aWe made it a compet.i.tion, coming up with foods we thought would become your new favorite.a Peter laughed, caressed her bare calf from somewhere out of the range of her vision, reminding her forcibly of the view he had of her spread legs. aI knew youad love those chocolate cream finger cakes.a aI lost a five hundred dollar bet on it,a Lucas grumbled good-naturedly. aI was sure youad pick the caramel creams.a aWhen Ben baked the cakes himself and slid them on the tray like they came from Dean and Delucaas? Not a chance.a Savannah choked. aBen bakedaa aIt isnat the sleazy lawyer routine that gets him women. Itas his culinary skills,a Jon added.

aYeah, like you donat use the lost angel thing to seduce women.a Ben snorted outside of her vision.

aFive hundred dollars on whether or not Iad eat a sweet?a Matt dabbed at the corner of her mouth with one finger, put a missed bit of goat cheese on her tongue. aWe always have a betting pool running on something. At the end of the month, the winnings go to the preferred charity of the final winner.a aWhatas your chosen charity?a she asked.

aA manas charities are a private thing. Not manly to discuss,a Lucas interjected.

aAnd I think our guest has recovered enough,a Matt said, his eyes studying her face.

Antic.i.p.ation sprang up in her, thick as heated blood.

She wasnat sure she could take anything else. Emotionally, she felt as delicate as an eggsh.e.l.l, just Mattas words creating a shiver through her body. But wetness touched her thighs, her p.u.s.s.y leaking a tiny drop, her bodyas betrayal of her interest. It was as if Mattas multiple-layered strategy had already trained her body to such a level of sensual awareness that the mere suggestion of s.e.xual activity could get her revved up again.

He rose, his fingers whispering across her cheekbone, and leaned over where she could see him touch the table controls. The motor engaged and she was moving along the track, down the table, and as she turned in that direction she saw she was going to the very end, where Peter had moved and now waited, just to the right of the rounded table end.

Peter would have looked more at home at a monster truck rally. With a corner lift to his mouth at almost all times, as if he were sharing a private joke, he had a soft Southern drawl and a way of wearing his clothes that suggested head be most at home in jeans and a T-shirt from a seventiesa rock band. His fingers would tap restlessly as they conducted their meetings and at times shead hear him humming a heavy metal tune under his breath. He wore his hair cropped in a short military cut that emphasized the strong lines and corded neck of a bodybuilder. He wasnat a bodybuilder, but an Army reservist. He spent a great deal of time staying in shape to serve his country if called. Head taken a leave from Kensington to volunteer for a year tour in Afghanistan. During that time Matt had casually mentioned many were sending s...o...b..x care packages to the soldiers. Head left her a copy of the instructions that were circling the corporate offices, encouraging partic.i.p.ation. In the margin, head noted how to get one specifically to Peter, if she wanted to have her staff make up one for him.

Before she knew it, she was collecting items, especially as she had watched the news reports and thought of Peteras face, the laughter so often in his gray eyes, the strength in those broad shoulders, a strength that the media footage made clear could be erased in an instant by the fragile reality of mortality.

Moist towelettes, sample-size toiletries, a pack of playing cards shead found that had images of New Orleans integrated into the depictions of numbers and royal personages. She remembered he had a weakness for ice cream and put in a bag of hard candy that boasted fifty-one flavors similar to ice cream. The latest Dean Koontz novel and a Nightcrawler X-Men comic book. The others called him Nightcrawler, because they claimed he preferred trawling the New Orleans nightlife over sleeping.

And then she put in something she hadnat expected to buy. On one of her layovers, when she was browsing in an expensive airport jewelry shop, shead seen a gold St. Christopher medal. Shead purchased it with not a thought for the three-figure price, because it didnat matter. Getting him back safely did.

Shead never done something soanurturing before. Filling the list in the privacy of her home, she didnat involve her staff. She even mailed it herself.

