Page 64 of Unstitch

‘Here,’ I say, sitting down on the bed. Dex raises himself up and eases out of Darcy as I prepare to clean my cum off her tits. I don’t miss the flash of his cock as he gets up, almost entirely flaccid now but still long, still breathtaking, as is the lean jut of his jaw and the softness of the dark hair falling over his forehead.

He turns away from us to deal with the condom, but not before a tug of yearning pulls deep inside me at the thought of getting him to plaster his palms to a wall as I stroke that cock, tug at his balls, my body pressed against his, the hair on his calves tickling my shins and my dick teasing the enticing valley of his crack, his voice growing thin and reedy as he begs me and begs me and fucking begs me for release, and?—

‘You’re such a good girl,’ I tell Darcy, because she’s all that matters now. ‘You did so very well.’

This evening was for her, and this next part of the proceedings is for her, because she must be exhausted after her performances, both in The Playroom and on this bed.

So my queer, delicious fantasies about this exquisite, confused man can take a running jump for now.

She smiles dreamily at me, and I enjoy a moment of quiet, uncomplicated joy that we made her so happy this evening.

‘Really?’ she asks.

‘Really.’ I place the washcloth gently on her chest and begin to wipe my fluids off her. ‘You submitted so beautifully for both of us. You let Dex fuck you so hard. Was it everything you wanted?’

She laughs a little at that, just as Dex turns around, buckling his belt, and comes to sit on the other side of the bed. ‘It was a million times better than I could have hoped for,’ she says, looking from me to him and back again, her hips twisting, inner thighs sliding against each other. ‘It was the most amazing experience of my life.’

‘Good,’ I say. I glance over at Dex to find him rubbing at the exact place on his shoulder where I bit him. Our eyes meet, and he presses his mouth into a grim line before turning his attention back to Darcy.

‘You’re so amazing,’ he tells her, stooping to kiss her on the mouth. When he straightens up, he keeps his hand in her hair, smoothing it away from her face. ‘You blow my mind.’

She smiles happily and shimmies a little on the bed. ‘Oh my God. I could die happy. You two are amazing. Is it wrong that I just want to lie here all night and let you praise me?’

I chuckle as I wipe the last spatters of my cum from her stomach. ‘I’ll pander to your praise kink all night long, sweetheart. But we need to get you in the shower and clean you up properly.’

At my mention of we, Dex jerks his head up harshly. I respond in kind with an arched eyebrow. Don’t even think about letting her down now, my expression says.

Darcy reaches up to touch the hand stroking her hair. ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to.’

He hesitates, and I clutch the washcloth harder. I tell myself it’s anger that he might bail on her, that he might have the fucking cheek to walk away without giving her the full breadth of aftercare she needs and deserves after she let him inside her. After she took a momentous step and let two men loose on her body.

But I suspect it’s less anger than the singular agony of being on tenterhooks. I also suspect the discomfort of being an eighteenth-century piece of fabric stretched taut on its tenter by actual tenterhooks would be less disagreeable than this trepidation.

Because in five minutes time, I will either be naked under a torrent of hot water with Dexter Scott, or I won’t.

44

DEX

I’m doing this for her.

Not for him.

‘Of course I’ll help you shower,’ I say, smiling down at her. It seems miraculous to me that she can lie there between us, naked and unselfconscious in her skin, looking thoroughly fucked.

I did this.

I gave her both her orgasms with my mouth and my cock—though I suppose Max and his pink silicone friends helped. So I can finish the job. Show my appreciation. I’ll get in and get out. I won’t look at him. It’ll be just like the showers at the gym: there’s an etiquette.

Besides, this will never—can never—happen again, so I’ll take a few minutes longer in this intimate, fucked-up bubble before I trudge back across town and pretend I didn’t see the face of God tonight.

Her smile of genuine delight is almost painful to watch. She really didn’t think I’d say yes. I stroke the delicate skin at her temple, letting my fingers drift through her beautiful hair like a man hypnotised.

I could get seriously attached to this woman, if the circumstances were different. She’s the total opposite of my well-trodden path of bankers and lawyers. Sex with Darcy was fucking unhinged, and I’m appropriately discombobulated.

‘I’m so happy you’re staying,’ she says, stretching luxuriously on the bed.

I give her body a slow once-over before saying, ‘It’s no hardship. Believe me.’

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