Chapter 3
Mila
I take Frankie’s offered hand, and he pulls me up and out of the chair to stand on my still-wobbly legs. Thankfully, the silky lining of my skirt means it slides effortlessly down over my arse and hips without requiring any awkward readjustments.
“You doing okay?” Frankie asks as he slides his hands to my hips and holds me steady.
“I’m good,” I reply.
His green eyes trail a path over my face and again, I’m not sure exactly what it is he’s looking for. “Let’s show you to your room. You can shower there. Take a minute to yourself, get your thoughts straight.”
I frown in confusion as my stomach pitches, remaining still as I watch Frankie follow Sam to the hallway that leads to the stairs.
“Did I do something wrong?” I call out.
Both men stop and turn to look at me.
“Absolutely not,” Sam says with a shake of his head.
“No, Mila. You… You’re perfect, but that was a lot, and I just thought you might need a minute. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”
My eyes slice between the pair of them, but I don’t move.
“Stop overthinking,” Sam says, holding his hand out. “Frankie can be a little intense sometimes. He didn’t mean anything. Come and get showered. That little something you had earlier is gonna hit hard in about half an hour, and I want you between us when that happens.”
My stomach dips again, but this time for very different reasons. I move, and with Frankie in front and Sam behind, we make our way up the stairs.
“Master,” Frankie says as he points to the room at the far end of the landing.
“Yeah?” Sam says with another of his winks.
“That’s our room,” Frankie continues with a head shake at Sam’s joke.
The double doors leading into it are open, leaving a huge bed in view. “This room’s Sammie’s.” He points to the first door at the top of the stairs. “The next is yours, and I’m on the end.”
Sam moves from behind me, and it’s then I realise he has my case with him. He opens the door to my room, and I follow him in.
The room’s large, with a king-sized bed in the centre covered in neutral-coloured, linen bedding. To the left is an opening to a walk-in robe, and another to an ensuite bathroom. Facing the bed is a floor to ceiling wall of windows, with flax-coloured sheer curtains hanging either side.
“Unpack your things, get yourself showered, then come to our room,” Frankie orders before turning to leave.
“We’ll be waiting,” Sam says with a raise of his brows and a smirk as he sets my case down on the bed. I watch him leave, too.
I don’t know if I’m in shock or if it’s the drugs, but my skin feels like it’s vibrating, my brain is suddenly taking in everything around me with pinpoint accuracy, and I have an overwhelming desire to move.
I unpack my case, putting my clothes on a couple of the shelves in the wardrobe. Undressing, I walk naked to the bathroom, noting as I do that my bedroom door is wide open.
The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is a mix of white and warm neutrals. There are no windows, but a large, oval bathtub sits in the centre, with a toilet off to the right, and a timber, double sink unit next to that. There’s also an open shower with two shower heads beside each other on the right. Large, white, fluffy towels are already hanging from the hooks beside the shower, alongside a dove-grey-coloured silk robe.
It takes me a moment to figure out the touchscreen controls for the shower, but once I have the water at the right temperature, and my hair pulled up in a messy bun with the scrunchie I’d taken from my toiletry bag, I step under the water.
Then I panic!
Should I wash off and reapply my makeup, or should I just wash from the neck down?
I love nothing more than to have a bare face. Because my husband insists I wear full makeup any time I leave the house, and that he should always come home from work to me ‘wearing something nice and looking my best,’ even in the confines of my own home, I rarely get the chance to go makeup free.
“Fuck it,” I say out loud to no one in particular before tilting my face up to meet the spray of water.
Whatever it is that’s singing through my veins right now has me filled with a sense of euphoria and extreme confidence.
I thought, left alone, I’d disappear inside my own head and become overwhelmed with my decision to do what it is I’m doing right now. Instead, I can’t wait for more. I can’t wait to be pushed, challenged. I can’t wait to feel worshiped—to just be acknowledged as having some value, even if it is defined by the pleasure these two men get from whatever it is they’re about to do to me. I just want to feel… something.