Shead never prayed. She suspected there was a G.o.d out there, but had always imagined Him like her father. Not Someone from whom she could seek support or comfort, just Someone who expected the best, or dire consequences would result. But in that moment, when she took the medal home and tucked it in the box, finishing the care package, she offered something that she supposed was like a prayer to that saintly figure. Please keep him safe. Bring him home.

When Peter did get home, at the first meeting where shead seen him again, head been wearing it. Head ruffled her by putting his arms around her and hugging her, a close hold that he prolonged five still seconds before he let her go, looked in her eyes and nodded. Then he asked her one question.

aHave you tried the G.o.d-awful chai tea Jonas trying to make us drink today?a He always wore the necklace.

aI love your b.r.e.a.s.t.s,a Peter said simply, bringing her back to the present. He had sat down, and had his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his fists, as if they were two children, facing each other on their stomachs on the limb of a tree. The whole world fallen away below, so that the only things around them were things that could fly or flutter, crawl to great heights to see the world from a higher perspective. aI try not to stare, because I know women think men are creeps when they stare at their b.r.e.a.s.t.s during conversation, but since you and I donat have to talk directly that often in meetings, itas seemed okay to stare at them.a It startled a smile out of her, and he returned the favor, showing her white teeth so symmetrical she knew an orthodontist had been part of his youth.

aOf course, sometimes it ticked Matt off.a He grinned more broadly. aYou like lace, just a bit on the edges. Youave never worn a bra for us that didnat have it.a His finger reached out, traced one bare curve, the line such lace would follow if it had been there. In her raised position, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were right before his face, at the level of his mouth, and she could not block the images that thought evoked. This position also put her where she could still see the wall screen. New images had been picked up. Her writhing, screaming response to Jonas stimulus, all muted, but no less potent, particularly when Peteras large callused hands reached forward now and began to fondle her. She was getting very, very attached to the magic of menas hands. At least the different textures and types of touch these men had.

He traced the crease under the left breast, started up the opposite curve, making her feel his appreciation of her shape, her fullness. Her nipples ached, but he did not touch them, just the soft flesh around them.

aYouare too thin,a he observed in a warm voice that implied no judgment, no criticism. aYou donat eat enough, though youare in good shape. You use your corporate gym daily, I know. When Iave crossed the city overwalk between our two buildings, Iave seen you running the track on the tenth floor. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, wearing a black sports bra that holds you so tight and immobile, no give. Much like your life, donat you think?a aAnd all of your lives are so perfect,a she said, but with much less acidity than she would have had a few hours ago.

aWell, I canat think of a moment much better than this one.a He gave her a charming look and then continued on, unperturbed.

aI canat stand it when women diet themselves down to zero cellulite thighs and a tiny a.s.s. They lose their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the curves of hip and bosom that make them a woman. I wish we could go back to the fifties, and see women who were firm and healthy, with generous b.r.e.a.s.t.s, soft a.s.ses, whose thighs were like soft pillows for a manas hands. Iad be in heaven.a aSounds like Iam a disappointment to you, then.a He chuckled and weighed one breast in each hand, pressing her nipples to the heated cup of his palm, eliciting a soft whisper of pleasure from her. aNot in the least. Youare a beautiful woman.a The Southern accent got deeper, richer. aWhile you and Matt spar, or Jon drones off one of his never-ending financial reportsa"a there was a snort from the end of the table, aa"Iave imagined them a lot of different ways.

aBare, like this, nothing clothing them but the touch of my hands. Antic.i.p.ating the feel of your nipples in my mouth when I close my lips around them and suckle them.a He gave them a gentle pinch, a mere pressure, and she arched, moaning. aOr in a beautiful satin bra, with sheer cups so I can see the suggestion of your nipples and the color of your skin behind the cloth. The kind with underwiring that pushes you together, makes that deep cleft that I want to run my tongue down, like the cleft of a womanas c.u.n.t lips.

aOr a shelf bra that your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are just barely tucked into, the plump tops rising high like the smooth tops of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Youave worn that style before, and the images it conjured have made me nearly insane. I want to sprinkle powdered sugar over the top of them, lick it all off.a She was shuddering, and his touch had turned into a gentle kneading, slow, torturous, a manipulation of the sensitive globes even as his thumbs idly, all too infrequently, pa.s.sed over the distended nipples.

