Page 8 of Three Suave Billionaires and a Fake Chauffeur

I envision myself hiking up the dress and scaling the wall as if I were some sort of superhero. I immediately see a car and its two lovely old ladies—who are not serial killers—who give me cookies and let me sip tea they poured from a thermos as they drive me back to the billionaire's mansion. So close. So...

A strong arm loops around my waist. Instantly, I'm flipped up over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing, and then I'm being carried back inside, with my whole world turned upside down.

"Put me down, Mr. McKenzie," I squeak softly, trying not to make a scene, although that is the least of my problems. There are people making out, some are getting spanked, and others are having nipple clamps pulled. No one pays any attention to me.

Max carries me into a private room where Peter and Warren are already waiting. He places me in a chair and orders me to stay seated. Oh, great.

"Ms. Applegate, do you want to explain where you were going?"

"To the bathroom," I say defensively.

"And you missed the sign telling you where the bathrooms were?"

"I must have," I say lamely.

"You're hiding something," Peter says, and it's only then I see them perusing what is laid out on a table.

Oh god. Sex toys. The room that Boran Tolaj had offered them, the one he'd set up in their honor.

"Um..." If it were possible, I would swallow my whole tongue.

Max has a set of handcuffs in his hands. Peter a crop. Warren has a pair of nipple clamps.

No, no. Absolutely not. I would combust if they so much as touched me with the tips of their fingers.

They turn to face me. I'm literally on fire; can they not see the flames rising from my skin?

"We're in the middle of a very important meeting, so for right now, we're just going to contain you until we're done here, and then once we get home, you're going to give us all the answers we need."

"But I'm telling you the truth," I say. I've had to tell more lies and then more lies to cover up the previous lies now than in my whole life combined. And somehow they can see through me.

All that matters is keeping Dean safe, and he won't be safe until I do as I've been told. I can play this game. I can...

I stop thinking altogether as they place the items they've held in their hands back onto the table. Peter picks up something else. A pair of underwear? Seriously?

Chapter Seven

––––––––

Lucy

I stare at the bright pink garment, with black straps interlaced with bits of see-through gauzy fabric. There are cute little locks on the sides of the panties. What are they planning to do to me with that piece of innocuous underwear? Punishment by panties?

Max lifts me from the chair. It takes a moment for my feet to find purchase, enough to keep me upright. My heart is beating so fast, I'm on the point of heaving.

Warren kneels before me and slowly slips his hands under my dress. I shudder and gasp at the contact. Electric sparks fly off me. Warren's callused palms travel higher, his gaze remaining fixed on mine.

I suck in an erratic breath as his fingers slip into the band of the panties I'm wearing. My body goes into some sort of deviant enthrallment. I can't think; I can barely inhale enough air to feed my lungs.

Warren slides the scrap of lace down my thighs. Then I remember my panties are wet. Oh god, my essence brushes against my skin, and Warren uses the tips of his fingers to wipe me clean. I lose my mind, my balance, my everything. My hand shoots out to his shoulder as he divests me of the underwear. I turn blood red at the sight of the wet spot I'd left on the gusset of the panties.

Embarrassment jabs my skin, creating a white-hot flush that completely displaces me. Will they know I was wet for them?

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Warren stands up straight, then slips my wet panties into the pocket of his suit pants.

I'm hardly given any time to think, to process, when Max moves behind me, and this time, Peter is the one kneeling before me.