10. Poet
10
POET
The door bangs shut behind all of us as we advance into the women’s restroom. Zoe’s lips curl with mine, the same way I remember them doing three years ago. She tastes of syrup and vanilla and flowers, the prettiest kind, and I can’t get my fill. My mouth can’t seem to wrap around hers enough.
Our tongues knot together inside of each other’s mouths.
She whimpers.
“What are you doing?” I whisper in the shell of her ear when we take a breath of air.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asks.
My head has never shaken faster.
“Good,” she says. “So, shut up.”
I hoist her ass up onto the counter and stand in between her splayed legs.
“Mmm,” she moans as I lower my mouth to pepper kisses along the length of her neck. “This feels so amazing.”
Wrangler ponytails her hair so it’s away from her neck. “Good girl.”
Bullwhip stands there and watches, hand hesitant to travel south down to his groin.
Another moan leaves Zoe’s mouth.
“Do you mind?” asks Wrangler, smoothing back more of her glossy red hair. “Am I OK to touch you?”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Zoe laughs between kisses. “The more the better.”
She shuts her eyes and rolls back her head to expose a collarbone. My mouth shoots there next. Just the sight of her bare neck makes my balls ache.
Her soft, glowing skin.
Her shut eyelids.
She parts her pink lips to release more groans.
Wrangler sets his hands on her, snaking them around her waist and up to her covered chest. He outlines her breasts, and she shoves them forward.
“Take off my clothes,” she says.
It’s a demand, not a request.
“No,” says Bullwhip. He crosses his arms over his chest like a pissed-off security guard. “Nobody will be taking off any clothes.”
Zoe whimpers, and then stands up.
Wrangler and I take our hands away.
Maybe I’ll superglue them to her next time so I don’t have a choice.
“Why not?” Zoe purses her lips, and then walks over to where Bullwhip is standing by the bathroom stalls. “Loosen up a little.” She tugs on his jacket collar. “When was the last time you had fun?”
The question hardens his jaw, and he turns away.
“Hey?” Zoe smooths her hand up his cheek, and this slowly turns his head back toward hers. “Just once. One time. Then you’ll never see me again.”
Never see her again? That ruins my erection. I collapse against the sink like a deflated balloon. I thought about Zoe most days after the masquerade party, even without knowing it was her. Something beyond explanation draws me to her. It’s like we’re magnets. Like we’re drawn together.
Opposites attract. And we are opposites. She’s an optimistic soul with a Paris obsession, and I’m a teacher turned biker still trying to reinvent myself. We’re worlds apart, even now that she wears Felix’s ring on her finger.
It’s best we part ways after this, because she’s too good for all of us. I’ll bore her the same as Trudy, and the heartache will significantly decrease my lifespan. To avoid chaos, it’s better if everyone moves on with their lives.
But that won’t magically solve the trouble that Zoe and her daughter are in.
“You have a husband and a daughter,” says Bullwhip. “Things are different now.”
“What do you mean now ?” Zoe squints up at him.
“You’re not thinking straight,” he says.
“No.” She slides a hand up his chest.
They look good together, and I know Bullwhip thinks that too. His lip twitches, and his chest remains stationary. Looks like his lungs are failing him—no breath enters or leaves his nose.
I turn to Wrangler. “Do you want her?”
“Is the grass green?” he replies.
Standing on her tiptoes, Zoe plants a kiss to Bullwhip’s temple. “Mmmm.” She finds a shoulder. “So much tension.” Their mouths are inches apart now. “Show me a good time…” She turns back to us. “All of you. I don’t know what it feels like anymore to?—”
Zoe crashes against the counter, ass hitting the sink as Bullwhip shadows over her, holding her hands over her head. Their lips meet in a hot, tangled mess, breaths ragged.
Wrangler and I join the action and smooth our hands over her body. The modest dress only exposes a slither of her collarbone. God, I could rip the garment off her and tear it to shreds, so we’re bound to this room forever.
But that’ll get us in trouble.
