“ Bonjour Monsieurs and Mademoiselles! I really appreciate you coming to rescue a damsel in distress on such short notice.”
“Don’t encourage them, Delilah,” Dana says. “They already think they have to rescue us from cracks in the sidewalks.”
“It was a pothole,” Peter interjects. “And you were heading toward it like a steamroller. It would have swallowed you whole. All the money for street repair in New Orleans goes to corrupt politicians.”
“Then your focus should be on that, for the greater good of everyone.”
“Who says we can’t do both?” Ben offered.
He’s eased back on the sensual intensity, which gives me a little room to breathe mentally, if not physically. Of course, it’s not a hardship at all to be sandwiched between Ben’s broad shoulders, my hip pressed against Jon’s. I’m in the middle of the best manwich ever to have been assembled on God’s green Earth. Jon has that delicious sandalwood scent that’s soothing and provocative at once. Ben stretches his other arm back over my seat, a match for the one he has behind Marcie, his long legs adjusting. “That’s much better. I couldn’t put my arm around Jon. It would just give him ideas.”
Unfortunately having Ben’s arm around me gives me all kinds of ideas that shouldn’t be running through my head with Marcie in the limo, ones that have me unconsciously stroking the lacing of my corset with my fingers. I think I need to switch my thoughts to the fact that I have one very hot date waiting for me at the Ball as my better half, Gabriel Van Helsing. Lucky for me, Dale’s Navy SEAL friend is a huge fan of the movie and offered to come along to complete my look.
As everyone offers a warm hello and Jon snorts, I wonder if the men can sense the frisson of excitement currently running up my spine after I get a glimpse of the piece de resistance that accompanies their smiles. Ben, who is always the first to tease a woman, tips me off with his broad, exaggerated grin.
They have fangs. And not the cheesy plastic party kind. These fangs look like honest-to-God real teeth. It makes my neck pulse flutter in a decidedly dangerous way as my thumb gently caresses the side of my throat in anticipation.
“Ok gentlemen I’ll bite.” I couldn’t help myself with that one. Really I couldn’t. “Who wants to share with me the reason for the unanimous costume choice for the guys?”
“We had a bet, and they lost,” Cassandra said smugly. Lucas gives her a pained look, but he doesn’t appear too put out, given that she’s pressed up against his side and he has his palm resting high on her inner thigh, his wedding ring finger stroking her in a way that only looks deceptively random. Her flush suggests she’s as aware of that as I am.
During the course of my multiple encounters with the Knights, I’ve noticed, as they’ve each acquired their significant other, they’ve become more blatantly sexual around each other and their lucky circle of intimate acquaintances, like myself.
I have to admire Cassandra’s focus. I wonder if it takes constant practice, like building up tolerance to a drug by injections of the same substance. I don’t think any woman could ever get immune to the out front sexual Dominance of the five K&A men, but perhaps that’s why each of the women who ended up marrying into this circle has such a strong personality. She needs it to hold her own. Of course with a set of Masters who have no qualms about joining forces to overwhelm a woman’s senses in whatever way is necessary to send her to mindless ecstasy, I expect the women only get to hold their own to a certain point. But they’re probably not complaining! I doubt that I would be!
Case in point. Ben is murmuring something to Marcie. Though I don’t hear the words, the tone is very different from his teasing of a moment ago. The look she gives him, the flush to her cheeks, makes my imagination spin over what command he’s put against her delicate ear. With effort, I bring my attention back to Cass. She’s paused, a knowing look in her eyes as I tried to wade through all the pheromones saturating the limo. “Ben,” she says, a mild rebuke in her tone.
He gives her a bland look, all innocence, but then he settles back, giving me a wink and another tug on my hair, more playful this time. “Nice costume, Delilah.”
I have to laugh at his leer. It helps ease the sexual tension. Somewhat.
“What was the bet?” I ask Cassandra, somewhat steadier.
“It doesn’t matter. They cheated,” Lucas says.
