I’d never make it to Simone’s party.

Somehow, I’d survived the week without burning down the café or accidentally stepping in front of a bus. I’d even scraped together enough of my paycheck to make rent.

I shouldn’t have felt so damn proud for acting like a functional adult. I’d checked my mail, bank account, and the deferment of my student loans without collapsing from a panic attack. Didn’t even need the little prescription sedative for sleeping.

It seemed like life was easier to confront when I had something fun to distract me.

Or maybe Anthony gave me more of a reason to hide from reality.

Either way, the relentless demand pulsing between my legs had eroded all self-control. I’d panted, begged, and wished for Saturday to arrive.

And then it did.

And I had no idea what that meant for me.

Anthony said to be ready by eight. I’d showered, dressed, and tucked my hair into a soft braid by six. The nervous energy strangled me, and I’d almost grabbed my violin for a few minutes of hard-wrought peace.

Almost.

I’d plucked the Mozart movement from one of the storage boxes just as he knocked. I flinched, shoving the sheet music back into the box—where it belonged. The lid slammed on those particularly terrible memories, and I rushed to let Anthony inside.

I was 0 for 2 on dress codes for these events.

Anthony didn’t hide his smile. I looked him over. Black dress shoes, black slacks, black dress shirt. Yep. I’d gotten it completely wrong. My cotton dress was the color of a ripe peach, perfect for a fun and funky tiki party as it doubled as a bathing suit cover.

Was I an idiot? Simone’s exclusive party wouldn’t be a coed luau.

“I’ll change,” I promised.

Anthony motioned me closer with a curling finger. “No. Let me get a look at you.”

I stumbled forward, and his scent filled my lungs, sharp and consuming. Each breath pushed more of him through my veins.

That was the sort of drug that’d never fade.

I sighed as his fingers tickled over my arms. He pushed the sleeve of my dress aside and tugged on the strap of the bathing suit underneath.

“I wore my suit under the dress, sir.” As if it wasn’t obvious. “I…thought it’d be okay.”

“But, pet…you might go home wet.”

I braved his stare. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Behave yourself, little girl, and I might ease that ache.”

My pulse raced. I breathed, hard, but I managed to avert my gaze before I became too brazen. “Well…just let me change. I’m so used to college parties…”

Anthony prevented me from moving. “I said no.”

“No?”

“I like you in that.” His gaze revealed he liked what was under it too. “You look very…”

“Impractical?”

“Innocent.”

Oh.

Anthony’s hunger shouldn’t have surprised me. I knew what he wanted from me. I just never thought that naivety would intrigue someone. For the past few days, I’d daydreamed about him—a man so handsome and confident and strong that I was certain I’d tremble into a little Morgan puddle the instant he touched me again.

But I hadn’t thought about what he saw in me.

I imagined how I appeared, so uncertain but eager to please. My dress wasn’t too revealing—not too short, not too long.

Peach. Of all the freaking colors, it couldn’t even be a sexy pink. This was the kind of dress a girl wore before she got in trouble, before the wolf pounced and devoured her whole.

When we’d first met, I’d stood out in Duchess. Anthony had rushed to my side to ensure none of the random non-VIP guests harmed me. He didn’t want an incident.

Those men were drawn to me. I hadn’t understood why until I stood before him.

“The dress stays,” Anthony decided.

So be it. I gave him a tentative smile. His eyes feasted over my body. I squirmed, but I liked the attention. No one had ever looked at me that way before. It was as exhilarating as it was dangerous, and I wished I could unbutton the top a bit.

What would it be like to tease a man like this?

It was worth a try.

Anthony thought so too. “Are you aroused, pet?”

Busted. I busied myself with my shoes and considered my options.

Honest answer, ridiculous lie, or…

Flippant response. “You said you’d know when I was aroused.”

He caught me quick around the midsection and hauled me against his body. His hand clutched my thigh. God, he could practically grab my entire leg. His fingers spread so close to the part of me that hummed and begged and wetted at his touch.

I couldn’t fight him. He was bigger than me, almost twice my weight and chiseled with solid muscle. Anthony could hold me against a wall or pin me on a bed within seconds.

Under him. At his mercy.

Part of me wanted him to try it.

“I thought you knew better than to misbehave…” His breath tickled my ear. He squeezed me harder, just waiting to hear my breath catch. “Naughty little girl.”

It wasn’t anger hardening his voice…and other places.

It was excitement.

And I loved it.

“I don’t have time to teach you a proper lesson…” Anthony’s rasped words broke as he spun me, seized me, and pinned me for a kiss. “I’ll have to punish you at the party.”