Once I’m showered,I moisturise my body with the lotion set out on the sink, and, leaving my hair up in the messy bun, I then use my own products on my face. Meeting my own gaze in the mirror, I take myself in. My greyish-blue eyes are sparkling, my pale cheeks flushed. An image of how we must’ve looked earlier hits me. Sam fucking my mouth. Frankie stroking himself and coming over my tits. How insanely good it all felt. How I don’t regret a single thing.
Music from a hidden speaker begins to play, pausing the replay of earlier events through my mind. A man’s voice, deep and sensual, sings about turning off the lights and lighting a candle. The lyrics sound cheesy, and I let out a giggle as I consider my next move.
After spotting the robe on the hook, I pull it on and position it so I’m showing off just enough cleavage before tying it around my waist. At five-nine, I’m pretty tall for a woman, and this thing barely covers my arse, but I’m happy with that. Not having the biggest boobs or arse, I consider my long legs, along with my large, almond-shaped eyes and sharp cheek bones, to be my best assets. This robe, with its length and colouring, accentuates all of those features.
Stealing Sam’s move, I give my reflection a wink, and with a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my belly, I go to find my men.
The double doors to ‘our room’are still open, and just as I turn to head towards them, Sam steps from the doorway of his room, now dressed in another white tee paired with navy shorts. I pause and take in his damp hair. He has it pushed back off his face, the ends hanging past his collar and curling at the ends. His jaw, covered in a sandy-coloured stubble, looks tense as his blue eyes take me in. I have no idea why he looks so concerned when my only thought is: I cannot wait to ride that face into multiple orgasms!
“You okay?” he asks me quietly, and I nod as he steps towards me, his fingertips brushing mine. “You look gorgeous,” he adds before licking his lips and making my insides quiver. I think he’s about to take my hand, but instead, he moves his to the small of my back and silently guides me to the room at the end of the landing.
It’s about twice the size of my room, and with a kitchenette, drinks bar, and seating area, it looks more like a hotel suite.
Frankie’s preparing drinks at the bar with his back to us, but he turns as we move towards him. His green eyes quickly move from Sam to me, his head tilting as they travel from my face to my bare feet, then back up to meet my own gaze.
“How you feeling?” he asks.
“Good,” I answer with a shrug while attempting to ignore the squeeze Sam has just given my arse cheek.
“What would you like to drink?” the sneaky arse cheek squeezer asks as he moves past me to the bar area.
“I did you a bourbon,” Frankie tells Sam. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted, Mila?”
“What have you got that’ll get rid of the butterflies in my belly?” I ask honestly.
Frankie looks up from where he’s adding ice to a glass. Brows raised, his eyes meet mine. “Did what I gave you earlier not take the edge off?”
“A little bit, but I think it wore off. I’m not sure… I mean, I don’t think I want…”
“It’s safe,” Sam interrupts. “It’s plant-based and all natural. Like I said earlier, we’d never do anything to put you in danger.”
“I didn’t mean… I didn’t think that… I’m just I don’t like the idea of not being in control.”
“But that’s exactly what you need to do,” Frankie says. “This is day one, so obviously there are gonna be nerves, especially as you’ve never done anything like this before.” He pauses and I’m not sure why. “But I promise you, you let us help you relax, and you’ll get so much more out of this. The only way any of this is gonna work is if you trust us.”
“I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, I just don’t want you to fill me full of drugs to the point I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Right, I’m gonna stop you right there. Do you really think that’s what we’re about? That we would do something like that? Because if you do, we should probably end this right now.”
Frankie steps from behind the wet bar area and leans with his arse against the benchtop, arms folded across his broad chest, feet crossed at his ankles. When I look up at Sam, he’s standing in a similar pose next to me.
I’m kind of intimidated, a little bit scared, and because I’m obviously a weirdo, a little bit turned on.
