I describe the ways they could have me in the hot tub, how I want to bend for them. Everything I want to try, now that we’re together, and we have the time to try new things.
I’ve never doneanyof it, never tried anal, let alone two men at once, never really had sex with all three ofthemat once—but it does the trick, making them grunt and growl, and I can hear their orgasms following the same cadence as mine.
Sometime after it’s over, I blink my eyes open slowly, taking them in, each slumped in their chairs, breathing hard. It’s the most intense sexual experience of my life, and other than that first kiss, we never even touched.
Nico is the first to regain himself, sitting up and running his clean hand through his hair. Staring at me, he says, in a low voice, “Oh, we are going to try airtight for you, Lucy. And that’s a promise.”
Chapter 39
Dane
Ipick Lucy up from her aunt’s apartment just as the sun is beginning to hang low in the sky, casting the city in vibrant pinks, oranges, and purples. It’s not actually that late, just nearing five, but this close to Christmas the sun sets earlier and earlier every day.
“Hello,” she says, breathless and smiling, her cheeks rosy as she runs out the front door of her aunt’s apartment and toward me, tucking something into her purse.
Lucy is breath-taking, her blonde waves loose around her shoulders, tucked under what looks like a hand-knit, navy blue beanie. She’s wearing a knee-length red coat, and the fact that I can see her bare calves tells me there’s a dress under it.
I can only hope it’s one of the ones I purchased for her. Or that she purchased for herself, using my card.
“Lucy,” I say, catching her by the arm. I’ve been standing just outside the car, waiting for her, and though I’d just planned for us to get in, I can’t stop myself from kissing her. I pull her body flush with mine and slant my mouth over hers.
Lucy opens for me, immediately, and I love that about her. I love her cold cheeks and the smell she brings with her out of heraunt’s apartment, floral and sweet, musky and deep, like several unfinished thoughts. Vanilla, the flower, not the extract.
I have half a mind to cut the date short and take her straight to the hotel, but I don’t. Instead, I force myself to stick to the plan and reach around her, opening the door to the car.
“Okay,” she breathes, blinking rapidly as I gesture for her to climb inside. “I guess you’re racking up points already, huh?”
That makes me smile. Everything about her makes me smile. “So, you’ve designed a points system?”
It sounds more like something I would do.
Lucy laughs, “Maybe.”
The driver already knows where to take us, and I reach over, taking Lucy’s hand—smaller, softer—in mine, turning it over and lacing our fingers together.
Without meaning to, I think about what Nico said the other night.
If we were going to do this with someone, it was going to need to be a woman with a big enough heart for all three of us.
I’m jealous that he was the first to articulate it. But maybe that’s what I saw in her, that first day, when she walked into my office. Maybe that’s the difference between her and the women who fall all over us.
Lucy has the capacity to appreciate each of us individually, and then all at once. It’s a miraculous skill, a trick of fate that someone this perfect could exist.
“What are you thinking about?” Lucy asks, leaning over and pressing her mouth close to my ear, so I can feel the tickle of her breath against my neck. I could tell her that the partition is soundproof, that the driver couldn’t see or hear us, no matter what we did back here.
But I don’t. I like her this close, like when she whispers to me.
“I’m thinking about how happy I am that you needed a job,” I murmur, running my thumb over the back of her hand.
When she smiles, I want to capture the feeling forever.
We reach our first destination, and I help her out of the car, guiding her inside. The first part of our evening is a string of appointments with various boutiques around the city, private shopping sessions.
I accept a glass of champagne and settle myself into a chair as the shop girls flutter around Lucy, helping to find her dresses and blouses and outfits I don’t fully understand.
“The winter collection is very vintage, with a few twists pulled up from old catalogs,” one of the shop girls says, as she wheels out a cart of hanging clothes. “We’ll start with one-piece and work into some styled looks, if you want?”
Lucy looks overwhelmed, then one of the girls pushes a glass of champagne into her hand. “You don’t have to do a thing but look great,” she says, smiling when Lucy takes a sip.
