Chapter Text
THEN
“Simon.”
“What?”
“My real name,” he says. “It’s Simon.”
“Oh.” You swallow. Lick your lips. “Hello, Simon.”
His mouth stretches into an amused smile. “Hello,” he croons.
You stare into each other’s eyes, and you’re unable to look away. Simon is searching for something, and whatever it is, you’re willing to give it to him. Like a hazy mist that lingers low over the ground, you’re clouded, enveloped in curiosity and the receding buzz of the alcohol.
Shifting closer, Simon cups your cheek, just like he did at The Foundry. He leans in, and there is an ask in that movement. A question.
Say yes, it says.
His eyelids grow heavy, those pale eyelashes reflecting the light from the tableside lamp like tiny halos. You lean in, and then you’re kissing him, accepting the silent question. It’s hard to resist with the way he gazes at you.
One kiss becomes two becomes three becomes infinite. Small and innocent at first. Gentle things that develop into deeper strokes. Wanton. Honey-laced. Dipped in sugar. Simon’s hand on your cheek shifts to the back of your neck, and that one touch changes everything. From sweetness to possession.
His fingers drag against your skin, and you gasp against his mouth.
But it is Simon who draws back, creating the faintest hint of distance. With the faintest touch, he teases another kiss, and then reclines, legs spreading wide as he drapes an arm over the back of the sofa. Simon grabs his thigh, squeezing, patting the same spot in open invitation.
Your core clenches. A new desire crawls forward, nails digging in, dragging you toward a singular mindset. He is offering, providing an opening. And why not take it? Why not find out what it would feel like to have him deep inside, stretching you deliciously.
It’s only a night. You don’t need to give him forever.
“Come here,” he purrs.
“But your face,” you blurt. “And your stomach.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “So?”
“You took a hit.”
“Think I care?”
Clearly not.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you admit lamely.
Simon’s smile stretches, clearly amused by your concern for him. “You won’t hurt me. Promise.” He adjusts his hips. Your gaze drops, noticing the obvious bulge. “Come here.”
It’s easy to move, your muscles primed and ready. You shift from the table to his lap, planting your knees on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Simon, unable to resist, immediately grabs for you. A squeeze of your thighs. Hips. A quick spank to your right butt cheek. The strike shocks you, sending you forward into him.
Simon has victory in his smile, in the way he returns to kissing you, as if knowing you’ll do whatever he wants. Whatever he says. And fuck it, you will. Sex is sex is sex. If you’re willing, and he’s willing, what else is there to discuss?
Draping your arms behind his neck, you give yourself to the moment, stealing as many kisses as you can for yourself. Simon tastes of the cigarette he just smoked and the faintest hint of whiskey. Your hips involuntarily rock back-and-forth, imitating what the two of you would be doing if there were no clothes between you.
Simon is the one that breaks the kiss. That puts a pause to all this.
“Need to know what you taste like,” he rasps, eyelids heavy with lust.
You slide your hand out from around his neck, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. “You have my permission to find out.”
Desire flashes in his eyes. One moment you’re in his lap and the next you’re on your feet, legs wobbly as Simon forces you to standing. He leads you to the bedroom, bringing you to a stop in front of the large bed. His hands are ghosts over your body, taking you all in.
“Take it off,” he commands, voice dripping with authority.
It is easy to comply. To shed your clothes without a second thought. Simon stays perfectly still. Only his eyes move, following your every movement, observing silently as you strip down to nothing.
“On your back,” he breathes, and your pussy involuntarily clenches around nothing.
He’s not inside you. Not yet. But you desperately want him to be.
You step back, bump into the bed, drop down, bouncing slightly on the edge. Using your elbows, you recline, propping yourself up for a clear view but laying horizontal as Simon instructed. He goes down to his knees, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs in slow strokes, easing them wider, draping a leg over each shoulder.
His hands slide under your ass. With a quick tug, he brings your pussy to his mouth. You expect him to tease, to toy with you a bit. But Simon is hungry, and he has no patience for waiting. Sloppy, yes, but fuck it’s good.
