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One Bride for Five Groomsmen
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
Twenty Million Dollars.
I always dreamed about having my own wolfpack of hot men.
This is a steamy standalone 50,000 word novel with a HEA, and no cheating!
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The sound of the reception is just barely audible over the sound of their hoarse, ragged breaths. Far away, my best friend has just gotten married. Family and friends are gathered in the ballroom, half drunk and celebrating. Celebrities and tycoons dance to live music, drunk on love, infused with hope, dressed to dazzle.
And here am I in my private suite, surrounded by a wolfpack of five handsome men.
I can barely breathe. Suddenly this bridesmaid dress is far too tight. I feel like it binds me, constricting me like a rose-colored snake. And here they are, circling me, all five men with their eyes trained on the fluttering pulse between my collarbones.
It’s so dangerous, and yet I know I won’t do anything to stop it now.
My stomach twists, from nerves or from excitement I can’t tell. I know that I’m ready, absolutely willing to go to the next step. We’ve been testing the waters, trying to see how we feel in various combinations.
And now I know, I need it all.
I hear a small popping sound, the delicate metallic buzz of my zipper being pulled down just the smallest amount. Green eyes stare into mine, a challenge, a dare.
Still they circle. Hungry as wolves. Confident they have me cornered now.
But what they don’t know is that I led them here. This is my home. They didn’t chase me; I dared them to follow me.
Looking back on it now, it was always going to be like this. I had denied my feelings for so long, even going so far as to deny my nature.
But now, I can’t look away from the truth any longer. They continue to circle me and fingers tug at the zipper again, sliding it down to the base of my spine. I feel the cooler air snaking around my naked skin, as though breath is being exhaled against me.
My heart is so loud, I wonder if they can hear. I swallow, hard and stare at slightly parted lips, so sweet, so strong. The gleaming stripe of moisture at the border. White teeth and the tip of the tongue.
“I think I know what you need,” he says in a low voice that only I can hear.
Strange. I do know what I need. But I don’t think he knows.
I don’t think he’s fully admitted to himself.
He slides to my back and another steps in front of me, curling his rough fingers under my chin, tipping my head back. The first leans close to whisper from behind.
“You feel that?”
I pause to consider what I feel. The eyes of five men. The heat of five stares. The musky, hormonal surge of their combined desire.
And also, his presence. His rigid length, pressing against me. He nestles closer, wedging between my ass cheeks.
“That’s it. You feel it now, don’t you?”
My breath is sharp between my teeth.
“Yeah, you do,” he growls through a smile so confident I can hear it in his voice. “You’re ready for it, Angie. I’m going to take your ass tonight. I’m going to be the first.”
I arch my back, reflexively pulling away, but another man stops me, coming up with his hands on my shoulders. Delicately he plucks at the straps of my dress and pulls it forward, revealing me to all of them in one efficient motion.
It’s all happening now. All the small pieces of the puzzle have magically settled together. It’s all coming together now, and I wouldn’t do a thing to change it.
Jared circles the island, banking gently in the single engine turboprop so that my small window is filled with the lush green view of Gold Dust Island. I am the only person in the plane right now, so I picked the best seat and left the other eleven empty.
Below us, the island looks like a velvety green blanket undulating softly around a single, rocky peak. Here and there I can just barely make out the roofs of individual cabins, and as we slowly curve toward the north side, I see the terraced planes of the main mansion/hotel, like cubes stacked on top of each other.
It’s a magical site, I have to admit, though I have been calling this my second home since I was a baby. Though it is technically part of North Carolina, Gold Dust Island is a wholly-owned property of Cayman Hotels. It is few thousand acres of hills, forests, and birds, surrounded by pure white beaches and lagoons that seem bathwater warm all year-round.
Kind of like heaven. Practically paradise.
Jared offers me his customary thumbs-up gesture before beginning his descent toward the single runway that bisects the northern point. He has made this trip thousands upon thousands of times. I can’t even imagine how many times. He has worked for my family for forty years? Fifty? He is basically part of the family.