My back struck the door, slamming hard into the wood. I groaned, only to welcome more of his touch. My lips parted. God, was I that girl now? Grinding against a man she hardly knew, letting her tongue slid against his?

Yes.

Yes, I was.

And nothing had ever felt so exhilarating.

“We mustn’t be late, Morgan…” He pulled from the kiss to whisper a sultry threat. “Simone despises tardiness. I’d hate for her to be cross with my little pet.”

“Why?”

His chuckle growled from his throat. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

He took my wrist—not my hand. Guiding me from the apartment and away into the night. It wasn’t a courteous gesture of a gentleman. His grip held me tight.

A man leading an errant woman to the car. And even that buzzed my core with an unknowing warmth.

I slid into the Mercedes, grateful for the air conditioning to soothe this smothering heat. I’d only been in his shadow for five minutes, and already I was complimented, demeaned, wanted, and punished. Now I looked forward to the party. At least there I could dive into a pool to wash away the slickness betraying my thighs.

And Anthony knew.

He rested his hand on my knee during the ride, doodling corkscrews and dots over my skin. We stopped at a light, and his fingers crept upwards. Slowly, pulling the hem of my dress up, up, up, until a smooth thigh exposed to him.

The faintest hint of my bathing suit peeked between my crossed legs. His fingers followed, palming my entire hip as though it were nothing, as though he weren’t just millimeters from that secret craving. He drummed his fingers. Pressed hard. Tickled.

Could he feel my heat? My mind begged for the light to turn green. My body ached for his touch.

The light changed. My luck was either spectacular or the worst ever.

He released his hold on me, and I ran ragged, like someone switched my coffee to decaf then cracked me upside the head with the empty pot.

This teasing would ruin me.

And then I’d beg for more.

We arrived at a high-rise hotel, and Anthony tossed his keys to the valet. I stayed quiet, wondering why Simone had planned her fancy poolside party inside a hotel. The clerk directed to a secondary elevator behind the desk. Gold plated. Important looking, with marble floors, a mirrored ceiling, and enough glamour I was too intimidated to even push the button.

Rooftop.

Anthony would have permitted me to speak, but I wasn’t brave enough to try. I wrapped myself over his arm as the doors opened.

This was a party beyond my imagination.

Beyond anything Once Upon A Time. Far from my world.

But Anthony fit inside the glamour.

Simone’s private festivities centered around a massive, rectangular pool. The under-lit water glowed electric blue, illuminating the rooftop with neon light. A dozen formal cabanas were arranged near the water, housing fancy chaises and tables for the men and women in attendance. Thousands of white LEDs strung along the cabanas, framing the party in twinkling fairy lights. Tuxedo’ed waiters delivered oysters, caviar, and shrimp to the guests.

I bit my lip. Simone served enough seafood to warrant a submissive girl acting as a serving platter, but her guests appeared well-behaved and morally sound.

This wasn’t a Duchess party.

Then I heard it.

An open G sung out over the pool. A violin tuning, crystal clear and clean. A second violin, cello, and viola joined the note.

My eyes fluttered closed. A still moment passed before the quartet began the movement of an all-too-familiar composition.

What was it with strings anymore? When I’d dragged my violin around in high school, my ass got slammed into lockers. Now violins turned trendy?

I snuck a peek towards the stage and wished I drowned in the pool.

All those months avoiding people from college, and four members of a familiar string orchestra played behind a chocolate fountain and rows of sliced fruit and candies.

My stomach bottomed out like it leapt off the roof, crashing through my every repressed memory instead of the cement below. I doubted they saw me.

But it didn’t matter. I recognized them. I knew how good they were.

And there was no reason I couldn’t be up there too.

Except I wasn’t.

And nothing would change that.

Music had once enthralled me. Now I twisted, desperate to ignore it. Anthony didn’t notice. He guided me to the bar and offered a drink. His gin concoction tasted like getting whipped in the face by a Christmas tree, so I accepted a flute of champagne.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d learn to like it.

“Do you know anyone?” I asked. Anthony didn’t answer, and I remembered my manners. “Sir?”

“A few people.” He nodded towards a cabana. “Simone is talking with Senator Robertson.”

Senator?

I twisted around to look. The best party I’d ever attended managed to get one of the English professors to stop by for a beer. Simone’s party drew politicians?

I understood why. We had only been here for a minute, and already thousands of dollars’ worth of food and alcohol had passed under my nose.

