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I suck in a huge breath that starts a tsunami of panic inside me when Brandon pushes the tip inside me, spreading the forbidden rings, forcing them to part for him, to allow him access.

I'm heaving and panting so heavily Joel comes to me, lowering himself in front of me, and tells me to breathe.

I can't. How can I when Brandon's pushed the handle in deeper, the ridges around my brush whispering against my flesh as he turns and twists the instrument?

It's too much. I'm so drenched, I'm leaking on the bench. Joel slips his hand between my legs. I die of utter embarrassment when a drop of my essence falls onto the palm of his hand.

Without severing eye contact with me, he licks my wetness off at the same moment as Brandon deepens the hold of the brush inside my ass, and Rex, with one hand on the small of my back, uses his other hand to cup my throbbing pussy.

"Please," I sob as he strokes my clit, as Brandon manipulates the handle of the brush, and as Joel lays his lips on mine.

I come with such resounding force; I think I may have blacked out.

"Please, please, please," I say again and again. It's not enough. I need so much more.

"Fuck." I hear their collective growls before I'm untied and the brush pulled from my stretched bottom hole. I'm then carried to my bed and laid on my back, my legs immediately parted so wide that they can now see my still-spasming pussy, soaked through with my arousal.

They growl at me when I try to close my legs, and then my back arches deeply. My head flies off the pillow as they take my quivering pussy in their mouths and suck on me.

They part my labia and take turns to run the tips of their tongues into my center, as if they can't get enough of me. They caress, stroke, and softly press their teeth into my clit until orgasm after orgasm sails through me. I lose count of the number of times they make me come.

I only know they tired me out with only their mouths on my pussy while they stayed fully clothed, tucked me into my bed, and left.

Chapter Nine

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Tia

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I wake with a start, and images of last night immediately flood back to me. Except I don't know if I dreamed it all or if it really happened.

But I smell like their cologne and coconut oil, my hair is tousled, and my pussy...dear god, my pussy still aches with need and is still soaking wet.

I jump out of bed as a fresh image of me begging them to touch me takes front and center stage in my mind. I slap my hands over my face.

What kind of an enemy am I that I begged my foes to touch me? Repeatedly. More embarrassingly, they kept their clothes on. Sure, they removed their jackets, but they remained fully dressed.

Oh god. I pace around my room, my ignominy growing with every step. I can never see them again. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever.

Okay. That's a good plan. I can do that. Good. Never see them again. But that doesn't solve Darling Rose's problem.

Shit.

I almost jump out of my skin when my cell rings. It's Mr. Almaty. He just wanted to talk to me before he signed the papers to sell his land. The pain in his voice is too much for me to bear.

"Mr. A, don't sign. Just give me eighteen hours. Twenty-four at the most."

"Ah, sweet girl. There's nothing that can be done now. I have to sign. It's a big amount. More money than I would have seen in three lifetimes combined. It's time to say goodbye to Darling Rose, and goodbye to my darling Rose as well."

"No. I'm not going to let that happen. Eighteen hours, that's all I need, Mr. A. Promise you won't sign anything until I get back to you. Please."

After several more minutes of trying to persuade the older man from signing, he finally agrees to wait for me.

I have eighteen hours. One father. A trust fund. And an awful family tradition. I have no choice. It must be done. This truly is my only chance to best the moguls. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to disappoint my Aunt Louise, who I promised I wouldn't let a man be the boss of me. Now I'm going to do exactly that. But my circumstances are different, and I hope she'll see it when I explain it to her.

My father, Ralph Montgomery, a robust man in his late sixties, is more than pleased to see me. Of course, he is.