My pulse hammers. “Here?”
“Here.” He gestures to the glass. “They can see in if we let them. Right now, it’s one-way. We can see them but they can’t see us. But if you want them to watch...” He reaches for a switch on the wall. “All I have to do is flip this.”
I stare at the switch. At the glass. At the shadows beyond.
Then I look at the three of them. Armen’s steady gaze. Sting’s controlled stillness. Rogue’s wicked grin.
“Do it,” I whisper.
Armen flips the switch.
The glass shifts, subtle, but I feel it. The one-way mirror becomes transparent. The watchers beyond can see us now. I see their heads turn, eyes locking onto the glass. Onto me.
My breath stutters.
Rogue steps behind me, hands sliding up my body. “They’re watching now,” he murmurs against my ear. “Every move. Every sound. Every time we touch you.”
Sting moves in front, fingers at the hem of my shirt. “Still want this?”
I nod.
He pulls my shirt over my head slowly. Deliberate. Giving the watchers time to see.
Armen’s hands are at my jeans, unbuttoning, sliding them down. I step out of them. Stand there in just my bra and underwear, heart pounding, skin flushed.
The watchers don’t move. Don’t speak. Just stare.
Rogue unhooks my bra, lets it fall. Sting pulls my underwear down. I’m bare now, completely exposed, and they’re still fully clothed.
The contrast is stark. Intentional.
I’m the prize. The focus. The one being claimed.
Armen guides me to the couch, sits me down. Spreads my legs with firm hands. “Look at them,” he says.
I do.
Through the glass, I see faces in the shadows. Men. Women. Eyes locked on me. Hungry. Waiting.
I should feel shame.
But I don’t.
I feel powerful.
Sting kneels between my thighs. Leans in. His tongue drags slow up my center, deliberate, unhurried. I gasp, hands flying to his hair.
Armen turns my face to the glass. “Keep watching.”
I do.
Sting’s mouth works me expertly, tongue circling my clit, fingers pushing inside. I moan, hips rolling. The watchers lean forward.
Rogue moves behind the couch, hands sliding down tocup my breasts. He pinches my nipples, hard enough to make me cry out. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let them hear you.”
I come fast, hard and sudden, body locking, cry echoing off the walls. The watchers don’t look away.
Sting pulls back, wipes his mouth, stands. “Good girl.”