This wasn’t my normal scene. Anthony and Simone and everyone at this party was so out of my league it was like I’d brought my whiffle bat to an MLB game. They were rich enough to throw these types of parties, powerful enough to court senators as guests, and untouchable enough to operate to an exclusive club that catered to their deviant desires.

I downed my champagne in two gulps. Anthony offered me another. Not like he needed to get me drunk. I was already edgy. Tipsy on him without the aid of alcohol.

“Good evening, Master Anthony.” A brunette in a floor length evening gown laid a hand over Anthony’s shoulder. I recognized her friend—Genevieve, one of the sushi girls.

“Good evening, Mariah,” he said. “Genn.”

Mariah and Genn lingered only long enough to exchange a whisper that made Mariah gasp and glance over me once more.

I didn’t blame them. I wanted to giggle around Anthony too. Laugh and sigh and touch myself and do all manner of things I never once thought about before.

I squeezed Anthony’s arm. “I remember them. Genn is Reed Bennett’s…uh, his pet, right?”

The playfulness eroded from Anthony. His voice darkened. “Duchess is a very…political place. Reed Bennett’s admittance was not my choice. He is Simone’s mistake. You will not approach him.”

Strange. He seemed so charming at dinner. “Why not?”

“Because you can’t trust a Bennett. They’re villains, every last one. Reed’s no exception.”

“How do you know—”

“My firm represents his sister-in-law, Sarah Atwood. I act as legal counsel for her family’s company. Last year, Bennett Enterprises attempted a takeover of Atwood Industries that redefined the term hostile.” Anthony still seethed, the memory darkening his voice. “You will not associate with Reed Bennett, not now, not ever. He’s dangerous. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir.” I quickly changed the subject. “What about Mariah?”

The tension eased from his body. “Mariah belongs to Nate, a good man.”

Belongs. I shivered. How could a girl find herself belonging to Anthony?

“Do you have a lot of friends from Duchess, sir?”

“Most of my associates originate from Duchess. We’re...close.” It was his own private joke, but I knew why the thought made him smile. “We share similar tastes.”

The understatement of the century. The others might have been similar, but Anthony was one-of-a-kind. I hadn’t met a man like him before. Everything about him radiated power. His size. Strength. That confidence. All of it attracted me. Even his age threatened to undo me. He was eleven years older than me. Established. I had no idea a business card was the female equivalent of Viagra.

He was everything I wasn’t, and I needed him more than anything.

Anthony unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Are you hot?”

“Oh, God yes.”

He smirked. Of course he had been looking at the pool. I groaned, but he set my empty champagne flute on the bar and led me through the party.

A sea of formally dressed guests and friends.

The pool offered me a chance to slip out of the stupid cotton dress, but was a bathing suit any better? I snuck a peek at the women already in the pool.

G-strings.

Of course.

Anthony didn’t mind my outfit, but he had practically picked it out. In fact, he claimed one of the deck chairs beside the pool just to sit and admire me.

I moved to sit next to him.

He held up a finger. Wait. Wagged it. No.

Then he pointed for me to move in front of him.

I stood, shifting my weight from foot to foot as he simply watched me.

What did he want from me? My stomach twisted. He sipped his gin and tonic, casually, brazenly admiring me without a single word.

The click of heels echoed behind me. Two women whispered in amused tones as they passed us. Did they see the way Anthony studied every curve of my body? How his imagination tore through the dress and swim suit beneath?

The silence would kill me. I crossed my arms.

“No,” he said.

Sharp. Like a slap across the cheek.

I dropped my arms to my sides.

What was he doing? People could see!

See what though?

Anyone glancing over the poolside would assume I was talking to my date while he relaxed in a chair.

They wouldn’t know how degrading he’d made this moment.

We weren’t having a conversation. In fact, if I spoke, it’d be worse than crossing my arms and hiding my body from his view.

Anthony would scold me. I didn’t want that. The no was enough to tear my insides apart.

This damned dress. He did it on purpose. The outfit singled me out. An innocent girl led astray into the world she didn’t understand.

And yet, standing in silence was the single most submissive thing that he’d ordered of me.

Would kneeling before him be any more humiliating?

Any more challenging?

We’d only been at the party for ten minutes. It couldn’t get any worse.

“Take off your dress,” he said.

Yes. Yes, it could.

I nearly stumbled backwards into the pool. Anthony’s gaze penetrated me, awaiting my response. He twisted the knife, and my body responded. Tremors of terror and lust battled in my tummy, but I didn’t have time to declare the victor.

“Don’t you want to swim, pet?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, but—”

“Then take off your dress.”

No way. There was no way.

