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“You implied you’d let Sebastian join us.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did, and if I’d known, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.”
Ford grins. “It’s too late to change your mind. Decide, or I’ll decide for you.”
“How is this a gift?” I glare at him, tempted to smack that black and silver mask off his mischievous face.
“Choose and find out.”
My gaze clashes with Sebastian’s before swerving to Liam’s eager expression.
Silver and black.
Only one match.
And not the one I want.
No, no, no. This isn’t happening.
I take in the rest of the Brotherhood, tallying up the members donning black masks. In addition to the chancellor, Pax, Miles, Landon, and Vance are my options. Liam and Landon are out of the question for two very different reasons, which leaves…
The kinky doctor and two of the monsters I fear the most. Ford’s got me backed into a corner, and he knows it. So much for freedom and fun. He’s forcing me into another decision, another situation, another impossible choice. Is this how the whole month will progress—with him forcing me into one impossible decision after the next?
“Do you need help deciding?”
I shake my head. At best, his illusion of choice is a manipulation. At worst, it’s a carefully constructed master plan.
Because there’s only one option, and it’s Vance Morgan—the only man other than Sebastian and Liam I can stand the thought of touching me. He’s a doctor, and he’s examined me before, shown me kindness when I desperately needed it. During his month, he even put his mouth on me.
Besides, the man is an exhibitionist.
“Vance,” I say, my vocal cords constricting.
The doctor’s steel gray eyes connect with mine, seeming to soften in the dim light, telling me he understands why he’s my choice.
Why he’s the only choice.
As much as Sebastian urged me to play Ford’s game, I know choosing Liam to finish what I started is out of the question.
Ford gestures at the doctor, and as Vance climbs onto the platform, the continuous techno beat intensifies. Or maybe it’s my heartbeat pulsing too loudly in my ears, amping up with nerves and anticipation.
Vance removes his jacket, ties back his blond hair, and crawls onto the end of the lounger between Ford’s feet. His lustful gaze settles on the core of my sex.
“So beautiful.” A satisfied grin takes hold of his lips. “So wet. Do you want me to lick your pussy?”
I didn’t expect my core to clench so tightly at his words, but something about his question sparks me back to life—as if Ford never stopped me from reaching the peak. I fear one stroke of Vance’s tongue will be enough to send me over the edge.
“Novalee?” Vance gently prods. “Do you want me to make you come?”
Desire shudders down my legs, and all I can do is nod like the aroused fool I am, lips parting as my breaths hasten and shallow.
“Tell him,” Ford growls. “I want to hear you say the words.”
“Make me come.” It’s a breathless capitulation, and my thighs tense, bracing for the impact of Vance’s mouth on me.
God help me, but in this moment, I crave an orgasm more than anything, and that gives me pause, because this feeling—this out-of-control need sizzling in my blood—is much too familiar. It’s the sort of intoxication that’s levels beyond what a little over-indulgence in bubbly can do.
