Three Guilty Pleasures

by Nikki Sloane

“Sure.” There was no way Grant was going to be fine with it.

  Pleasant surprise darted through her expression. She hadn’t expected me to agree. And when I gave an inch, Regan took the whole fucking mile. Her shoulders straightened as her power swelled. “Can we make a request?” When I nodded, she added, “Can you not sleep with him until we’ve had a chance to meet him?”

  My pulse quickened. “Is this . . . a rule?”

  The atmosphere in the room began to shift as it filled with sexual tension. Silas’s voice was full of seduction. “If you would like it to be one, it can.”

  She matched his tone. “We could give you all kinds of rules.”

  I was flooded with heat. It was a new way for Regan and Silas to control my pleasure, even when they weren’t in the room. They dangled their dominance like a carrot on a stick, and I was willing to follow.

  “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.

  “Oh, fuck,” I groaned.

  “That’s also off limits,” Regan said from her perch on the couch, watching as her boyfriend ate me out. It was filthy and hot, and good lord, I didn’t want this scene to end.

  The stroke of Silas’s tongue was wet velvet. Warm and lush, and the muscles low in my belly clenched with pleasure. I bucked back into his face, wanting more contact, and when my skirt started to fall, his hands were there, keeping it out of his way.

  Blood raced through my veins, spreading fire as I built toward orgasm. My legs quivered while his tongue probed and teased. If I had use of my hands, I would have reached back to grab a fistful of his hair and hold him to me, riding him until I came all over his face.

  But I obeyed, leaving my palms pressed to the wall, my lower body trembling and threatening to give out. His tongue moved slower, distracted as his fingers searched for the zipper at the back of my bunched-up skirt.

  He found it. It inched down with a soft vrrrp, and he drew back, letting the sequined fabric fall to my silver heels.

  “Turn around.”

  I spun in place, leaving my arms up so the backs of my hands and shoulder blades were flush against the wall. Now that I had things to look at, I wasn’t sure where to focus. Did I lock eyes with Regan and hold her gaze while she watched Silas fuck me with his mouth? Or did I give all my attention to the dominant leading me through the scene?

  He made the decision for me. Silas stood, seized the hem of my shirt, and dragged the silk up. There was nowhere else to look but at him. In the candlelight, the angles of his face were more pronounced, more attractive. The white silk disrupted our gazes for a moment as it passed over my head, and he flung it away. I leaned back against the wall, heaving air into my body, and his attention went to the rise and fall of my chest. Or perhaps the white lacy bra I wore. “Take it off,” he demanded. “And then hands at your sides.”

 
; I did, and when the bra fell to the floor, I was completely naked. His gaze skittered over my bare flesh, and I felt it like invisible fingers, touching me everywhere.

  He didn’t seem affected, not in his expression, but his quiet, uneven voice gave it away. “This is allowed.” When I swallowed a gulp of air, Silas stepped up to me, cupped my breasts, and dropped a kiss on my lips. “So is this.”

  I had permission to stand totally nude in front of Grant. He could touch me and kiss me, but nothing more. It was cruel, almost evil, to give us some leeway. It meant temptation would be difficult to overcome.

  It was strange to kiss Silas. He was a good kisser, but it was completely different than the one I’d had with Grant several hours ago. Silas’s kiss was like dancing too close to the fire—hot, but risky. Regan was there watching, which flavored his lips with danger.

  His palms slid over my breasts, teasing my hard nipples for a moment, and then coursed downward. It was so he could undo the snap of his jeans and drop his zipper. He moved so fast, it didn’t register what had happened until his hand was hard on my shoulder, pushing me down and my knees into the carpet.

  Yes. The longer we played this game, the more eager I was to check things off the list. Were hand jobs allowed? He dug his pierced cock out of his boxers, and as soon as it was free, I closed my fists around it, squeezing and twisting down his length.

  “This?” I whispered, staring up at him with hopeful eyes.

  He flung his hands up on the wall to support himself and peered down at me, his gaze burning. It was more growled than spoken. “No. You can touch him everywhere but here.”

  It was only for Silas. I was disappointed but also . . . not really. It was fun to pretend that these rules would apply, but they never would. Grant would walk as soon as he found out he’d have to share.

  Silas closed his fist over mine, stilling me. Was I doing it wrong? Did he need it harder? No—he’d done it because he had another rule to define. He steadied himself and pressed the tip of his dick to my lips.

  “Only me,” he said. “Say it.”

  “Only you—”

  When I parted my lips to speak, he took advantage and drove as deep inside my mouth as he could get. I backed off until my head thumped against the wall, giving me no escape.

  His thrusts were aggressive, plunging all the way to the back of my throat and forcing tears into my eyes, but fuck, how I loved it. A sound of rich, dirty satisfaction came from him, and it was my reward. Pleasing someone else filled me with ecstasy. It was a different kind of orgasm. Muted, but deeper and longer.

  I choked as he pushed right to the edge of what I could take, and he retreated. Saliva trailed from my mouth, spilling over my kiss-swollen lips, and dribbled on my chin. I didn’t wipe it away. I left the glossy mess on my lips and smiled up at him, ready to try again.

  He was hard as steel, and wide enough it didn’t take long for my jaw to ache and my tongue to grow tired of swirling over him. I couldn’t hear Regan over his grunts and quiet moans of enjoyment, but I imagined she had a nice view. Silas’s undone jeans hanging across the tops of his thighs, the muscles in his tight ass flexing as he thrust into my mouth.

  She stirred on the couch. Was she touching herself? Taking off her clothes and going to join us? I pushed my way down as far as I could go on his cock, moving my head side to side to try to gain a few more centimeters.

  “Fucking yes,” he groaned. “Take it.”

