Page 56 of Born To Be Bad

Alistair extricates himself from my firm grip, chuckling. “I’m going to answer it. You’ll see why.”

CHAPTER 33

Lubricious Sandwich

ALISTAIR

I love seeing Ivy like this, wide open and horny as fuck. It’s my dream, really. What else could I possibly want? But there is more in store for us, and when I open the door, I’m not disappointed. A beautiful Thai woman stands there in a bikini and almost transparent cotton cover, white and gold, showing off her caramel skin. She beams at me, all white teeth and sparkling eyes.

“Chailai?” I ask, and she nods. I have been warned that she doesn’t speak English, but this particular service I have ordered requires zero speaking. I offer to take her bag—an insulated box-shaped carrier—but she waves my hand away. I lead Chailai outside to our pool deck, where Ivy has hastily slung a fresh towel around herself.

“Sawadee ka,” Ivy says, bowing her head.

“Sawadee ka,” replies Chailai.

She unzips her bag and brings out a roll of black tarpaulin, which she spreads on the deck. She works quickly, with practiced hands. This is not her first rodeo. Ivy looks at me, puzzled, then back at Chailai, who is now unpacking two large thermos flasks.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” whispers Ivy.

“I understand your misgivings,” I reply.

“I don’t know what you have planned,” Ivy murmurs. “But the black tarp is not inspiring confidence.”

“Because we usually use it to get rid of dead bodies?” I tease.

“That would be funny if it weren’t true,” she counters.

“If it helps at all, black tarpaulins are a mainstay at certain sex parties—and, usually, everyone survives.”

“Hm,” replies Ivy. “Still not convinced, to be honest.”

“In that case, I’ll have to prove it to you.”

Ivy wiggles her eyebrows at me, full of mischief. “I look forward to it.”

Chailai nods and gestures at the tarp. She is ready for us.

“You won’t be needing that towel,” I tell Ivy, pulling my shorts down and flinging them onto the lounger. She hesitates, then, seeing my nudity, acquiesces. The towel falls to the wooden slats of the deck. We lie down and Chailai beams at us as if it’s perfectly natural for a naked couple to lie in front of her on a black canvas. She takes off her cotton shift, revealing a perfect petite body. Ivy’s eyes widen as the woman twists off the lid of the first flask.

“I’m still wondering if I’ll make it out of here alive,” she quips.

“As if I’d do anything to risk losing you,” I reply, not joking.

I smell coconut milk and vanilla. Honey. Lemongrass. Chailai comes over and kneels between us. She pours a few drops of the fragrant milk on Ivy’s breasts, then on my chest. It’s warm and velvety and feels even better than it smells. She takes turns with us, pouring more each time, till we’re covered and slippery.

“This is amazing,” purrs Ivy, interlacing her fingers with mine.

“I can’t wait to lick it off you,” I say.

“What are you waiting for?”

“You’ll see,” I reply.

Once the flask is empty and we’re pretty much swimming in the warm sweet coconut broth, Chailai peels off her tiny bikini and joins us. Ivy’s mouth drops open.

“Okay?” I ask. I’ll admit it’s a bit late in the game to ask, but it’s always a tricky balance to surprise someone sexually and have their full and immediate consent.

“More than okay,” Ivy replies, eyes still wide.

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