Burn Down the Night

by M. O'Keefe

  My dick was begging to get stroked. Begging. But I left it alone, ready to milk this moment. Ready to see everything Joan thought she was going to show me.

  Sarah brought her hand up to the back of Joan’s head, pulling her in closer. Sarah was biting Joan’s lip and Joan’s hand went back to her breasts, finding the hard nipple and squeezing it between her thumb and finger, pulling it taut.

  Sarah gasped, breaking the kiss.

  “Show him my pussy again,” she said, and Joan lifted that skirt, revealing the pink panties.

  “How wet is she?” I asked.

  Joan slipped her hand beneath Sarah’s underwear, pulling it taut. I could see her knuckles against the damp silk. Her finger working Sarah’s slit.

  “She’s so wet,” Joan said. “So hot.”

  Joan lifted her hand and licked her fingers, her eyes glued to mine. We were all breathing hard, the oxygen in the room getting used up.

  “You going to tell us what to do?” Sarah asked, looking over at me with her swollen lips and half-lidded eyes.

  “Is that what you want?” Joan asked Sarah. “You want him to tell us how to fuck each other?”

  Sarah nodded and Joan’s eyes met mine over her shoulder. She smirked.

  “You think you can handle that?” she asked.

  The walls of the room were made of flame. The air was combustible. Fuck. This woman. She had all the power in the room. Every inch of it was hers. She only pretended to give it to me.

  If these handcuffs weren’t here, the things I would do to her.

  I was going to have to get creative.

  “What should I do, Dave?” she asked, taunting. She knew she had the power.

  “Sarah,” I said. “Take off…” I didn’t know what name Joan gave the woman. “My wife’s shirt. Show me her tits.”

  Joan blinked, straightened. Her busy fingers still on Sarah’s body. “You wanted to watch me go down on another woman.”

  “I changed my mind,” I said, wrenching control out of her hands. “I want to watch another woman go down on you. I want to watch you come. Sarah? You good with that?”

  “So good.” She turned reaching for the hem of Joan’s tank top. Joan glared daggers at me. She was going to say no, I could practically see the words about to come out of her mouth and the moment hung on the edge of the knife.

  Fuck you, her whole body screamed at me. She hurled her hate across the room like arrows but lifted her arms so Sarah could take off her shirt.

  Her skin looked tan and smooth in the light, her tan lines fading since her days at the club ended. But her breasts were still white and full and perfect.

  “Jesus,” Sarah said part reverent, part laughing. “Tell me to touch them. Please.”

  “Do it.”

  “Don—” Joan cut herself off and Sarah stopped. The air changed, the tension…changed. Cooled. She’d been about to say don’t. And we all knew it. She’d been about to back out. Her whole plan was about to fall at her feet because she didn’t want to feel anything in front of me.

  I lifted my eyebrow. You gonna back out?

  “Is this…okay?” Sarah asked, and took a step back.

  “Yes. Do it,” Joan said, looking back at Sarah. “Touch me.”

  And just like that, the heat between them melted the moment and we were all locked back in. There was no outside world. No club. No revenge. No brothers. No sisters. There was this room and the three of us.

  “You’re beautiful,” Sarah said, running the backs of her hands over the top of Joan’s breasts. Joan sighed, like she was sinking into the touch. She sighed like she was letting go of something.

  I recognized that sound. Women had been making it for me since I was fifteen.

  Surrender.

  Sarah cupped a breast in her soft white hand and licked Joan’s nipple with the flat of her tongue. It was so quiet in the room. I bent my knee and the blankets rustling over my body was loud enough to pull Sarah’s gaze to me.

  “Talk to us,” Sarah said, her voice practically a whisper. Joan looked up at the ceiling as if she was trying to pretend I wasn’t there. I loved a challenge.

  “Suck her,” I said.

  Sarah pulled her nipple into her mouth and Joan gasped, her hand clutching at Sarah’s head.

  She cupped the other breast and did the same to that nipple. I could see the wet of her mouth all over Joan’s breast.