aAnd then thereas the bra with cutouts for the nipple, so you can have all the support and shapeliness a bra provides, but your nipples are as prominent under a shirt as if youare not wearing one at all. No man can resist looking, hoping for a rain shower to soak the cotton, make them even more noticeable.

aNipple jewelry is also something Iad love to see on you. D-rings and barbells for piercing, dangles, chains to attach them to one another and adorn the neck. Weights with uncut gemstones. All of which stimulate the nipples and keep them distended, aching for touch.a His hands kept up their complex composition on her, and she thought he would make her come, just from the combination of words and skillful fondling.

aThere are hundreds of ways to appreciate a womanas b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and every day I think of a new way. If I had you to myself for an entire afternoon, Iad lay you out on my bed, apply a henna paste to your t.i.ts, decorating them with a Celtic design. And then when I was done, and it was dry so I could touch you, when your body was screaming for fulfillment, Iad place your b.r.e.a.s.t.s in a parallel bar restraint like this and tease you with my teeth and tongue until you screamed for release. But not release from that bar. Release from the pa.s.sion you would be feeling.a His voice dropped to a rough whisper, a sensual friction against her senses. Her entire breast tingled as if she could feel the weights he spoke of, the touch of the henna paste, the squeeze of those bars distending her, making her more aware of touch, of the need to be tasted.

aWould you like me to suckle your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Savannah?a Peter asked. aI want to, very much. Tell me you want that.a aYes,a she managed. aI want that.a aGood.a His mouth curled up at the corners. aBecause I was going to do it whether you agreed or not.a He leaned forward, his face even with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and looked up at her. aWhile Iam doing this, Ben is going to be preparing you for a very different sensation. Together weare going to rouse you to the pinnacle of climax, but hold you there longer than you think is possible, until we reduce you to mindless sense again, the pure being that you are, nothing else.a aIam not sure I can take much moreaa The weak words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, appalling her, but the totally male smile from Peter ran fire through her, obliterating the cold frisson of fear.

aYou can take it. Youall have to, because itas not a choice.a He lowered his head, covered her with the heat of his mouth, and swamped her with the sweet satisfaction that her nipple had been craving, so sharp that she cried out as he drew it in, teased it in the wetness, pressing on it with his lips. He brought his hands up, framed the rack of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and squeezed just in front of the grip of the bar restraints, causing a moan, an outright whimper.

Shead never had each part of her so focused upon, so worshipped and cozened as it had been in the past several hours. Her entire body, every expanse of skin and the restless nerves beneath, desired something, a level of fulfillment Peter had just indicated they would not deliver. But it didnat matter, because the spiraling need felt so good that she shamelessly angled her hips in wanton display. Peter deepened his suckling, making appreciative wet noises as he drew succor from her. Her fingers ached from clenching into one overlapped fist, the desire to touch, to hold his head closer, denied to her.

She shifted her gaze and saw Matt standing in front of the screens, a silhouette against the many images of her time in this room. Someone had dimmed the lights so she was in spotlight again. Feeling his claim on her as if he had uttered it like a war cry, she understood then the appealing fantasy of a slave girl being prepared for the warlordas pleasure. For she knew in looking at him, she was not being shared equally among friends, but pampered, her body made malleable for claiming by the man who had fully intended to have her from the first. And that time was drawing very close.

Peteras teeth sc.r.a.ped her left nipple and the shudder of reaction went all the way to her womb.

Then Ben touched her. The man who turned the legal screws when Kensingtonas rights were challenged in any situation. It made sense Matt would pull him into this last phase, to ensure there was no challenge left in her. Though Matt underestimated her if he thought that was possible. She would go down fighting. She had to. Didnat she?