Also, we risk somebody walking in.
We can’t be too long.
I suppose locking ourselves into a stall is another option, but not all four of us will fit.
Wrangler and I lift Zoe up onto the side and keep her balance as she spreads her legs. They lock around Bullwhip as he presses himself into her center.
My balls feel ready to explode. She’s sensational. Her red, blushed cheeks. The soft, tanned skin. The right-angle jaw and soft, fluttering lashes. Mascara clumps around her eyes. She was crying before we entered. There’s a leak of black makeup down her cheek, and her eyes are swollen. Even crying, she’s pretty.
I’m glad we’ve found a way to improve her mood.
“I need to take off my dress.”
The all-too-familiar scent of tuberose washes up my nose from the wind that her skirts create as she lifts them up.
“No.” Bullwhip takes over her hands. “That’s our job. You just sit there and relax.”
“You bikers are awfully attentive.”
“Not all of us,” I can’t help but say. “We just really like you.”
Zoe lifts her ass as we pull the material away from her. Wrangler slips down the straps, and I get the honor of unzipping. Christian Dior reads the lapel at the back of the dress as I peel it away from her bronzed skin. That must’ve cost Felix a fortune.
Removing the garment brings a smug smile to my face that Wrangler mirrors right back at me. Former me would never undress another man’s wife.
Hence the word former.
With risk comes incredible thrill-seeking that makes my heart race. Boring Mr. Reeves could never understand.
The dress lowers and Zoe’s soft, round breasts bless my eyes.
No bra? I thought there’d be at least one more layer.
They’re even better than I remember. Seeing them hardens my dick even more than before, now that I see the face they belong with. We didn’t get that before.
Ass hoisted back onto the counter, Zoe watches all three of us admire her chest. My cock urges to be released, but one stroke will bring me to orgasm.
They’re so perfect. So round.
Her nipples harden, the color the same soft hue as a pink rose.
Wrangler palms them first.
Bullwhip second.
For a moment, I admire the view. Until it becomes too challenging.
My fingers brush delicately over one of her nipples, and it makes her entire body twitch.
She crumples up her face, and sings out a moan.
“That’s it,” says Bullwhip. “Relax and let us take care of you.”
She opens her eyes, then. Switches her gaze between all three of us.
“How wet are you?” continues Bullwhip. The skirts wrap around her hips, covering her modesty. “Should we take a look at your pussy and find out?”
She hitches her breath. Nods. “Yeah. Fuck.” She squirms to widen her legs more for us. “Please.” Sweat runs down her parted brows. “I need all three of you to fuck me.”
“We won’t be doing that, sweetheart.” Bullwhip removes the dress from her waist. “This is about you. Your pleasure. Not ours. Understand?”
She gives a rigid nod.
It’s for the best, to be honest.
Wrangler will never forgive himself for fucking another woman. Even though he should—it’s about time he puts the dead girl to bed. I’ll spiral into a pit of depression and lament Zoe for the rest of my life, and resort to fucking sonnets to express my grief because I’m an emotionally attached freak who can’t sleep with a pretty girl no strings attached.
Bullwhip settling between Zoe’s thighs, Wrangler and I lower ourselves and each take one of her legs to fling them over our shoulders.
This grabs her attention, and something washes over her face, widening her eyes and dropping her jaw. “Oh my god.”
I lower her leg. “Darling, are you?—?”
“I’m OK. Very OK.” She pins her leg back onto my shoulder and scoots her ass further down the counter. “Continue. Please.”
Bullwhip removes the rest of her dress.
Now she’s in nothing but heels and panties.
Red lace.
“You wear these everyday, darlin’?” Wrangler crawls his hand up to where they sit on her hip and slides a finger underneath the material. “Or just on special occasions?”
“It’s the only part of the outfit that makes me feel like me .”
“Hmph.” Bullwhip teases the other side, giant finger grazing against red lace. “In that case, maybe we should leave them on.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself.”
