Chapter 34
So Fucking Pretty
IVY
The room Sarah takes us to is at the end of the corridor, past two closed doors and a small table with a lamp burning low. She opens it and steps back to let us in.
A low, wide platform bed dressed in something dark.
Two tall windows onto the garden below, the string lights in the trees making the glass glow faintly.
A chaise along one wall, deep green velvet.
Candles flicker on the mantelpiece and on the table beside the bed, a treasure chest of sex toys and lube beside it.
And on the opposite wall, floor to ceiling, a mirror. I see myself in it immediately: the oxblood dress, Alistair's hand at my waist, and behind us Sarah and Matt framed in the amber light.
Sarah crosses to me and puts both hands on my face. She looks at me the way you look at something you have been thinking about for a long time, then tips my face up.
“God,” she says softly. “You are so fucking pretty.”
Then she kisses me.
Her mouth is soft and tastes of champagne and she kisses like she’s been dreaming of it for days. One hand slides into my hair. The other grips my jaw, holding me exactly where she wants me, and I feel the precision of it, the sense of a woman who knows what she wants.
Alistair is behind me. The warmth and gravity of him. Matt is to my left, very still, watching. I gaze at our reflection in the mirror.
Alistair's hand leaves my waist and I hear him cross the room. The soft sound of the chaise taking his weight. He settle in to watch us.
The bolt of desire that strikes me when I understand this is so sudden and so physical that I make a sound against Sarah's mouth. She feels it and pulls me closer without breaking the kiss.
She draws back just enough to look at me. Eyes dark, lipstick slightly smudged. “Do you know,” she says, her thumb dragging along my lower lip, “how long I've been thinking about this? Since Spain. Since the pool.” She tilts her head. “You have the most incredible mouth.”
She kisses me again, deeper, and I feel it all the way down. Nipples, stomach, between my legs, and my hands are moving up her warm, soft back.
She gently guides me back toward the bed.
Her hands move to the straps of my dress and she slides one off, then the other, slow, watching my face the whole time.
The fabric falls to my waist and the air of the room is warm on my bare skin.
Alistair is watching from the chaise, Matt’s expression is pure desire, and I can feel both their gazes between my legs.
“Oh,” Sarah says, taking in my naked body. Her eyes move over me slowly. “He is the luckiest man alive.”
She cups both my breasts in her hands, just holding, the lightest pressure, and her thumbs graze my nipples and the sensation goes straight to my pussy, sharp and immediate, and I inhale sharply.
“Sensitive,” she says.
She leans down and takes one nipple into her mouth, moving her tongue in slow circles. She hums against my skin, the vibration moving through my chest and down, and I want to grab her head and pull her harder against me but I don't, I hold still, I let her take her time.
She moves to the other side. Rolls the first nipple between her fingers while her mouth works the second and the combination of both at once makes me close my eyes and tip my head back.
“Look at you,” she says against my skin. “So fucking beautiful. So sexy. You have no idea what you look like right now.”
I pull her dress off her. I’m not as slow and measured as she is. Sarah’s warm and curved and I run my hands over her and she presses me backwards, down onto the bed, my back against the dark cool sheets, the candle warmth on my face.
“I'm going to take my time with you,” she says above me, absolutely serious. “We were so rushed in Spain. I've been thinking about what I would do differently.”
My desire is almost painful.
Her hand moves down my stomach. Flat palm, no rush, not going anywhere yet, just moving. She traces my hip. Back and forth. The inside of my thigh, very light, nowhere near where I need her.
Alistair gets up from the chaise.
He comes to the edge of the bed and his mouth finds my shoulder, and he turns my face toward his and he kisses me.
“God,” Sarah says softly, eyes molten. “The two of you.”
Then the mattress shifts and Matt is at the edge of the bed. The room has shifted around me without my noticing.
Sarah talks while her hands move. Her fingers trace the inside of my thigh. You are so soft here, I've been thinking about this. She gets close to where I need her and moves away.
I moan. She laughs, low and warm.
“She's so responsive,” she says to Alistair. “Look at her.”
His hand tightens in my hair.
Sarah's fingers find me with one slow stroke, just her fingertips, just enough to feel how wet I am, and my hips lift completely without my permission.
She moves her mouth back up my body. My hip, my ribs, the bruise at my side which she kisses once, gently, without comment.
My stomach. The underside of my breast. I turn my head and find Matt watching from the foot of the bed, completely still, his eyes on my face with an intensity that is almost too much.
It’s the look of a man committing something to memory.
I hold his gaze for one second and feel the full weight of being wanted like that and then Sarah's tongue moves and I lose my place.
The want is a physical thing now. It has taken up all the space in my body.
Sarah repositions me to face the mirror.
I take in Matt and the ravenous expression on his face.
Alistair on the other side of the bed, shirt off, his eyes on my face in the glass with the full focused attention he gives to things he is about to destroy.
And my own face, too open, too wrecked. My body hungry and wet and ready to be destroyed.
Alistair catches my eyes in the mirror. He holds them while Sarah's fingers slide between my legs and I feel how soaking I am when she touches me.
She keeps her fingers there but doesn't move.
Just the pressure of her hand against me is so good.
I keep my eyes on Alistair's face in the mirror and he keeps his on mine.
“Look at yourself,” Sarah murmurs, watching the mirror too. “Look how beautiful you are. Look at what you're doing to all of us.”
She presses the heel of her hand against me and holds it there, no movement, just the weight of it, and I want to be fucked so badly that I could actually cry.
“Please,” I say.
“Not yet,” Sarah says. “We're just getting started.”