“No,” I say with a head shake and an exhale. “My life’s just so ordered and regimented. Logan has rules for everything?—”
“And that’s what we want to give you a break from,” Frankie interrupts. “Apart from everything between us being safe and consensual, we have no rules. What we’re here to do is have a good time with you. We want you to have a good time. We want to make you feel good, without guilt, without shame, without inhibitions. We want you to ask us—no, tell us—all the things you want us to do to you. We want you to tell us to stop but let us decide if that’s what you really mean, because believe me, Mila, we already know how surprised you’re gonna be at how far we can push you past what you think your limits are.”
My stomach and vagina clench so tightly, it makes my head swim.
“But to do all of that,” Sam says, “you’ve gotta trust us to take you there. You’ve gotta trust that we will always, fucking always look after you.”
I draw in a deep breath, look between them, straighten my shoulders, and say, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, cucumber not lime, and whatever you’ve got that’s gonna make me chill the fuck out and calm the fuck down.”
“That’s my girl,” Sam says with a slap to my arse.
“Get over here,” Frankie says with a chin lift and a grin.
I’m halfwaythrough my gin and tonic when the two little white pills Frankie gave me with my drink start to take effect. I don’t feel drunk, but my limbs feel loose, and my skin tingly.
We’re still standing around the bar area, with Sam and me on one side, Frankie on the other. I’m telling them about how I’ve used the excuse of visiting my mum in the care facility to Logan for this weekend away in the city. My husband doesn’t care whether I’m home or not, but you can be absolutely sure he’ll check up on my movements. So, at some stage tomorrow, I’ll have to go and spend time with her.
While I’m talking, I lean into the benchtop, resting on my elbows. My robe has fallen slightly off one shoulder, and I’m aware that I’m flashing a fair bit of cleavage. I know what I’m doing. I want this. I want them, and I want them to want me. My nerves from earlier have turned into lust and I’m now just waiting for one of them to make their move.
It’s Sam.
Without a word, he moves in closer, trails his hand from the back of my neck, down my spine, over my arse, and under the hem of my gown. His fingers stroke up the inside of my leg until he reaches my pussy.
“Eyes on me,” Frankie orders as he opens the front of my robe wider, my breasts now fully exposed. His eyes move from them up to meet mine.
“She wet?” he asks.
“Soaking,” Sam replies.
“Let me taste.”
“Open for me,” Sam says against my ear, his hot breath causing an eruption of goosebumps from my scalp to the tips of my toes. I spread my legs, and from behind, Sam pushes at least three fingers inside me. I feel stretched, but again, in a good way.
“Four,” Frankie says. “Four fingers, all the way.”
Without being asked, I spread my legs wider and tilt my arse to give him easier access. Silently, I watch as Frankie unzips his jeans, pulls out his cock, and starts to stroke himself.
“You want this?” he asks me. I nod. And when he says, “Of course you do,” I melt.
When I watch Sam move his wet hand across the benchtop, then slide his fingers into Frankie’s mouth, I almost combust.
Frankie stops stroking himself, takes Sam’s hand in both of his, and licks every finger dry.
“Fucking perfect,” Frankie says once he’s done. “Take off the robe and go lay on the bed.”
Without looking back, I turn and do as I’m told.
“On your elbows and knees—arse in the air,” Frankie calls out.
I take my position, making sure to spread my legs wide, and I wait.
I hear rustling behind me. My stomach churns, my head spins, and I have another one of those ‘what the fuck am I doing’ conversations in my head, and then there’s a hand at the small of my back.
Everything slows: my heart, the blood racing through my veins, my manic thoughts. Every part of my being has calmed, solely focused on the big, warm hand slowly stroking the arch at the small of my back. That hand turns to fingertips. They glide to the crack of my arse, where they pause. What feels like a middle finger presses against my arsehole, then moves on. Lower. A finger slips inside me, then two. Folding my arms in front of me, I rest my forehead on them and close my eyes.
“I Feel Like I’m Drowning” plays over the sound system, and the music feels like it’s floating through my veins, right along with my blood. Everything else disappears, and I give myself over to nothing but sound and sensation.
The two fingers buried inside me curl and begin to move in and out. There’s movement between my spread thighs, and then a pair of strong arms are hooked around the backs of my legs.
“Ride my face,” Sam says before pulling me down onto his mouth.