  “Put your hand between her legs,” I told Sarah and she slid that small pale hand over the crotch of Joan’s cutoffs. “Can you feel her?”

  “She’s hot.” Sarah ran that hand against the seam, pushing it against Joan, whose hips started rocking against the touch. “So hot.”

  “You want to taste my wife?” Joan’s eyes opened and bored into mine at those words.

  “Yes,” Sarah said.

  “Do you want that, baby?” I asked Joan. “Or do you want out, because there’s still time.” I had no fucking clue why I was giving her this chance. Her body wanted it, I could see it. I could smell it.

  Joan shook her head.

  Not good enough. “Say the words.”

  “I want it.”

  “Take off her pants, Sarah.”

  She popped the button and put her hands down the top of the pants in the back, working the tight denim over her ass until the shorts fell to the floor.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Sarah whispered to Joan. “Your body—”

  “So are you,” Joan said with a little smile for Sarah, and then she leaned forward and kissed her. A soft sweet kiss on the mouth that surprised me with its tenderness. Joan and tender were not words I put together in my mind.

  Joan didn’t have underwear on and Sarah’s fingers ran over her skin, down her flat stomach, over her ass, and back up to her breasts. I could hear the slight rasp of it, skin against skin and my hands twitched like I could feel it, too. I wanted to feel it.

  “I want to touch you. Take off the handcuffs,” I said and then regretted it the minute I said it. She would never do it and it did no good to let Joan know what I wanted. No good to let her know that I was more invested in this scene than in getting free.

  But it was too late. I revealed too much and now the power was hers again.

  Sarah looked up, her eyes bright at the idea. “Yeah!”

  But Joan was already shaking her head. “You’ve already broken our deal once,” she said. “You don’t get to touch. Not tonight.”

  Sarah smiled—utterly in on this fake game between the three of us.

  “Then show me what I do get,” I said. “Sit back on the dresser.”

  Joan walked three steps backward and sat down on the edge of the dresser. “Sarah,” I said. “Get on your knees in front of her.”

  Sarah dropped down.

  “Give the girl a pillow at least,” Joan said and I chucked a pillow at the two of them. Sarah laughed and put it under her knees.

  Joan was not laughing. She was staring at me. Hard. And I stared right back.

  “Spread your legs,” I said. “Show me what she’s going to taste.”

  Joan’s breath shuddered, her breasts shimmying with the force of her breath. The force of what she was holding on to. Her pale legs shifted wide and I could see the pink of her. Her clit. The opening of her pussy. She was wet and gleaming in the lamplight.

  So beautiful.

  So fucking beautiful.

  “Touch her, Sarah,” I said, my voice rough and low like it came from my belly.

  Sarah’s finger ran through her folds, from the clit to the entrance to her body.

  “Her clit,” I said, and Sarah put her finger against it, pressing and rolling the bead between her fingers and Joan’s body. Joan gasped, lifting her hips.

  “Pinch it between your fingers,” I said. “That’s how she likes it.”

  Joan’s eyes flew to mine, glowing in the shadows. Yeah, I wanted to say. I noticed. I noticed how you like it the other day and I’m going to use that information to pull you apart.
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  Sarah did it and Joan cried out, curling forward. Sarah shifted and I couldn’t see anymore.

  But it didn’t matter. The only thing I wanted to see was Joan’s face.

  “Taste her,” I said and Sarah leaned forward, burying her mouth between Joan’s legs. “Suck that clit into your mouth.”

  Sarah was an excellent instruction follower. Joan cried out, jerking her hips.

  “Hold her still,” I said and Sarah put her hands around Joan’s body, gripping her hips. Her ass.

  “Oh fuck,” Joan said, one hand landing on the dresser behind her, the other pushing Sarah’s face deeper into her body. “So good, baby. You suck it so good.”

  Sarah made some kind of humming noise in her throat and shifted restlessly on the floor.

  “She wants me to fuck her,” I said to Joan, who lifted her eyes to mine for a moment but then she shut them again, blocking me out.

