“We have a tradition at Haus of Sin,” Alex says. “The first night is Spice Night. Guests and hosts converge in theCinnamon Playroom, where they get to meet one another on a more intimate level, discover their preferences, and build trust, before they take things to the next level in the nights to come.”
“I see. So it’s kind of like foreplay, of sorts,” I reply. “They can’t hear us, right?”
Max shakes his head as he looks at me. “They don’t even know we have eyes on them. It’s a private pleasure of ours, nothing more.”
“You like watching them,” I conclude.
Alex corrects me. “We like watching them connect.”
Vincent unbuttons his shirt, and I don’t know what to look at first. In the Cinnamon Room, the guests and their hosts move closer to one another. There are languid smiles, fleeting glances, lips parting. It’s strange and sinful, and I shouldn’t be staring, but I don’t think I can help myself.
It’s downright hypnotizing.
At the same time, I sense the men nearing me. Their presence thickens the air, charging it with an energy that surges through my body. They quietly flank me so that I’m facing the playroom.
“This feels all kinds of wrong,” I whisper.
“But you don’t want to be right, do you?” Alex asks. His fingers trail an invisible contour of my shoulder and arm. My skin tingles in response.
“No.”
In the playroom, I watch Deanna and the other hosts as they inch closer to their guests. Their hands touch, exploring. Theguests’ clothes come off one layer at a time, while the hosts remain in their forest-themed outfits—skimpy strips of fabric and fur that outline their chiseled, beautifully sculpted bodies.
Soon, the temperature in the room rises. Some kiss, while others reach for more forbidden parts.
At the same time, Alex takes off his clothes, Max and Vincent, too. Our gazes bounce back to the playroom once in a while, just in time to see Magnus, the Wolf fingering Genevieve into the next life, or Delia and Asher kissing each other passionately while Mr. Bancroft watches with a delighted grin.
It’s shameful, but I can’t stop looking.
My towel falls to the floor, and my masters take over.
We kiss, each of them taking turns to ravage my mouth before they turn me once again to face the playroom. Their hands roam everywhere, touching, squeezing, pinching.
“Keep watching, Raina,” Vincent advises.
“I can’t really focus right now,” I gasp as he settles behind me and takes a firm hold of my breasts. He kneads my flesh with a gentleness that doesn’t quite match his gruff exterior, but I welcome his tender touch.
“Do as you’re told,” Alex commands me.
I try to obey, glancing past him and watching Deanna as she clasps Quincy’s erection, grinning like a demon and drunk on her own power. He loves every second of it. He tries to touch her breast, covered only by a thin layer of shimmering red tulle, but she slaps his hand away. She has rules.
So do my men.
They shower me with kisses. They turn me inside out until I’m dripping wet and begging for more.
“Please,” I manage as they push me toward the black satin bed.
“Please, what?” Max replies, one hand wrapped around his gargantuan cock as he strokes himself, watching me beg for release.
“Please take me.”
Vincent inches closer and cups my cheek, then comes down for another kiss. “You like what you see, don’t you, Raina?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do you want to be a part of what’s happening in the Cinnamon Playroom?”
“Only if it’s the four of us,” I reply.