Benas hands were slick as they touched her backside. She smelled an oil, heated musk like opium, and he was sliding it down her b.u.t.tocks, oiling them, somewhat as Jon did, but then suddenly, he was working his fingers and the oil into her a.n.u.s, and slid past the resistance before she could react.

aMy apologies, Savannah.a His voice was a s.e.xy baritone with the faintest hint of Cajun accent because of his parentage. Head spent most of his formative years in New England, including the acquisition of his law degree at Yale, where he and Matt had met. aI didnat want to warn you because you would tense up, and I donat want to cause you pain.a She highly respected Ben, because while he was in fact as aggressive as the proverbial pit bull, like all of Mattas team, he played as fair as he played hard. When shead been privy to meetings where theyad been on the same side of the fence, shead noted that Ben did not hesitate to tell Matt whether or not Kensington could do something. Matt followed his direction most of the time, never undermining Benas expertise with CEO ego.

It was more difficult to relax with Ben touching her, however. Shead had to acknowledge she had a more affectionate and intimate bond with each of the other four than she would have admitted prior to tonight. But Ben had been more distant throughout her relationship with Matt. The man she knew least was obviously preparing to invade the area shead explored or fantasized about the least, mentally or physically. Jon had barely entered her there, and with Benas firm though gentle hands, she understood implicitly that he was planning a full invasion, as the last step in Mattas plan to completely break her down.

Her resulting anxiety created a strange dichotomy of sensation, trepidation shooting like a distracting arrow through her reaction to Peteras mouth, teeth, tongue and hands.

aStop,a she rasped. aDonat.a Peteras mouth slowed, but did not still. Instead of nips and eager sucking, now he laved her softly, tugging her in slow, lazy sucklings in his mouth so her p.u.s.s.y, already wet, flooded with new heat, moisture Ben picked up on his fingers to rub over the outside of her p.u.s.s.y, stimulating her there, and then raised his touch to use the rest to lubricate her back opening.

aMatt.a She reacted, didnat think of appearances. aThis is scaring me.a Her voice quavered slightly, but for once in her life, it did not embarra.s.s or appall her. There was no room anymore for the cold pit viper she was described as being. She was just Savannah, a woman aroused and captivated by the five men in the room, captured by the demands and desires which had roused her own. It was the first time shead been afraid of the physical portion of the evening. She had been afraid of what they would do to her, afraid of where they would and wouldnat stop, where that would leave her when it was over. Afraid of Matt. Of his relentless determination, so much greater than she had ever suspected, to have what he wanted. Afraid that she, in the end, did not have the strength to resist him or hold him at armas length, stay safely behind a shield so he couldnat get to who she was. She also was afraid the nightas events revealed all too clearly that he had figured that out a long time ago.

Benas strokes became even more gentle, his palms turning so she felt the caress of his knuckles on her b.u.t.tocks.

aThereas nothing to fear.a Matt spoke quietly. Firmly, which told her he wouldnat alter the plan for her fear, but with a note of tenderness in his voice that she recognized as similar to a parent rea.s.suring a child. aIt will be all right. Trust me. Trust us. Youare trembling with pleasure even now.a aIs he going toaa She licked dry lips, and was surprised when Peteras covered her mouth, moistening them, just a light touch, there and then gone, before she could savor it. Not a kiss, just a very functional action, meeting her needs. Only Matt had kissed her on the mouth. The significance of that struck her.

aYes. But not his c.o.c.k. Youave never been stretched there before and that would be painful. But his fingers will bring you pleasure, as well as the gift heas brought for you.a And before she could think of another word, Benas oiled hands were spreading open her cheeks a.s.sertively, so he would see her a.n.u.s in embarra.s.sing detail.

aVery pretty.a Amazingly, she felt his lips brush over the opening, then he licked her there, probed, his roughened jaw tickling her b.u.t.tocks, the tops of her thighs. Peter blew heated breath on her left nipple, closed his mouth over it again, his right hand continuing its tortuous kneading and gentle pinching of the other breast.

