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Julian pressed his eyelids shut. His heart hammered so fast it felt like it would burst. His penis ached and pulsed, burning with a raging need. He slipped his hand into his breeches and stroked himself. Vincent's words swirled through his mind. Could he, should he, go into the bedchamber and take part in this wild sexual game?
Lord knew he wanted to. His body was ready ... but the thought of taking charge and mounting Annabelle in front of another couple scared him. What if they mocked him or told someone what he'd done?
And how had Annabelle been convinced to do these things with another woman? Until today, she'd seemed so proper and innocent. Had she been waiting for him to unleash this lustful side of her?
He opened his eyes and glanced at the wall separating the two bedrooms. Everything was quiet in the other room. Annabelle wasn't making whimpering sounds anymore. What was going on in there?
He peeked in and saw Vincent kneeling on the foot of the bed, naked. Sabrina was on her hands and knees, sucking his rod. Her long black hair was draped over her far shoulder, allowing him a view of her large breasts. Vincent groaned and looked toward the peephole. He winked and gestured for him to come join them.
Where was Annabelle?
He moved to the right and saw her lying near the head of the bed, her hands working the phallus between her parted legs. He bit his bottom lip and turned away. Is this what he'd become? Some kind of twisted pervert who lurked in rooms and watched people screw, too afraid to take action?
No. Watching might arouse him, and self-manipulation might ease his discomfort, but his need wouldn't be sated until he screwedsomeone.
The dam broke. He bolted out of the room and headed down the corridor. Vincent's clothes were lying on the carpet in front of a closed door. Without hesitating, he rushed inside.