I needed a bathroom. A private cabana. A smoke screen.

I couldn’t just…take off my dress in front of the entire party—in front of him.

Everyone would know. Everyone would see Anthony watching me.

And they’d realize he enjoyed making me strip for them.

Was sex always this complicated? I had no idea passion could be such a chess game. Each piece, each move specifically calculated to keep me panicked. Vulnerable. At his mercy.

“Morgan.” His voice sent my heart racing. “Don’t make me repeat myself. It’s disrespectful.”

Asking twice for me to strip was disrespectful? Somewhere during the party his priorities twisted up. What about what I wanted?

The heat surged in my center and turned my insides molten. What I wanted didn’t matter. I was supposed to submit to his desires.

Would he even give an order a third time?

This was crazy. It was just a dress. This was a pool party. I wore the bathing suit under my dress, specifically for this convenience.

But Anthony made this different.

Anthony made me feel different.

Wasn’t that what I wanted?

I unfastened the dress’s top button just as a woman wearing little more than a thong sauntered past. She was curvy and blonde, mostly legs, and all breasts. She strutted through the party in four inch stilettos with all the practice of a run-way model. All eyes followed her march across the pool.

Everyone stared.

Except for Anthony.

His gaze fixed on me.

I kinda liked it.

My fingers trembled as they undid the second button. Nothing too degrading about that. I could have left it undone and come to the party, no questions asked.

The third button was lower. Undoing that would expose actual skin. My suit squished my breasts into the top, but, even then, I offered him no more than a palmful. Maybe everyone would focus their attention on G-String Barbie instead of Skipper.

Still, my breasts trembled every time I exhaled. And that he’d see.

The fourth button came last. It rested near my lower belly. My heart pounded, and I tripped over the button twice before undoing it.

Moment of truth.

All that held my modesty together was a single belt.

Life Goal Number Six: Offering this much to him.

I tugged. The knot undid with agonizing quickness. My tummy fluttered. With a single movement, I pulled the dress from my shoulders, and I revealed myself to the world.

…In a completely modest, pink polka-dotted one piece.

Nothing happened.

I peeked a glance to either side.

Conversations didn’t cease. No one dropped their glass or fainted.

No one cared?

That didn’t seem possible. I sweated, trembled, and wavered so close to either fainting or orgasm Anthony would need only a single word to teeter me over either edge.

Well hell. There was a surge of confidence. I hadn’t felt that in months.

I smiled, meeting his stare.

Big mistake.

The man hungering for me was not the same Anthony. Someone darker, someone decidedly more dangerous—more demanding—sat in his place.

He assessed my body with a tilt of his head and dire smirk.

This was a man appraising a woman to fuck.

Savoring her curves. Admiring her body. Desiring the heat within. And I’d give it to him. Everything. I’d offer him my virginity. My control. My mind.

I understood him them—the raw pride fostered in aggression and dominance.

He’d ordered. I’d obeyed. And every tremble, every breath I took through parted lips, every twist of my thighs, attempted to satisfy the devilish need pulsing within me.

This was more than I’d ever imagined it could be.

And Anthony hadn’t even touched me.

His drink clinked onto the glass table. He stood, a slow prowl. I nearly stepped back, just to give myself a gasp of space between my trembles and his authority.

But just his presence burned. Moving would be a very bad idea.

His jacket fell away first. He tossed it over the chair. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs. Slow. Deliberate. Never taking his eyes from me. His thick forearms stretched the black dress shirt. Since when did I think forearms were sexy?

Then his buttons. The regal one at this throat—unfastened. The casual second button at his collar—gone. His hardened shoulders excited me almost as much as the third and fourth buttons. They revealed his chest.

And his muscles.

So many muscles.

Pure sensuality defined his pecs and abs with shadows and ridges of strength. He dropped the shirt behind him. Turned to face me.

And I was lost.

My eye level barely reached his shoulders—very broad, ridiculously imposing shoulders. I had to look up to meet his gaze. I was small—a fun-sized bite of chocolate—but standing in his shadow, exposed, signified far more than any pet or sir ever would.

Anthony undid the button on his trousers.

My world came undone with it.

Stripping myself was bad enough. I couldn’t watch him.

For the past three nights, I’d dreamt about what he hid in those pants. Now that the zipper was going down—

Oh, God.

What would the party think if they saw me staring?

What would they think if they saw us taking off our clothes?

This wasn’t innocent. It was naughty. Dirty.

And I wetted so much it shamed me.

Anthony dropped the pants, kicking them away. My heart beat through sheer adrenaline and uncertainty, but his arms wrapped me close.

