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“No, no. Let me show you.”
Instead of switching places with Ilya, Bron wrapped his hand around Ilya’s and pushed his finger into me, too, guiding him. I only lasted a minute longer, my orgasm spreading the tightness from my belly to my thighs and up my body. I arched into the impending orgasm, my whole body tingling.
Bron pushed Ilya’s mouth off me and withdrew their fingers. My orgasm hovered, buzzing, then nosedived into a throbbing, itching, impatient feeling throughout my body.
“Why?” I asked, my voice pathetic.
“He’s already done more than I dared him to,” Bron replied. “It’s late. Time for bed. Goodnight Delilah.”
Ilya looked like he was going to argue, but Bron hauled him up by the front of the shirt and steered him out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
I sat up on the table, looking around, feeling ridiculous and abandoned.
Irritably, I found my glass and downed the rest of the alcohol in it. I emptied the guy’s glasses, too, my hands trembling, then pulled my clothes on rather than walk naked all the way back to my room.
Just as I shut off the kitchen light, the slap of leather hitting skin and Ilya’s gasps of distress cut off their murmured words.
I crept up the stairs to the floor with their bedrooms and sat there, listening in the dark as Bron beat him and used him, wishing I was brave enough to intervene.
