Four men standing around me.
Four sets of eyes on me.
On me.
For the first time in my life, I’m the centre of attention.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Jacob doesn’t ask me to repeat myself. Doesn’t make me beg. Just smiles and says, “Keep the glasses on.”
They don’t rush.
That’s what surprises me.
I expected frantic grabbing, clothes torn off, and rough hands. Instead, Marcus moves behind me and eases my sweater up slowly – inch by inch – like he’s unwrapping something precious. The fabric slides over my stomach, my ribs, my breasts still hidden in plain white cotton.
I lift my arms automatically. The sweater disappears.
Four sharp intakes of breath.
"f**k,” Tyler breathes.
Jacob’s hands find my thighs, sliding up over my jeans, mapping the shape of me while Marcus unclasps my bra from beh