She was aroused, but at the dual sensation, something turned over inside of her stomach, some tightly wound spring, and something was catapulted into her chest, choking her with need and desire at once, flooding her body, an exquisite sense of pre-climax. It was so close she could see it, but she wasnat there, she was just at that perfect viewpoint to see how amazing and steep the cliff edge was that awaited her, as Ben and Peter bore her toward it like a cherished sacrifice. Her gaze fastened on Mattas, and she was invaded by a wild thought. He was the G.o.d of this volcano, the volcano of molten response ready to erupt within her, held back only by their skill and his command, the knowledge of it in that sensual gaze. She needed his power around her, over her, spreading her wide, filling her, taking her sacrifice.

He was watching her shifts in emotions, the reactions of her body, and somehow she knew part of that attentiveness was because he was ready to move and act as needed if the line was crossed and fear or pain entered the picture in a way not intended. Matt would never hurt her, or allow someone else to do so.

That had to be insane thinking, brought on by the physical and emotional duress of her climax. Even her father had made that clear to her. Rule Nine: The people who claim to love you can hurt you worse than those who donat. Donat let anyone past your guard, and youall know what to expect from friends, lovers or children, as well as enemies. It wonat matter which mask they wear.

Underneath, every person operated on self-interest, and that would obliterate any sentimental attachment when challenged by stress.

Shead seen him proven right, again and again. People were what they were. He hadnat meant it as a qualitative judgment. Geoffrey hadnat gotten sentimental or emotional. Head been protecting her in his way, or rather protecting Tennyson Industries, but at times she had wondered if certain returns were worth the pain. She expected her father would have said, aIt depends on how much youare willing to paya.

aYouare tensing, Savannah,a Ben observed. aI want you to do something for me.a aWha" What?a aI want you to tell me a fantasy you have when youare afraid. How do you make yourself feel safe?a Safe? Had she ever felt safe? Certainly from the common things of the world like thieves and muggers, but shead never felt safe from emotional attack, not in a world with Geoffrey Tennyson, though shead loved him. Shead had different fantasies to comfort herself when the stress of always having to be on her toes got to her. But over the past couple of years, one fantasy had dominated and erased all the others. She couldnat tell them that one.

aI wonat pull down the blinder, but close your eyes,a Ben insisted. aThen say it as youad say it if we werenat here. We donat have any secrets here.a Of course they knew she was afraid to say it. Maybe they even suspected what it was, which made it absurd for her to pretend otherwise.

aMy fantasies are always shadows,a she murmured. aJust impressions, just for a moment, then gone, as if Iam afraid someone will come into my mind, turn on the lights and catch me doing something I shouldnat be doing. Worse, the lights will be harsh, and make something I want to be beautiful become something ugly.a aWhatas the fantasy?a His hand gently probed her, making her suddenly wish to weep. He shifted his thigh against the back of hers.

aYou may get emotional when I do this.a Again, he seemed to read the confusion of her mind as if she had expressed it. aThatas normal, because a lot of issues are held in this region. Tell me the dream. Your fantasy.a aTo be held,a she whispered. aaSomeoneacomes to me, to my bed, and holds me.a She couldnat be specific. A lifetime of protecting herself couldnat be undone in one night, though if anyone could do it, she suspected they were in this room.

The aSomeonea was Matt. She didnat know why it was him in the fantasy, but it always was, ever since shead met him.

Peter was brushing his cheek against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s now, a comforting gesture. She felt an almost maternal, fierce need to have her hands free so she could touch his head, his hair, hold him to her, perhaps rub her mouth, her cheek against his hair, smelling his varying scents. Nurture as well as be nurtured.

aIam in my bed, andathat someone comes to me. Heas there, sliding in behind me, but not just to hold me from behind. He turns me, so Iam in the shelter of his body, facing him, my face tucked beneath his chin, his arms around my back, and all I have to do is justabe. He sees me. He doesnat say anything, or want anything Iam not willing to give. He fills me in my heart, my mind and body. Heas there, with me, for me.a aAnd youare comforted.a For that short period of time. Until the alarm goes off. aYes.a One of Benas fingers slid within her, the oil taking it easily deep into her r.e.c.t.u.m. His other hand squeezed her right cheek, a s.e.xual gesture as well as one of comfort. aBreathe deep, Savannah,a he said.

