“Is it me?” he murmurs.

I push my hips up to him. I know he isn’t going to stop there.

When he pushes the tips of his fingers inside of me, he asks the forbidden, “Is it her?”

I clamp my bottom lip between my teeth and moan loudly.

“Ahh, now we’re getting somewhere.” His conclusion slides over me.

His other hand comes around me, and I watch as his palm cups my right breast. He squeezes and caresses it while his other fingers slowly push deeper into my aching body. As I’m leaning back against him, spreading my legs wider, I am completely aroused by the sight of the most erotic scene I have ever been a part of.

“Look at her, Gemma,” he instructs.

I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes away from his hands while they play over my needy body.

“Now, tell me what you feel. What do you feel when you look at her?”

I close my eyes, trying to find some sort of anchor to hold me steady, as he tells me, “Wake up, Gemma. Open your eyes.”

My heavy eyelids open, and I find myself now staring at the image of Chantel in Armor.

His seductive voice asks again, “How do you feel?”

“Hot,” I answer softly.

“I can’t hear you, Gemma. Louder,” he tells me while his fingers rub over my hard nipple.

“Hot. It makes me feel hot,” I repeat louder. I arch out my chest, chasing his fingers as they move over my skin.

“What else?”

Looking at the painting hanging in front of us, I let my eyes run over her. I confess, “Needy. She makes me feel needy.”

He groans in my ear as his fingers once again push deep between my wet folds. “You’re so fucking turned on. I think she makes you wet. Doesn’t she?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for his firm fingers to retreat, so they’ll give me that delicious high when they slide back into my greedy demanding body.

His hand stills as he asks quietly, “What happened yesterday, Gemma?”

Stiffening in his arms, I feel my thighs tighten. I try to get a grip to pull myself away, but there’s nothing I can do. His fingers are sliding between my hot swollen lips while the other hand is pulling and twisting my nipple.

“Stop,” I say, panting.

“No.”

God help me, my slick cunt clenches in response to his refusal.

“Tell me,” he demands, like a dog with a bone.

Between gritted teeth, I answer, “No.”

His long fingers brush my clit gently. “Are you ashamed?”

Shaking my head, I arch my hips, my entire body begging for release.

“Did it have something to do with her?” he persists.

I cry out when he tightly pinches my nipple.

“Did it?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Instead, I bring one of my hands up to my neglected breast and start to pull and twist the straining peak.

“Yes, Gemma,” he urges with a deep groan. “Touch yourself. Feel me touch you, and look at us while your body sings. It is singing, Gemma. It’s weeping and crying all over my fingers.”

Flexing up my hips, I finally feel his long fingers push deep into my tight, wet core, and I cry out, pinching my nipple hard.

“Oh yes Gemma, fuck my fingers. God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

This time, he seems far away. As I turn my head against his shoulder, I see his eyes on the painting in front of us. I know I should be upset that he is looking at her while his fingers are thrusting inside of me, but it turns me on even more. Knowing that he is touching me while fantasizing about her makes my body quiver and clench uncontrollably.

I finally give him what he wants. “Her,” I confess, my breath brushing over his cheek.

He turns his head, so his eyes are once again locked with mine. As I look from his eyes to his lips, I feel his hand flex between my thighs while his fingers slide out only to push back in hard.

“What about her?” he asks, his eyes dilating.

I can feel his cock pushing insistently against my ass, and I grind against it as I move my hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. Almost cruelly, he pinches my nipple, and I still my hips, biting my bottom lip to control the scream I feel building.

“What about her, Gemma?” he demands.

I decide now is as good a time as any to confess my sins and have them washed away. “I had a fantasy.”

Our eyes never waver as he slowly pulls his long fingers from me. Forcefully, he pushes them back inside, making me groan, but I stay focused on him.

“What kind of fantasy, Gemma?” he questions, his voice gruff. His mouth is stretched tight in a grimace.

I close my eyes, remembering the thought of her, while I tweak my nipple. “She was touching me.”

Before anything else can leave my mouth, he removes his hands, gently pushing me away, and I stumble to move. I’m terrified I’ve gone too far, but before I know it, he’s pulling me down to the rug on the floor. I feel the plush material against my back as he throws the towel, which has been our only barrier, behind us.

Looking up, I cautiously study him while he sits back on his knees. As he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, he looks above me to the paintings hanging all around us on the wall. I raise my legs up and slowly spread them in invitation. When his eyes finally come back to me, he can see everything that I’m offering. Pushing down the denim, I notice he’s naked beneath, and I feel my pussy clench at the sight of his thick, veiny cock when it’s finally freed.

Breathing hard, I lock my eyes with his fiery ones while he crawls up my body.

He places his palms on both sides of my head. “I’m all fucking wrong for you,” he rasps in my ear.

The smooth, hard tip of his shaft pushes against my soaked slit, seeking entry.

I turn my head, so my lips are now against his ear. I tell him the only truth I feel right at this moment, “I don’t care.”

He rears back slightly and thrusts his strong hips forward, pushing his pulsating cock deep inside of me.

As he moves his large body over me, I open my eyes and tilt my head back to look up at the paintings on the wall. As my eyes come back to the tortured man moving above and inside of me I notice that he, too, has his eyes on the woman above us, and I can’t help but think he is right.

Phillipe, Chantel, and I—we are three.


Chapter  Fourteen ~ Acquiesce