At first glance, it looks like one of those portable massage chairs where a person straddles the seat and leans forward to put their face in a cut-out cushioned headrest. But there is no headrest, just an inclined padded bench that extends forty-five degrees away from the seat that’s meant to be straddled.

The seat, if it can be called that, is square, padded, and covered with leather, with a square opening in the center.

“What is it?” I ask.

“No clue,” she says, but then it becomes clear to everyone as the man reaches into a compartment attached to the side of the unit and pulls out a flesh-colored dildo that must be eight inches. It is so life-like I can see a thick vein running up the side.

He bends over, and my jaw drops as he hooks it onto a contraption under the seat, causing about four inches to poke up through the center.

There is no doubt in anyone’s mind now that seat is meant to be straddled by a woman with the dildo inside of her.

All I can think is, Who came up with this idea?

Next thing is, I wonder what that would feel like?

The man straightens. Still not looking at anyone, he fishes inside his front pocket where he pulls out a tube of lipstick.

He walks up to the glass window and starts writing words in reverse fashion so we can read them from our side of the glass.

Slowly, he spells out his message.

Anyone brave enough to come in here with me?

“I’m going unless you call dibs,” Elena says to me quickly, her eyes pinned on the man.

“Dibs,” I hurry to say, even though my blood pressure spikes when I realize I just committed myself.

She turns to look at me with a bright smile. “That’s my girl.”

About five women now push their way up to the glass, one of them literally knocking me to the side. I wobble briefly on my heels as the women raise their hands and start calling through the glass, “Me. Me. Me.”

My heart sinks as I realize that while I might be walking toward an adventurous orgasm, I’m going to have to compete to get there, and that is something I just don’t have within me. I’ve always been more of the wallflower and never the aggressor, and I can’t handle the rejection. Not after getting rejected by Vince.

I start to turn away when a loud knocking on the glass startles me into looking back.

The masked man is staring at me, his index finger pointed in my direction. He nods, turns his hand, and then crooks his finger, beckoning me in there.

I’m immediately filled with doubt and fear, and Elena must sense it for she calls out loud enough the guy has to hear, “She’ll be right there.”

He nods and turns away, then Elena has my hand as she drags me down the short hall.

“I can’t,” I practically screech.

“You can,” she growls. “You called dibs… and there’s no going back on dibs.”

Before I know it, she’s led me down the hall to the rear perimeter of the glass rooms. She opens the door, pushing me in so hard I stumble.

As she slams the door, she calls out, “I’m leaving. Find me in the Social Room when you’re done. If you can walk that is.”

With my heart beating so hard I’m afraid I’m going to die, I turn slowly around to find the man looking at me. He’s so much larger being in the same room with him, and my fear spikes higher.

“Panties off,” he says. “Leave the rest on.”

I stare at him, frozen.

“Panties off or leave,” he says, not in a mean or condescending way, but just in a matter-of-fact one.

When I look back on this moment, I know it will be a defining one for me. I think of Vince telling me that I just didn’t do it for him anymore. After a glance at the man who is already hard beneath the denim of his jeans, I make my decision.

I pull my dress up just high enough to grab my panties, and I shimmy them down my legs, kicking them free.

“Good girl,” he praises and holds out a hand.

My legs tremble as they move forward, but I place my palm against his. When his fingers curl around mine, engulfing me so completely, I feel an electrical spark of desire join the blood racing through my veins.

Without a word, he leads me to the contraption. I falter when I look outside the glass, horrified at the crowd gathered. Women glaring at me. Men looking like they want to devour me.

“The curtains,” I practically whimper. “Close them.”

He doesn’t answer, only pulls me right to the seat and growls his order. “Straddle it.”

My eyes shoot to his, and I see no patience within the warm brown depths. He’s so stern and intimidating, yet his eyes are glowing with a clear promise that this will be good.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett The Wicked Horse Vegas Billionaire Romance