Page 18 of Guilty as Sin

"We know enough," Rolf counters. "We've both learned to trust our instincts. They've rarely led us astray."

The check arrives, and I handle it without discussion. Outside, the Parisian night has fully descended, the city transformed into a landscape of golden lights and deep shadows. We stand close together on the sidewalk, our breath visible in the cool air.

"Our place is just a few blocks away," I say, offering her my arm. “Are you ready to call it a night?”

She looks between us, and I can see her weighing everything—desire against caution, convention against possibility.

I hold my breath, knowing this moment will define whatever comes next.

"I'm certain I want to keep talking," she says with a smile, a flash of mischief lighting her eyes.

Relief and anticipation course through me in equal measure. She links arms with both of us, and we begin walking through the Parisian streets, three silhouettes moving as one against the backdrop of centuries-old buildings.

“The thing about art," I say as we walk, "is that the most profound pieces challenge our perception. They make us question what we thought we knew."

Zoe nods, her fingers tightening slightly on my arm. "Like how three can be more balanced than two?"

"Exactly," Rolf says, his voice warm with approval. "Some structures are stronger with additional support. Three isn’t always a crowd.”

CHAPTER 13

ZOE

Istep through the hidden entrance and it's like diving into a shadowy, lavish dream. The room oozes elegance and tension, with dark velvet curtains and crystal chandeliers. The subtle, tempting lighting casts the place in deep, edgy colors that get your blood pumping and heart racing. Karl and Rolf guide me through this off-limits wonderland, past groups of people dressed in top-notch designer outfits, their faces partly hidden by fancy, jeweled masks. Every corner of this place buzzes with excitement, and I trail behind, both excited and nervous about what's in store for me.

I'm suddenly hyperaware of everything around me: the musky perfume floating in the air, the low buzz of conversations like distant thunder, and the sneaky but knowing looks from the people we pass. It's a world apart from anything I've ever known, both daring and amazing. Part of me feels totally out of place, like an amateur stumbling into an exclusive new world, but another part, the more adventurous side, wants to jump right into whatever wild promises are hiding in the shadows.

Karl moves with confident ease, weaving through the groups of elegantly dressed people, his dark hair catching the light here and there. Rolf follows closely, his quiet intensity pulling mealong. They're leading me with purpose, guiding me through this fancy maze toward something I'm both eager and scared to see. My heart's pounding in time with the music, an insistent beat that’s hard to ignore.

We arrive at a raised platform, a viewing area that overlooks a room designed for exhibitionists. At its center, a woman in a lace-trimmed mask surrenders to the synchronized passion of two lovers, each of them in flawless unison, claiming different orifices at once. One partner's movements are deliberate and precise, inciting gasping, breathless moans. The other matches his rhythm from behind, an echo of possession that builds with each synchronized thrust.

I stand there, my legs nearly giving way beneath me as I witness the rawness, the unabashed sensuality of it all. The woman trembles, and her pleasure-drenched cries pierce through the ambient noise, pulling every pair of eyes to the erotic spectacle. I feel Karl and Rolf’s presence beside me, silent, watchful. The woman on the stage isn’t alone in her shameless enjoyment—she’s the centerpiece of the lustful audience, each member lost in their own reverie of desire.

A strange heat floods my cheeks, traveling down to my core, and I know I should look away. But I can't. The shock and forbidden thrill of watching seizes me, holds me captive. My fingers clutch the fabric of my dress as I struggle to make sense of the tumult within me, the yearning I’ve kept buried beneath the guise of propriety now roaring to the surface.

Karl and Rolf exchange subtle, knowing glances, their curiosity laced with an almost protective concern. They lean in closer, surrounding me in their commanding presence, gauging how far I'll let this unanticipated intrigue take me. Each of their movements seems deliberate, as though attuned to the wild beat of my heart and the quickening of my breath.

I grip the edge of my reality tighter, afraid that letting go will send me spinning into an oblivion of want. Her lovers’ attention is equally divided—one capturing the crowd’s gaze as he kisses her lips, swallowing her cries of ecstasy, while the other maintains the torturous, pleasure-giving tempo from behind. Her masked head falls back, lost in an abyss of delight that feels as though it might swallow me whole. I think of myself in her place, yielding to that perfect dual intensity, and a raw, unexpected hunger grips me.

Everything crescendos—the music, the woman's pleading moans, the feverish energy of the room—and I'm trembling, caught on the edge of something primal. My eyes, wide with shock and unrestrained arousal, meet those of the two men flanking me, their faces a blend of assurance and enticement. The invitation, the opportunity to shed every last remnant of the old, obedient me, feels palpable and dizzying.

I can’t stop the words, breathless and urgent, from spilling into the charged air between us. "I want to try it like that—both of you together." My voice barely rises above a whisper, but it's all the permission they need.

CHAPTER 14

ROLF

The room I reserve is dark and elegant with satin sheets covering the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. There’s enough space for a wild affair but when the door closes there are only three bodies in a room and three sets of hands that can't seem to move fast enough.

We’re almost naked before we reach the bed. I’m so eager, I nearly trip over my feet when my pants drop to the floor. Karl’s shirt lands in a careless pile, joining my own. Zoe’s lips part with the kind of exhale that leaves a man drunk and helpless. Her bra is lace and satin, and I pull her into me, more urgently than I mean to, savoring the sound of her pulse against my own.

Zoe pushes me against the wall with playful force, and my hand tangles in her hair as I bite back a moan. She focuses on me with the precision of a surgeon, fingers making new memories of my body. It’s dizzying to be wanted this way, her confidence filling all the spaces of our anticipation. When she moves, she doesn’t even look back to ensure we follow her. But of course, we do.

I press my lips against her shoulder, tasting her bare skin, her clean scent. My mouth trails down her arm as the light overhead catches her curves and angles. She’s twenty-three butlooks like a timeless temptation I can hardly stand. My god, she feels like art, like poetry, a promise wrapped in silk and lace. I grip her waist and inhale the closeness of her. Her kisses are fire, and they melt the space between us. My whole being vibrates with the gravity of her. She feels like she’s already ours.

Zoe breathes against my chest, and I see her intent, see the way she’s already mapped the next minute and the next. The heat from her skin spills over mine. It’s molten, unrelenting, as her mouth drops kisses down the length of me.

And Karl.

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