Trey guided me around a marble column and down a dimly lit hallway where soft jazz drifted from hidden speakers. At the end of the hall, the mansion’s private elevator waited with its doors already open.

“Have I told you how damn good you look in that dress?” he asked quietly, his eyes taking a slow trip down every curve God gave me as the doors slid shut.

Lord. The elevator suddenly felt about three sizes too small. Too much Trey. Too much cologne.

When the elevator opened on the third floor, the air was thicker. Heavier. Low moans and soft sounds carried down the hall. Some doors were cracked open, others shut tight. Every step carried the weight of sex and possibility.

I caught sight of a couple tucked in a shadowed corner; he lifted her top and sucked her breasts while she threw her head back. When we walked past, his eyes caught mine and he winked without breaking rhythm.

My chest tightened. My breath shortened.

Everything I thought I knew about lifestyle parties was complete bullshit. This wasn’t awkward. Wasn’t a bunch of desperate people doing weird shit in a dark room.

This was sexy, intentional, and confidence with expensive taste. Nobody looked ashamed, nervous, or worried about who was watching. Just people enjoying exactly what they wanted. And somehow that was the hottest part.

I could feel my own arousal building with every step. Then I stopped. Completely. Directly in front of a set of double doors marked THEATRE.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. Inside looked like somebody had reached into the filthiest fantasy I’d ever had and brought it to life.

On a small raised stage bathed in red light, a redbone beauty with long dark hair was on her knees, lips stretched wide as she bobbed between two thick ***, spit glistening across her chin and dripping down her neck. She wasn't just ***; she was worshipping, moaning around them like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted.

Before I could blink, one of the men helped her up, bent her over at the waist, and slid deep inside her from behind. She gasped, mouth falling open, and immediately wrapped her lips back around the other man's ***, never missing a beat.

Nine people sat in plush leather theatre chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the stage. Men and women alike, some fully dressed, others half-naked, a few completely naked, openly handling themselves and each other as they watched.

I'd never seen anything like it in my life.

And instead of being horrified…Instead of wanting to leave…Every nerve ending in my body screamed the same thing.

I wanted in.

Trey stood behind me, his body heat radiating against my back, his palm warm and heavy on my thigh. He slid the side of my dress up slowly, his fingertips grazing bare skin.

"You smell so damn good," he whispered against my ear. "Do you like what you see?"

I couldn't even fake coyness. My *** was a waterfall. And from the hard weight pressing against the small of my back, Trey was just as ready. I couldn’t believe my best friend had offered her husband to me on a silver platter. And even more unbelievable, I was actually hungry for him.

When his hands gripped my breasts through my dress and squeezed, I had to brace myself on the doorframe to keep my knees from weakening.

"Where can I have you?" I asked, my voice raw and low.