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The door creaked open, and she stilled, picturing herself as Tristan must. Bound wrists in her lap, blindfolded, bare legs, pushed-up skirt. Probably very large, distinct wet spot on panties under that skirt.
At first there was no sound. Then the world exploded with it.
“What the fuck is this? Why is she tied up? Caity—”
But it wasn’t Matt that spoke. Cait’s clear, strong voice was the one that rose above the rest. “I wanted it, Tristan. I asked him to tie me up. To blindfold me. To…”
She faltered. What would wanton women demand from their men first?
“To eat my pussy,” she said, hoping she sounded sexy and not scared. A near thing, that. “Now he’s undressing me, as you can see. You’re welcome to help.”
“Caitlyn,” Tristan said, the rage in his tone subsiding as his footsteps approached. Something heavy hit the floor next to her chair, and then he was kneeling in front of her, his big hands dwarfing her bare thighs. “You don’t have to do this.” When Tristan used that voice, everything inside her went soft and liquid. As always. “We don’t expect this of you, sweetheart.”
All at once, she was sixteen again, wearing a push-up bra and a dress designed to make men’s tongues hang out. Tristan had come upon her drunk and half-passed out at a frat party. She wouldn’t have been able to stop any guy who tried something. Actually, in that state, she might have encouraged it and not remembered a damn thing later.
Trusting Tristan in that situation hadn’t been a choice so much as a nondecision.
Within a month, he’d been her best friend. When Tristan’s little sister, Connie, died of complications from cystic fibrosis several months later, she’d practically moved into his dorm room.
Then Tristan met Matt in one of his computer classes the second half of freshman year, and he quickly became the third spoke of their trio. She’d loved the way Matt made them laugh, how he came up with such crazy, fun ideas.
When Tristan had decided to start his own design business, Cait and Matt not being a part of it hadn’t even been a consideration.
Her feelings for the guys had been platonic for so long. Until they weren’t anymore. Those feelings had grown and intensified no matter how hard she tried to push them down. She’d come up with the plan to lose her virginity while still denying any deeper reason for wanting to be intimate with them. If last week had never happened, she’d still be denying.
Well, not any longer.
They’d done everything together for so long. She wanted to share in the physical closeness they’d found. Needed to as much as she needed the air in her lungs.
“I expect it of me,” she said quietly. “Matt was right. I want this. And I’m not a liar. Or I won’t be anymore. If I expect the truth from both of you, I have to give it in return.”
“What did you lie about?”
“A lot of things.” She took a breath. “I planned on seducing one of you for my birthday. I wanted you both and I didn’t know how to choose.”
Back then, she’d thought she had to. Any other option wasn’t doable.
Or so she’d believed.
“How could you seduce one of us if you didn’t know who you wanted?”
“I figured we could discuss which of you would be the lucky driller.” Matt’s muffled laughter didn’t keep her from continuing. “One night, no strings.”
Her only response was Tristan’s jagged breaths.
“Tris,” Matt began in an even voice, deducing things were heading south. “Hear her out.”
“You wanted to treat us like horses sent out for stud. When all we’ve ever done is love you.”
“And each other,” she whispered bitterly. “And each other! I wasn’t part of that, was I?”
Tristan hesitated for a moment. An eternity. “You weren’t ready to accept us. We would’ve been honest with you if we’d believed you could understand.”
“I’m two days away from being twenty-five. Only two years younger than both of you. I’m not a kid. I’m woman enough to plot to seduce one of you, aren’t I?” Defiantly, she lifted her chin. “I’m in all the way. Newbie or not, I’ll participate in every step.”
“What do you mean, newbie?” His whisper was stunned, harsh.
Much to her mortification, a single hot tear squeezed out from under her blindfold, its salty path scoring her cheek like the tip of a blade. “I’m a virgin.”
