet.”
Then his touch was gone. She grew intensely self-conscious of her naked, exposed state. He wouldn’t. He would never share her. Not now, after they’d come so far.
The sound of fabric shifting grated over her nerves like tiny blades. True anxiety announced itself and her breathing grew loud enough to overshadow the sound of the bodies moving. It was a game. He was toying with her and her rational self knew that, trusted him, but her imagination, that twisted part of the mind that fabricated nightmares, was really fucking with her certainty.
She fought for control, ordering herself to calm down. Sharp awareness of how much control she’d surrendered dominated her panic. She was helpless.
There was a shuffling of movement. The jangle of coins deep within silk-lined pockets, the clank of a metal belt buckle hitting the marble floor. She couldn’t help but flinch when someone’s hand wrapped around the arch of her foot and pulled it toward the edge of the bed. Lucian. Lucian. Lucian. It’s only Lucian.
“Isn’t she beautiful, boys? Look at that pretty pink pussy. It’s just begging to be filled by a big, hard cock.”
Evelyn trembled as her ankle was restrained with silk. Again, a hand wrapped around her other foot. The process was repeated and all physical contact ceased. She shivered, as she lay exposed, restrained, and completely vulnerable. Minutes ticked by like hours. The silence was deafening. She wanted to scream, but also refused to give over, thinking she could somehow outwit the hysteria that beckoned. He was testing her trust, she realized.
She did trust Lucian. He was purposely shaking her faith, that was all—fishing for more reassurance. Actions spoke louder than words. Knowing that he would watch her reactions, weigh her surrender, only calmed her more. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch her. This was a test, to see if she trusted him to toe the line without crossing it.
As she lay there on the plush, cool covers she lost track of time. The weight of being watched pressed into her, tightening her skin, making her hyperaware she was not alone, yet at the same time she had never felt so unaccompanied. What was he waiting for? Trepidation choked her. No one else was there; she knew it because she knew him, sometimes better than she knew herself, but still, the anticipation of proof was torture. She didn’t want to move past the game, but she needed to confirm she was right and it was only the two of them in the penthouse.
Blindly, she clung to the familiar scent of Lucian just under her nose. She became aware of only that one anchor. So engrossed was she in breathing in that recognizable scent that she missed the moment he climbed onto the bed. The tickle of mysterious soft hair along her spread thighs made her jump. Silk cut into her ankles and wrists as she tugged at her bindings, and then his mouth was on her.
She didn’t have time to adjust to the onslaught of sensations attacking her. This was it. This was the mind fuck of having an unsolicited touch force pleasure on her. The game suddenly became a reality.
Fingers plunged into her wet core as lips tightened over the bud of her sex. Pleasure, no matter how much she protested it, built and washed over her with the sudden downpour of sweet release. Evelyn cried out, and before the fluttering waves subsided, the mouth was gone.
Insecurity and confusion warred with her lust-addled brain. Doubt and certainty reflected each other like a funhouse mirror. Where was Lucian? She was so disoriented, she couldn’t place him in the room.
Her questions ceased as the mattress dipped again and a strong body climbed on top of her. Her chest constricted at the unknown. This was still Lucian’s fantasy. He would not let someone else touch her, but the illusion he’d created was intensely real.