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Only a couple sips of the Cutwater have me ready to take things to the next level. She truly wasn’t lying about how strong they are. I’m only halfway through mine and already feel tempted to twerk on the roof of a car, butt naked. Great choice. After another big gulp, I’m hot all over like we’re sitting in a sauna. I approach her with temptation in each step. Syren readies for my closeness, pushing her body forward. I stop right in front of her, taking the glass from her hand.

“Let’s see how wild you can really get.”

I finish what’s left of her Cutwater, taking in a mouthful. But no swallowing. The liquor instead gets retained behind the barrier of my teeth. Syren is fully concentrated on me, awaiting my next move.

Let the games begin.

My hands travel through her satin-soft hair, collecting a handful between my fingers. I give it a light tug, tilting her head back like she has a nosebleed. My fingers hook onto the side of her mouth, prying it open like a car hood. The now warm drink is collected at the front of my mouth. In a straight line, it then dripped slowly down onto her waiting tongue. Gleefully, she holds it all in place, letting the flavor really set in. Gargling it around her mouth. With her head still tilted back, my lips become a suction around hers. Like I said, we’re sharing one together.

The nasty little slut swallows all she can before spitting some of it right back into my mouth. The energy is quickly reciprocated my way. Swallowing it all. Kissing her again, even nastier than before. All while a tide of wetness drips with a steady, careful leak from the seam of our lips.

And down our legs. Any leftover residue gets licked away joyfully as the taste lingers, completely coating my tongue.

Doing all that only better prepares for the night to come. I can’t wait any longer to start the night. Tipsy and horny, I pull Syren from her chair, guiding her past the kitchen into the hallway. No more games. Ecstasy Island awaits. We finally get to the door, where I briefly glance her way with a seductive smile. Her eyes and overall facial expression both say she’s ready. She damn sure better be. We enter the room with me leading the way. Syren’s holding onto my hand like a lost child, fully immersed in the sensual atmosphere in front of her.

Damien is sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and sexy. His chocolate skin shines under the lighting, showcasing bulging muscles and tight abs like a pro wrestler preparing to wrestle at WrestleMania. Guess that would make me Bianca Belair. The EST of the bedroom. Syren is right there with me, taking in all that fineness. She’s finally laying eyes on him in person, staring his way with a lustful intensity. I’m always humored by a woman’s reaction to seeing him at first glance. It’s like being in front of the Colosseum in Rome for the first time. Or the Taj Mahal. If the Taj Mahal could make me cum five times in one night. Clearly still in awe, she’s quickly directed to a chair positioned right in front of the bed as Big Daddy stands up, swaggering up to her like the monster in the shadows.

“What’s up, shorty,” he reveals a pair of my favorite handcuffs, dangling them right in front of her, “Welcome to Ecstasy Island…”

Chapter Six

BETTER THAN ADVERTISED

Syren

I’ve been involved in some wild scenarios in my young life. Most of which I’d like to forget ever happened. But this…this is different. In a great way. In front of my blurring eyes are two of the finest individuals created by the hands of God, getting ready to fuck the shit out of each other with me as their sole spectator. My lightweight ass is already buzzing with intoxication, sunken into a chair. Fine ass Damien already laid it all out to me. No moving. No talking unless spoken to first. Eyes on them at all times.

My hands are only good for two things. Sipping a Cutwater while using their hand-picked rose toy on myself as they go crazy in the sheets. This is all about mental and clitoral stimulation. Satisfaction and fulfillment. The kind of pleasure that reverberates around the entire room.

Exactly what a woman like me needs.

I’ve always wanted to be a part of something of this nature. Exposing my real freak with a like-minded person. Or people. I just never believed the possibility would ever come. Guess that’s why life is meant to be unpredictable. Nothing is ever really impossible as long as there’s an opportunity. And this is my opportunity to truly evolve. Sexually and mentally.

“Fuck me like you hate me,” I overhear Morgan command to Damien, arched over on the bed. Her body looks so delicious under the blue lighting. I’ve only ever seen something so captivating in the Black Holocaust Museum. Picasso couldn’t even do her justice. Only God could handle her kind of art.

I’m already pulsating with heat, squirming in my seat like a bad child looking to escape class. The rose toy in my hand is screaming my name louder than a bag of chips in a movie theater. I try to resist, staying locked in on them. Damien’s kissing Morgan’s neck like he hasn’t seen it for years. Nibbling right around the bottom of her ear before taking his tongue slowly down in a curved line. I’m already a mess. I could pose as telepathic at the circus with how my body’s feeling everything happening right from my chair.

“Yes, baby,” she continues, whimpering loud enough for me to hear, “Right there. Right…there. You’ve got me so fuckin’ wet.”

She’s not the only one. I’m just as soaked, eyes constantly trailing their skin as it pops in the sea of blue. Damien raises up, firmly instructing Morgan to keep her legs spread wide. He peels away his shorts with one hand, casually tossing them to the side. His dick is anything but casual-looking, bouncing around the room with a hydraulic like spring. The big, thick mothafucka almost snatches my heart right out of my chest. I can only imagine how it’ll feel inside me. As I’m riding him, slowly and intensely while he stares at me. Or when he’s on the side of me, so deep inside, I can feel it near my heart. It’s that serious. His dick looks majestic. How is it that even in a darker setting, its veins have a distinct glow? Is this nigga even real? Or is he some horse dick alien, sent here to Earth to destroy women’s self-esteem?

If I wasn't in heat before, I am now. Licking my lips like a thirsty cadaver, trying hard not to rise from my chair like the undead to join them. Follow the rules, Syren. Follow the rules.

Damien’s eyes follow me with a focused hunger, practically melting me through my chair. His strong, bare waist is over there looking like a damn good seat. The kind that keeps you steady and safe during a long ride. He lowers his toned body towards Morgan again, teasing me with the extension of his lengthy pink tongue. Morgan lifts her head, taking all of it into her mouth to suck it like a Laffy Taffy. The rose is warming in my hand. At least in my mind. I hit the on switch, never looking away from the bed for a second. My mind switches thought. Why rush to the finish line? I want to take a road trip. The rose gets shut right back down.

The middle finger of my left hand takes a trip instead, sliding through my already tense lips. It goes even deeper as Damien whips out the handcuffs again. Clearly, they’re just getting started, and so am I. Before things can really pick up, he stops once again. Reaffirming eye contact with me as if the universe forced it. If looks could fuck, I’d have squirted five times already.

“How are you feeling over there, Syren?”

“I’m good, Damien.”

Movement stops in a flash as all of the air seems to leave the room. A rush of cold immediately runs down my spine like a streak of lightning. I feel like the only one naked with how all the attention shifts over to me. Damien’s staring me down like a rediscovered monument. Climbing off the bed, swagger walking to me until he towers over my petite frame. He’s such a giant his shadow could probably provide shade to the entire city of Madison.

“What’s my name?”

His tone hints at annoyance. He has his right hand on my thigh, pressing down hard on it like a therapy ball. My teeth clench from the contact as suddenly, the room feels like it’s ninety degrees. Damien’s hand travels from my trembling thigh up towards my heaving chest. The devil on my shoulders wants me to wrap my legs around his neck and face fuck him to sleep. I can be a patient Good Girl. Morgan’s sizing me up from afar, enjoying the view. His hand is now around my throat like it’s belonged there all along. I’ve had dreams start like this. With the exception of being covered in honey, as Teyana Taylor does the suffocating. My eyes tighten up as pressure builds, sending me into an episode of uncontrollable moans.

“Say it,” he demands sternly. This must be the trouble Morgan was referring to. If so, shit, I need to get into trouble more often.