“We absolutely did not,” Dana retorted. “It wasn’t so much a bet as it was a game. They wanted to play bondage poker, which they always win, so Cass proposed Last Man Standing Poker instead.”
“She used to have us play Last Man to determine who had to do the dinner dishes,” Marcie puts in. “First person out had to do the dishes that night. Second one had to do it the next night, etc. The winner got to skip a night and choose someone who had to do double duty.”
“Bondage poker?” I ask.
“Yes.” Rachel glances at Jon. “We learned how to play at a…bed and breakfast in North Carolina.”
“It wasn’t a bed and breakfast.” Jon gently corrects her. He caresses her nape underneath her thick blond hair. “I purchased a night for Rachel at a bordello. Tell them why.”
“I had a fantasy about…him being a customer, and he’d paid for me for the night.”
Her hesitancy suggests she’s a little embarrassed to be telling this to an audience, but the sharing also obviously arouses her. I understand the feeling. Lucas leans forward, adjusting my air vent so I feel a cool stream of air over my flesh. I thank him with a wink, thinking I could use more than just one air vent pointed in my direction right about now.
“I wanted the experience to be in as authentic an environment as possible.” Jon slid a finger along the base of her throat, teasing the valley of her lush breasts before returning his hand to her knee. “Later that night we had dinner with the Madam. She showed us how to play bondage poker.”
“It’s like Twister meets strip poker,” Marcie says. “The winning hand can require your opponent to remove an article of clothing, or don a restraint, or endure a punishment…you get the idea.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Ben interjects to me. “Do the men really always win bondage poker, or do the women always deliberately lose?”
“I think either way it is a win-win situation for everyone. Frankly I think you are all up to no good!” I find myself grinning as I say this.
“Back to the bet,” Cassandra interrupts him with a gimlet eye. “We went with Last Man Standing Poker. The women would win if the last “man” was one of us. And it was.”
“Who?” My gaze darts around the vehicle, but I don’t have to wait for the answer. All fingers point toward Dana. As if sensing them, the blind woman beams.
“I have a great poker face.”
“It came down to her and Matt,” Marcie says, obvious admiration in her tone. “It was fucking awesome. Like a face-off between Jada Pinkett’s Captain Niobe in The Matrix and Al Pacino as Lucifer in The Devil’s Advocate.”
Matt raises a brow and Marcie shrugs, grinning. “It fit. I’m not saying you’re like Satan. But you are an awful lot like Al Pacino’s Satan.”
“Don’t forget our Victorian heroine.” Dana nods in Savannah’s direction. “She was my real ace up the sleeve—and no, that wasn’t literal, Lucas. She had to provide me some help with the cards, of course, and reading Matt’s face. We all know she’s the only one who has a chance in hell of getting one up on Matt. Her and Janet of course.”
A cough from the front punctuates that, and Matt sends a narrow look that way. “Something to add, Max?”
“No sir. Just clearing my throat.”
“Anyhow,” Cass continues, “It was a wild card bet. We could choose what we wanted after we won.”
“Within limits,” Ben says. “No way any male/male fantasies were happening.”
That might be a good thing, considering any male/male fantasies involving these men could easily put a woman into an early grave. Although said woman would surely die with a smile on her face!
“Chickenshit,” Marcie mutters, earning a pinch she fends off with a giggle and a call for help. Dana reaches across and hits Ben’s knee with her folded cane.
“Don’t be messing with my girl. You’ll mess up her costume.”
“Ow,” Ben complains. “Mom, they’re touching me.”
Savannah rolls her eyes at that. “You’d never guess they have superhuman focus during business meetings,” she says to me. “Back to the point. They had to dress as vampires. Vampires we fantasize about.”
**********
As if the K&A men could get any more desirable! Make sure to stop in tomorrow when I find out the story behind each of their delicious costumes. The choices just might surprise you and I can tell you that Master Ben is looking extra scrumptious in his! 
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