His tongue is an electric shock to your senses, stroking every nerve. Your arousal snaps to attention, building quickly toward an orgasm. You are unable to stop it. Unable to do anything really. This man desperately wants to get you off, and he’s not shy about it.
Messy. Simon is messy. But it’s divine.
With a groan, your body shudders, limbs shaking, muscles tensing. Your thighs draw inward, encasing Simon’s head. Yet he’s uncaring of the fact that your legs are attempting to crush him. Simon continues to lap at your clit through your orgasm, prolonging the delirium, shoving you quickly toward overstimulation.
It could be one. Could be many. You’re not really sure. All you know is that Simon pushes up from between your legs, eases you further onto the bed. The rush from the orgasm still clings to you—still has you in it’s grasp as Simon guides your knees toward your chest.
You’re bent in, pressed into the bed. Simon eases his cock inside you, the two of you watching together as he bottoms out.
“Fucking hell,” he groans.
Locked into a mating press, Simon drives into you repeatedly. The bed squeaks and shakes beneath you, hitting the wall in a steady thump thump thump.
The hazy fog your orgasm put you under starts to fade. Reality comes creeping in again. Shifting beneath your bones. Expanding. Filling you in the same way Simon’s cock does.
“Don’t stop,” you breathe. “Please. Don’t stop.”
A muscle in Simon’s neck pulses. His jaw is clenched. All his focus is on where your bodies meet. Where his cock drives in and out of you. It’s a nice sight. You won’t lie. Being able to watch seems almost sinful.
The thought makes you shiver. Makes your pussy clench.
“Fuck,” barks Simon, his eyes closing momentarily. “Gonna come inside you.”
A protest starts to form on your tongue; to tell him you’re not on birth control. Lust is distracting. It’s ability to tug you in another direction astounding. Moments. Simon is moments away from finishing. And you’re speechless, unable to say the words that will stop him.
Too late. It’s far too late.
Simon thrusts forward, grinding his hips against you, sealing your bodies together. The hot burst of cum fills your pussy.
It’s fine, you tell yourself. It’s fine.
Because it is. You can stop at the pharmacy in the morning. Grab a morning after pill. You and Simon can fuck all night, and then you’ll leave before the sun rises. Pop a plan b, and move on with your life.
It’s just sex. That’s all.
With a pleased groan, Simon slowly pulls out. “Christ. That’s a lovely sight.”
You’re overly slick between your thighs. Part of you wants to draw inward, to close your legs and hide yourself from him, but Simon’s rapt attention is focused on your pussy. On where his cum pools. Where it leaks out. He’s admiring his work.
Simons hands return to your thighs, massaging the aching muscles, guiding your legs back to the bed and away from your chest. A tension radiates through your legs, a slight resistance that comes with staying in a singular position for too long.
“You sore?” he asks.
“Yes. How’d you know?”
Simon stretches out beside you, draping an arm over your waist. “You made a face.”
“I made a face?” you deadpan, and Simon chuckles, burying his face against your back.
You match his laugh, the two of you falling into giggles. A warmth spreads outward from your chest, flowing into limbs, fingers, and toes. It’s a gentle vibration. Like a comforting heartbeat.
“Could draw you a bath,” offers Simon.
“After one round?” you tease. “That’s all I get?”
Simon pushes himself up on his elbow to stare down at you. “Think I don’t have the stamina?”
You arch an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“You fucking devil,” he croons, wrapping his hand around the front of your throat.
With a bit of pressure, Simon holds you in place, coming in for a deliciously possessive kiss. The heat in your body intensifies, becoming an inferno again. It’s quick to consume, to draw you in. It folds you like butter into croissant dough, transforming you until you cannot separate yourself from your own lust.
You push back; hands splayed wide on Simon’s chest. It momentarily startles him, lips parting in surprise as you force him onto his back. This time, you take control, throwing your leg over his waist, sitting on his lower stomach, rubbing your ass against his quickly hardening cock.
“Think you can handle it?”
