West isn’t done. “Hold your hands behind your back,” he instructs.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply. I feel each loop of rope pulling against my skin as I clasp my hands behind my back.
I half-expect either him or Rob to tie my hands together, but they don’t. Some unspoken communication happens between them, and they switch places. Rob moves in front of me. His gaze falls to my bound breasts, and he inhales sharply.
Then he kisses me for the very first time.
Rob has kissed my shoulders and my neck, soft and fleeting and delicate. But he’s not soft now. His lips crash into mine, crushing, passionate, and bruising. Our masks collide, and for a split second, I panic that it’s going to move, revealing my face. Then I fret that kissing isn’t sex-club-normal, and should I be kissing him back?
And then desire takes over.
I have fantasized about Rob and West for a year. I have yearned. Every single time Rob was out on a date, I brooded and pined. And now he’s kissing me. His hand circles my neck, dragging me closer. He runs his tongue on the seam of my lips.
I part my lips and kiss him back, almost breathless with need.
His chest brushes against my swollen, rope-bound breasts. My nipples are sensitive. So sensitive. I’m balanced on the knife-edge of an orgasm, and one touch would make me explode.
Our tongues tangle. I try to bring my hands up to cup his face, but the moment I move them, West stops me, holding my hands in a firm grip. “Did I give you permission to move your hands, kitty cat?” he asks, his voice level.
Oh fuck me, this is hot. “No, Sir,” I pant into Rob’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Are you?” West moves behind me and runs his hands down my sides, resting them on the waistband of my skirt. I can feel the bulge of his penis against my back, and I’m ready to combust.
I can't help but push my ass back against him.
His palm connects with my bottom in a stinging spank.
Oh. My. God.
My pussy gushes. I almost come right there, just from that one hard spank. I’m not going to last. They’ve had me wound tight since the moment I stepped into this room. From the moment I came on to them at the bar. No, from before that. I’ve been aching for this ever since that strange night in Paris, when the air was alive with possibilities.
It’s too much. I’m going to explode.
Rob responds by placing his hand on my mound, an inch above my swollen clit. I can feel his fingers through the fabric of my skirt. He trails his other hand lightly over my breasts. I whimper, need rampaging through my blood, and push my chest forward.
“Do you want me to touch you, honey?”
Honey.I don’t know what’s worse. Hearing Rob call me by my sister’s name or hearing him call me honey, a word he’d never use in real life. If he knew the truth. . . He would feel rightly betrayed.
What the fuck are you doing, Mel?
But it’s too late for uncertainty. I’m in a sex club, standing half-naked in front of Rob and West. The damage has already been done.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Rob gives me a maddening smile. “I can’t hear you,” he says, tilting his head to one side and giving me an appraising look. “You’re going to have to be more clear.”
“I want you to touch me.”
“Touch you where?”
Everywhere.I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I want you to touch my breasts.”
He trails his index finger over my breasts, following the rope’s path. “Like this?” he asks.
He’s being deliberately obtuse, and I want to scream. “I want you to touch my nipples. I want you to suck them into your mouth. Please. . .”
The last word is almost a sob. West pulls on the rope at my back, cinching it tighter. Rob’s hand closes around my swollen breast, and he flicks his tongue against my aching tip. “Like this?”