“I’m not changing my mind,” she interrupted him and rose to her elbows, gauging her good fortune. If riches were assessed by the men in that room, Sable would never want for anything more.
Given the expressions on their faces, a few of them felt the same way.
The men now had a few drinks in them but they’d all approached her when they’d been stone-cold sober. Plus, she’d known their reputations when she’d had them followed. She’d known what she held in store for them when she’d dressed for her celebratory night out on the town.
A celebration was premature and a finalized divorce was a shot in the dark, but a woman could dream. She could fantasize. Sure, her husband had powerful friends with strong enough fingers to push a pen in the wrong direction, the kind of direction that postponed court dates and signed off on rescheduled hearings, but he was no match for this group.
Mac McCall, Harley’s older brother, turned up a crystal tumbler and took a sip of whiskey. His toffee-colored eyes flickered with stout lust, the kind of desire that had an extra kick to it when a man touched the woman responsible for making his dick hard.
She shivered at the thought and took a quick sweep of his rigid body, loving what she saw, savoring it as much as he apparently enjoyed his final drink of liquor.
He set his glass on the nightstand and smirked at Trevor Lamb. “You plannin’ on watchin’?”
A hardcore cowboy right down to his scuffed boots, Trevor sported a pack of abs along with arms and legs as thick and hard as tree trunks. Dressed in a checkered shirt, Trevor wore the garment open down the middle and the darker squares in the material brought out the royal blue in his eyes. He sort of reminded her of a dark knight, a knight with a brooding lust that had been more and more evident as the evening had worn on.
Trevor undressed and her mind played back recent memories from the club. Trevor was some kind of wonderful in terms of gentlemanly qualities, but he had a sensual side, one he apparently didn’t mind to flaunt in front of the right woman.
When they’d danced, he’d held her close, clearly proud of that hard-on bulging in his denim. He’d whispered naughty suggestions in her ear and then played them off like she had misunderstood him.
She rarely misunderstood four-letter words like fuck and screw, anal and cunt. Once the crew had more or less established where this night was heading, they’d pulled out all the stops.
Doc Andrews peeled off his lime green and white pinstriped shirt. The other men had left their belongings scattered about and while they all still wore their underwear—all five favored briefs—they seemed to wait on her to make the first move.
If they were waiting, she wouldn’t hold them up for very long.
Studying the heel of Harley’s hand, she noticed the scar running from his mid-forearm to the center of his palm. “What happened here?”
He winced then as if the question reminded him of the pain.
Mac laughed. “Harley had a temper as a boy. He put his arm through a three-pane glass window one Sunday morning when our other brother Draegan locked him out of the house so he could steal a kiss from his girl.”
“And did he get the kiss?” Sable smoothed her lips over the line in his skin, following the jagged pattern from his limb to his hand.
Harley went still beside her and the room fell quiet. She flicked her tongue in the center of his palm and peered up at him. “Well?”
“Yeah,” Harley rasped, his voice thick with longing. “He got the kiss that mattered.”
“I don’t think he’s talking about Draegan now.” Mac placed his knee on the bed and leaned forward. He grabbed her ankle and dragged her body to the edge of the bed.
“I wasn’t.”
She was aware of Harley behind her, lifting his hips, shifting his weight from one side to the other as he shucked his underwear.
Her heartbeat quickened as she watched Mac. His hair was short but thick and the natural auburn waves gave his style extra volume. She longed to bury her fingers in a mess of those locks as he fed her passion and fueled his lust.
As her fantasies ran wild, Mac flipped her over and the sudden jar gave her a quick glimpse of reality.
These men weren’t there to love her into the night. They weren’t there for champagne, roses, and romance.
They were there for the physical aspect—the sex, the reckless fucking. And while she had an agenda, they certainly possessed their own.
She’d summoned an outright orgy and now she wasn’t sure she could handle what she’d first initiated. She swallowed back the edge of nervousness, hoping her lips didn’t quiver and her eyes didn’t water.
Steady, she mused, taking a deep, calming breath.
She could back out at any given time. They’d each reassured her with that much if nothing else.
This was her show, her game. She could set the rules or break them.