Chapter 7
Absolute Bastard
IVY
I have officially lost my mind.
Not in the bad way. In the very best way.
Matt is behind me and Alistair is in front of me and my nervous system is on fire. My body is way ahead of my brain, which has finally, gratefully, gone quiet.
Alistair's eyes haven't left mine. That's the thing I didn't expect—that he would stay so present. No jealousy, no stillness, no jaguar. Something richer. Something that looks almost like awe.
He's giving me this. He chose this, for me.
And then I stop thinking altogether.
I am on my hands and knees and Matt is behind me, his hands running up over my hips, my waist, my skin erupting in goosebumps wherever he touches. His cock is pressing against my pussy, thick and insistent, and I push back against him instinctively, chasing the pressure, needing more of it.
Sarah is in front of me, Alistair in front of her—a warm tangle of skin and breath and anticipation.
Matt looks at Sarah over my head and something passes between them—a question, an answer, a whole conversation in a single glance—and she nods, her eyes soft and dark, and he positions himself and pushes slowly inside me.
The stretch of him—different, new, startlingly good—punches the air from my lungs. My arms tremble with the effort of holding myself up as my body recalibrates, adjusting to the newness of him, the fullness of him. The sensation is enormous and immediate and I have to remind myself to breathe.
I look up at Alistair. His jaw is tight.
He is watching my face with an intensity that makes my arms want to give way—cataloguing every flicker, every caught breath, every involuntary expression.
He is waiting. Letting me have this first. Giving me the gift of his full attention before he takes anything for himself.
Then I nod.
It is the smallest movement. He sees it immediately.
He turns to Sarah. She is watching him with liquid eyes, her lip caught between her teeth, and he takes her face in his hand for just a moment—a question of his own—and she answers it by reaching for him.
He sinks into her in one slow, devastating stroke and Sarah's mouth falls open, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes. “Oh fuck.”
And something moves through me that I did not expect—not jealousy, not quite—something more complicated and more electric than that.
I am watching my husband's face as he takes another woman for the first time, watching the pleasure move across his features, and he opens his eyes at exactly that moment and finds mine, and what I see there stops my heart completely.
It is only me. It has always only been me. Sarah is exquisite and willing and right there and it is still, absolutely, irrevocably, only me.
He crouches slightly and reaches between my thighs from the front, his fingers finding my clit—swollen, wet, desperately ready—and the expression on his face when he feels how wet I am shifts into something fiercer.
“Good girl,” he says quietly. Just for me.
He begins to move and Matt matches his rhythm behind me and we find it together—that particular cadence—and my body simply opens to it.
The pleasure starts deep and centralized, a warm concentrated pulse low in my pelvis, and with every thrust of Matt's cock it spreads outward, inch by inch, colonizing more of me.
My thighs are trembling. My fingers curl into the towel beneath me.
“Holy fuck,” Matt breathes behind me. “You feel incredible.”
Alistair's fingers circle my clit in slow deliberate strokes and I feel the first wave crest and recede without breaking—that exquisite hovering sensation, the body poised at the edge of something enormous and not quite there, not quite —
“Please,” I breathe, without meaning to.
His fingers slow. Deliberately. The absolute bastard.
“Alistair —”
“I know,” he says. The calm of him. The devastating, infuriating calm. “Not yet.”
“Alistair —”
“Not. Yet.”
Matt drives deeper and I drop my head, my hair falling forward, a moan escaping me that I make no effort to contain.
His skin is hot against the backs of my thighs, his cock filling me completely with every stroke, and the sounds he makes—low, involuntary, genuine—send goosebumps racing up my spine.
Sarah lowers herself to her elbows in front of me, bringing her face level with mine, and Alistair straightens behind her, driving into her pussy from behind now, his fingers never leaving my clit.
Sarah's mouth is inches from mine, her breath warm and unsteady, her lips parted, and I watch her face as Alistair fucks her—the flush climbing her throat, the helpless flutter of her lashes—and it is the most extraordinarily intimate thing I have ever witnessed.
She finds my mouth with hers. Her lips are soft and taste of Singapore Slammer and salt. I kiss her back without thinking, without hesitation, and feel Matt groan behind me at the sight of it.
“Oh fuck,” he says. Low and reverent. “Look at you two.”
Watching Sarah—the flush spreading up her throat, her spine beginning to curl, her moans spilling into my mouth—sends another wave crashing through me.
Matt presses his lips to my spine, his tongue warm against my skin, trailing between my shoulder blades, and the sensation of him—the fullness, the relentless building pressure of his cock—combines with Alistair's fingers and Alistair's eyes and Sarah's wet lips and I feel it beginning to gather.
Not a wave this time. Something larger. Something that starts at the base of my spine and radiates outward in every direction simultaneously, tightening, tightening, my whole body drawing inward around a single bright point of sensation that keeps expanding rather than breaking, keeps building rather than cresting —
“Oh god,” I gasp. “Oh god oh god oh —”
“Now,” Alistair says.
His fingers press and circle and press and Sarah cries out against my mouth and Matt drives into my pussy one final time and every muscle in my body releases at once —
The world goes white at the edges.
I make a sound I will be taking to my grave.
The orgasm doesn't arrive so much as detonate—a full-body obliteration that moves through me in long rolling waves, each one cresting before the last has fully receded, and I am shaking with it, my arms barely holding me up, not caring about anything except the extraordinary, all-consuming, holy-fuck fact of what is happening to my body right now.
Behind me, Matt's grip on my hips tightens as he pulses inside me, his cock throbbing with his own release.
I close my eyes.
I ride the last of it out, boneless and grateful and completely, utterly gone.