Simon’s gaze is lethal. Predatory. A dare.
Reaching behind you, you cup his balls, and lightly squeeze. He chokes. Groans. Eyelids fluttering as your nails graze over his engorged length.
“Can you?” you reply, almost mocking.
He is hard in your hand. Throbbing.
All it takes is an arch of your back and the extension of your thighs. You guide him to you. Sink down slowly. You both moan at the exact same time. Your hand on his chest flexes, fingers curling in, nails scratching against his sweaty skin.
You rock up. Down. Repeat. Lean forward. Find another angle.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”
You find a pace you enjoy, moving up and down his cock, focusing only on yourself. There is no shame in it. You boldly ride him, taking whatever you want. And Simon is more than happy to oblige. His hands are everywhere. Grasping. When he palms a breast and urges the nipple to a stiff peak, your movements stutter, sending you forward.
Sitting up slightly, Simon laps at your nipple. The tip of his tongue can reach, but the angle is all wrong. You draw back a bit. Allow him room. With a growl, Simon sits up a bit more, his mouth coming down on your breast as you bounce on him.
You’re utterly lost in your actions. Uncaring of everything except for this man between your thighs. Each shift your lower body takes all your energy. All your effort. The friction is immense, dragging you downward into its depth.
Clawing.
Clawing.
Claw—
“What’s this?”
The thick, Scottish accent snaps you out of your trance. Your pussy squeezes around Simon’s cock even as your hips flex up to throw yourself off of him and hide. Simon refuses this. His hands are on you, forcing you down, keeping you fully seated on his dick.
“Johnny,” drawls Simon as if the interruption doesn’t bother him in the slightest.
“Bringing a woman into our bed without telling me?” He leans against the doorframe. “Thought we always shared.” He places his hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“You were busy,” sighs Simon. His attention returns to you, his hand caressing over your stomach. “And this one caught my eye.”
You’re completely exposed, unable to hide anything from Johnny. The two of you haven’t met but you recognize him from their show the other night at The Foundry. The bassist who held the crowd’s attention. All high energy, keeping the crowd in line with hand movements and no words. A true entertainer.
“This open?” he asks, nodding in your direction.
Simon affectionately taps the sides of your thighs. “Up to her.” You shift your attention to Simon. “What do you think, love? Should Johnny join us?”
Should he? You’ve been with two at once. It’s an opportunity. A chance to explore something new about yourself. You might enjoy it. Might not. But you won’t know unless you try.
“He can join,” you answer, glancing over your shoulder at Johnny.
Johnny’s smile is stunning. Pushing off from the doorframe, he saunters over, coming to a stop beside the bed. He glances between the two of you, his gaze lingering where your bodies meet. It’s a slow caress. A slow sweep upward.
“Keep riding him,” instructs Johnny, unblinking.
You swallow. Nearly choke.
But you do as he says, returning to that previous rhythm. Simon’s fingers dig into your thighs, his chest heaving slightly as you move up and down his cock.
“Good,” he praises, as if you shouldn’t have stopped in the first place.
Johnny reaches out, grasping the back of Simon’s head, fingers threading through his blond hair. A tug, and Simon grunts, throat arching.
“How she feel?”
Simon’s exhalation is quick. Sharp. “Fucking stunning,” he replies, not looking away from you.
“Tits are bonnie, aye?”
“They are.”
“Could use a good lick.” Simon is already sitting up, already bringing your nipple into his mouth by the time the words leave Johnny’s mouth. “The other needs a bit of love, too.” Simon shifts his mouth to the other nipple.
You gasp. Muscles clenching. The pleasure is an electric shock that sizzles through your veins. Boils your blood. Turns your bones to goo. You’re not holding yourself up anymore. Simon is that support, even as you come undone in his lap.
Johnny’s hand returns to Simon’s hair. He tugs—hard. With a grunt, Simon is yanked backward, and then Johnny’s mouth is on his, the two men making out before your very eyes.
“Come inside her,” croons Johnny. “Know you want to.”
