13
Brandon hadn't gotten to finish, and in some twisted way, was that actually... good?
Isabella and Amanda had caught their breath after a pause that felt like an eternity to Brandon. His cock throbbed, raw desire burning him up from the inside out, but he forced himself to hold back.
The two women rose, sweat tracing glistening paths down their skin. Only now did Brandon register the sauna's climbing heat and the thick vapor rolling through the air.
"That was better than I expected, sweetheart." Standing right in front of him, Amanda cut an imposing, breathtaking figure—taller than him, with an utterly divine body.
"Oh, come on, you can do better than that, Amanda. At least throw him a bone. Look at those puppy-dog eyes on him!" Isabella gave a little shrug and giggled—a teasing habit Brandon hadn't noticed until now.
"I don't look like a—"
Amanda smirked and opened her arms, beckoning him closer.
Brandon stepped into the embrace, the sheen of sweat slicking the heat between their bodies. She stroked his head, which only made him feel even more like the puppy Isabella had pegged him for.
"There, there."
Another giggle broke from Isabella before she wrapped her arms around them both, joining the hug. She was the first to kiss him, peppering soft, teasing kisses all over his face.
Brandon was drowning in affection, and it felt surreal.
Not in a bad way, of course. It was just strange to feel so safe, so thoroughly embraced in the arms of two women he'd only just met. Thinking back, every encounter with Amanda and Isabella seemed to fast-track their intimacy by months. For a second, his head spun with the thought, but logic stood no chance against how thoroughly turned-on he was. He became acutely aware of his erection pressing right against Amanda’s thigh, and that contact instantly reignited the fire.
"Don't even think about it..." The blonde seemed to read his mind. "That's your second task: you hold back until you're given a direct order. If we're going to play sub and Mistress, we're doing it right."
Yet despite her stern words, Amanda shifted her stance just enough to deliberately brush her thighs against him.
"You're really going to make him wait until you let him come?"
"Exactly. Not even by yourself, understand?" Amanda pushed him back slightly, fixing him with the sharp, authoritative glare that suited her so damn well.
"Yes, Mistress."
"Now let's go, before I melt into a puddle."
Brandon let the girls step out of the sauna first, watching them head toward the locker room showers while he lingered in the steam to shut down the heating system. His Sterling Grove uniform was plastered so thoroughly to his skin that he was going to have to find some way to dry off.
Twenty minutes later, after wiping down the sauna, he slipped into the staff restroom in the spa area.
He dried off as best he could before heading back onto the floor.
He'd been off the radar for too long, and that was just asking for trouble.
As little as he cared about getting written up, he still desperately needed to keep this job and bring home a paycheck.
He headed back up to the pool deck, only to be met by an inquisitive look from Aurora.
When she walked over, she asked if he was feeling alright, noting how flushed and feverish he looked.
He brushed it off with a weak excuse and headed straight for the bar to grab something to drink.
He had to duck into another restroom just to splash cold water onto his face before tackling whatever tasks were thrown his way.
Beyond the heat, there was the ache of his denied release.
Even though his erection had mostly receded, the pulse in his veins was a constant reminder of the pent-up need coiled inside him.
It was an agonizing loop: the longer he waited, the more the craving built, leaving him hypersensitive.
And the more sensitive he grew, the hungrier he became.
He worked the deck, serving other members, fetching drinks, hauling fresh towels, and doing his rounds. All the while, his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of Amanda and Isabella.
Half an hour later, the pair emerged fully dressed and ready to leave the club. They shot him subtle, knowing goodbyes before slipping away.
The rest of the shift dragged on in agonizingly slow motion. Brandon watched the clock, desperate to clock out and escape the club, his anxiety only fueling the frustrated lust the women had left him with.
A few hours later, as he walked toward his locker in the employee change room, he caught himself mulling over the dynamic with the two women he'd agreed to serve.
The fact that it felt so damn good to satisfy them—to dedicate himself entirely to their pleasure—still caught his more skeptical side off guard.
A soft laugh escaped him when he realized he'd never voluntarily held back an orgasm like that in his life.
It was different. But far from the miserable frustration he would have expected.
He stepped into the locker room. The club's staggered shift schedules meant the place was practically deserted, save for the occasional coworker drifting through between rotations.
He went to turn the key in the locker bearing his name, only to realize it was already unlocked.
A spike of tension gripped him, his mind jumping straight to the worst-case scenario—if someone had stolen the little cash he had left in his wallet, he was completely screwed.
But what awaited him inside was an entirely different kind of surprise.
Sitting right on top of his belongings were two pairs of panties and a folded note. He recognized them instantly as Isabella's and Amanda's. Instinctively, he glanced over both shoulders to ensure he was completely alone, his heart hammering against his ribs as a hot flush crept up his neck.
He'd never been gifted panties before. Was he supposed to like it? Hell yes, he was, he quickly decided.
Tucked underneath was a small note.
"For being such a devoted servant."
The grin that spread across Brandon’s face stayed plastered there for hours. His cheeks were still burning crimson long after he left the club, driving home in his beat-up car. His thoughts scrambled to make sense of it all, trying to pinpoint why he felt so... it was hard to put into words.
Proud? Is that what this is?
He took care to dodge Nancy as he climbed the stairs to his floor, still lacking the money for his overdue rent. But even that looming disaster felt so trivial right now that it barely made a dent in his mood.
Yeah, it was pride. A deep, intoxicating satisfaction from having pushed himself to please Isabella and Amanda, and being recognized and rewarded for it.
It was a bizarre game they were playing with him. But if it was going to make him feel like this every single time, he never wanted it to end.