I don’t answer. My mouth is too busy sucking hard on her nipple, my tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Kat cries out, her back arching, and I switch to the other, giving it the same attention, biting down just enough to make her whimper.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me close as I worship her flesh. The world narrows to us: her moans, the fire's crackle, and the aching certainty that nothing will ever be the same.
A sliver of my attention fractures away, darting toward the dark kitchen doorway where Vince vanished. Kat’s hand slides from my hair to cup my jaw, her thumb rough against my cheek as she turns my face up to hers.
“Hey,” she breathes, her voice low and knowing. “He’ll be back. I promise.” Her eyes hold mine, unwavering and dark with intent. “Now, lie back and let me play with your pussy.”
Before I can form a coherent thought, her hands are on my shoulders, pushing me down flat against the couch cushions. She hooks her fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants and my panties beneath, peeling them down my hips in one insistent tug.
The cool air on my bare skin is a shock, but the raw hunger in her eyes as she looks down at me is hotter than any flame.
“So fucking beautiful,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. “You’re glistening.”
Her first touch is gentle. Two fingers slide through my slickness, circling my clit slowly, watching my face contort, her own lips parted in concentration.
“So fucking wet,” she groans, pushing one finger inside. A broken sound punches from my throat as she pulls out one and pushes back in with two, curling them upward. Her thumbpresses on my clit, in a tight, relentless circle, as her fingers begin to fuck me. The rhythm is punishingly slow, each thrust hitting a nerve that screams for more.
“Kat,” I choke out, my hips lifting off the couch to meet her hand.
“I know,” she whispers, “I’ve always known.”
Her fingers plunge deeper, stealing the air from my lungs. Her free hand slides up my trembling stomach to the hem of my bra and yanks it up over my tits. She doesn’t say a word before lowering her head and taking one of my nipples into her hot, wet mouth.
The dual sensations cause a burst of pleasure deep in my belly. Her fingers. Her mouth. It’s almost too much.
My eyes flick past her once again, a frantic search for the kitchen doorway. This time, the doorway isn’t empty. Vince is there, standing perfectly still, a bottle of champagne dangling from his fingers. His eyes are locked onto us, his gaze burning with what I hope is desperation.
The firelight casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his breath hitches as he watches Kat, bent over me. Her mouth is still wrapped around my nipple, her tongue swirling as she sucks hard, and I can’t help the way my back arches off the couch. My fingers tangle in her hair, holding her to me as my hips grind against her hand.Eyes still locked on Vince.
I’ve seen the same look on his face when he’s admiring a piece of art, which does something dangerous inside me.
A new, terrifying heat floods me.
“Vince.” His name claws out of my throat. My hand lifts from where it’s been clutching at the couch cushion and stretches out across the impossible distance between us.
He blinks, as if waking from a deep dream, and springs into action, crossing the room in three long strides, the outline of his cock growing with each step.
His free hand closes around mine, his fingers threading through my own as he kneels next to me.
“I’m here,” he says, lifting my hand to his lips, and my stomach flips violently.
His thumb rubs the wetness from his kiss into my knuckles. He sets the champagne on the floor and grips the back of Kat’s neck. His fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her head up from my chest, and he drags her mouth to his in a bruising kiss.
The sight of them together—his tongue sliding against hers, inches from my face, Kat’s moans muffled against his lips, her fingers still fucking me—sends a fresh wave of heat between my legs.
“Oh fuck, she’s squeezing my fingers,” Kat giggles.
"Is that true, Ollie?” Vince asks, turning his gaze back down to me. “You like it when my girlfriend fucks your tight little cunt with her fingers?”
A shudder runs through my entire body. Pleasure, fear, and a desperate, clawing love twist together in my throat.
“Look at me and tell me,” Vince demands, his thumb brushing along my lower lip.
“Yes,” I gasp, the word rips from me as Kat crooks her fingers again. “Fuck! I fucking love it.”
“You love it?” His voice is rough. “Well, I say that’s a cause for celebration.”
He grins, his signature, unguarded flash of teeth, and picks up the champagne bottle with a sharp twist of his wrists. The cork flies free with an explosive pop that makes me jump, and a fountain of cold, frothing liquid erupts, soaking my chest and stomach.
