SHARING IS CARING
“Maeve, darling, you really must stop consuming all the charm in this room. The rest of us are suffocating on what you leave behind,” I drawled, fanning myself with a playing card as I lounged deeper into the velvet armchair, ankles crossed.
Maeve didn’t so much as blink. She sat perched atop the parlor’s mantel like a bored gargoyle with immaculate features, one leg swinging idly and a cigarette balanced between her fingers.
“If I’m hoarding charm,” she said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke in my direction, "it’s only because you keep stockpiling all the bad decisions. ”
“Touché,” I grinned. “But admit it: My bad decisions make for excellent stories.”
Maeve arched a brow, lips curling. “Your bad decisions are the stories. You’re basically the Greek chorus and the tragedy, rolled into one irresistible corset.”
Before I could fire back, the front door creaked, and Violet swept into the room.
Rain clung to the hem of her skirt, molded to her thighs, damp and translucent in places.
“If only we could escape,” she sighed, her gaze already lost to the window and whatever faraway world lived beyond it. “To the lands of Byron and Keats . . .”
“Byron would’ve adored you,” Maeve said lightly. “You’ve got the sorrow of a widow and the face of a woman who poisons men for sport.”
Violet’s lips curved into a smile.
I folded my arms, watching her with open amusement. “You’d miss us if you escaped. Who else would heckle you at your poetry readings and bring gin to your emotional spirals?”
Violet gave me a sidelong glance. “I don’t spiral. I unravel gracefully.”
Maeve flicked ash into the fireplace. “You unravel like a damn silk stocking caught on a man’s belt buckle.”
Violet turned, her expression hovering between fondness and exasperation. “At least I’m not stuck in a loop like you, Maeve. Same night, different cock. Hoping one of them tells you you're clever.”
“Please,” Maeve scoffed, sliding off the mantel. “I already know I’m clever. I just want someone rich to say it with diamonds.”
Before I could sharpen that into something more dangerous, Elona arrived, her laughter announcing her long before she crossed the threshold. She wore her red dress, the one that made her look like Satan’s mistress, her heels clicking across the floor.
“I’m with Maeve,” she declared, already halfway through a glass of something amber. “Let’s skip the tragedy and write a farce. Something with mistaken identities and erections in the wrong rooms.”
“Sounds like last Tuesday,” I muttered.
Elona winked. “Exactly. Life imitates farce, darling.”
The room swelled with laughter again. That was our magic. It wasn’t just the perfume, the silk, or the practiced touch, it was this: the sisterhood of women who had nothing, and still gave each other everything.
As the night wore on, the customers started arriving, their presence always bringing a palpable shift to the energy of the brothel.
Then the door creaked open again and a man stepped through, tall and rough cut.
His coat hung heavy with rain, his boots were muddy, and his jawline was sharp enough to make a nun reconsider her vows.
He looked like he’d been in far too many fights but won just enough of them to walk into a brothel like ours and think he could afford not to kneel.
Elona and I noticed him at the same time.
“Trouble,” she whispered under her breath.
“Delicious trouble,” I corrected, already straightening, my attention fixed on him as I crossed the room.
He looked me over as I introduced myself, his intense eyes locking on to mine, as if assessing me, sizing me up and cataloging every inch of me.
“Looking for something?” I asked.
The sound of his voice sent a ripple through me, “I believe I’ve found it.”
My thoughts ran wild, racing ahead into dangerous territory.
Me too. The things I would let him do, the ways I could unravel for him—it all flashed through my mind, vivid and tempting.
A faint smile curved my lips, the thought lingering just long enough to betray itself in my expression.
I didn’t need to speak; he saw it. I knew he did.
I glanced toward Elona, giving her the signal.
She caught it instantly, stepping in with effortless confidence. Her hand slid across his chest, fingers tracing the fabric. The touch was casual, claiming, but her laughter, her flirtation, it was all part of the dance we’d perfected.
And I was more than willing to watch the show.
“Fifty for the night,” I said, as Elona played with his collar, her fingers trailing over his chest with predatory grace.
He gave a single nod. “That works. I just need a place to disappear for a while.”
“Then welcome to paradise, sweetheart.” Elona teased, already guiding him to the stairs.