His lips return, and Simon takes control. With a hardened pressure on your hips, Simon fucks up into you, forcing you down onto him at the same time. It’s brutal and unrelenting. You claw at his chest, nails leaving red slashes behind where they snag his skin.
Your mouth hangs open, all your words evaporating. There is nothing in your lungs. Nothing for you to cling to.
Simon releases his control, gasping against Johnny’s lips. His cum fills you again, and you welcome it.
“That’s a good lad,” murmurs Johnny, teasing Simon’s bottom lip with his tongue.
Boneless and weary, you flatten your palms against Simon’s chest. Sweat clings to your skin. The air stinks of sex.
“Your turn.”
And it’s Simon’s voice commanding. Instructing. There is no lustful submission in his gaze, only fierce determination and desire.
Bringing a woman into your bed and not telling me?
Their dynamic is deeper, and it is you that’s the stranger.
Johnny draws away from Simon, turning his attention to you. That mischievous smirk tells you enough.
“Present her to me.”
Simon chuckles. “Fucking gladly.”
Grabbing your shoulders, Simon bends you forward. As your hips draw up, his cock slides out along with some of his cum.
Your pussy is exposed. Dripping. Presented just as Johnny asked. He settles over Simon’s thighs, knees planting on either side.
“Fucking beautiful,” croons Johnny, his large hands grabbing hips and ass.
His cock pokes at your entrance, teasing before he bottoms out with a singular thrust. The movement jerks you forward. Simon seizes the back of your neck, arching it, bringing his lips to yours. His kiss is savage. It is teeth and tongue until you taste a bit of coppery blood in your mouth. All the while, Johnny is fucking your pussy like he owns it and not Simon.
The room fills with your pathetic little whines, Johnny’s grunts, the slick slap of skin against skin. Fingers find your clit. Stroking. Teasing. An orgasm roars forth, knocking you over the head, making you dizzy.
And still, Johnny fucks you through it. Fucks you harder. Grunting and guttural, speaking in Gaelic.
“You like Johnny fucking you?” asks Simon, but it’s hardly a question.
All you manage is a nod.
“You want him to keep fucking you?”
Another nod.
“And me? Do you want me to fuck you too, love?” When you nod again, Simon tuts, shaking his head. “Use your words.”
“Yes,” you groan aloud, cunt clenching down around Johnny’s cock.
The man’s thrusts have become erratic. Likely nearing his end. And in your position, there is nowhere for you to go. Not forward. Not back. Not away. You’re staunchly held in place by these two men. You’re at their mercy. Johnny is setting the pace—setting the rhythm. And Simon is beneath you, enjoying the show, kissing you at his leisure.
Simon grasps your face with his hand, fingers pressing into your cheeks, puffing them out slightly. Instinct has you grasping his wrist, attempting to pull but finding no ground.
“You’re doing good, love. Taking Johnny’s cock.” Simon’s lips brush against your temple. “Wonder what the three of us will taste like.”
Johnny’s fingers dig in harder. You’ll be tender in the morning. Beyond sore. You know you will be. Walking out of here will be a fucking struggle.
Simon’s gaze flicks briefly up to Johnny’s face. “He’s about to come, love.”
Within the next breath, Johnny is holding you close, and his release follows. You’ve hardly registered it’s happened. You’re too stunned—to strung out.
Using his grip on your face, Simon forces you to look back, to watch as Johnny shifts back on the bed to admire his work. With a gleeful smile, he dives in, flattening his tongue against your pussy. He swipes it over your sex, picking up all the cum that’s leaking from you. Johnny holds it in his mouth, and then spits it out onto Simon’s cock.
The mixture sits there on the tip. Hovering. Tips. Rolls down.
Johnny fists the base. Pumps. Swallows Simon’s cock down, the cum mixture disappearing.
“Watch,” whispers Simon, but it’s not like you have the option.
You’re fucking transfixed. Enraptured.
“Tell me again,” murmurs Simon. “Do you want Johnny here?”
There isn’t a moment’s hesitation.
“Yes.”