  Oh, this control game was fucking insane. I wanted to crawl inside her head.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” I said. “Look at me.”

  Joan shook her head.

  “Sarah, stop.”

  Sarah leaned back, resting her head against Joan’s legs so she could see me. Her mouth was shiny and I wanted to lick the taste of Joan from her lips.

  “You want to come?” I asked Joan.

  She was silent. Mutinous. Oh, I wanted to bend her.

  “Joan?” Sarah asked, running her thumb against Joan’s clit. Not a fake name. Good.

  “Tell her, Joan,” I said. “Tell her you want to come. You want to come all over her face.”

  Joan’s breath shuddered and her hand gently touched Sarah’s face. “I want to come,” she breathed.

  “Then you have to look at me.”

  “Look at him,” Sarah said. She took one hand off Joan’s ass and slipped it between Joan’s legs. A long finger slid inside her and Joan’s face went slack. Totally blissed out.

  I’d never seen anything hotter.

  “Look at him, Joan.” Sarah whispered, finger-fucking my kidnapper with long, slow strokes of her hand. “He’s your husband and you’re happy right now. And he’s here. Right here. And that could change so fast.”

  Yeah, the world was a cruel place no one knew that better than Joan and me.

  And clearly Sarah, with her sad story.

  “Use another finger,” I said. “Fill her up.” Sarah did. Two fingers. “Give her another.”

  Sarah carefully put a third finger into Joan, pushing in and dragging out. Long and slow.

  Joan cried out again, a shaking trembling thing. But she was watching me. Eyes unfocused but locked on mine.

  “Suck her,” I said. “Fingers and mouth at the same time. Fast. Hard. She likes it hard. She likes it to hurt just a little.”

  Yeah, I knew all that about her. I knew those dark places in her soul. I had the same bruises.

  Sarah did as I asked. I couldn’t see her mouth against Joan. But I saw her arm moving faster and harder. A punishing pace. Bruising even.

  Joan was crying out every time Sarah pushed in. “Keep those eyes open, baby,” I murmured. “Oh God, I want to fuck you so bad. Imagine it. Imagine me pushing her hands away and sliding deep inside you. So deep. You’ve never been filled like I fill you. You’ve never been stretched like I stretch you. Imagine my cock, so hard inside of you it hurts. Just a little. Just enough. And she’s still licking you. You like that, don’t you. Her hot tongue. My hot cock—”

  “Fuck, oh God. Oh—” Joan clutched Sarah’s head, jerking her hips up into her face and fingers, fucking herself against the woman. Wringing herself out.

  Shattering over and over again. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

  “Holy shit,” Sarah breathed, once Joan let go. “Oh God. That was so hot.”

  Sarah got to her feet and turned toward me. All that straight black hair was wild around her and she took a step toward the bed.

  Yeah, I though, come closer. Because my endgame wasn’t coming, it was getting these handcuffs off. And then coming.

  But first handcuffs.

  “You want this?” I asked stroking myself through the cotton of my underwear. I bit my lip against the pressure building in my cock.

  Sarah was at the foot of the bed, about to climb on but Joan grabbed her from behind.

  “No,” she said. “That’s not part of the deal.”

  Sarah whimpered, sagging a little in Joan’s arms.

  “I’ll take care of you,” she whispered into Sarah’s ear. “Let’s go in the other room.”

  “No,” Sarah said. “Here. I want him to watch…” We were both silent. “Unless that’s not cool—”

  “I want to watch,” I said at the same time Joan said. “He can watch.”

  Sarah smiled, easing back against Joan.

  She took one of Joan’s hands and pushed it between her legs. “Make me come,” she whispered.

  Joan pressed kisses against Sarah’s ear and the side of her face as she lifted that yellow skirt again, slipping her hands into that pink underwear. Joan was whispering something in Sarah’s ear and Sarah bit her lips, her eyes shut tight.

  I just watched, feeling like I was seeing something too private. Joan glanced at me and I could see the same thing in her face. This wasn’t for me.

  “Harder,” Sarah breathed.

  Joan’s fingers were a blur against Sarah’s clit.

