Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sophie
“Look at yourself.” His hands on my shoulders, Lucian guides me to stand in front of the full-length mirror.
Reluctantly I do as he says.
The woman staring back at me barely looks like me. The shimmery fabric of the dress clings to every curve, ending scandalously high on my thighs. My nipples are clearly outlined beneath it, and the ridiculous heels make my legs look impossibly long.
As much as I hate to admit it, they were right.
The dress is incredible.
In the mirror, I meet his gaze. He fills the reflection with his impossibly broad shoulders and black-tie perfection.
Caleb moves in close on my other side.
I’m between them. As if I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
That thought makes my stomach flip.
Lucian cups my breasts through the thin fabric, his thumbs brushing slowly over my nipples.
Instantly they harden.
Heat rushes through me as I watch his hands move over my breasts. There’s something more intimate about seeing it happen in the mirror, about watching my own response while his midnight-blue gaze remains locked on mine.
Caleb is watching too.
The awareness sends another wave of warmth through me.
Lucian circles my nipples again, and the slow friction through the delicate fabric makes them ache.
My breath catches, and I tighten my thighs.
I should look away. Instead, I continue staring at our reflection, at the way the two men surround me, their attention completely focused on me.
For so long, I’ve thought of them as invaders who stormed into my life and took control of everything.
But standing here between them, dressed in something I never would have chosen for myself… I can’t deny the woman in the mirror looks confident. Sexy.
Like she belongs in their world.
The realization unsettles me almost as much as it thrills me.
Caleb slides his hand beneath the short hem, his palm moving slowly along my bare thigh.
My pulse jumps.
He strokes higher.
I watch his hand disappear beneath the dress, my face heating as I realize how completely exposed I am to them.
His fingers brush between my legs.
I gasp.
“So wet already.” His voice is low near my ear.
Embarrassment burns through me, but beneath it is a darker sensation I’m starting to recognize.
Anticipation.
Lucian gives my breasts one final squeeze before releasing me.
Caleb removes his hand.
For a moment, neither man says anything.
I’m left staring at myself in the mirror, flushed and breathing too quickly, every nerve alive.
Then Lucian smooths one hand down the side of my dress.
“Perfect.”
My stomach flips again.
“Time to go.”
Thankfully they allow me a wrap that protects my privacy as we take the private elevator to a vehicle that delivers us to the Sterling Las Vegas.
The private dining room is intimate and opulent, with candlelight flickering across the rich wood and cut crystal.
They sit on either side of me, their hands never far from my body.
Dinner is a sensual torment—Lucian feeding me bites of perfectly seared scallops, Caleb’s fingers tracing circles on my thigh under the table, inching higher until I’m biting my lip to stay quiet.
The champagne is spectacular, crisp and golden, each sip making my head lighter and my body hotter.
They talk about the city and what they have planned for the next few days, and I find myself listening instead of wondering how quickly I can escape.
Every word, every touch, every sip builds the ache between my legs until I’m shifting in my seat, desperate and humiliated by how much I want them.
After dessert and coffee arrive, Caleb locks the door.
My breath catches as he takes my shoulders and guides me to my knees. How can this be happening?
But honestly, how is it a surprise?
Every day, they demand something new from me.
Firmly but gently, Lucian fists my hair. “Take out our cocks, Sophie. Show us how much you want your husbands.”
Thankfully they help me, because my hands are shaking too hard to deal with the zippers.
They’re already hard, thick, and intimidating. Last night I felt what that meant inside my body. Tonight is different.
I stroke them first, tentative. Lucian’s sharp inhale sends a tiny thrill through me. Caleb’s jaw locks when I wrap my hand more firmly around him.
For once, I’m making them react.
With their guidance, and by watching their microreactions, I make adjustments, tight on the upstroke for Lucian, because his breath fractures when I twist just under the head.
With Caleb, I’m firmer because he thrusts into my fist like he can’t help it. They are slick in my grip soon enough, hot and heavy, and my embarrassment begins to disappear.
There’s power in knowing I can do this to them.
“That’s it,” Lucian says, voice low. “You’re perfect.”
Caleb covers my hand with his, showing me the pace he wants. Then he lets go, leaving me to maintain the rhythm. “Good girl, Sophie.”
Unbelievably I get aroused from this.
“Fuck.” Caleb groans.
Stunning me, he comes, his heat spilling over my fist in thick pulses, and I keep stroking him.
“Look at me. See what you did to me.”
My breath catches in my throat. His pleasure makes me giddy.
Moments later, Lucian follows, pulsing over my other hand, onto my wrist, a guttural sound filling the air.
For a moment, none of us moves.
Then Lucian takes my chin.
He gathers a little of himself on his thumb and paints it across my lower lip, leaving the taste of him there.