I gave Emil a subtle nod, signaling for him to take charge while I stepped back to observe, lingering just behind them, content to watch from the shadows and witness what was about to unfold.
Elona turned to face him, the low light settling over her, catching the red silk as it followed the lines of her body.
She paused just inside the room, letting him take her in, holding there as if the moment belonged to her.
As the door closed behind us with a soft click, I slipped into the corner, hidden from view, an audience to their performance and eager to witness every moment.
“Come here,” she said softly. He crossed the room, his gaze fixed on her with the desperate hunger of a man who hasn’t eaten in days, and sat at the edge of the bed.
Elona moved to him, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. She worked them free one by one, exposing his chest slowly. Leaning in, she brushed her breath against his skin and kissed him gently.
“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, her lips brushing his neck.
His eyes darkened. “I just want to forget.”
Her smile was softened as she looked at him. “Then let’s make you forget everything.”
Her hands traced over him, following the shape of his body as his chest rose and fell. His breath hitched when her mouth found the hollow beneath his collarbone. She lingered there, pressing a kiss, tasting him, claiming him between heartbeats.
“I want you to touch me,” she breathed against him. “Every inch of me.” She slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders, the fabric surrendering, falling slowly to her waist.
Elona pressed her body against his, and their lips met again in a soft, tentative kiss. It was electric, igniting a fire within the room. She guided his hands to her waist, encouraging him to explore. “Touch me,” she begged.
He stood in one swift motion, unfastened his belt, and stepped out of his trousers before sitting back down on the bed.
His hands roamed across her back, pulling her close to him until her nipples brushed his lips, his hot breath playfully teasing them to life.
He gave a firm flick of his tongue, sending a shock of arousal throughout her body, her eager moans drawing my hands down between my thighs as I leaned my body firmly against the wall.
The kiss deepened, and I lost myself in the moment, surrendering to the passion that engulfed them. I could feel the world outside fading away, leaving only the three of us in our own cocoon of intimacy.
He reached for her hips, lifting her as her legs wrapped around him. His hands were large, hesitant at first, until she pressed closer. Then the hesitation was gone and the kiss deepened with a fierce hunger, as though they were trying to taste each other’s soul.
His hands roamed down her back, gripping her curves. Their bodies moving in a rising rhythm, hips finding hips, friction sparking with every grind, every breathless gasp.
I bit my lip and slipped one hand down between my thighs, sliding beneath the edge of my garter belt, where my fingers found heat and slickness instantly. The pleasure was immediate as I circled my clit, slowly, watching Elona straddle him.
She reached between them, her fingers wrapping around his length, guiding him to her. Hovering there, she teased him with the heat of her body, her breath coming in shaky gasps before she sank down onto him, taking every aching inch.
His head fell back with a ragged groan. “Fuck,” he hissed.
Elona moaned low in her throat, riding the delicious stretch. She moved in fluid, rolling waves, like she knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. Her hands on his shoulders, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.
My breath quickened as my fingers moved faster, circling my clit with tight, practiced pressure.
I was soaking. Drenched. My other hand traveled up to my heaving chest, fingers finding my hardened nipples, rolling and pinching them between my thumb and forefinger.
The wet sound of Elona’s body taking him was enough to push me closer to the edge, and I shoved my hand into my mouth to stifle the building moan.
His hands gripped her hips hard, guiding her, thrusting up into her with a rhythm that made the headboard tap the wall. They were lost in each other—sweat-slicked, breathless, wild.
Then he flipped her.
Elona gasped as he bent her over the edge of the bed, her red dress pushed up around her waist, her ass high and waiting. He grabbed her hips and drove into her with a groan that felt like it had been building for years.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he choked, breath ragged. The sound was raw, a mixture of relief and need, that stirred something dangerous in me.
I nearly came right then while Elona cried out with every thrust.
He growled something low and filthy into her ear, one hand on her hip, the other snaking between her thighs to rub her clit.
“God, yes,” she gasped. “Don’t stop—don’t fucking stop.”
I was already on my knees, my dress hiked up and legs spread, as I fucked myself. Fingers thrusting in time with their rhythm, biting my lip to stifle my whimpers.
