Page 23 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

Her cheeks color, and she bites her lip again. Like the rest of her flushed face, her lips are turning red. I fucking love all these freckles covering her high cheekbones, and it does something tome, seeing her like this. Vulnerable. Raw, natural, bare. "And… if I want to try it?"

Finally, she looks at me, and the weight of her sparkling blue eyes hits me like a train. Without words, she admits she's attracted to my friends, that she's interested in whatever this craziness I'm offering. I'm surprised, but I shouldn't be. She's always been more down than I gave her credit for.

I step back and reach out my hand. She takes it without hesitation. I know her heart is racing, I can practically feel her pulse beat out of her wrist, but she squeezes my hand and walks confidently, following me back down the hall into the heart of Atrium, the room the club was named after. A big, dome-shaped ceiling and the sky above us, which shines bright in the day, gives all the plants a chance to thrive. At night, it's one of the only places in the city where you can see the stars glitter so clearly.

I find Silas and Noah near the back, past several occupied couches, the room's debauchery slowly devolving. Public sex is mostly reserved for the private rooms, but upstairs, late into the night, things get wild.

Every private room is identical in shape and size. Clean, dark and simple, with a couch on one end, a massive bed in the middle, a sink and small countertop with some aftercare supplies. There's a wall with pegs if you choose to use chains or ropes. If you want toys, you bring your own.

I can feel Lucy's nerves vibrate in my palm, but there's nothing I can do about that yet. I've never introduced someone to this lifestyle before, so I take my time, thinking through all scenarios as we move at a deliberately slow pace.

Noah and Silas disappear down the hall ahead of us, and we follow into the soundproof room at the end. The lights are already on—the choice between spot lights for hardcore doms and softer, lower lighting, which puts people at ease.They obviously went with the latter. Soft music plays in the background.

"How'd you find me anyway?" I ask Lucy, attempting to soothe her palpable nervous tension once the door clicks shut.

Her lips curl to one side. "I followed you." I snort, and she shakes her head, rushing to add, "I'm so sorry! It was Portia's idea! Ugh. Okay, that ain't fair. I can't blame her. I was just so unsure about you."

I stop smirking. She opens her mouth to apologize, but then says nothing.

She wasn't sure about me.

She still might not be after tonight.

Lucy fidgets. I don't know what to say. I feel like a fucking simp, I want to make her happy, feel good, but it's like my first fucking time all over again.

But that's why it's always worked with Noah and Silas. Because when I falter, they know what to do, and vice versa.

Silas reaches out for her hand. He waits patiently while she bites her lip, but she's smiling. Tentatively, she slips her smaller hand in his and he pulls her to the center of the room, wrapping one hand around her waist, the other holding her hand, swaying her in an easy dance.

They look good together. I watch her shoulders soften, nerves slowly unwinding in his embrace. Noah stands next to me, just as enraptured. I've never taken Lucy dancing. I hate dancing actually, I don't even know how. But Silas loves dancing. Slow, like this, or at a club like downstairs with poppy music and long island iced teas. My literal nightmare, but I can see the two of them having fun together.

Anyone else might feel jealous at that thought, that she'd enjoy something with my best friend, something I couldn't give her. It only fills me with relief.

I grow harder the longer I watch them. Silas's hand around her waist explores, slowly coaxing her out of her shell.

I walk around them and take a seat on the edge of the bed. Noah does the same, sitting beside me, while Silas slowly dances her closer to us, until her back is to me, a foot away.

Their movements slow when I reach out, caressing her shape, palming her ass and hips. I've missed the feel of her and it's only been one week.

Gripping her hips firmly, I hold her in place. "No means no. Stop means stop."

She freezes, but doesn't respond, so Silas repeats after me, and adds, "You're in charge tonight, okay?"

"Okay," she says, voice shaking slightly.

Tugging at her pants, I pull them off slowly while Silas lifts her shirt. Goosebumps cover her golden tan skin; from the chill of losing her clothes or from her nerves, maybe both.

In nothing but a bra and panties, I tap her hip. "Come here, Lucy."

She looks back at me, biting her lower lip, but does as I say. I pull her onto my lap, her back to my chest. I want to revel in holding her; it feels so good to have her close.

"She's so fucking beautiful, isn't she?" I say, not really asking. They think I don't know they've been staring at videos of her all week. They think they've been subtle with their questions, wanting to learn more about her. Her likes, dislikes. Where she comes from. What makes her happy.

Silas nods, licking his lips. "She sure is. Look at all these freckles," he teases, running a finger down her neck, collar bone, pausing at her sternum. His thumb brushes the mound of her breast.

Lucy's chest rapidly rises and falls, hips squirming in my lap, rubbing against my hard length.

"I love freckles. They're just so happy," Silas grins, his affable nature putting her even more at ease. His sometimes annoyingly upbeat personality, my antithesis, compliments Lucy's, though. She giggles the more he caresses her skin, and it's so fucking cute.

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