He tugged on my braid, forcing my head back. His curling smile dared me to squeal. “Have you ever given a strip tease?”

If stripping meant wiggling out of pants and immediately jumping under the covers before undoing my bra inside my shirt, then sure.

“No, sir.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. “Have...you made women take their clothes off for you?”

“The girls at Duchess will do whatever I say.”

“Oh.”

“But you aren’t like the girls from Duchess.” Anthony seized a brief kiss, drawing a tiny mew from me. “You didn’t strip because you’re a submissive and one of the masters ordered it.”

“…I didn’t?”

“You did it for me.” His eyes darkened. “And I like that.”

A hardness tapped against my leg.

That couldn’t be his…

I looked down, panicked, and resolved to jump into the cool water before we had to charge admission for the party to see the monstrosity.

He ignored my modest attempt to place some space between my body and him. He meant for me to feel it. My stomach twisted, and my core realized it before my mind.

I had done that to him.

It wasn’t the one-piece suit I wore, or the strip tease that trembled my dress off.

I had gotten him hard.

Submission left no room for innocence, but Anthony’s reaction was worth my tarnished halo.

Screw the onlookers. I debated on throwing my arms around him and diving for a kiss.

Anthony chuckled, edging me backwards. Two steps, and my foot swung over nothing. I peeked behind me. The pool?

Oh, he wouldn’t dare throw me into the water.

He read my surprise. “I’m considering it.”

“So, you have a playful side?”

“I’m very playful, pet. And I can prove it.”

“You up for a game of Marco Polo?”

“I’m thinking of something much, much better.”

My confidence soared. Anthony didn’t cannonball me into the pool. He took the stairs, and the water lapped only to his waist. A curled finger motioned me to follow.

Yikes. Usually I eased myself in. Splashed my legs like an old lady with a pink bathing cap. He didn’t have the patience for that. Anthony tugged at me from the pool.

Nothing, nothing, compared to me slipping into his arms while the silky, warm water lapped at my skin.

He kept me wrapped in his tight embrace. I wasn’t going anywhere, and I had no desire to leave. Though the pool lit the party, the water seemed safe from onlookers. I tucked against his solid body, arms around his neck. The bathing suit provided only a thin barrier between us, but his hands caressed my sides and back as if the material weren’t there at all.

My sigh shuddered into a million pieces, and Anthony caught them all.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, pet?”

The heat of the water leeched into my blood. I bit my lip, casting a cautious glance to the group of laughing people floating on the other side of the pool. Anthony ignored them.

“I felt dirty, sir,” I said.

“Why?”

“Anyone could watch me.”

“Most of the women here are in their bathing suits. Far more revealing suits than yours.”

Damn his logic. “I’m not used to being the center of attention anymore.”

“Anymore?”

I hoped he didn’t see me grimace. “I try to keep a low profile.”

“Why? Aren’t you a musician?”

“I’m not sure you can call me that.”

“You have a violin melody tattooed on your ankle.”

“A lot of people have tattoos.”

He swept me closer. My lips parted for his kiss.

“Not like yours. A barista with a Bach tattoo. There’s more to you than coffee.” He lowered his head, gently nipping my neck. “I think you liked the attention at one time. I think you still do.”

I closed my eyes, but the kiss never came. After a moment, I peeked them open. Anthony watched me, amused. Great. I teetered between embarrassment and lust so often it was starting to give me whiplash.

“Answer me,” he said. “You like when people watch you.”

Were we still talking about music? The pool heated too hot, and I longed for a kiss he refused to give. Anthony stared at me as the string quartet finished warming up. I shrugged.

“Okay. You’re right.”

His voice hardened. “Okay?”

“I mean—yes, sir.”

“Thin ice, Morgan.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be ashamed. You’re a beautiful mystery.” His hands swept over my body. I arched against him. “And you’re a natural submissive. It’s rare for someone so inexperienced.”

That couldn’t be true. All the women—the submissives—he must have dated. I wasn’t like that.

His whisper bit at my desire. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

My belly clenched. The words refused to tumble from my lips. I didn’t admit it, but I couldn’t deny him either.

He laughed, low. A bite rang in his chuckle.

“I’d put you over the stairs. Right there.” His eyes lingered on the set of concrete steps leading from the pool. “On your hands and knees. I’d push you down so everyone could see your beautiful ass…that little slit I know must be so wet. I’d fuck you…I’d mount you…right there, and the only way I’d let you raise your head up would be to scream to the party how hard you were coming on my cock.”