The salt of him hits my tongue, and my whole body clenches.
“Our perfect little wife.”
Caleb helps me to stand, then wipes my hands with a napkin.
As if nothing outrageous happened, both men rearrange themselves.
Moments later, Caleb unlocks the door, and we finish our coffee, the tang of Lucian still on my lips.
Stunning me, my pussy is wet.
But they never make any mention of what I experienced.
After dinner, they tell me we’re attending a private event in the hotel’s exclusive theater.
Our box is high above the stage, secluded from the rest of the audience.
The moment the door closes, Lucian’s voice turns to calm steel.
“Lift the dress, Sophie. Bunch it around your waist. Show us what’s ours.”
I stare at him. “Here? Someone could see—”
“Do as you’re told, wife.” His eyes darken. “Or you’ll get a spanking right here in the box.”
“You absolutely wouldn’t.”
He tips his head to one side. “No?”
The answer is written in the set of his jaw. He absolutely would. And he’d enjoy it.
Questioning my sanity, I lift up a little and wriggle the dress to my waist.
Caleb leans in. “Now spread your thighs.”
Disbelievingly I blink.
“You might want to obey him,” Lucian coaches.
How do they manage to take turns being so diabolical?
Since I know no one can see us, I follow Caleb’s instructions. Instantly Lucian strokes between my folds and presses a finger against my clit.
Gasping, I jerk my hips toward him.
“You’re wet, wife,” he says against my ear.
He continues his torment as the show begins.
It is breathtaking. A cirque-style performance, bodies twisting through aerial silks, sensuality woven through every movement. There are BDSM undertones everywhere, but unlike the Retreat, no one here seems hidden.
A woman kneels in the aisle in a tiny dress, her Master’s hand resting in her hair. Another wears a jeweled collar attached to a leash. No one stares. No one whispers. They are simply natural.
It’s terrifying. It’s sexy. And I am horrified at how wet I’m getting—at how part of me wonders what it would feel like to be displayed like that for them.
Maybe that is what unsettles me most. Not that I am becoming someone else. That maybe this was always somewhere inside me.
The house lights dim. My husbands make me spread my legs wider.
Lucian’s fingers tease my clit while Caleb’s slide inside me, fucking me slowly as the performance unfolds.
Onstage, a woman turns in silk, held and released and held again. In the dark of the box, I have to watch her and feel them at the same time, and the two things braid together until I cannot tell which one is making my thighs shake.
“If you make noise, people may look at you,” Lucian warns. “You don’t want that, do you?”
His fingers circle. My breath catches.
“Or do you?”
I bite my lip hard, scandalized and tempted, shame and arousal twisting together as they play with me through the act.
They don’t let me come. Every time I get close, Lucian eases off and Caleb stills inside me, and I have to sit there in the dark with my pulse between my legs and applause rising around us.
At intermission, they guide me through a discreet door at the rear of the box into a private salon with a marble vanity, low velvet seating, and its own powder room.
Lucian bares my breasts and sucks my nipples until they are sore and aching, and I moan, ready to come undone, needing to come undone.
Then he pulls out two small, shiny objects from his pocket. “Do you know what these are?”
I frown. There are tiny little pincers on the end. And suddenly I’m scared witless. “No…” I can’t look away.
“They don’t hurt.”
Fear and desire flood me.
“Not much, anyway,” Caleb adds.
Together, they place the lightweight clamps on my already-tormented nipples.
I moan. “I can’t do this.”
“You can,” Lucian counters. “And you will.”
“But…” The bite is exquisite torment, sharp enough to steal my breath, but then the pain settles into a throb that makes it impossible to think about anything else.
My mind is spinning when Caleb scrapes a thumbnail over the compressed tip of one of my nipples.
My knees buckle, and I frantically grab hold of his wrists for support.
“We should keep her like this all the time.”
With the tone of his voice, I can’t tell whether Caleb is joking or not.
He smooths my dress back into place.
And I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
My lips are parted, my eyes are wide and startled, and my breath comes in shallow bursts.
The silk hides nothing. I can see the outline of the clamps and the nubs of my nipples.
And both of my husbands’ cocks are pressed against their slacks.
Good.
They should be as miserable as I am.
At least they’ve had orgasms tonight.
Clamped and needy, I am taken back to the box by my husbands.
The second half is worse than the first.
Every movement abrades my nipples.
Lucian and Caleb make me sit with my pussy exposed, but this time, they watch the show and don’t touch me at all.
When the final applause comes, Lucian leans in, his mouth at my ear. “When we get home”—he presses my clit hard—“you’re going to hold still while we put one here.”
I look at the stage, all that silk and surrender…
“Do you understand, Sophie?”