The men want Felicity on her knees

With a gentle push from James, Felicity's knees buckled, and she found herself sinking to the plush carpet. She felt a rush of vulnerability, her heart hammering against her ribs. The three groomsmen formed a semi-circle around her, their large, looming forms casting shadows across her trembling frame. James's hand remained on her shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring.

The air grew thick with the scent of testosterone and expensive cologne as the men began to undress. Felicity's eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Their shirts hit the floor one by one, revealing chests that were a testament to countless hours at the gym—chiseled abs, broad chests, and defined muscles that rippled in the candlelight. The sound of fabric rustling filled the room, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement as she stared up at these men, who had been transformed from her fiancé's friends into something else entirely.

"This is going to be a night you never forget, sweetheart," James said, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. He knelt beside her, his hand sliding from her shoulder to cup her chin. "You're going to be ours, in every way."