“No sex,” I rasped. “The same rule for when I’m with you too, then.” That was only fair. “How about . . . other stuff?”
She sat forward, gently placed a hand on my face, and pulled me close, her warm breath wafting over my skin. “You need us to define the rules?”
I nodded, my face moving under her grip.
She grinned and kissed me, but it was hard and controlling. And so fucking hot. “Silas can show you what you are and aren’t allowed to do.”
His tone was powerful and absolute. “Stand up. Face the wall and lift your skirt.”
-13-
Tara
As I rose to stand, my knees wobbled beneath my silver sequined skirt. Not with fear, but with excitement. I put one foot in front of the other until my nose was to the closest wall, then gripped the sides of my skirt, dragging it up slowly.
The paint color was a bland beige, even more drab in the low candlelight, and since it was all I could see, it wasn’t that different than when I had on a blindfold. I’d have to rely on my other senses to experience the scene.
There was a sound of soft skin meeting soft, damp skin. A kiss. Silas had delivered one to Regan on his way to me. She rustled on the couch, probably settling in to watch the show. My body was tight with anticipation as I held the skirt bunched at my sides, my ass exposed in my simple black thong.
The warmth from his body told me he was right behind me, and I drew in a shuddering breath. How was he going to touch me? Silas and Regan both liked to be aggressive, but the few spankings he’d given me had been more in the heat of the moment, driven by lust or the desire to quickly correct.
The idea of him slapping my ass and me counting the strokes seemed wrong for him. It was more Regan’s style. But since she was out of commission for the evening, would he pick up the reins?
He put a hand on the small of my back and eased me forward until I was actually pressed to the wall and had to turn my head so my cheek could rest against the hard, painted surface. With my entire length leaning against the wall, it pinned my skirt in place around my waist.
Before he’d opened his gallery, he’d worked construction, and he had the rough, calloused hands of a laborer. He wrapped them around my wrists and pulled my hands from my waist, lifted them up over my head, and pressed them to the wall. He didn’t tell me they needed to stay there, because he didn’t have to. As he let go of my wrists, he smoothed his hand down my tattooed forearm, his fingers trailing slowly over the curves and lines of the ink, admiring his art on my body.
Fuck, it was erotic. This simple touch brought the memories back in a rush. His needle dragging over my skin while Regan’s tongue slid between my legs. He’d had to strap me down to hold me steady, because I couldn’t hold back my orgasm, even as they’d both ordered me to.
I sighed against the wall, and since I couldn’t see anything anyway, my eyes fell closed.
Silas gathered my long hair in his hands, twisting it into thick rope, and then used it to tug my head back. It wretched a gasp from my lungs and sent tendrils of bliss down my legs.
His breath was hot on my neck as he leaned in. “This,” he whispered, “is okay.” He pressed his damp mouth to the tender skin just below my ear, and goosebumps burst on my arms. He kissed, and sucked, and nipped at the side of my neck, and he made a sound of enjoyment when I shivered in response.
There was a sharp smack as he slapped my ass, then immediately gripped the stinging cheek.
“Also, okay.” His deep voice wasn’t loud, but it filled my ear. It seeped into my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, focusing on the sensation of his rough hand holding me.
He hooked a finger under the string of my underwear and jerked it down over my hip, then did the other side. The scrap of fabric, damp with my arousal, slid down my legs and dropped to my ankles.
My moan was long and filled with need when his fingers skated between my cheeks and headed down between my thighs, discovering how turned on this demonstration was making me. He pressed his fingertips to my clit and rolled one tiny circle.
“He can touch you like this. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” I imagined it was Grant’s thick fingers plucking at me like the strings of his cello, and the line between men blurred. I was sure it’d feel different between the artist and the musician, but right now I pretended I had both.
I moaned into the side of my arm when Silas pushed a finger deep inside me.
“But he can’t do this.” He sounded so powerful, it hinted there’d be hell to pay if I broke the rule. “Only Regan and I get to do this.” He pulsed his finger in and out of my greedy body, and my gasps for breath matched his tempo. “Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” I etched my nails against the wall, clawing for something to hold onto while I moved my hips, riding his finger. My arms were tired and tingling, but I held my position. I wasn’t going to give Silas a reason to stop.
But he did.
I sobbed my disappointment as he withdrew, but it died in my throat as he dropped to his knees. Oh my God, was he going to—
He planted a giant hand on either side of my ass, peeled me open, and buried his mouth in my pussy.