  I tried, but my gag reflex protested loudly, and I backed off, gasping for breath.

  Regan was standing by his side, her head leaning on his shoulder, and was transfixed by his cock buried between my lips. She didn’t just approve of this, it got her hot, and her voice was hurried with excitement. “Such a good girl.”

  I went back to my task with newfound enthusiasm, created by her praise. I sucked until it carved hollows in my cheeks. I pumped my tight fist along with my mouth, working him over until the muscles in his neck flexed and strained. His whole body shuddered, and a deep groan rose out of him as he came, thick liquid pooling in my mouth.

  I swallowed it back with a smile, savoring how the bob of my throat made him flinch with sensation. His gaze down at me was intense, but pleased, and I stayed on my knees as he pulled on his pants and zipped up.

  Regan strode toward the ottoman, put a foot on the edge, and shoved it out into the center of the room. It skidded across the carpet, drawing his attention. They communicated with a look, and then he bent down, hooked me under the arms, and lifted me.

  I didn’t get my feet under me before he tossed me onto my back on the tufted ottoman, so hard I bounced and an “ompf” came out of me. I giggled at the ridiculous noise, but he was entirely serious, and I sobered quickly as he dropped with a thud to kneel at the end of the ottoman. He scooped me up by my knees and jerked me to the edge, shoving his face in my pussy.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  Regan knelt beside him, watching us with parted lips, breathing as fast as we were. Her hand wandered over my breasts, massaging me as his mouth worked aggressively to take me right to the brink.

  My heart was beating a thousand miles a second, and I struggled to find air. Everything was spinning and blurring as the pleasure closed in.

  “Yeah,” he urged between frantic strokes of his tongue. “Get there.”

  His order flung me past the point of no return, out of control. I gasped, seizing as bliss rocketed through my core. It was a lightning strike of ecstasy, vaporizing everything away.

  She wore a delicious, dark smile, and it sent an aftershock of pleasure down my spine. I hadn’t just pleased him . . .

  I’d pleased them both.

  He lingered until the last of my orgasm faded, before sitting back and kissing Regan. I remained splayed out and naked on the ottoman, lying under their supervision.

  “It wasn’t a full demonstration,” she said. “No anal either.”

  I laughed. “Yes, Mistress.”

  She was into anal play, but as far as I could tell, that was all. She probably didn’t like being that vulnerable. As a group, we hadn’t gone down that road yet. The arrangement was still new and exciting enough.

  When the kiss between them ended, she focused back on me. Her expression was soft. “Start with us, before you tell him about the club.” She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “If he can keep an open mind about this, then maybe . . .”

  I gave her a smile that said she was kidding herself. “Yeah, right.”

  She shrugged. “You never know with some people.”

  Nine months ago, I’d asked Regan to take me home and let me play with her and Silas, sure I’d be shot down and end up embarrassing myself. Look where I was now.

  Maybe she was right.

  Maybe I’d get lucky enough to find my own unicorn.

  -14-

  Grant

  After the concert was over, I took the loaner cello back to my apartment, changed out of the black dress shirt and pants I wore for the orchestra performance, and into jeans and a navy button-down.

  I’d told Ruby I had a date tonight, and she’d been adamant if I wanted to hook the girl, I’d have to make sure I showed off my arms. She’d informed her boyfriend Kyle she’d rather receive a forearm pic over a dick pic. It was infinitely sexier, according to her.

  As I rolled the sleeves back to my elbows, I chuckled to myself. When it came to Tara, I’d take every advantage I could get.

  When I arrived at the restaurant, a trendy place in Wrigleyville, Tara was already waiting. She flashed a nervous smile, but I almost missed it because whistles blew loudly in my head.

  Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high, sleek ponytail, creating a stream of gold silk down her back. Her black, long-sleeve shirt was opaque and just see-through enough to make out the shadow of her black bra.

  The neckline. Jesus. I couldn’t catch my breath or stop staring. The shirt flaunted her skin and her cleavage and her
fucking perfect tits. Below, black leather pants with a dull shine, and she was statuesque in stilettos heels.

  The girl oozed sex, and as I strode toward her, every male eye in the room watched me with envy, or downright jealousy.

  “Shit, Tara. You look fucking amazing.”

  Her shy smile was replaced with a full-out grin. “Thank you.”

  Her gaze raked appreciatively down my body, and had I imagined her pausing as she lingered over my arms? No, she’d definitely focused on them. Good call, Ruby.

  Our table was ready, and we were seated deep in the center of the open restaurant, which was noisy, but not terrible. The constant conversation going on at the busy tables around us made it feel somehow intimate.

  We ordered wine, and by the time it arrived, I realized she had barely said a word. I’d dominated the conversation, and as soon as the server finished taking our dinner order, I was going to correct that.

  “I’ve been going on nonstop since we sat down.” I was acting like a fool, flustered by her. “I’m sorry.”

  A soft smile graced her lips. “You shouldn’t be. I like listening to you.”

  It was surprising how nice it was to hear, but I needed to change topics. I wanted to know more about her. “How did your performance go?”

  “It went good. Were you worried I was going to end up in your lap again?”

  I’d be very happy if you were in my lap right now.

  “I’ll be honest—I held my breath. But it sounded like it went brilliantly. There was a big reaction from the audience.”

  She looked pleased, but then her gaze dropped to her wine. Something was off. She seemed different tonight. Unsure. Where was the confident woman from yesterday?

  “Are you all right?”

  Her attention snapped back to me, and my anxiety grew. Her expression was strained. “I need to tell you something.”

  It was the same phrase from yesterday, right before she’d revealed she was already in a relationship but wasn’t exclusive to the guy. Instinctively, I braced for the worst. Now was when she told me she had an open marriage, or needed money, or that she believed Nazis were just misunderstood.