I swallowed. This was a man who would follow through on such a threat. A man who liked his women on their knees, exposed and wanting.

Where he could examine her.

Watch her shudder.

Restrain her.

“Or maybe I’d take you inside that tent.”

Every word rumbled in my belly. Both sincere and a very real warning. This wasn’t a game. His hand tightened over my waist with a possessive strength. I couldn’t resist as he dragged me deeper into the pool.

Deeper into this absolute madness.

“I’d lay you down on the bar.” He teased with the image. “First, I’d just keep you naked and spread, your legs wide. It’s such a hot night, pet…I bet the people here would love to see how quickly I could melt an ice cube within that lovely pussy.” He chuckled as I flinched. “No…it wouldn’t be comfortable. It’d be cold and terrible for those first few seconds while your little clit shivered over the ice. But then…once my lips seal around it? You’d heat right back up. Just in time for me to throw your ankles over your shoulders and pound you into an orgasm as all the guests reach over your head to order their drinks…”

Yes.

Yes, that sounded so wrong and good and terrible and frightening. The images consumed me. The implications dizzied me. And his words teetered me on an edge I so desperately needed to crest.

He just needed to decide. I’d do anything. Kneel where he commanded. Touch him where he wanted. To let myself get fucked as he ordered.

I’d be helpless when I came…so wrapped up in him nothing else in the world would matter.

“Or maybe...”

Anthony led me even deeper in the pool, but my toes only reached so far. He spun me around, grinding his hardness against my ass. Now I was over my head. Literally. Without him holding me, I couldn’t touch the bottom of the pool. He guided me to the wall and let me hang on. His arm circled around my midsection and he pulled me close.

“Or maybe I’ll do this...”

He shifted my hips.

Oh!

He pushed me over one of the pool’s jets!

The water burst over my slit, and every muscle in my body tightened and twisted and threatened to snap.

I lurched away, but Anthony held me firm.

“Shh, shh, shh.” The patronizing edge in his voice was as harsh as a hand around my throat. “If you shout too loudly, everyone will know my little pet is getting off in the pool, surrounded by all these strangers.”

Stars blinded my vision.

Nothing had ever felt as pleasurable or as necessary as the water’s harsh massage over my body.

Somewhere beyond the pool, the string quartet strummed their first song. The cello’s notes centered in my stomach, the deep chords reverberating like the strike of a whip against my skin. The water surged. I bit my lip.

And he said Simone was the sadist?

Party guests laughed. A rushing waiter hurried between the cabanas, passing within two feet of me. The music settled over the rooftop like a cozy blanket.

And I fought against a need so crushing I feared I’d slip beneath the water and never resurface.

I tried to fight it, but the pressure beat a constant rhythm against me.

I tried to ignore it, but my heart thrashed in my chest, pulsing in time to the waves of shudders wracking through me.

This wasn’t happening.

This wouldn’t stop.

And I think I liked it.

The sensation was too much. Way too hard and verging on a painful amount of pressure. I shifted my hips, attempting to escape the relentless, intoxicating assault. But Anthony held me steady, pushing me closer to the jet.

“Please…” I whispered. “I…I can’t…”

He was too strong. He forced my legs open to accept even more of the thrilling pulse against my sensitive slit.

“Don’t fight it, pet.” Anthony whispered an absolute seduction. “The harder you fight, the longer I have to keep you here. In the open. Where everyone can see you shaking. Groaning.” He chuckled, low. “Humping.”

And I was.

My hips swayed against the bursting water, demanding more than I could handle. I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. Only blinded me to the party, the one rational defense I had against surrendering to this insanity. A barrage of emotions, sensations, fears, and pleasures rushed through me.

Anthony’s hands gripped me tighter. Too hard.

Where did he think I was going to go?

“Enjoying my party, pet?”

The panic nearly crippled me.

I opened my eyes. Simone leaned over the edge of the pool, studying me like an evil queen deciding my life, death, or ultimate torture. I feared which way she’d strike.

Her smile would freeze the water and boil my blood. “Oh, Morgan, I’m so glad you decided to come.”

She knew.

Oh my God…she knew.

I nearly jerked away, but Anthony captured me. He shoved my body in place before the jet, coiling his arm around my waist as I fought to twist from the intensity.

Why didn’t he just hold my head under and force the water up my nose? If he held me here, if the water touched me more…

I’d faint, drown, or explode molten right under Simone.

While she watched.

Waited.

Enjoyed.

Anthony greeted her casually, as if he weren’t destroying my every thread of self-respect and control. “You’ve pulled a big crowd this year, love.”

