Her soft lips pressed to the spot where my leg joined my body, teasing me, and a quiet whine bubbled out of my mouth. I’d done enough waiting. I’d been a good girl, hadn’t I? I deserved to get my reward. A wicked chuckle drifted from her like she was a mind reader, and then she finally closed in.
“Oh, thank you,” I gasped.
Her tongue swirled over my clit, shooting sparks of pleasure down my legs. It felt so impossibly great, but at the same time, my body hesitated as I lurched toward release. I’d been fooled twice now with stalled orgasms, so she was going to have to work for it.
I slipped a hand into her fire-colored locks, holding her mouth to me and not caring if she was going to slap my directing hand away. She almost always straightened her hair with a flat iron, but it looked nice when she left it naturally curly too. I was a little obsessed with her hair, and a lot obsessed with my relationship with her and Silas.
But . . .
Not in an emotional way. They had each other for that, and honestly, I had very little in common with either of them. Regan and I worked at the club and were both bisexual, but that was it. I was a free-spirited dancer, who wore provocative clothes, never fit in, and stopped trying to years ago. She hid behind the buttoned-down accountant lifestyle, unless she was at the club. While Silas was a creative type, our similarities ended there.
I was submissive down to my bones, and she and Silas couldn’t stand the idea of giving up control. So, our “relationship” was about sexual enjoyment and power exchange. And that worked great for both of us.
The relationship was open on my end. I could date if I wanted, but I had better odds of Ryan Reynolds leaving Blake Lively for me—or her doing the same—than finding a man in Chicago who was totally cool dating a girl who fucked strangers for a living.
It was fine. I’d accepted it and could always go cry into my stacks of money if I got lonely. But I never did.
Well, I rarely did.
Her tongue was frantic, whipping at me, and the full, intense sensation of my orgasm barreled at me. I sucked in a breath, writhing beneath her sinful mouth as I clutched at the sheets. Any second now, she’d make good on her promise and deliver a toe-curling orgasm.
“Regan,” a male voice rang out from the bedroom doorway. “What the fuck?”
-6-
Tara
Regan jolted and turned to glance over her shoulder.
If the gallery ever went out of business, Silas could always get a job at the blindfold club, because the guy was huge. He worked out a lot, was covered with ink, and had an imposing presence. His hulking form was squeezed in the tight, dark doorway, but I could make out the scowl twisted on his lips.
“You started without me?” He delivered his pointed question as he stepped deeper into the room. I was naked, but his gaze was focused on her.
“You told me I could.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would.”
Regan flashed me a devious smile and stirred two fingers over my clit, making me contract from the acute bliss. “I’m getting her warmed up for you,” she said, just before putting her mouth back on me.
“Fuck,” I groaned under my breath. Her hands were set on my thighs, and I grabbed them, lacing our fingers together. I needed to hold onto her as I bucked with satisfaction.
Now that he was here, everything was complete. Regan and Silas were a matching set. Like her, he was fucking hot.
I’d always gone for the big, beefy guys, anyway. The epitome of manly men. Once I’d realized I was bi, I discovered the inverse was true of women. I loved the feminine, girly girls. Dresses and high heels and red lipstick.
He grabbed the sides of the gray t-shirt he was wearing and stretched it up over his head, casting it to the floor. Next, he focused on the belt at the waist of his jeans, eager to shed them and catch up with me. His hair was shaved on the sides and long on top, and as he pushed the jeans down, his soft brown hair fell into his eyes.
“Why do you still have clothes on?” he asked.
Her mouth paused only to speak the annoyed words. “Because I’m busy.”
He raised an eyebrow at her tone. Like her, he was a Dominant, which made for an interesting dynamic. They had figured it out, she told me when we’d first discussed the arrangement, but adding me in every once in a while gave them the opportunity to top at the same time. As a unit.
I’d only had to think about their offer for a second. Not one Dominant, but two? Two people focused on my pleasure was a pretty sweet gig, and being with them was intoxicating. Outside of the bedroom, we were friends. I didn’t give them control of my daily life, and they weren’t interested in it either. But in the bedroom? I submitted eagerly to every command they gave.
A single woman willing to have threesomes with an established couple is called a unicorn—because supposedly they don’t exist—but couldn’t the same be said of this couple? Women typically didn’t like to share their men. Even though emotions weren’t a part of it, Regan had no problem letting Silas fuck me.
Sometimes, she got off on it.