SIXTEEN

MY HEART GROUND TO A HALT. A cry erupted from my chest, and I lurched against the hands holding me still. Beyond Royce’s shoulder, Macalister turned over the hourglass in his hands, and the sand began to fall.

Royce’s lips were all I could feel at first, but then something soft and wet brushed over me, and it could only be his tongue.

Fucking Mother of God.

My head thudded back against the pillow and I slammed my eyes shut, too stunned to do anything other than endure. His palms were on the insides of my legs, and as his tongue glided over my bare skin, he pressed me further open.

A year ago, I’d stood in the upstairs hallway and wondered what it would feel like to have a man’s mouth on me. Well, now I knew. It was a strange, wonderful sensation. I ordered myself not to like it, but no amount of convincing would make my body believe. The tongue on my center probed and fluttered, and heat washed along my legs. It traveled through me, tightened my nipples, and set my face on fire.

Royce Hale was going down on me while all the gods watched.

Was this really happening? My head snapped up and I opened my eyes, staring in disbelief. There he was in his black tuxedo jacket and white shirt sleeves peeking out at his wrists, adorned with silver cufflinks. His blue eyes trapped mine as his lips parted. The tip of his tongue stroked slowly over my sensitive clit in one long . . .

Indecent . . .

Lick.

A moan swelled out of me.

Thankfully, Macalister’s gaze wasn’t on us. It was focused on the top half of the hourglass, and it allowed my attention to swing back to the man pleasuring me with his mouth.

And there was pleasure, no doubt about it. Royce’s tongue whipped at me and made me squirm. I wanted to split down the middle. Give the sensible part of myself an escape, and the wrong, depraved part a safe place to stay and enjoy. Not just what he was doing, but the way the men watched.

He fucked me with his mouth while the board held on to me, and I heaved air into my body, fighting the swell of satisfaction that was brewing in my center. The hands gripping me were a lie for my benefit. It made me feel like I had no choice.

Yet I made the decision repeatedly to stay with each flick of Royce’s tongue.

“Time,” Macalister announced.

Royce sat back in his chair and used a hand to wipe his mouth. The action was almost as sexual as what he’d just done and caused a shiver to glance through my shoulders. His expression was corrupt, as was the thought his devilish eyes hinted at.

I’ll be back.

When he stood, the hands on me moved, along with the grip on my legs. As if I were lying on top of a giant clock, the men rotated clockwise, each moving into the next man’s spot. It meant Royce was now holding my right leg . . .

And Mr. Lynch was seated in the chair.

Panic locked me in place far more than the hands on me, but then—the hands weren’t confining me. They moved, gently stroking against my skin. I reeled around, gazing from one man to another, stunned at the expressions I found. It wasn’t lust, but reverence. Adoration. Like these men truly believed I was giving them a gift, and they were grateful.

Macalister flipped the hourglass, and the bottom bulb rapidly filled with a pile of red.

Mr. Lynch set his hands on my thighs and leaned in. His hot breath rolled over my damp skin just before his mouth replaced it. I jerked at the sudden contact, and all thought emptied from my brain.

I stared at Royce, and he gazed back with his unflinching eyes, the ones that saw all the way through me. I didn’t want him to watch as another man went down on me, and he didn’t seem to want that either. So, we held each other’s gazes and pretended it was just us.

But after the blinding shock faded enough that I could think again, it was much easier to convince my body I didn’t like what Mr. Lynch was doing. The man’s lips sealed around me and sucked so hard his cheeks hollowed out. I clenched my teeth and tried to shift away from the uncomfortable suction.

“Stop.”

It wasn’t clear who Macalister’s order was for, but he’d twisted the hourglass onto its side, cutting off the flow of sand and stopping the timer. Mr. Lynch paused.

“Do you not like what he’s doing?” Macalister asked me.

“Uh . . .” I blinked. Once again, inappropriate laughter threatened. Was I supposed to like any of this? An evil voice whispered in my head that I already did.

“Who is in control?” he demanded.

I didn’t believe the answer until I gave it. “I am.”

“You’re an equal. Your opinion matters, but only if you express it.”

I licked my dry lips and struggled to catch my breath. If I was an equal, why were my wrists pinned to the tabletop? I wanted to ask the question but thought better of it. If the men let go of me, I’d have no excuse about why I stayed and let this happen, except that I wanted Royce.

Also, I didn’t feel restrained. The board members’ hands rested on me, but it was more about connection versus dominance. This tradition was supposed to bind us all together. I wondered though . . . was this initiation for Royce, or for me? Both of us?

Macalister was waiting for me to prove I would speak up.

“It’s just, um,” I stammered, “a little rough.”

“Oh.” Mr. Lynch straightened, and embarrassment darted in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

When he nodded, the hourglass was righted, and Mr. Lynch’s mouth returned to me. I bit my bottom lip as his tongue spun circles. It caressed and massaged, and all the heat that had dissipated when he’d sat down began anew.

“Time,” Macalister said.

I exhaled a long breath. I’d only endured two of the nine minutes and I was already fracturing. How was I going to last until the end?

Mr. Scoffield didn’t take a seat. He stood at the edge of the table, and when his time started, he placed his hands on my hips and dragged them upward. His thumbs splayed out while he caressed me. His touch was sensual . . . until his palms inched to my breasts and his gold wedding band caught the light.

I forced myself not to think about it. I had enough shit to deal with right now. I wasn’t going to feel guilty about his decision to cheat on his wife. Those were his actions, which he could stop at any time. Plus, how likely was it any of these men were faithful to their wives? Money and power could corrupt anyone.

I was fucking proof of that, wasn’t I?

