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“Mostly with two women, but I’ve shared a woman with another man a time or two.”
“I find that surprising, Bren.”
“For her pleasure,” I clarify, “not mine or the other bloke’s.”
She nods, and she bites the inside of her lip—the unmistakable sign she’s thinking.
“Do you want a threesome, Sofia?”
She drops her glance to the table. “I’m afraid to answer honestly with how jealous you act—”
I sigh, remembering what an asshat I’ve been. “I’m sorry about that, Sofia. But I do see a distinction between an agreed-upon and shared sexual fantasy with other people and betraying someone behind their back. I’d never share a serious partner on an on-going basis, but I am open to exploring sexual fantasies on a one-off basis.”
“Oh...” is all she can say.
“So tell me, Sofia, would that bring you pleasure? A threesome?” I look her dead in the eye when I ask her, then watch her lips part slightly. Her shoulders tighten, and I want to reach over and touch her. Instead, I grip the wine glass tightly in my hand.
She nods, then recovers her composure—and the upper hand. “But,” she says. “I want both a threesome with another woman, and one with two men.”
I nod. “I’d be open to both.” I smile at her despite the heat in my belly at the thought of sharing her. But if that is what she needs, I want to be the one to gift it to her.
Sofia smirks and brings her wineglass to her lips again. Those lips I can’t hold off on tasting any longer. Then she lifts her chin and glances past me out the door. “How about Andreas?” she asks. “He is very handsome.” Her smirk is playful, and she seems oblivious to the anger building in me. I clench the glass in my hand so firmly, I’m afraid I’ll break it, so I let it go and set it down.
“Absolutely not,” I snap.
Sofia brings her glass to the table and raises her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”
“I’m sorry. Andreas is out of the question. Unless you want him fired. I couldn’t do that and then have him around us all the time. Around you.”
“Understood,” she says. “Not with your bodyguard.”
I relax in my seat. She can disarm me so easily. “Thank you. Besides, I think he and the stylist hit it off.”
“Kikki? Really?” Sofia asks. “Well, if we’re just staying in tomorrow night, why don’t you give him the night off so he can take her out? We don’t need him guarding us from the pool house, do we?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Besides,” she licks her lower lip seductively, “I’d love to swim naked.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Would you now?”
She nods. “As for the threesome, it doesn’t have to be this weekend. I think we’ll both know when the time is right.”
“Now, Señorita Ocampo. I believe it’s time for bed.”
* * *
Back at the Villa,we don’t make it past the living room before we attack each other with our mouths and hands. I’m ecstatic Sofia had the forethought to give Carmen the night off, so we have the entire Villa to ourselves. The slight buzz from the wine—and the conversation about sexual fantasies over dinner—has worked us both into a frenzy of lust.
Sofia pushes me onto the sofa, hikes her skirt up a bit, and straddles me as she devours my mouth. She rolls her hips, grinding against my erection through our clothing.
I rip the flimsy shirt open, sending buttons flying and scattering with clinks on the hardwood floors. “I liked that top!” she protests, looking down at the wreck and the now-ruined top.
“I hated it,” I hiss.
“Fucking liar. You loved it,” she teases.
“Okay, I liked it, but so did everyone else who saw you in it—and that, I didn’t like.”