As she drew in a breath, he kept speaking in that deep, musical voice. aI love women with tight a.s.ses. I have thick fingers, and I love the feel of them clenching around me. And I think youall enjoy this even more.a He leaned forward, his soft Pierre Cardin dress shirt brushing her back, and in the oiled hand he held before her, just to the right of Peteras head, he clasped a strand of gleaming freshwater pearls.

Her father had given her jewelry to appropriately decorate her for the functions they attended. Not once in her life had she been given jewelry as a true gift, something offered for her pleasure. She certainly could afford to buy herself something like that, but thisa aBenatheyare beautiful. Iacanataa aTheyare yours,a he said simply, and then he was bending over her, laying a kiss, tender and lingering, on the nape of her neck. He trailed the pearls down her spine, left them in a coil in the small of her back. aIall use them for your pleasure, then Iall take them with me tonight, get them cleaned and return them to you, so you can always remember how they were used when you wear them.a aAnd how is that?a aIam going to double them over, and insert them into your r.e.c.t.u.m. As Peter rouses you to even greater pleasure with his mouth and his gift, Iall slowly draw them out. Itall make you crazy.a Before she could think of a response to that, Peter was turning, taking a velvet box from Lucas.

aWeave all brought you gifts tonight.a Lucas leaned his hip against the table next to Peter. aJon is giving you his device, the prototype, to keep for your private enjoyment. Ben has brought you the pearls. Peter and I picked these out together.a aOne from each of us.a There was laughter in Peteras voice. aI think youall like them.a He withdrew what looked to be a pair of genuine diamond chandelier earrings, and then she realized they were not earrings.

He leaned forward, covered her with his mouth and wet her again, then his fingers were there, placing the jewelry on her distended nipple. aTell me when itas uncomfortable. Itas an adjustable clamp.a She only had a moment to be fearful of that particular word in a.s.sociation with her nipples before he was tightening the screw on the jewel. The pressure was exquisite, wringing a whimper from her throat, and he looked at her face, registered that the noise was pleasure, and he took another turn. aIam going to stop there, darlina. Youare aroused enough to like the feel of it, but it will be painful if itas at too tight a setting for long. Now the other one.a aIam taking the pearls into you, Savannah. Take in another deep breath for me.a Ben again. Good luck in that, when she could barely draw an even breath, let alone a deep one. Peter slid his tongue over and around her curves as if washing them, nudging the jewels, tugging on them, his fingers twisting the slick nipples, causing wrenching bolts of pleasure to rocket from her nipples to a.n.u.s and back again. The diamonds brushed the lower curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s like feathers of sensation.

She drew in the breath, tried to hold it, though her p.u.s.s.y was so wet she could feel that the soft curls were drenched, cool against her skin.

aNow let it out. Slow. Count of five. Just like with Jon. One, two, threeaa She obeyed, and she felt Benas fingers gently push round, smooth pearls into her. They were lubricated with the oil of his fingers, and she began to move against the straps, she couldnat help it. It was equal reaction to both stimuli, so aroused she couldnat find a rhythm, only this desperate movement. Ben began to play with the beads, pulling on them slightly, not taking them out, just turning them around, wiggling them a bit, and then his finger amazingly joined them, a thumb she thought, for she felt impossibly filled, her p.u.s.s.y contracting as he began to move the digit incrementally inside of her, tiny back and forth pressures as his thumb stretched her opening.

Savannah cried out, her hips jerking, shuddering, her c.u.n.t weeping for a release being held just out of reach. Neither man touched her c.l.i.t, and in the air, she had nothing she could grind against, the d.a.m.n bench on which she rested stopping just above her pubic bone. She still could have forced herself down against it, pushing against the loose skin just above the p.u.s.s.y to somehow ma.s.sage the c.l.i.t, but as if Peter knew that, his hand slid under her belly, between the board and her body, and held her away from it.