“Maybe…”

Simone surveyed the rooftop. Her hair cascaded along her back in rich curls of fire. A goddess, though not gentle and certainly not benevolent. The gold loops and bangles decorating her wrists and neck only exaggerated her regal confidence. Her dress—hip length and black—framed her perfect body in sensuality. It wasn’t the type to hide a bathing suit underneath.

She didn’t seem to wear anything underneath.

“Everyone seems entertained…” Anthony hummed in my ear. “I am.”

Simone agreed, staring only at me. “Well…my parties are always exciting. What do you think, Morgan? Are you having fun?”

She had to be kidding. I sucked in a superheated breath.

If I ignored the pulsing, unquenchable, delicious pressure on my pussy, maybe I could answer without choking on my tongue.

“It’s—” I trembled as Anthony adjusted his hold on me, deliberately pulling me and out of the jet. “Lovely.”

“Excellent!” Simone’s voice laced with an unspoken taunt. “It always thrills me to see my guests having such a good time.”

Anthony shared her amusement. “Some more than others.”

Bastard.

Beautiful, sexy, one-step-too-far bastard.

The pleasure destroyed me. Every brush of the jet, every squeeze of his hands forced me harder, higher, hotter. I’d combust right there—completely humiliated by my body’s natural reactions. A consequence I couldn’t control.

It was horrible. It was slutty.

And it was making me pant.

I bit hard on my lip. One thing at a time. I could fight the pleasure if I wasn’t distracted. I could handle it if Simone went away.

I’d do anything if she just went away.

Simone sat down.

My life flashed before my eyes.

She leaned back, kicking off her heels to dip her feet in the water. Her eyes never left me as she deliberately, slowly crossed her legs.

I was right. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath the skintight dress.

And she didn’t care! She stalked her own formal party without wearing panties and still had confidence to spare.

What was sexier—her composure…or that brief, coy flash of her body?

“I liked the lobster bisque better last year.” Simone ignored me for the moment. A dozen curse words flooded my mind. Harpy. Demon. Goddess. “But the music! I never thought I’d love an orchestra so much.”

It was a quartet, but I didn’t dare correct her.

“Nate and Mariah are here,” Simone said. “Reed and Genn too.”

I sensed Anthony’s amusement. “We haven’t made our rounds yet.”

“Two functions in a week. They might start to recognize you again, darling.”

“Can’t have that.”

“Duchess isn’t the same without you.”

“Have you missed me?”

“Always.”

I wanted to die.

The panic subsided, and the desire flared.

I fidgeted, shifted, and jiggled as best I could to escape Anthony, but the movements only made the jet that much more powerful. Was it possible to both love and loathe this torture?

But I had it under control. I layered my breathing. Concentrated on anything that wasn’t Anthony’s unrelenting grip or Simone’s perfect legs. He’d had played a dirty trick, but I wouldn’t surrender.

I couldn’t.

Anthony didn’t like the challenge. Without a word, he wove his hand under the water and pulled the bottom of my swimsuit aside. I bit back the moan.

Nothing protected my little pussy from the water now.

I lurched, the sudden pleasure so intense I lost myself in a quick shudder and nearly forgot Simone and the party and the people.

Then he touched me.

Anthony’s finger stroked a single line along my slit.

My surprise uttered as a mere mew, but I swore it boomed like thunder.

Simone pouted. “Honestly…just what is so distracting to my new pet?”

“I’m not sure, love.” Anthony swiped across my clit once more. “Morgan is usually so well-behaved.”

“She isn’t being polite. The hostess of the party deserves her utmost respect.” She licked her temptress-red lip. “I should always command your respect, pet.”

This wasn’t happening.

I arched, desperate to find some position where I could hide from the constant pressure. My head swirled with lust. I needed to come as badly as I needed to get away from him, from her, from how right this all felt.

But Anthony didn’t budge. He’d warned me to come quickly, but I hadn’t realized he was serious. Anthony wouldn’t release me until I had an orgasm, surrounded by a party full of people, while Simone watched.

“She’s a naughty little thing.” Simone purred over the word. “Have you punished her yet?”

This wasn’t a punishment?

Anthony sounded proud. “I haven’t needed to.”

“How tragic.” She cupped my chin and forced me to hold her gaze. “Does it feel good, pet?”

Concerto fluttered to my lips.

These two were cruel. A match made in dom-Heaven, and they chose to smite me.

For the past year, I’d hid from attention, avoided the spotlight, and lingered in the shadows. Now I was front and center for the perversions of two dangerous people.

