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He kisses my neck as he waits for my answer. “Yes.”
“Would you like to be shared like her?”
My thighs involuntarily squeeze together when I momentarily think about what Tristan is asking.
“If you want it, I’m going to need to hear you ask for it,” he gravelly whispers.
Continuing to watch the threesome, I pant, “I want you to share me, Sir.”
He slips his finger under my chin and turns my face toward his, demanding my full attention as he promises, “Let me show everyone what a good girl you are for me tonight, and I’ll show you what it’s like to be shared.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
TRISTAN
“I want to be a good girl for you, Sir.” The breathy words, saturated with lust, blow from Layla’s lips.
She doesn’t call me by my honorific often. It is generally reserved for the infrequent times I require her to use it and when she is exceptionally needy. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she uses it to beg.
The way it rolls off her tongue makes me fucking feral for her.
Grabbing her hand, I lead her through the small crowds to my personal private room. I reach into my suit jacket to retrieve my keycard, swipe it over the access panel and grant us entry.
The door clicks shut behind us, and a few members peer through the window as I remove my suit jacket. Stepping behind Layla, I grip the small zipper running the length of her spine and lower it.
“Take off your dress and kneel before the mirror,” I command as I roll up the sleeves of my button-down shirt. Layla lets her dress fall to the floor as I loosen my tie. I watch her cross the room and fall to her knees before the massive floor-length mirror as I pull the tie over my head and haphazardly toss it on the chair beside my jacket.
So fucking obedient.
She waits for me on her knees patiently, hands resting on her thighs and facing the mirror, with her profile on display for the growing crowd in the hall.
I walk the length of the room and stand behind her. She looks up, and my eyes meet hers in our reflection. I stroke my fingers along the side of face. “I want you to spend the night watching yourself come. On your fingers and mine.”
Her breath hitches, and I can feel her lip trembling with excitement beneath my finger running over it. I break our gaze and guide her face toward the window, showing her the crowd that she’s garnering. “They all want to watch as you watch yourself enjoy their eyes on you.”
“Now, Sir?” she asks, nearly begging for permission to play with her sweet cunt.
“Spread your knees and let everyone see how you’re dripping with excitement,” I direct as I kneel behind her and rub my hands along her thighs. “Eyes on the mirror. Slide your hand over your smooth cunt and through your delicious arousal. Cover your fucking fingers in it, so they’re nice and wet when you rub them over your clit.”
Layla rubs her hand around her dripping entrance, whimpering with need until she’s practically covered her hand.
“Rub over your clit. Slip your fingers inside,” I whisper against her neck with my eyes focused on her hand between her spread legs. “Play with your pussy and make yourself come for me.”
I watch her work, enthralled by the way she pleases herself. Her fingers rub industriously on and around her clit as she softly moans from her own touch. Her breaths grow short and ragged, and I know she’s so fucking close.
“That’s it.” I tip her head and lightly suckle at the crook of her neck. “Watch yourself come.”
Her lower lip quivers, and she struggles to keep her eyes on her reflection as she beautifully works herself over the edge. My cock throbs with need as she comes. A need I’m going to deny myself a little while longer.
“That my good girl,” I praise her. “Do it again, and don’t be gentle, because I don’t plan to be.”
She does exactly as she’s told and strums at her tender clit until her hips are bucking both for and retreating from her touch. Her fingers rub hard as she abuses her clit, desperately trying to make herself come again.
“Come on. You can do it,” I encourage her. “You know you want to make yourself come for me. You know how fucking proud of you I’ll be.”
Her hips grind against the fervent rubbing of her fingers. She fights to keep her knees wide and her eyes on the mirror as small spasms and convulsions make their way through her body when she comes.
“My fingers now,” I remind her as I slide them over her hand. I slip two fingers into her slick cunt with ease. True to my word, I’m not gentle. I roughly work them into her, arousal splattering against my hand—quickly covering me—and the floor with every thrust. She grips my wrist with both hands and rides the fingers driving into her.