She didnat 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 menas 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 bloodl.u.s.t 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 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. Lucasas body was highly aroused, his profile intent upon her. Jon likewise tipped back in his chair, watching Benas work, his c.o.c.k straining against his khaki slacks, unembarra.s.sed in his blatant arousal. And Benawell, 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 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.

aPlease,a she gasped, emitting a short scream as Peteras 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 b.u.t.tock with alternating pressure of teeth and tongue. Then the pearls started to come out.

Pop, pop, popa At each expulsion, she made a guttural noise of reaction, her nostrils flaring, seeking air.

c.l.i.t stimulation or not, her p.u.s.s.y had reached its capacity. It contracted, squeezing around nothing, preparing to let her go, pushed pa.s.sed endurance. Her mouth opened on a long, desperate cry, through which Mattas voice cut like the smooth power of a sharkas pa.s.sage.

aStop.a

Chapter Five.

Shead never brought herself to climax with knowledge. Once, when shead watched a romantic movie with a mysterious hero, shead 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, Benas mouth and the last pearl withdrew, as did Peter. He gave her b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 tableas height, but she knew it would be there, as enormous as her own need.

Benas lips brushed a fleeting caress on her left a.s.s 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 shouldnat 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, shead 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 shead 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 didnat exist, she knew whatever sense of Savannah she had outside of her fatheras 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.

aSavannah, are you listening to me? Can you hear me?a Mattas voice penetrated the roar of arousal within her, and she jerked her head, whether in a nod or negative, she didnat know.

aI knew we could offer you pa.s.sion tonight, make you understand what could be yours if you were willing to trust and be vulnerable. Youave 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.a 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.

aYouall 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.a 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.

aI 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. Youave won the right to choose.a aChoose?a The word felt awkward, somehow unwelcome on her tongue. She didnat want to have choices. When she lost control, shead 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 youave worked for.

Get out of my f.u.c.king head.

The reaction froze every system in her body, even shut out Mattas voice and her surroundings for a blink of time. Everything tonight had been a surprise, something unexpected. But that vicious thought, targeted at her fatheras memory and coming out of her subconscious like a snarl from behind the gates of h.e.l.l, 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.

aI want to see,a she said sharply.

aI want you to think,a he responded. aI need you to think very carefully about something, and I want you to have no distractions.a 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 bulls.h.i.t, no games.

aHere are your choices. Choice number one. Youare obviously in need of physical release. Jon has brought a larger invention, something that will fill you as fully as a manas c.o.c.k. Every man here would enjoy watching it give you the level of o.r.g.a.s.m your body is ready for.

aChoice number two. You can choose to call it over. Weall clear the room. Iall untie you, help you dress, and tonight will never be referred to again, by any of us. Oraa 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.

aChoice number three. Your final choice. You can choose one of us to do what Jonas invention will do.a It took a minute to sink in. aYou meanaa aAny one of us.a His voice was firm, resolute now. aThe rest of us will go. The man youave chosen will stay with you, meet your desires, whether they be physical or emotional. Heall make sure you get home safely afterward. No demands after that.a aNo demands,a she said hollowly.

aNone.a 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 a.n.a.logy 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 couldnat draw breath from anger, or control the direction of her thoughts or words.

aSo you donat want me,a she said.

aWhat?a It was a very rare moment to catch Matt Kensington by surprise, to the extent it could be heard in his voice.

aThis was allaa nice game. Funaamongst colleagues.a She managed to create a sharp laugh, like a razor blade along her own skin. aI canat thank you all enough for devoting your evening to fulfilling every womanas erotic fantasy.a She was at an atavistic level of need, to the point where action could be the only communication, but Matt had restrained her so there was nothing she could do to influence events. Roused to a painful, raw state by Benas pearls and clever fingers, Peteras mouth, by everything theyad done and shown her tonight, her insides were like the slopes of a California hillside under pummeling rain. Mudslides were roaring to life, revealing the primal underside of her earth, smothering her civilized faade. The images still flickering on the wall stimulated her body still, even without the benefit of her sight.