My eyes drifted closed as he trailed fingertips over the curves of my breasts. I pictured Royce touching me this way. It was his fingers circling my nipple. It was his greedy mouth sucking at me and creating a knot of need deep between my legs.

“Time.”

It became a chant that I both dreaded and looked forward to. Each utterance of the word brought a new man before me, but one step closer to being done and Royce’s return.

As Macalister had said, they used their hands and mouths. I’d just been too naïve to understand at the time. Tongues teased. Fingers touched and stroked and squeezed. Their kisses never reached my mouth, but their lips and caresses always had the goal of pleasing me.

I knew their names and faces. Alice had given me backstories and details on each member, but sex hazed the room now. It descended on the table like a fog, making it impossible to distinguish one male from another. I hid behind closed eyelids most of the time anyway.

Close your eyes and it will be just us.

It became dangerous as the process wore on. My body could only be primed and left hanging so many times before it threatened revolt. The pleasure had left me trembling and breathless more than once, but I clamped down. Soon after this had started, I’d come to a decision. Seven other men could fuck me with their mouths and their hands, but Royce would be the only man who’d bring me to orgasm. So much of me was being shared, I’d do my best to keep that intimate experience between us.

He hadn’t asked me to wait for him specifically on this, but I would.

Mr. Shaunessy was the last board member to go before the cycle of men was over. He sat in the chair and brushed the pad of his thumb over my swollen clit before sliding it all the way inside me. I arched up at the intrusion, and when the other men gently nudged me back onto the table, Mr. Shaunessy set his lips where his thumb had just been.

His tongue flickered while his thumb thrust. Slow at first, then speeding along and the two working together felt . . .

Good.

Really, really good.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. I’d tried to hold it back, but I was breaking down.

There were appreciative, encouraging chuckles from the board. “I think she likes that,” one of them said.

Shit, I did.

Instead of imagining Royce, now I pictured Mr. Shaunessy’s son, Richard. I used the humiliating memory to combat what was happening and control myself. The mental cold shower seemed to work, because—

“Time.” There was relief in Royce’s voice. Instead of watching me, he’d been fixated on the hourglass, beating his father to the announcement. Perhaps he’d silently pleaded for the sand to fall faster.

I sighed with contentment as Royce settled into the chair and surveyed the scene. He marveled at me, the sweaty, panting, and naked girl on the table in front of him. I was all for him now. Even without looking behind him, he sensed the turn of the hourglass. His gaze caressed across my body until it focused where he was most interested, and one of his long fingers pushed inside.

He pumped it leisurely, once . . . twice. The chair creaked as he shifted forward, and his mouth sought the bundle of nerves at the top of my slit that throbbed and ached. He found me hot and wet, and as his tongue cartwheeled across my sensitive skin, I groaned my approval through clenched teeth.

The candles in the candelabra in the alcove had become dripping, melting messes, and I could relate. Fire seared across my nerves from the insistent mouth lapping at me, and the finger that slid along, growing slicker with each pass. I was a melting, dripping mess too.

His tempo built, as did the urgency inside me.

I felt the sand cascade through the hourglass and pool at the bottom. Every single grain was one less fraction of a second that I’d have like this. As the pressure rose, so did the satisfaction Royce created.

Fuck, it felt good. His finger plunged deep and the tip of his tongue teased endlessly. My heart’s frantic rhythm matched his pace. I squirmed against the table, wanting to move, needing him just a fraction of an inch higher.

I moaned loudly.

The sound was drenched with desire, and some of the men shifted. A few were aroused, their tuxedo pants bulging. It was fucked up and yet flattering. I, a nobody, was suddenly powerful enough to have this effect on them. Everyone was looking at me, not just Royce. I’d never liked it before, but this wasn’t me. Right now, I was the rebranded Marist Northcott, soon to be the Hale edition.

I shuddered as his tongue massaged my clit, working to coax the orgasm from me, and the pleasure in my center ramped up. Tingling crept over my legs, signaling my climax. It bared down on me, faster and faster—

“Time,” Macalister said.

The hand moving inside me froze.

“No,” I gasped. “I’m so close.” The words stumbled from my lips. “Please, Royce.”

That was all he needed to hear. A second finger pushed in to join the first, and it was a lot, but my body was ready for it. His urgent thrusts made me shake. I was vibrating against the table, writhing against his mouth, struggling in the hands holding onto me.

But he took it a step further. The hand he wasn’t using to fuck me crawled the length of my body. The wool of his coat sleeve grazed over my stomach as his fingers closed, grabbing a handful of my breast. He thumbed my nipple, brushing back and forth.

“That’s it, Marist. Yes.” He paused his tongue just long enough to issue the order. “Give it to me.”

The prince had wanted me all to himself, and I gave it willingly.

Bliss exploded in my core, firing outward and racing across my body. My cry pealed in the candlelight, announcing what was happening, and the contractions that wracked me from head to toe showed them.

There was no mistaking the pleasure gripping me more intensely than Royce’s hold on my breast. The board members murmured encouragement and praise, but I couldn’t discern it over the buzzing in my ears.

The orgasm lasted longer than any I’d ever had. It seemed to go on forever.

As the satisfaction crested and began to fade, I collapsed back onto the table, my shoulders slapping against the wood. I drew huge swallows in while Royce rose deliberately from his throne and cast his gaze down on me.

My stomach clenched as he slipped the fingers he’d used to fuck me with into his mouth, closed his lips, and sucked my taste from them. He watched me the whole time he did it, his eyes flaring with unsated desire.

Jesus.

It looked like he wasn’t quite done enjoying me and his carnal eyes made promises. Next time, he’d have me exactly the way he wanted, and without a time limit. He’d warned me in the back seat of my Porsche that once he got inside me, he might never leave, and I knew we were about to find out if it was true.