Wet heat pools between my thighs, my clit begging for attention.
"You know, I'm kind of obsessed with the way your body responds to me," he whispers into my ear. "But I bet you kind of hate it, don't you?"
I nod.
"I've fucked a lot of girls who put on a performance to show me how much they want it," he continues, his fingertips trailing down my stomach and inside my lace thong, finding my clit. I grind my teeth, trying to keep my breathing controlled and steady, risking another glance at Nolan while he circles the swollen nub. "It gets kind of boring. I think I like your performance the best—watching you pretend you don't want it, seeing your internal struggle while your body begs for it. It'sso much more fun to know you just can't help it. You can't stop yourself."
But I'm too drunk for an internal struggle right now. I just want to beg for it. I want him to take me to the bedroom and bend me over the edge of the bed.
I need the distraction.
I reach behind me and inside his sweatpants, gripping his long, hard shaft in my hand. I work him torturously slow, too, returning the painfully delicious favor, running my thumb over the tip while it twitches in my hand.
He thrusts into my fist, panting against my neck while he pulls my earlobe through his teeth. I moan just a little—I can't help it—but Nolan doesn't look up. My heart pounds as I watch him in my periphery, rolling my hips, grinding my clit against Dax's fingers.
I can hear how wet I am now. Only a thin layer of soaked lace separates my pussy and the head of his cock while he fucks my hand. If he pulled it over just a little bit, he'd slip inside me, and then I'd be getting fucked on this couch in front of Nolan.
I should move before I let it happen.
"I'm going to go to bed," I whisper.
"Nah, let's let him watch, Saige." His fingers leave my pussy, and he begins working my thong and sleep shorts down my legs.
"W-what?"
"Nolan thinks you're pretty," he says. "And he likes to watch."
Nolan closes his laptop and sets it aside, folding his arms in front of him.
Watching.Maybe he's been watching the whole time.
"This all falls within the realm of whatever we want, which you agreed to. You let Elias watch."
My heart pounds, my head swimming from the alcohol.
"Elias made me."
"Yeah, I don't want to make you," he says. "I want you to let me show you how good it'll be. I want you to make Nolan happy."
You agreed to this.I knew. I knew this was what I was agreeing to when they made meseal it with a kiss. I just hoped I was wrong.
Dax tosses the blanket aside, his fully erect cock bare with his sweats down around his hips. He pulls my shorts and thong the rest of the way down my legs before discarding them, too, and then does the same with my tank top.
"Fucking Christ," he says, stroking his dick over me. I look across the room, dark other than the light coming from the television, at Nolan. He's just sitting there, slouched in his chair, one hand propping up his head while he stares at me over the top of his glasses.
He'sstudyingmenow.
My cheeks burn red. I feel my heart in my throat.
"Your body is so fuckable. Elias is an idiot," Dax says.
Elias? What does he have to do with this?
"Turn over, baby. I want you to bend over the end of the couch with your ass in the air."
That works better for me, actually—I won't have to make eye contact withNolan.
I turn over like he asked, lying across the end of the couch with my head on the armrest and my ass in the air.
