“Why what?” The accent was still there, her voice young and sweet.

“Why do you need me?”

“I don’t know. I just, watching you, with her in the other room...” Her eyes darted to me, then returned to his face, her expression searching him to understand. I understood. I knew the effect that Brad had on me, how I yearned for his touch, for the release he could give me. But I also knew what Brad was asking, what he was worried about.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, his hand releasing her hair and traveling down, trailing on her skin until he broke contact, almost brushing her nipples. She sagged a little, exhaling softly, staring into his eyes.

“This isn’t for what you did. I wanted you earlier, thought of you then. Please,” she begged, her small hands reaching up and unbuttoning his top button. “Please,” she whispered again, moving down to the next button, her hands exploring his strong shoulders and sweeping under his shirt.

Yes. This was what I had wanted. I understood his concern, his desire to not take advantage of her vulnerable position. But I wanted my Brad back, I wanted the sex god who had taken my innocence and turned me into this deviant slut. I saw the need she had and my pussy panted for him to fill it, to be the man who I was falling uncontrollably for.

I took control, making the decision for him, closing the door and locking it, the loud click causing him to look up and meet my eyes. Staring at him, I tugged on one strap and then the other of my red dress, sliding it down my hips until it dropped to the floor, nothing but me underneath. Stepping over to a plush chair set in the corner of the room, I sat, facing the bed. Spreading my legs, I ran my hands over my inner thighs, squeezing, then gently teasing my already wet slit. I raised my chin and stared defiantly into his eyes. I know you are in there, baby.

He looked at me darkly, his eyes following the motion of my fingers, then studying my eyes, reading them, my confident stare meeting his. A slow, sure smile spread over his features. He shook his head, looking upward as if to heaven, then down at the petite blonde still grasping his shirt.

He walked her around to the far side of the bed, laying her backward onto it, her bare skin creamy white against the bloodred duvet. He ran his hand down the center of her body, her skin quivering from his touch, and she gasped as his fingers reached the place where her legs met. My gaze felt physically glued to the scene, and I blinked, the intensity of my stare drying out my eyes. I looked inside myself, tried to read the swirl of emotions that filled my core. Had I been right? Was this what I wanted? Jealousy was there, a hint of it, wandering outside the peripheral of my mind, trying to decide if she wanted to join in on this party. But a stronger emotion, lust, was first and foremost. It was like watching a disaster, and not being able to turn away. You know you shouldn’t look, but you ache for it so badly. Yes. I wanted to watch. A perverse, competitive part of me wanted to see him in action, to watch, and then join in the passion. Brad lifted his hand from her body and spoke, his words quiet, commanding. “How many men have you been with?”

She stiffened, tried to speak, then licked her lips, and words came out. “I never been with a man.”

Uh-oh. This might be a problem. My dreams of a hot and heavy sex fest faded slightly. Brad’s eyes darkened at her response, and he looked over at me, meeting my eyes, his face unreadable. Don’t stop, baby, I begged with my eyes, taking my fingers and pushing them inside me, my breath increasing in time with the thrusts of my fingers. Please. Just give her something.

He reached forward again, running his hand from her knees, up her inner thigh, past her apex, over her stomach, and brushed it lightly over her breasts, her nipples standing at attention under his strong hands. He exhaled deeply, placing a hand over each breast and squeezing them, watching them swell under the pressure. She gasped, arching her back a bit, and a sound close to a whimper came out. He straightened, looked at me again and beckoned with his hand.

“Julia. Come here.” I shook my head at him, my fingers moving slowly inside me, and he frowned, his expression unyielding. I finally stood, stepping over the crumpled pile of my dress and crossed the room until I stood next to him, and looked into his face questioningly. He turned, looking down at my nakedness, my breasts upturned to him, my heels tilting and displaying my body in a way that made beautiful all my curves. He ran his hands over me, not gentle and discovering, as he did with her, but possessive and demanding. Yes. He grabbed me as though he needed me, as if he were a man in the desert and I were his mirage. He pulled me tight to him and feasted on my neck and mouth, and when we finally separated, we were both panting. “On the bed,” he ordered, and I kicked off my heels and climbed onto the softness, brushing against the soft skin of the girl. On my knees, moving farther onto the bed, I paused, over her body, our eyes meeting.

There is something extremely sensual about eye contact. It is often more penetrating than physical sex. I looked into the pale blueness of her, and saw only wanton need. Need that, ever since I met Brad, I was very familiar with. I smiled, and her mouth curved in response, her eyes glued on me. Then she gasped and they shut, our connection severed. I looked back and saw Brad, his fingers moving with slow and steady precision in and out of her.

I turned, straddling her body, facing him, my ass to her head, and looked into the depths of his eyes. He was aroused, and I smiled at the dark look on his face. Possessiveness and desire lay in the lines of his face. I leaned forward, claiming his mouth with mine, and ground softly against her writhing stomach, my pussy leaving wetness on her skin. I felt small, soft hands tugging from behind me, pulling me back, and I parted from Brad, staring into his eyes as I allowed her to pull me, and lay back, atop her, my back hitting her soft breasts.

Her hands explored me, and I felt her lithe fingers running down the gully of my stomach, up the curve of my breasts, squeezing the flesh of my nipples. She was unashamedly curious, and her soft pants increased in cadence with Brad’s fingers, her body arching beneath me.

“Switch places.” The order was gruff, and Brad’s eyes were black with need. “I want to fuck you.”