That’s when Bullwhip rips them off and tosses them out into the restroom somewhere.
“Now.” He dips between her thighs. Spreads them.
Oh, to land my eyes on her tight pussy again.
Wrangler and I spread her legs even wider and watch the area unfold like a pretty pink flower. At the sight, I choke a groan, my cock fully erect. It’s the hardest it’s ever fucking been in my entire thirty-six years of living.
Wrangler runs a finger up her slit, buttering her in her own wetness.
Zoe’s moans build in volume.
“Sweetheart.” Bullwhip strokes the pad of his thumb over her inner thigh. “We’re trying to be quiet. We don’t want anybody to hear us.”
The foggy eyes and limp body suggest she’s currently too turned on to be quiet.
Joining Wrangler, I slide my finger between her folds too. Then, I plunge one in.
“AH!” The cry echoes around the empty bathroom.
Bullwhip secures a palm over her mouth. “Shhhh, darling.”
Her body trembles.
And then Wrangler locates her clit, circling the pink nub gently with a fingertip.
I watch intently, mouth salivating.
Dinner time, I think.
I lower myself between her legs, and the other two keep her propped up. “Try to be quiet, sweetheart,” I instruct before diving in to French-kiss her second pair of lips. Wetness drizzles out of her, the honeyed taste glossing over my lips.
Bullwhip massages her breasts.
Wrangler keeps her steady as her body begins to spasm. “Good girl.” His hands glide around her hips. “Keep nice and quiet for us.”
My pulse drums thick in my throat.
Doesn’t life sometimes unfold in the strangest ways?
Zoe was my top Shakespeare student, and now I’m burying my head between her thighs hoping for her pussy to suffocate me.
“Please, all of you, get down there,” she commands. “I’m so close.”
Bullwhip, Wrangler and I all nestle between her legs, still managing to keep them held up for her. We each introduce a finger and admire the way her folds move around us for a moment. I know what we’re all doing—mentally photographing this moment to later relive it late at night when we should be sleeping.
Bullwhip inserts a finger.
“OH!”
“Shhhh,” he reminds her. “Quiet for us, sweetheart.”
She clamps a hand over her own mouth as we prepare to bring her to orgasm.
I massage her clit and the other two each pump a finger in and out of her.
Simultaneously, they decide to curl their fingertips deep within her.
Her body shakes with her orgasm.
The other two remove their fingers, so I insert mine and feel her pulsating walls to torture myself further.
Coming down from her high, she throws her head back and exhales a satisfied sigh.
“We need to get you dressed. Quick.” Bullwhip retrieves the black dress and fumbles the material through his hands. “Here. Lift up your arms.”
Zoe does, weakly.
“Stand up.”
She does, after her ten-second-delayed brain catches up.
Turning to examine her reflection in the mirror, she says, “They released the picture.”
Wrangler frowns. “What picture?”
Fucking hell. The man sees Zoe naked and develops memory loss. “The one taken earlier. All four of us. You remember?”
“Shit,” he replies.
Bullwhip remains silent, like always does in tense situations.
“Will Felix see?” I grimace.
Zoe electrifies me with her green eyes, and then turns away.
I press on. “We can help you…”
“Escape?” Hope shines in her eyes for a moment, but then she shakes it away.
“We can.” Wrangler links hands with her. “It’s what we do. This investigation with Paul and Felix could lead us somewhere.”
“We could kill him,” I add.
“No,” says Wrangler, saving Bullwhip’s breath. “That would be too dangerous.”
“Then what?” Bullwhip asks.
I swipe a finger over my chin. “We turn everybody against him.”
“Hm,” says Wrangler. “Tricky, but not impossible if the Paul situation doesn’t lead us to a dead end.”
We turn to Zoe to get her take, but she glues her eyes to the diamond-tiled floor.
“Any suggestions, sweetheart?”
“Just one.” She looks up at us, and those green eyes look like they could cut stone. “Next time, don’t act like I’m a stranger, like we never met three years ago at Teagan’s masquerade.”