by Chloe Adler
I opened my eyes and propped myself up on my elbows to watch. Her ass was raised in the air, her knees resting on the edge of my bed. Elijah had gone from spanking her to licking her, bending over behind her, apparently tonguing her ass.
“Open your pussy up for me, Tiyah, I want to fist you,” came his muffled voice. Her ass wiggled in the air as she spread her legs wider apart.
He moved off her to squirt some lube onto his hand and then made eye contact with me, biting his lip.
I nodded, bringing one of my hands up to show him the correct hand configuration. He copied me and I nodded again. She stopped licking to look up. I pointed to her and he grabbed her head and pushed it back down.
“Did I say you could stop?” he growled.
“No, Master,” she said quietly, her breath tickling my cunt.
“Do what I said and bring her close to orgasm.”
“Yes, Master.” She went back to licking me and inserted the dildo again, pumping my hole.
I watched as he pressed his hand into her pussy, all the while looking between her backside and my eyes as I urged him on. She moaned and gurgled into me as his four fingers and thumb stretched her wider and wider. It might be all she could take and I held a palm up to him. He pumped his hand methodically in and out, maintaining the beak-like configuration. Tiyah pressed back against him, her body tensing and arching.
“Breathe,” I commanded and she gasped for air, loosening her muscles just enough for his hand to slip all the way inside.
The woman shot up, crying out in pleasure. His hand was on her shoulder in a second, pushing her back on me, but the poor girl was lost in lust. I held a finger up to him and motioned for him to grab her by the throat. He did, holding her above me on all fours, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as I pantomimed to him to keep fisting her while I played with her ravishing chest, teasing and pinching her nipples for several minutes.
Sliding out from underneath her I reversed my body, moved back into position and placed my mouth over her slickened folds. My tongue found her clit and I latched on while she bucked and writhed, screaming loudly.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” And she came all over us both, twisting and squirming, diving straight down to the warm depths of her own pleasure.
After her last convulsion we moved her back onto the bed, working together, even though I could have easily lifted her with one hand. There, we held onto her until her breathing slowed, those lids sinking over her honey-colored eyes, those dark-pink lips curling into a smile. The three of us fell asleep, Tiyah spooning me and Elijah spooning her. Utter bliss. Don't get used to it, Burg, these aren't yours to keep. But I so wished they were.
I woke several house later to her tongue on me again and him standing over her, fisting his cock. “It's her job to please you,” he said to me. “Let me make her do it properly.”
“You'll have no argument from me, if—” I arched into her mouth.
His hungry eyes watched as his erection grew harder and harder in his hands.
“Anything,” he groaned.
“You cover me with your come when I come in her mouth.”
“Oh yes.” His breath caught, then sped up. He cleared his throat. “You heard your Mistress, Tiyah. Make her come. Hard.”
After spending most of Sunday in bed with the couple, I was confident that Elijah had all the skills he required to top his lady. I had successfully wrenched my thoughts away from the possibility of anything more than this experience. I was worthy of finding everything they had with someone of my own. What my dad had found with Margery. What my besties had with their mates. I wouldn't settle for less, even if the hole of solitude was massive, and growing by the second.
“Tiyah, can you wait in the living room while I talk to your man for a few minutes?” I asked and she dutifully dressed and left my room.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him.
“Really good,” he said with a grin. “I don't know how'll it be without you there to guide me but I'm willing to try.”
“You can always call me after a scene. We can discuss it on the phone or meet for coffee. Whatever works.”
“I feel like I should pay you for teaching me how to please my woman.”
“I benefitted greatly, but if you'd like to pay me in diving lessons, I wouldn't say no.”
“That'd be great. I didn't know you wanted to dive.”
“Neither did I, but why not? It's something I've never tried and I'm always up for new things.”
“Deal.”
“Can you go get Tiyah so I can speak to her in private now?”
“Sure.” He left my room, and a few minutes later there was a tentative knock.
“Come in,” I called out, still perched on my bed.
She opened the door and I patted the space next to me. Sitting, she crossed her legs and rubbed her hands down the front of her jeans.
“I wanted to make sure that you're happy with the way Elijah is topping you. I'm ready to cut the cord and let you two move on to your D/s bliss.”
She reached for my hand. I let her. “I don't know how we can ever thank you, and I know I shouldn't want this but . . .” she looked at me. “Can't we keep being intimate with you?”
I adjusted myself on my bed to face her. “That's not how these types of arrangements work. You two are basically monogamous, no?”
Nodding, she opened her mouth and then closed it again. “We have been but with you it's different. It feels right.”
Fuck. It did feel right but that didn't mean it was. “Tiyah,” I said softly and her eyes filled with tears as she looked down. I raised her chin up so I could look into those soulful orbs. “I'm not looking for a relationship with anyone. I love sleeping around and I need variety.”
A tear rolled down her dark cheek, catching at the corner of her gorgeous full mouth. I used my thumb to stroke it away. A little sob escaped. “I think I'm falling for you.”
“It's the oxytocin,” I responded. “All those orgasms release the same hormone you feel when you're in love.”
