“Does that mean we’re going to?” My tone couldn’t have been more eager.

He groaned again. “I would do murder to fuck you. Think of what I’d do to possess you completely.”

I gasped—because I didn’t think he was lying about that either.

“Which means I must keep my word.”

I panted with frustration. He’d kept me hovering right at the brink for what must be years! “I’m going to come apart!”

“That’s the idea. This is BDSM,” he said at my ear. “Dominance, edging, play. I won’t always whip you.” He withdrew his fingers.

“Nooo! Need those. Put them back in.”

He used two fingers to make a V around my clit, trapping it, pressing the sensitive nub outward.

I undulated over his lap, his cock. “Touch it,” I whispered, “touch it. Baby, please, please touch my throbbing clit.”

With a growling sound, he used his other forefinger to slowly rub the exposed flesh.

My head lolled back against him.

“You would do anything for me right now, wouldn’t you, beautiful?”

I made unintelligible sounds. He owned me. He controlled me.

This man had broken through all my barriers until I was nothing more than raw, dripping need.

My approaching orgasm felt bigger than ever before. Deeper.

Frightening.

Right when I was about to crash over the edge, I spied a man enter through the curtain. “S-stop, Dmitri. We’re not alone.” I dropped my arms.

The guy—a blond surfer type—told someone unseen, “Back here.”

A pretty redhead and a handsome dark-haired male followed. They looked as buzzed as I felt. The trio sat across the room from us in another booth. The two men put the redhead between them.

They would be able to see me from the waist up! My tits were nearly spilling out, lit by the glowing collar I wore. “You can’t do this!” I hissed to Dmitri, even as I rolled my hips.

“They can’t see underneath our table. Do you really want me to stop?” He kept rubbing. “Say, ‘Dmitri, stop touching my pussy.’”

I couldn’t say the words, couldn’t do more than whimper.

The three glanced over. Dmitri’s arm was moving. They had to know what he was doing.

The guys cast me wolfish looks, and their hands caressed down Red’s body. She met gazes with me, then her eyes shot wide. We were both getting fingered in this room—and we both knew it.

Red’s lids soon grew heavy. She didn’t seem to mind an audience.

Did I look as turned on as she did? Was Dmitri aroused by the girl? I glanced at him. His eyes were locked on me.

I murmured, “I can’t let you do this.”

“Of course you can.” He was a devil in my ear, mesmerizing me with his thrall.

Of course I can. No! Vice, get hold of yourself.

“We won’t be doing anything they’re not,” he continued. “This situation heats your blood, doesn’t it? Then surrender to it, Vika. To me. Put your hands behind my head again.”

Such a vulnerable position in front of others.

“Do it, or I won’t let you come.”

Nooo! Shaking, I reached up and locked my hands again. In reward, he pinched my nipples through my dress, giving me a shock of sensation. I had to stifle a cry.

Red put her arms back too, but the dark-haired guy upped the ante, tugging down her sheath dress to bare her perky breasts.

The girl liked being exposed. She arched her back, and I could tell she was rocking her hips on her partners’ fingers.

As I stared, her hands descended—as did the zipper of my dress. Dmitri was going to bare me too? This couldn’t be happening.

I wanted to die of humiliation. Or come. Again everything got confused in my mind, and the embarrassment fueled my arousal.

I tensed to stop him, but then I realized both of Red’s hands were moving under the table. She was jacking off both guys.

While all three stared at me.

“This is . . . wicked,” I whispered. Forbidden.

“Submit to me,” Dmitri grated. “I am giving you what you need—because you are a wicked girl.”

Dmitri was making me into one. Suddenly, I was arching my back. “Yes, yes . . .”

He peeled the dress wide, uncovering my tits.

The others’ reactions—hooded lids and parted lips—made my nipples even harder. Dmitri himself was virtually a stranger to me, and now three others were getting a show.

“Feel how wet you’re getting!” he murmured, doing those heavenly/sinful things with his fingers. “You crave their eyes on you.”

I did! This primal need to be controlled by him—and watched by others—pulsed through me.

Sensing my surrender, he nuzzled my ear. “Doesn’t it feel good when you do as I say?”

My moans grew constant. I was going to dissolve in front of these strangers. I shook so hard my breasts quivered for my audience.

Dmitri pulled my head back to his chest with a decisive tug on my hair, which made me—and Red—cry out. “You want them to know how wet you are, don’t you?” He delved those two fingers deep inside me as his thumb worked my clit.

“Ahhh!” So close, so close . . . Oh, dear God, four people were going to watch me come.

“Shall I show them my fingers glistening from your pussy?”

“No, nooo.” My face heated just to think of it. Showing my tits was one thing—I’d been known to flash them myself—but not something so intimate!