His tongue finds my clit, and I rock my hips onto it while Frankie keeps finger fucking me from behind. I’m close to coming, but not quite there, and I’m not sure if that’s making me frustrated because I need the release, or happy because I want it to keep feeling this good.
Frankie trails kisses up my spine, across my shoulder, and to my ear.
“If you wanna let go, just let go. Between us and what’s in those two little pills, we’ll keep you coming all night long.”
His mouth and fingers are gone the instant he says the words, and then a warm liquid hits my arse crack. At first, I think he’s come all over me, but there’s too much of it, and it’s making my skin tingle.
“It’s just some lube,” Frankie says from behind me. “We’re gonna play with some toys—open you up a little bit for us. See what you can take. You can stop this at any time, Mila, but we’re gonna make you feel so fucking good, you’re not gonna want that to happen.”
I smile at his confidence while feeling myself pulled down harder onto Sam’s tongue as he spreads my legs wider apart.
“Just focus on Sammie and what his big, beautiful tongue is doing to you. Press your clit down on it, but keep your arse tipped up. Don’t tense, don’t push back, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Frankie works the lube up and down my arse crack. Heat and a tingling sensation occur everywhere it touches. It feels delicious.
And then I hear a low buzzing sound.
“Relax, beautiful girl. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”
Whatever toy Frankie has, he strokes it up and down before dipping it into my pussy. My legs shake, and I let out a groan. And then it’s there, pushing against my arsehole.
“How’s that tongue feeling, Mila? That feel good? Just concentrate on what Sammie’s doing, and I promise, we’re gonna make you feel even better.”
I do as I’m told, focusing on Sam’s tongue at my clit, and the sound of Matt Maeson singing “Put It On Me”.
I feel pressure, a slight sting, and I fight with everything in me not to tense up or push back. I feel something give, and along with a feeling of fulness, a gentle vibration inside me.
“Fuck me, you look beautiful,” Frankie states. “Spin her around, Sam. Take a look.”
With hands at my ribs and hips, I’m lifted, turned, then set back down on Sam’s chest, facing Frankie. They’re both naked.
They’re both naked!
And Frankie’s not only stroking his own cock, but he reaches for Sam’s and begins stroking that, too. I stare silently, my heart now racing again, my mouth dry. Why is watching two men together like this so beautiful?
“Fucking beautiful,” Sam says from behind me, and my belly warms at our identical thoughts. His hand slaps against my arse cheek before he drags me back onto his face. This time he buries his tongue inside me.
At the same time, Sam bends his knees and opens his legs. On his knees, Frankie moves between them and lifts Sam’s hips until their cocks are touching and he’s stroking them both together.
“Come taste us, Mila,” he orders before gripping the back of my hair and forcing my face down.
Frankie guides both of them to my lips. With my hands over his, I stroke, I lick, I taste, and eventually, I work them both inside my mouth. They’re big, and with saliva dripping from my chin, I gag, which only encourages the boys to fuck my face harder. Sam’s hips buck up and Frankie’s move forward as he holds my head in place. Sam’s tongue moves back to my clit before pushing what feels like at least four fingers inside me.
“Open her up, Sammie,” Frankie orders. “Open her up so she can take us both later on.”
I almost feel sick at the level of desire that shoots through me.
I explode.
And explode.
I groan and gag at the same time.
I try to escape what Sam continues to do to my clit, but he slides his arm around my lower belly and holds me in place.
I try to raise my head to release the cocks inside my mouth, but Frankie tightens the grip on my hair and forces my face down harder.
I’m not even sucking, just making noises to express some of the pleasure coursing through me.
My orgasm rolls on and on. Sam slaps my arse, and Frankie arches back, face tipped to the ceiling and lets out a loud, “Fuck!”
And then they come. There’s too much for me to swallow, so I just let it slide down my chin and their cocks. Feeling self-conscious at the state I’m in, I open my eyes and look up at Frankie, who’s staring down at me.
“Beautiful,” he says on an exhale. “Fucking beautiful.”
I come again.