“That's not what this is,” she insisted. “I know all about that hormone. It's the same one vampires can inject you with.”
“One of them, yes.”
“Look,” she touched my hand again and stroked it, “I know what I'm feeling is real.”
“What about Elijah?”
“Oh, I love him too. I want you both.”
I stood up and walked over to my dresser, looking at her in the mirror. Watching her watch me. Shit. I wanted her too. And him. But that wouldn't end well. I had to take into account what had happened between Sadie, Jared and myself. And what would never happen between Sadie, Ryder and myself. In theory, triads were my number-one fantasy, but in reality, they were messy and unpredictable and impermanent. These two had a solid monogamous relationship. The green-eyed monster did not look or feel good on me.
“I know Elijah is attached to you too,” she said, her voice even.
“You've talked to him about it?”
“No, I don't have to. We've been together for long enough. I know.”
“Tiyah,” I turned around to face her, “what we had was amazing and I wouldn't change it for the world, but it's time for you two to explore a D/s relationship on your own and see if it works between you.”
“And if it doesn't?”
“If it doesn't, you'll have to figure out what does.” Shit. They were under my skin, like a nail in one of Cherry's tires, and I would need something stronger than pliers to remove them.
Chapter Eleven
So I did what I always did when I wanted to take my mind off things; I went to the V to have sex with a random stranger.
Jared wasn't working but I said hello to Carter briefly on my way to the back.
“Stay for one drink,” he cajoled. “Please?”
“Bored?”
“With the conversation from this alluring crowd?” His sarcasm dripped down his freshly ironed button-up. “I'm that obv
ious?”
I barked out a laugh, clinking my glass of bourbon to his water.
A soft hand landed on my forearm and I reeled around, grabbing the person who touched me without my consent by the throat. Tiyah's lovely brown eyes bulged as I held her, dangling a foot off the ground. I quickly let go, catching her under the arms as she fell.
“Shit, Tiyah, I'm so sorry. It's a reflex.”
“One she's honed for years,” added Carter.
I shot him a look. Tiyah was shaking slightly, and in a minute, Elijah was at her side, his arm cradling her protectively.
“What happened?” he asked her, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Nothing,” she coughed. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“An accident,” I said. “I apologize.”
“Are you okay?” he asked her and she nodded, offering him a smile that lit up her face.
“I was so excited to see Burgundy here that I grabbed her without any warning.”
I paused for a beat while he nodded, sighed and slipped onto the barstool next to the one I had vacated.
“I hope you two have a fantastic night.” I turned.
“Wait,” he called out.
Turning back to them, I rested my hands on my hips, tilting my head.
“Can I speak to you for just a few minutes?” asked Elijah.
“Of course.” I remained standing.
“Tiyah, can I talk to Burgundy alone, please?”
“Oh,” she looked between us, “yes. I'll wait, at one of the tables on the floor.” She wandered away, not looking back.
I resumed my perch, fingering my drink, not looking at him.
“I was hoping to see you here, to talk to you in person.”
“Well, here I am.”
“I'm not sure how to say this so I won't beat around the bush.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I want a full-on threesome with you and Tiyah. I can't stop thinking about it. It's getting in the way of my relationship with her.”
“Does she know?” I asked.
He nodded, then motioned to Carter. “Scotch on the rocks please.”
“And what does she say?”
“She loves the idea.” He looked at me again as Carter slid a drink down the bar.
“I'll tell you what I told your girlfriend. I don't do long-term. My four donors and my best friends are the only people I engage with sexually on a repeat basis, and even that I keep to a minimum.”
“Why?”
“Simple. I like my lifestyle and I don't want to get attached. In my experience, relationships like the one you two have don't work out in the long run, and more importantly, I could never be monogamous.”
His laugh was deep and not at all condescending or minimizing. “Why not take a chance on us, Burgundy? We won't disappoint. We're not asking for your hand in marriage. Just a little more fun. It's obvious that you're still attracted to us.”
“Attraction,” I waved my hand in the air, “that comes and goes.”
“What are you afraid of? You don't think that my wife and I are solid? Are you afraid of breaking us up?”
Like father, like daughter. I flinched. Except I wasn't a cheater. I kept my cards on the table in full view.
Maybe that was the problem. I wasn't very discreet. Hadn't I been asked nicely to play ball so I could keep my house? My life?
Or was it something else? It's true, they did seem solid as a couple. Shipshape and watertight, no room for anything to seep in between. The only thing worse than stealing one of them from the other would be to watch them both walk away.
I leaned toward him. “You two are great fun and great people, but I can't.” They were a Band-Aid for my detachment. But I needed a tourniquet for these seeping emotions.
“Can't or won't?” he asked.
“What's the difference?” I shrugged. “Excuse me.” I slipped off my barstool, making my way to the back rooms. The easiest way for me to reset my clock was to engage in some delicious depravity.
I slipped through the beaded curtain at the entrance to the back rooms, then paused, running my hand down the ornamental charms. My palm wrapped around a string of sparkling glass beads, holding tightly. The way I wished someone would hold onto me.
