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“You going to let us slip these tiny little straps off your shoulders? Push this scrap of material fall to the floor? Hmm?”
“Yes.”
“We’re all going to watch you, aren’t we? We’ll see your beautiful tits, all perky and tight, ready for us to suck on.” I whimpered, and he continued, “What about your tight little snatch? Are you going to spread your legs and let us all have a taste?”
“Oh god,” I breathed. “Yes.”
“You going to let us slide our cocks into all your holes? Fill you up with our cum? Use you until you can’t walk?”
The rushing in my blood took me by surprise, but my body had taken over, priming itself to come. Without any hope of stopping my instinctual reactions, my hips pressed back and ground against Tristan’s cock, wishing that we were naked. Wishing that he was filling me like the fantasy scenario he’d tantalized me with.
“You going to come for me, kitten? The thought of us all fucking you going to send you over? Hmm?”
I turned my face, my body primed and ready to detonate. Tristan’s words, Ry’s steely gaze and the molten lava underneath it, and Ezra’s open desire had set me on fire.
“Come for us, Zee,” Flynn demanded urgently, and I fell, a wash of ecstasy flooding me as I let go.
Tristan turned my face, spearing his tongue into my mouth as he kissed me and I shattered. Quaking in his firm hold, Tristan held me as I rode it out, his kiss gentling as I panted.
“Hurry the fuck up with this speech,” Ezra mumbled.
As if on cue, the song finished, and the emcee spoke a few words in French. People clapped, and I recognized Moragreiga’s name. I may not have understood her words, but it was clearly his introduction. People gathered closer, and Moragreiga slipped his glasses on, took to the microphone, and greeted guests, first in French and what I thought was German, then in English.
“We’re getting readings,” Flynn said, excitement lacing his tone. Moragreiga adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his nose so they sat tight against his mask and looked out over the guests, continuing to talk.
Flynn squeaked. “Oh my God, we’ve got a full scan. It’s enough. I’ve got enough.”
Moragreiga wrapped up his introduction after another minute, inviting us in three languages to enjoy the remainder of the night before thanking the quartet and striding off the stage.
That was our cue.
Twenty-two
Ryder
Z
ali had pulled it off. She’d done it. She’d managed to find the right frames with the right prescription and inbuilt retinal scanners. Not only that, but she’d done it in a matter of days.
Other than her talent for finding out the exact information she needed, I knew she’d thrown stupid amounts of money at the manufacturers to make and ship the glasses to us in record time. They’d only just made it too.
Now we had the scans. We had a way in. And tonight, we were done.
We were going back to the villa, and they were gonna get their freak on. And I was… not.
At least I could get out of this penguin suit.
I looked around, searching for the other waiters. Not seeing any close by, I discreetly slid the tray of empty champagne glasses onto a high-top table. It was on the edge of the ballroom, out of the way in a dim corner. A few people mingled nearby, chatting privately, but didn’t take any notice of me.
Pulling my shoulders back, I tried to look like I was actually supposed to be here—ironic considering how I so wasn’t—and slinked backward, avoiding attention.
I moved quietly toward the door, spinning on my feet as I ducked around the stage, ready to waltz straight out of the ballroom.
Instead, I slammed straight into him. The man I’d been avoiding all night—the grand head honcho of the waitstaff. His arms cartwheeled backward, and he looked like he was about to land on his arse.
Fuck.Of all the days luck wasn’t on my side.
My reaction was instant. But by grabbing on to him to steady him, I sealed my fate. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d seen me. No, I had to go and walk right into the fucker, nearly knocking him off his feet.