I rolled off her, and he unbuckled his belt, watching us hungrily as she climbed on top of me, not lying as I did, but instead faced me, her knees on either side of my stomach. Brad groaned, his pants gone, moving close to us, and pulling me slightly so that my pussy lay flush against the edge of the bed. He ripped open a condom packet, his cock popping hard and ready, and my world went black when he entered me.

I came up for air, my senses reengaging all at once, her beautiful face above me, her breasts soft against my mouth, long hair tickling my neck. My legs, up in the air and spread, Brad inside me, then out, then in, the delicious friction of his pelvis on my clit. She moaned above me, eyes closed, and I realized he had fingers in her once again.

“God, she is so tight.” Brad’s voice floated down to me, and I looked up at the girl, her moans growing as she rocked her body above me. She looked down, her eyes meeting mine, then focusing on my mouth, and she hesitated, then leaned down to me. Brad’s statement was so erotic, the sum of all things present too much for me, and as her breasts touched mine, her mouth so close, I came, one of those stiff, tight, every-muscle-in-my-body-is-immobile orgasms. I gasped against her mouth, tightening around his cock, and he groaned my name as he increased his speed. It was long and hard, and I lost reality for a while before coming back to earth. My senses regained, I reached up and pulled her head down to mine.

She tasted like peppermints, her tongue small and delicate in mine, so different from the possessive kiss I had shared, moments before, with Brad. Then her body stiffened and her mouth was gone, and she threw back her head, her rigid body telling me what was coming.

When she came, it was strong, her moans turning to yells, a string of Russian words that we instinctively knew the meaning of. Brad somehow managed to keep up the furious rhythm with his fingers till she collapsed, shaking and quivering, ragged breaths on top of me, and he never stopped the delicious rhythm of fucking me, his speed increasing once she rolled off my body. He reached the point of pounding, my body shaking with the force of it, his face beautiful in its sexual intensity, and I was close to coming again when she finally recovered from her climax. She propped herself up, watching me, watching my face as it clenched and I bucked, and as my hands reached out to grab on to something, anything, she was there, her hands on mine, her greedy mouth on my nipples, and I exploded again, every muscle in my body tensing as waves of pleasure rocked my core.

Thirteen

After Brad thoroughly touched, licked and coaxed the Russian through three orgasms, she fell, exhausted, on the bed, a smile plastered to her face. She reached for me, pulled me to her lips and kissed me once, gently. Her hands turned my head and I felt her breath on my ear, her accented voice speaking. “Thank you. For sharing.”

I tried to think of an acceptable response, but my mind was useless, drugged with champagne and sex. I smiled, and she rolled over, reaching for the blanket and pulling it over her body. Brad gathered our clothes and pulled my arm, tugging until I was upright and naked in front of him. He looked down, staring at my nakedness, then leaned over, kissed me gently along my cleavage, scooped me up and carried me out of the room and into the other bedroom. He avoided the bed, setting me on the floor, and I looked up at him in puzzlement.

He lay on top of me, completely bare, his arms keeping him light on my body. “I haven’t come yet,” he whispered.

I smirked. “I know. But I’m a little tired. I was thinking about going to bed.”

He nuzzled my neck, biting it gently while he pushed against me, his shaft sliding up between my legs, almost inside me, but a fraction too high. I groaned, untangling my legs from underneath his body and wrapping them tightly around him, my pussy now impossible to avoid, my need wet against him.

“Going to bed, huh?” His arrogance in my ear, my moan in response. His cock, so close, so teasing, there but not yet inside, lying hard against my ass instead.

“Maybe I’ll stay up a little longer.” I gasped as he was finally there, just the tip of him inside me, and I dug my heels into his back, panting, trying to push him farther in. He leaned down, whispered something against my mouth, then kissed me, softly, sweetly. As un-Brad-like as anything I could imagine. He tasted my mouth, trailed kisses along my jaw, sucked gently on my bottom lip. And when I finally relaxed, finally surrendered to his mouth and kiss, my legs going slack, he pushed his cock all the way in, taking my breath. I almost orgasmed right then, my need had been so great, then so fulfilled, his cock insanely perfect inside me. It took about a minute of deep slow strokes, almost painful in their perfection, and then I was done, shattering into pieces in his arms, my mouth open, frozen, as the swells washed over me. I was whimpering by the time I was done, and he held my face in his hands, looking into my eyes, his fire burning into me.

What had just happened, in the other room, that had been us, an experience we had shared, the blonde somehow an extension of our union. But now, alone in the room with each other, I was captivated, held in his arms, him filling me, his strokes quickening, our eyes locked in identical pools of lust. Then he took in a quick breath, closed his eyes and buried himself deeper, his thrusts stronger. I wrapped my arms and legs tight around him, riding his wave of orgasm, burying my face in his neck, his strong heat inside me.

He rolled over, pulling me with him, and I lay limp across his chest. I ran my hands down the clefts of his body, his skin damp with sweat, his muscles tight from exertion. His eyes were closed, and I pulled myself up until my face was above his. I ran my fingers lightly over his face, awestruck at the beauty in his strength. God, I was in trouble. In more ways than I could count. I didn’t know what I would become if I stayed with him, to what further depths I would plunge inescapably into, a slave to his sexual drugs. And I didn’t know what I would become if we parted, and how I would ever again find sexual satisfaction without the man.