The curtain was elaborate and sexy, like the couple I was trying to shed. Both were completely my style too. Large red beads mixed with silver, white and pale blue and tinkled joyously with every movement. The couple was forthright and accepting, pushing my emotional boundaries. Both were sensual. Provocative.
Snap out of it. Compartmentalize.
I peeked into the first room and was greeted with a voluptuous woman topping a man half her size. Nice. She looked up at me, licking her lips, and motioned for me to enter. I shook my head. No bottoming for me. Unless it was to help Elijah, came the unbidden thought. No, not even then. That was over.
The second room sported two men. One was bent over and tied to a vaulting horse, while the other flogged him. I recognized the one on the rack: not bisexual.
The third room looked promising. A man I didn't recognize had another man that I did recognize tied to the metal chair. They both looked up and the one I knew licked his lips. Score. This one was bisexual and he liked it rough. I entered with a smile and joined the one I didn't know.
“Burgundy,” I whispered into his ear. He pulled back and his gaze slid up and down, almost languidly, stopping at my chest.
“Oh I know exactly who you are,” he grinned. “I'm Mark.”
“Scott,” I jutted my chin toward the one tied up, “an extra hand?”
“Oh please,” Scott groaned. His cock looked painfully hard, probably due to the metal cock ring fitting snugly around it and his balls. His arms and legs were tied to the chair and Mark was holding a cane—just the way Scott liked it.
The last time we'd played, I'd opened bloody wounds on his ass as he'd cried for more.
His inner thighs and chest were welted, pre-come dripping from his raging hard-on.
Mark handed me the cane, then dropped to his knees to take the wet cock in his mouth. I started whipping Scott's biceps and his eyes closed while he gurgled and moaned. The cock ring would keep him from coming. It was pure, delicious torture. The beating was invigorating, and both men were scorching.
So why the hell was not I getting aroused?
“Help me lean the chair back,” I commanded and Mark stood up, tilting the chair back with Scott aboard. Handing him the cane, I pulled up my skirt, straddling Mark's face with my back to Scott. I knew how good he was at pussy licking and I bore down on his mouth, crushing his tongue into me, rocking back and forth.
“Whip his inner thighs, make him bleed,” I said through gnashed teeth, listening to the whistle of the cane as it sliced through the air again and again, slapping hard against Mark's inner thighs.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I saw my couple, fantasizing that I was with them. It was Tiyah's face that I was straddling and it was Elijah that beat her into submission. That got my juices flowing as I ground back and forth against his mouth. Ouch. Razor burn pulled me out of my fantasy and I shot upward so fast that I almost fell forward.
The whipping stopped. “Are you okay?” asked Mark. “What happened?”
“Nothing, I'm fine.” I whipped around, catching two spectators standing right inside the doorway. Elijah had leaned up against the wall next to the doorjamb with Tiyah positioned in front of him, facing me. One of his hands was squeezing her breast and the other was buried between her legs. Both sets of eyes were on me. Fuck.
“Excuse me,” I said to the two men and approached the couple. Elijah froze, stopping his ministrations, waiting.
“I can't do this,” I whispered to them.
“Why not?” Tiyah whined. “We want you.”
“Yeah? Well I don't want you.” I stormed out of the room, leaving all four people behind.
Chapter Twelve
Sunlight burst through my windows, burning holes in my retina at the ungodly hour of
ten a.m. Figuratively. Dammit. I'd gotten home so late I'd forgotten to draw my blackout curtains. The sun was harsh and biting, like tiny sand crabs snapping at my bare ankles.
I shifted in bed, restless with unspent energy from the night before, and pressed my hands between my legs, hard against my mound. I had run home last night and gone to sleep without touching myself. My banked fire was burning a hole in my psyche.
Channel your sexual energy into a laser focus. There will be plenty of time to play with yourself later. Or better yet, get someone else to satiate your needs. The problem with that line of thinking was that it led to thoughts of jumping on Tiyah and Elijah. But how could I? I would not be their home-wrecker. How would I be any different from Margery if I destroyed the beautiful relationship they had? My hand flew to my chest. Heartburn? The ache there was new.
The couple wanted me for now, but more likely they were just enamored with the idea of it. The fantasy of a threesome. Of love 'em and leave 'em. Shit, hadn't I perpetuated that exact stereotype for my entire life?
Thumping out to the kitchen in my purple velvet robe and slippers, I found a fresh pot of coffee and a note from Jared. He and Chrys were at their respective schools while the boys had taken Rex out for a walk. I poured myself a cup and sat down at the table, looking at my phone, frowning. Zero messages. Nothing from the couple which, again, was what I wanted, but . . . why hadn't my father called? If I could meet Dad alone and speak to him I was sure we could work things out. He was a lot of things, but racist was not one of them. Dialing his number, I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he answered.
“Maria, hello.” His tone was clipped and cold.
“Papa. What are your plans for this morning?”
“Nada. Que?”
“Can you meet me at the cafe on the pier?”
“For breakfast?”
“No, well yeah, I love their pancakes, but mostly I'd just like to sit somewhere and talk for a bit, if that's okay with you.”