LAYLA
Zack keeps stroking me, his touch getting firmer as he draws lazy circles around my sensitive nub, and I grip the sides of my chair as I start to throb. I can feel my cheeks flushing as my breathing gets heavier. I’m trembling. I want to touch myself. I want to yank Zack’s hand away. I want to stand up and run straight back to the hotel room. I try to focus on the ceremony playing out in front of me, but all I can think about is the slowly building ache between my legs.
I can’t help myself. Slowly, I start to rub against Zack’s hand, twitching my hips forward slightly. The balls shift inside me; I can almost picture them clinking together as electricity bolts through me.
At the same moment, Luke reaches out and puts a hand on my thigh. Pleasure rushes through me in a hot wave. He
