Page 35 of Outside the Lines
The groan he made was exquisite. “Yeah, yeah.”
Lydia’s breath caught.
I finger-fucked him deep and hard, each stroke shaking Simon’s body. Hot. Tight. I wanted more than my damn finger in him. Didn’t take long to get a condom and lube onto my dick, or kneel on the bed behind Simon.
Simon trembled, but the hiccup of a groan that sounded in the room was Lydia’s. I couldn’t help looking over. I didn’t know why, but the sight of her there, waiting, wanting, so obviously enjoying—flipped something in my head and my chest. Maybe it was the trust she was giving me . . . us. I liked her watching.
“Want me to fuck him?” I murmured.
A tiny nod and that sweet smile again, as if to thank me.
“Please,” Simon said. “Please, Ian. I need—”
Whatever he’d been going to say became a guttural moan when I drove my dick into his ass. I went as deep as I could, slid out, and slammed back in, burying myself to the root. “You were saying?”
He replied with whimpers. I loved those sounds and the way Simon shook and rocked as I held myself in him. Mine, at least for the time being. I pulled out and fucked him with long, slow thrusts, savoring his breath and the sexy sounds he ground out when I raked over his prostate again and again. Simon pushed back to meet me, joining in the tempo I set, and our bodies moved in tandem, slick and hot. My own grunts followed his moans and I dug my fingers into his slender hips. The chair squeaked and under all that was Lydia’s breath—fast quiet huffs.
“Oh, God.” Simon’s voice was a shaky mess. “I wanna come.”
So did I. Everything was heady and powerful. Simon beneath me. Lydia watching. I grabbed his cuffed wrists—to punctuate how much he was mine—and growled, “Not yet.”
The sound he made, one born of surrender and need, set desire down into my core and up into my head. I broke our gentle rhythm and turned it into something wanton and harsh. I drove into him fast, but still deep as I could manage, each thrust pressing his head into the mattress. “You’ll come when I say. Not before.”
Simon gave a hiss and a throaty cry. But he kept up with my thrusts until we were slamming against each other and I was too damn close to tease this out any longer. Sparks flew up my back, heat descended in my center, and my balls ached. I wanted to feel Simon’s pleasure as much as hear it.
Only needed one hand to hold his cuffed wrists. The other I wrapped around his cock and stroked him as furiously as I fucked him. Simon gave an anguished cry that hung between pleasure and pain. “I gotta . . . please let me come. Please, please . . .” His words fell away into moans and gasps.
Light was everywhere. “Yeah, Si. Come for me.”
He did, coating my hand and tightening around me, and I was gone too, soaring off into a heaven of light and bliss and heat. As a counterpoint to our own release, Lydia groaned deep and long and I knew I’d taken her there too.
Perfect. So fucking good.
Took a while to come down—for all of us, I think. When I could move again, I slid free of Simon and he fell sideways, stretching out his torso and pulling in deep breaths. I wanted to join him, but his hands were still bound together, so I crawled up next to him and unhooked the cuffs from each other. “You okay?”
Simon gave a choked laugh. “Oh yeah.” Another breath. “So much better than okay.”
Relief flooded over my post-orgasmic glory. “I should get cleaned up.” Except I couldn’t move. Fucking Simon like that—coming like that—it made me want to lie there and stare at the ceiling for a while.
Soft footfalls, then louder ones on tile, then Lydia handed me a towel and held out a trash can.
I should have been embarrassed by her seeing me spent and softening, but hell, she’d watched me fuck Simon. Modesty was so two hours ago. I took off the condom, threw it into the trash, and grabbed the towel.
Once I’d cleaned my hand, I offered the towel to Simon. He wiped himself up best he could, then rolled close to me. Funny angles, but hell, we’d move later. Maybe.
There was a gentleclinkas Lydia replaced the trash can in the bathroom, then she was back. “Night, guys,” she whispered, and kissed us on the foreheads, me first, then Simon.
Then she was gone, and the door to the room clicked closed.
Something fluttered in my chest, but I didn’t want to figure out what, so I curled up around Simon and pressed my cheek against his warm chest. He smelled of salt and musk. Sex and lube and leather.
After a while, he stroked my hair and spoke, sounding far more together than me. “Maybe I should ask if you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I am.” I tasted the truth there. “Very all right.”
He drew a finger over my cheek. “Come on. Let’s get under the covers.”
In short order, we were nestled in each other’s arms, in the dark, under a sheet and a light blanket. Somewhere along the line, Simon had taken off the cuffs. He brushed a thumb over my lips, and kissed me, slow and sweet. He spoke against my lips. “Thank you for that. You have no idea. But thank you.”