  “Yes, fuck. Like that. Just like that. Keep—” Sarah was up on her tiptoes and Joan spun her around, pushing her into the dresser. She stumbled, sprawled back, and Joan used both hands. I couldn’t see, Joan was in the way, but Sarah’s hand came up and clutched at Joan’s hair, pushing her down to her knees in front of her.

  “Eat me,” Sarah said and Joan complied.

  I couldn’t hold back anymore. I slipped my hand into my underwear and wrapped my fist around my cock. Two strokes, hard and fast, and I was coming. Sarah was coming, too, and both of us cried out. The room echoing with our shouts and groans.

  I was covered in sweat. Replete and exhausted and still somehow tuned up.

  Joan stood, stumbling a little like her legs had given out. Sarah reached up and grabbed her elbow, smiling. Laughing a little, like you do when all the hard edges were rubbed away by another person’s hand.

  “Whoa,” Joan said.

  “Yeah,” Sarah laughed. “Whoa. That was…awesome.”

  “It was,” Joan said. I was silent.

  Joan put on her clothes and Sarah pulled up her underwear, jumped down off the dresser and smoothed out her hair. “I should get back. My in-laws have the kids out for dinner. They’ll be back soon.”

  I felt my jaw nearly hit the floor.

  “Sure,” Joan said. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Sarah walked by, close enough to grab and then closer still. She bent down and kissed my lips. Soft and sweet. I tasted the tang of Joan and my tongue swept out to get more. And then she stroked my face, her eyes taking me in with all my tattoos and bullshit.

  Behind her Joan was wide-eyed, probably convinced that I was going to grab the woman by the throat and hold her hostage until Joan unlocked me. It’s what she would do in my place.

  It’s what I’d been trying to make happen.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  “My husband would have loved that,” Sarah said, her eyes unbearably sad. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and then she was walking out the door.

  Joan was smart enough to not get too close. I might let the sad mother leave unscathed, but if Joan got close, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

  “I want the number,” she whispered, her face hard.

  And then she, too, was gone.

  Chapter 15

  Joan

  I closed the door behind Sarah and leaned my head against it, trying so hard to pull myself back together. But I couldn’t even find the threads to grab on to.

  Fucking Max. What a bastard.

 
; If he gave me the number for Lagan, I would let him go. I had to. Not just for him. For me. I didn’t care if he went back to his stupid motorcycle club. I didn’t care if he got murdered by his brothers. I didn’t care about any of it. I just needed him gone.

  I grabbed the cellphone off the kitchen counter and walked into the bedroom.

  It smelled like sex and I felt interest coil in my belly again.

  I wanted to wallow in this smell. I wanted to rub it onto my skin.

  “Where’d you find her?” Max asked, his voice a little awestruck.

  “On the beach. She’s here with her kids visiting her in-laws. Her husband died a year ago.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I think we made her happy, though. For a night.”

  “You did.”

  I almost smiled at him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel any closer to this guy. I couldn’t afford that. I held up the cellphone.

  “Did I show you enough to earn the number?” I asked.

  He took a deep breath, his lean hard body, ridged and tattooed, shook in the lamplight. “You showed me plenty,” he said and I looked away, not wanting to see anything in his eyes. Not lust. Not interest. Not kindness. Not respect. Nothing.

  “Joan—”

  “Just give me the number.”

  Max

  I gave it to her. Ten digits that might just get her killed. And a year ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit.

  Everything was different now. She was walking right into disaster, and I was being forced to watch.

  That creepy, insidious thought came back: what if things were different.

  Not for me, so much—because clearly shit was. I didn’t fully know or understand how, all I knew was deep inside where I held first my fear and then the hot coal of revenge—it was empty. And I felt blank. Just…cleared out.

  But what if things were different for her.

  “Now let me go,” I said.

  She held up a finger and the maniac pressed dial and put the phone to her ear.

  “You have got some fucking death wish,” I muttered, shaking the handcuffs like this time they would just spring open. Like we’d hit some limit on crazy and I’d just go free.