Free Five Ways 'Til Sunday by Delilah Devlin

scowl deepened. “No need to get nasty.”
    He grinned. “I’m not. But I do want you out of those clothes.”
    “Now?”
    “Yeah. When you walk in there, you need to be naked.”
    Marti glared, shaking her head. “You’re not gonna leave me an inch of pride.”
    “What’s pride got to do with it? This is about pleasure, sweet pea—so much cup runnin’ over pleasure that you’ll be too weak to say no to me ever again.”
    Her jaw dropped.
    “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Letting go of her hand, he tipped it closed with a finger under her chin.
    “Man, you don’t do things by halves, do you?”
    “You’re the one who threw down the glove.”
    “I was protecting you.”
    “Do I look like I need it?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Strip.”
    “What about you?”
    “This is about you. Now we can do this the easy way…”
     
    Marti didn’t need the “or” spelled out. If she didn’t do exactly as he said, he’d do it for her, and she’d have a new set of marks on her ass. “Where’s the incentive?” she grumbled.
    “Baby, do you really want me to bend you over and spank you in front of them? Would you rather have one of them do it?”
    She guessed she mulled that one over so long he thought she was seriously contemplating the suggestion, because he made a noise and stepped toward her, his hands dragging up her blouse and throwing it into a corner. Then busy fingers unsnapped, unbuttoned and tossed until she stood nude in front of him.
    He gripped her shoulders, turned her toward the corner then gave her bottom a swat. “Get on in there. You’re keepin’ everybody waitin’.”
    Embarrassment burned her face and breasts, but she kept her hands dangling by her sides and strode into the living room.
    They’d performed a transformation.
    The sofa and loveseat were pushed out of the way against one wall. Tables lined the opposite side of the room. Easily a dozen white candles blazed on every surface. In the center of their beige shag carpet was the red jacquard chaise from the bedroom, draped in fluffy pillows. She could only imagine what they had in mind.
    As for the men, they stood shirtless, in blue jeans, a host of broad chests, naked skin gleaming with oil. Grins stretched across their faces as they all inspected her, head-to-toe. Thank God for the wax job she’d had at the salon a week ago.
    Beau cleared his throat and broke rank, striding toward her and holding out his hand, palm up. Marti drew a deep breath, unsure and beginning to quiver.
    Beau was the one who made her the most nervous, because he rarely gave away a thing he thought. Not by expression or word. The tribal tat encircling his upper arm only added to his aura of danger.
    His hand wrapped around hers. Then squeezed. He bent toward her, until he mouth grazed her cheek. “Don’t be afraid.”
    “I’m not. Not really. This is just…not something I ever really thought I’d want.”
    “But you do now?”
    Her gaze locked with his. She nodded. “Is he going to hate me?” she whispered.
    One corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll let you in on something. Something Mondo figured out.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Jackson liked your list.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Play hard. Make him sweat.” He straightened away, then held his hand aloft, as though escorting a princess toward a staircase—only he led her to the chaise.
    By gesture, he placed her on the seat, her back supported by cushions.
    As soon as she leaned back and drew a deep breath, three of Jackson’s friends moved in, kneeling around her. Beau, kneeling at the end, grasped her ankles and pulled apart her legs. Craig grabbed a long cylindrical pillow from under the lounger and placed it beneath one of her knees. Gus did the same with the other.
    With her legs spread and her knees raised, every one of them had a view of her pussy. Her wet and swollen pussy.
    Mondo, standing behind Beau, snapped his fingers. The men around her rose and began to