Their Virgin Mistress (Masters of Ménage #7)(79)

"Sweetheart, where are you going?" Rory whispered.

She managed to clear the tangle of sheets and arms. Oliver was asleep on the other side of Callum. They all looked so gorgeous. Last night, they'd been so devoted. Tori had to bite back a cry. She couldn't let Rory know she was upset or he would be all over her. She needed a few moments to herself. Everything that had happened in the last twelve hours had all been too much.

"Just to the bathroom. I'll be right back," she said, happy that her voice betrayed none of her whirling emotions.

"Hurry."

She heard him settle back on the bed. When she glanced again, his eyes were closed and his chest had taken on the rhythm of sleep once more.

As quietly as she could, she grabbed a robe in the wardrobe and dashed to the outer rooms, refusing to look at a guard manning the hallway. From there she found her way back to her own quarters.

Inside, Tori locked the door and tore off the robe. She made it to the shower before the sobs hit. Too much. Everything had happened so quickly. She'd closed herself off for too long and now the emotion hit her like a hurricane. She let the hot water blend with her tears and prayed she could find the strength to make the right decisions.



* * * *



Two hours later, Tori stared at herself in the mirror and wondered why she was such a coward. She'd woken up surrounded by the three men she loved. Her body had felt deliciously sated and she'd been so warm. She'd never slept the whole night with another body at her side. When she'd been a child, her parents sometimes cuddled her in between them when she was scared or sick. She remembered looking up at them in contentment as they kissed her before turning out the lights. Even as a young kid, she'd felt their love. With them, she'd been safe and warm.

And she'd never imagined it could be over so swiftly.

The terrible nightmare she'd had brought it all back-the feelings of loss, helplessness, anger, and despair. One nightmare, and she remembered all too well how easily her happiness could end.

This was why she was a coward. She could still remember her father standing over her mother's grave, still feel her sister's hand in hers as they both stared with dry, aching eyes. From that moment on, they'd only had each other to count on. For all practical purposes, their dad had died with their mom. He'd just walked around for a few years more.

She should still be in bed with the Thurston-Hughes brothers, but she'd told Rory she'd only be a minute. Then she'd dashed to her own room like a scared rabbit. This felt like junior high all over again. She intended to barricade herself in the bathroom and stay until she figured out how to handle them.

She took a long breath and forced herself to relax. She would have to be calm with them. "Thank you for last night. It was wonderful. If we ever have time, I would love to do it again."

Good. Now she was the Emily Post of the ménage world.

Maybe casual was better. "Hey, guys. How'd you sleep? Good. Catch ya later!"

That would not go over well.

She groaned as she sank down to a waiting chaise. Naturally, her bathroom at the palace was bigger than her London flat and came complete with a sitting room.

As she turned to throw herself across the padded cushions, Tori winced at the soreness. She'd always been an overachiever, but three men in one night was a new high.



       
         
       
        

Images of the previous night assaulted her. After Callum had tortured her with that damn plug, Rory made her forget how awkward it was. He'd taken her into his arms and before long, he'd been working over her. He'd kissed her while he'd thrust in and out, taking her over the edge again.

And Oliver. Oh, Oliver had been so patient and careful as he'd possessed her body utterly. The whole night had been a long, sensual feast. One of them had always had a hand on her. One of them had always been kissing her or delving into her depths with his big cock. And when she'd fallen into an exhausted slumber, she'd done it with their arms around her. In that moment the world had felt perfect, like everything had finally fallen into place and she couldn't ask for more.

Until she'd had that nightmare …  That terrible slap-in-the-face reminder that nothing was perfect.

Yes, she and her men had survived one incredible night. But there was no way they could make it work in the real world. If they never left the palace again, maybe, just maybe, they could be happy for a while, but they would want to go home.

And then all hell would break loose.

She'd been lucky to have this one magical night the world knew nothing about. She couldn't possibly push her luck and ask for a lifetime.