Page 125 of Unstitch

‘God, this is hot,’ she says on a sigh.

‘Good,’ Max says. ‘Dex. Feed her some champagne.’

He holds out the bottle to me. I grab it by the neck and take a swig before bending and kissing Darcy, letting the cool nectar drip through from my lips to hers, slowly, so she doesn’t choke on it. She moans a little as she swallows it, her lips cool and slick, her tongue moving against mine as the bubbles fizz and pop, and I rub my hand over the back of Max’s neck as he sucks on her champagne-soaked skin.

It’s so decadent, doing this. The three of us, sharing a four-figure bottle of champagne off Darcy’s tits, the rest of the evening stretching ahead, promising languid exploration and slow, sensual fucking. Nothing off the table. Knowing that everything we do will be filthy as fuck and most definitely not a sin.

I’ve finally given myself permission to revel in the sheer debauchery of it all without judging it as anything other than three consenting adults loving the fuck out of each other’s bodies.

Maybe they should have named this place Hedonism.

We play. We play a lot. Tonight feels less about a race to the finish line and more about enjoying every second of the journey. Easy for me to say, perhaps, given I’ve already shot my load once. But Max and Darcy seem on board too. There’s no rush. There’s only time, and skin, and mouths, and hands.

I’ve ended up with a woman more sparkling, more carefree, more devoted than I could possibly have envisaged, and a man who?—

What can I possibly say about Max? That I’ve ended up with a man at all still has the power to take my breath away. That I’ve ended up with the most intelligent, driven, domineering, passionate, generous man I’ve ever met is a gift I’ll never again allow myself to jeopardise.

They’re both one in a million. I can’t begin to calculate the odds of being loved by both of them.

My eyes meet Max’s over Darcy’s naked body. We have our beautiful girlfriend on her hands and knees for us, and she’s teasing my cock with her tongue as she takes Max in her pussy. It should be nice and wet—he just made her come with his tongue.

I’ve got her long hair, curlier than usual from her up-do, wound softly around one fist to keep it off her face and the other wrapped around my cock so I can feed it to her. I shudder in deep bliss as she licks around my crown, and Max laughs, sliding his hands lovingly over her hips and arse as those blue, relentless eyes stay fixed on my face.

‘Try not to do quite such a good job, sweetheart. He’s already had one expert blowjob tonight. We want him to last.’

She giggles around my cock and dials her licking back a little, and I sigh.

‘It’s hard to last when you’re so fucking beautiful. And I want to kiss you, too.’ This is the problem. I want everything—I want her sinful little mouth everywhere. On my dick. On my mouth. All over my skin.

‘Okay,’ Max barks, releasing her hips and sliding out of her as she makes a disappointed little mmph around my dick. ‘New position. Dex is going in the middle. Darce, baby, get on your back.’

86

DEX

Neither of us need to be told twice. We’ve done this a few times, and it’s one of my absolute favourite things to do, because it’s so intense and sweaty and elemental. Fucking my beautiful girlfriend, being face to face and able to kiss her, stare into her eyes, as my boyfriend pumps into me from behind, is circuitry so miraculous that I never knew to be able to imagine it, even in the filthiest of my right-before-orgasm fever dreams.

It feeds both sides of me, you see. It allows me to experience, in the most transcendent way possible, the fullest, most staggering potential of who I truly am, where men and women and submission and dominance all meld together into one astonishing expression of my every need. My diabolical, wonderful boyfriend knows this perfectly well and, I suspect, wants to give me this gift, tonight of all nights.

‘Does that work for you?’ I whisper to Darcy, loosening my grip on her hair. She slides off my dick. When she looks up at me, her mouth is wet, the saliva on it prettier, even, than dawn’s dew on a flower petal.

‘It more than works for me,’ she says dreamily, bracing on one elbow so she can reach up and cup my face. ‘You fuck me so hard when Max is fucking you.’

I clamp a hand over hers, holding her to me as I grin at her. ‘Hard not to.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Max drawls. ‘On your back, young lady.’

Darcy obliges, and I crawl over her. There’s always something about this moment—about having her spread out for me, hair everywhere and mouth swollen and limbs loose as I loom over her, that has my throat tightening with the excitement of it.

I smile down at her as I push in, groaning with the outrageous wetness of her, the heat. ‘Fuck, he kept you warm for me,’ I tell her. If being inside Darcy isn’t a homecoming, I don’t know what is. Her body sucks me in and grips me tight, her eyelashes fluttering and back arching as she accommodates me.

‘I love you,’ is her response to that.

‘And I love you. So much.’ I bend to kiss her, rolling my hips a little as my dick adjusts from the delight of her mouth to the certain nirvana of her pussy.

‘Don’t move,’ Max orders, climbing onto the bed behind me. The mattress sinks under the added weight as he pops the lid of a tube of lube. If Pavlov hadn’t done his thing with his dogs, he could definitely have drawn some scientific conclusions about the reaction my body has to that sound—the most fucked-up, intoxicating mixture of fear and anticipation that roils in my stomach. Every. Single. Time. And it’s definitely something unique to me that welcomes the sensation of him looming behind me just as fully as it welcomes having Darcy spread out beneath me.

I suck in a breath as Max strokes between my cheeks with two deft fingers, smearing the cold lube along my crack and massaging the improbably small, tight space where he expects me to yield and—oh, fuck.

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