It should have terrified me.

It didn’t.

Maybe the terrible humiliation swirled inside me with as much forced as the jet of water turning me molten.

They played with me. Teased me in ways I didn’t know I could be teased.

And I’d come for them if they demanded it.

Not like I had a choice.

Simone loved every second of my agony. “Just look at you, Morgan. So innocent. That little pink bathing suit—you’re my own chocolate covered strawberry, entertaining my party by fucking the pool jet.” She laughed. “I never expected you’d be such a delicious little slut.”

The insult struck me like a hand to my cheek.

Or to my bottom.

I liked the thought of both.

“I’m…not…”

It might have sounded more convincing if I didn’t pant in the middle of my sentence. Tears threatened to prickle. I couldn’t take much more. And both of them knew it.

I closed my eyes. Simone’s sharp reprimand shamed me.

“Don’t you dare look away, little girl. Your eyes stay on me.” Simone conquered me too easily. “You love this. You’re so close it hurts.”

“I’m…not true…”

She sighed, irritated. “Why don’t you let her come, Anthony? She obviously needs it.”

“That’s up to her,” he said. “Once she stops resisting, she’ll feel much better.”

“You are too kind. If she’s fighting it, take the prize away.”

Simone kicked her feet in the water. The cool water splashed me. Even the droplets tickling over my neck would push me over the edge.

Simone laughed, and Anthony charmed. To anyone else, we must have looked like a group of friends talking.

The weather. The party. Politics.

Anything but how amused they were by my disgrace, coming like a little slut in the pool.

“I’ll never be as cruel as Simone, pet.” Anthony kissed my neck. I edged ever closer to the moment of no return.

“You’ve always been soft,” she said.

Not now he wasn’t. In fact, I’d never felt anything—or anyone—as hard in my life.

Anthony held me tighter. “I just understand my little girl. She doesn’t want anyone to know how hard she’s about to come…isn’t that right, pet?”

“...Yes…I mean…no, sir.”

Simone and Anthony shared a smile. Every last bit of control I had over the situation washed away into the pool.

Anthony loved my distress. “Morgan doesn’t want anyone to know that her pussy is right here, and if we play a little bit...” He placed his hand in front of the water pressure. I took one full breath before he moved and the jet blitzed me again. Another mew escaped.

“She likes that.” Simone eagerly leaned forward. “Do it again.”

Oh, why did he obey her?

I struggled as he did it twice more. The water crashed against my pussy like a fire hose. My heart pounded against my chest.

This was a losing battle.

I couldn’t resist it. Him.

Them.

“You’re not looking at me, Morgan.” Simone’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t misbehave while Anthony is pleasuring you.”

This wasn’t pleasure. It was hell…

And I loved it.

Anthony’s hand found my clit again. Swollen. Aching. He stroked, and I lurched forward. My hand clutched at the pool’s wall. Simone slammed her hands down on my wrists.

Pinning me.

How did they know what I needed before I did?

“You’re going to come for me.” Anthony ordered with a dire whisper. “Now.”

“But...” I didn’t dare look away from Simone. “She’s watching...”

“Don’t be rude, pet.” Simone words iced the fire in my belly. It should have doused me. My heart raced instead. “He gave you an order.”

Anthony rubbed a little harder. “Now, pet.”

I loved the nickname. I loved the way they said it. I loved Anthony’s gentle stroking on my clit.

What else could I do?

Anthony had owned my body from the start. One quick flick over my clit, and I tightened, arched, and surrendered to the perfect inevitable.

Every nerve ending, every muscle, every thought raged into a river of fire that coursed through my body.

Nothing had ever felt so agonizing.

So ragged.

So absolutely amazing.

Anthony balanced me in the water just as the pleasure drowned me in perfection.

Did I scream? It felt like I’d cried out, gasping his name in a breathless moan. Did anyone hear me? Did they all look and watch and whisper about the perverted little slut in the pool, trembling as she orgasmed in a man’s arms while the party’s hostess laughed and teased?

No.

No one saw.

The only sound that escaped was my defeated, astonished whimper. The tiniest, softest of surrenders.

Mercifully, Anthony pulled me out of the jet as I shuddered, gasping for air. I groaned, a soft peep of absolute submission.

My body ached and protested every movement. I wanted to collapse on the pool side. Lay my head down on Simone’s beautiful legs and pray this was the best dream or worst nightmare I ever had.

Anthony whispered in my ear, a soothing, calming melody.

“You did very well, Morgan.”

Simone kicked her feet one last time, splashing me with water. “Enjoy the party, pet.”