Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [94]
Brenna had barely begun to process his words, let them seep into her skin—when Anthony walked by and Damon held up a hand to stop him.
“Listen,” Damon said, his voice low, conspiratorial, “any way I can take my girl up there?” He pointed to the divan, where one woman now sat on the guy’s lap, sliding up and down his dick with her legs spread, allowing the other girl to lick her.
Anthony looked back and forth between them, not one iota of judgment in his expression. “Sometimes,” he began, “they’ll let guests up there, but only with someone who works here. They know we’ll keep the sex on track, make sure it stays visually exciting, you know?”
Damon nodded, then—cautiously—looked to Brenna.
She knew she should say, Thanks anyway—I understand. But instead, she said, “Maybe we could do that.”
Damon blinked—and she knew that if she’d stunned him with her original request that it was nothing compared to how astonished he was by this suggestion. “We could?”
She lowered her chin slightly, feeling just a bit sheepish now. “If…if you wanted to.”
“Me? Uh, yeah, babe—I’m fine with that. I just didn’t expect you to be.”
“Me either, but…” She lifted her gaze to Anthony. “You seem like a nice guy.”
He shrugged, grinned. “I try.”
Looking back and forth between the two men, she finally let her gaze land on Damon. “So…maybe we could…do it…with Anthony.”
Seven
The thing that shocked Brenna the most was how easy it was.
How easy to let Damon and Anthony guide her up onto the dais when the previous threesome concluded. How easy it was to just focus on Damon and on her desire for him—more than that, her love for him—as she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him before the crowd.
Part of why it was easy, of course, was because even as they were the center of attention, so much else took place. Some people left and new ones arrived. Some of the surrounding beds held people fucking their brains out, and nude girls came and went from the “baths” at their leisure to simply stroll about the room, wet and slick-looking.
But part of why it was easy was because Damon had made it that way. He’d made it so that sin was…good. This kind of sin anyway. She refused to think of any other sins she might be committing this week—and concentrated only on the sins of the flesh, which, with Damon, no longer felt like sinning at all.
Soft musical notes from lute and lyre dripped through the air as Damon faced her on the dais—Anthony stood behind her, and she was glad, because even if she fucked them both, this was all about pleasuring Damon, exciting Damon, being his ultimate unleashed dirty girl.
Damon’s gaze dropped to her breasts, the toga’s fabric now covering her again, and reaching up, he molded them in his palms, making her sigh and arch toward him.
Behind her, Anthony’s strong hands closed over her hips, then descended slowly, to massage her ass.
Oh God, she’d never been touched by two men before at once. And it was sort of like last night, when she’d been pleasured by both Damon and Jenelle—but better. Because both her lovers were men—hard, virile men. And because it felt as if the whole world was watching—watching her shed her every inhibition, for her lover.
Anthony’s palms roamed her with skill from behind, skimming up over her waist and smoothly onto her breasts, kneading her. Her head dropped back as she suffered the strange, heady pleasure of letting a stranger touch her while Damon watched.
When Anthony curled his fingers into the swaths of fabric covering her chest and pulled downward, baring her, Damon bent to kiss, suckle her nipples. And as the pleasure roared through her, Anthony’s hands traveled lower, one lifting her skirt, the other stroking boldly between her legs. She moved against his fingers involuntarily, still fueled by being in the center of the bacchanal.
And when Anthony untied the gold cord from around her waist and Damon slipped his thumbs beneath her shoulder straps to send the dress dropping