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TWENTY-FIVE

Kinsley

I swear my heart stops the second I hear footsteps in the bedroom. They’re close, right next to the bed.

Holy shit. He’s in here. He’s probably looking at me right now, checking out his investment. The need to rip off this blindfold, to see the man who will be touching me is strong, and I fist the comforter beneath me to force my hands to stay at my sides.

There’s a rustling of clothes. More footsteps. A low murmur I can’t quite make out.

My body is shaking. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid it’s going to bust out of my chest.

I’m straining, trying to hear every last detail, anything to let me know who this man is. I’m concentrating so hard when a light hand touches my calf, I yelp and nearly jump off the bed.

Oh. My. God.

I’m struggling to breathe, to keep myself under control. Lay still. Keep calm. I can do this.

That hand trails up and down my lower leg, slowly, lightly, never once traveling above my knee. Goosebumps break out over my entire body, my traitorous nipples hardening into points, and a shiver runs down my spine. And from what? A simple leg touch?

Brian got to second base, and not once did I feel an ounce of this. Maybe it’s the thrill of anonymity. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe that’s why I never felt anything like this with him.

The bed dips on one side of me and then the other. Is he…is he climbing on top of me? I squirm, waiting for his weight to drop down on me, but it never comes. Instead, the hand trails higher, this time circling my knee cap before running the length of my thigh. Those fingers keep traveling upward, moving along the scalloped lace.

His light touches are driving me crazy. I don’t know why he doesn’t just spread my legs and take what he’s here for, what we’re both here for.

My breath catches in my throat as his other hand goes to my other side. His grip is firmer, massaging my hip before moving down.

The bed shifts again, and he settles on each side of my legs. I can only guess he’s straddling me, but I still don’t feel anything else. Still, I’m on fire. He’s barely touching me, yet a blaze of heat sizzles through my veins. My skin tingles. My entire body is hyperaware, on edge, focused on every place his skin touches mine.

He hasn’t said anything, and I’m not sure if I should break the ice or stay silent. What the hell is the protocol for this situation? He didn’t gag me, so I can only assume I’m allowed to talk.

Hopefully.

“Hi.” My voice comes out airily, light, and barely recognizable. “I’m?—”

He silences me with a finger over my lips and presses a light kiss to my neck. His lips are soft. Warm. He feels so good. Why does he feel so good?

His mouth trails across my collarbone. Up my thigh.

Wait.

He can’t be in both places at the same time. Right?

Maybe I’m imagining things. Maybe I’m so constricted with this damn blindfold, it’s messing with my perception.

Only there’s a third hand splayed across my stomach. A fourth stroking my hand. And there’s definitely a set of lips on my chest and another on my leg.

Oh my God. Oh my God .

I can’t pretend this is normal. I signed up to sell my virginity to one person, not a freaking gangbang. Who the hell knows how many other guys are in here waiting their turn? This is not okay. I did not sign up for this, not at all.

My hands fly out, as I push them away, sit, and fling off the damn blindfold.

I blink. And blink again.

Everything comes into focus at once, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Or rather who.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”