Royce’s warm hands skated along the insides of my thighs, creeping upward. Goosebumps lifted on my skin in the aftermath of his touch. He leaned forward, closing in as his hands glided all the way to the most feminine part of me.

“And the chairman also goes last,” he whispered.

When his thumbs peeled me open, I gasped at his touch. I stopped breathing altogether when his head dipped down, and he delivered his shockingly intimate kiss.

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.

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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