His hands found her chest, gripping her breasts with possessive strength, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. The sensation made her gasp, and she arched her back, pushing against him, desperate for more.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, as Elona’s body shuddered beneath him.
“Yes . . .” she gasped, her words a broken plea. “Don’t stop.”
Elona’s hands grasped the edge of the bed as he pounded into her, the rhythm growing faster and more intense, while she met him with equal force, her body rocking to meet each thrust. Her breath came in sharp, quick bursts.
His pace grew wild, harder, as Elona’s moans turned into cries of pure pleasure. Her whole body shook, and he wasn’t far behind. His muscles tightened, jaw clenched, a broken growl ripping from his throat as he came hard inside her, hips jerking in sharp bursts.
They collapsed into a tangle of limbs, Elona laying boneless beneath him, and a slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as he kissed the back of her neck, still buried deep inside her. She let out a breathy laugh, more exhale than sound, then shifted to the side, curling lazily into the cushions.
He straightened, chest still rising and falling. His skin was damp with sweat, lips parted as he caught his breath. Then his eyes found mine.
I was still on my knees. My body trembling, slick and flushed, every breath a ragged aftershock of my climax. My dress had ridden up my thighs, and my fingers, wet and glistening, rested between my legs.
He saw all of it. All of me. And a slow smile spread across his face.
Elona collapsed into the pillows, still panting, watching us now with that slow, knowing smile—the kind that said, your turn now.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, eyes locking on to mine before they slid down to the mess between my thighs.
A low, appreciative sound rumbled in his chest as he caught my wrist in his hand and brought my glistening fingers to his mouth.
His tongue swirled around them, tasting me, sucking every drop as if it were nectar.
My whole body tensed.
He moaned low in his throat, like I was the richest thing he’d ever known. “You taste like a fucking dream,” he said, voice rough and ruined.
I parted my lips, breathless. But before I could speak, he took my wrist and guided my hand back between my thighs.
“Show me again,” he whispered, mouth grazing my ear. “I want to watch you.”
Spreading my legs wider, my fingers slid over my clit, before plunging back into my wetness. He watched intently—his eyes fixed on the way I moved, the way my hips started rocking, chasing the high all over again.
He kissed down my jaw, my throat, my shoulder. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that burned into my skin.
And then he pulled me down flat, laying me gently onto my back, my legs falling open for him, as he stared at me, spread wide, like I was art.
He dropped between my thighs, breath ghosting over my wet, aching pussy. And then—God—his tongue. The first stroke of it made me gasp, my back arching off the floor. He licked me like he’d been starving for it. Like he needed to memorize the taste of me.
His mouth sealed over my clit, tongue flicking and circling, the pressure just right. My thighs clamped around his head, but he didn’t stop. He growled into me, hands gripping my hips, holding me in place like a man determined to drag pleasure out of me by force if he had to.
I came hard, again, with a cry that could have cracked the ceiling. My hips jerked, my hands flew to his hair and my world shattered.
But he didn’t stop. He kept going—driving me higher. A second orgasm barreled through me, then a third. I was shaking, sobbing, coming undone under his tongue.
“Please,” I begged. “I don’t think I can take any more”.
He looked up at me with amusement, “Yes, you can.”
He pulled me up, crushing his mouth to mine in a deep, devouring kiss that let me taste myself on his lips. He positioned me on all fours, my ass presented like an offering while Elona watched from the bed, her fingers trailing lazily over her own body.
He thrust into my pussy first, each slam of his cock stretching me, filling me.
One hand on my hip, the other sliding into my hair, gripping tight as he pulled my head back.
Elona's gaze fueled the heat, her hand dipping between her legs to touch herself in sync with his movements, lips parted as she moaned with us.
"Not yet," he teased, pulling out to circle my clit with his thumb, making me whine in frustration.
Then, slowly, he pressed the head of his cock against my ass, inching in with deliberate care.
The stretch burned, then bloomed into ecstasy as he filled me completely.
My orgasm hit like lightning, body convulsing around him, milking every drop, and tearing a scream from my lungs as my vision went white.
He came seconds later, roaring my name into the crook of my neck, collapsing over me, both of us gasping for air. Elona crawled over to us and we stayed like that—sweaty, tangled, and absolutely spent.