Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,47
the same time she wasn’t. There were two shows going on, one for me and one for Sarah.
Joan’s hand dropped the dress and slid up the bare skin of the woman’s arm. I saw goosebumps rise in the wake of Joan’s touch and I felt goosebumps rise up on my own skin in reaction.
Sarah put her own hand on Joan’s bare thigh, her fingers curling under the edge of her cutoffs as if she needed something to hold on to. She tilted her head toward Joan’s, resting against her.
“You said, show me something, remember?” Joan’s voice was coy for Sarah, but her eyes were hard for me. Joan ran her hand over the top of Sarah’s breasts, revealed by the scoop neck of her dress and Sarah sucked in a breath. Surprise, maybe, but she was in. Whatever was going to happen in this bedroom, there was no mistake that Sarah was into it.
My dick got hard. My dick got so hard.
Joan was devious and twisted and my dick loved that shit.
Sarah shifted, coming closer to the bed and her hand reached out for me and I sharpened, ready to grab her. Because while I could seriously get into the girl-on-girl action Joan had planned, what I really wanted was out of these damn handcuffs.
Joan wasn’t an idiot. If I grabbed Sarah, she’d let me go so no one got freaked out. So no one found out who we really were and called the cops.
But wily Joan knew what I was thinking and she pulled Sarah away from me toward the square of carpet between the foot of the bed and the dresser.
I relaxed back against the headboard. Biding my time.
The light was dim where the women stood, shadowy and secretive. It fit the mood. Joan stepped behind Sarah, shaking her head at me over the woman’s shoulder. A warning.
“You don’t touch,” she said. “Not tonight.”
She was not going to let Sarah get close enough to grab.
“I think Sarah wants me to touch her,” I said.
“I’ve told Sarah everything.” Joan ran her hands over Sarah’s pale shoulders. I couldn’t tell how old she was. Thirty something. Maybe forty. She had dark hair that fell in a straight line to her chin. She was pale, which was weird in Florida. And she wore a sundress, a bright-yellow thing that was loose around her body.
She was pretty in an elegant way. Fragile.
Joan’s hands were bright white against that dress as she pressed it flat against Sarah’s stomach, her tits. Showing me the woman’s body through her clothes.
“Yeah?” I asked. “What did you tell her?”
“That we’re married. That it’s our honeymoon and every night we do one thing that we’ve never done before.”
Ah…we were a kinky married couple. I could get right into that shit.
“And tonight you said you wanted to watch me go down on another woman.”
Collectively, we all pulled in air. Like Joan saying it out loud made it a very real and tangible thing. My blood pounded through my veins.
This woman was a bag of surprises. Kinky, fucking surprises.
“What did you say about this?” I asked, lifting the handcuff.
That I am a dangerous criminal and no one should get too close? That I bite? That sweet Sarah might end up collateral in this crazy game you and I are playing?
“You wanted to watch her with another woman,” Sarah answered, her voice sounding a little New York City, “but she wanted you not to be able to touch us. You just watch. My husband and I used to do this kind of thing all the time.”
I just watch. Kinky Joan thought of everything.
Joan’s hands were on Sarah’s breasts now. Cupping them in her hands, her fingers spread wide. Sarah put her head back against Joan’s shoulder, her eyelids lowered, her lips parted.
I could see the wet pink of Sarah’s mouth and I got turned on even more.
Joan, behind her was watching me. Her eyes hard and sharp. Unmoved.
She was measuring me. Gauging me. It was going to be a fucking production again. She wasn’t showing me shit. Well, she’d show me plenty, but none of it would be real.
I could not have counted how many strippers I’d watched bare themselves for my eyes. For the guys in the club. The number of whores who’d go down on other women in the clubhouse while they faked their way through with moans and “yeah, babies.”
It was so frequent and commonplace that I barely noticed it anymore. I certainly didn’t care.