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Condoms, lube…his words repeated in my brain. Two of my own requirements. Not that I’d felt an ass wrapped around my dick yet. But I wouldn’t ever hurt a woman intentionally by shoving into her without something to make it more comfortable. Didn’t want to knock someone up at eighteen, either.
Dean’s clothing dropped to the floor without any problems. There was no fucking way he was as messed up as me.
I struggled to take my boots off. Tripped while trying to rid my legs of my jeans. “Fucking hell, this is hard as shit,” I said, suddenly cackling, not even sure I’d spoken aloud.
“Are you alright?” Ginger asked me from where she bent over the bench.
WasI okay?
Pretty sure that’s what she’d asked, I nodded. “Had a little too much to drink for my birthday,” I said, my words muffled by the T-shirt I tried to yank off overhead.
Ginger’s gaze rested on my face once I managed to untangle myself. “Are you sober enough to give your consent to what’s going down here tonight?”
I blinked her into focus. “Fuck, yeah,” I stated firmly, stroking my semi in an attempt to wake the fucking thing up.
Her gaze dropped to my groin, and she licked her lips. She seemed on the verge of ordering me to shove it down her throat, but Dean stepped between us, cutting off my line of sight, which started to run along the edges again.
“Turn around,” he said to her, his voice low. “Eyes on the floor. Widen your legs and show me your holes.”
Shit. Swallowing hard, I stumbled around him to get a better view. I’d planned on letting Dean have first go at the woman, since he seemed to know more than I did about the BDSM lifestyle.
Ginger leaned over the bench as ordered, hands spreading her cheeks open. She’d waxed—or shaved—her pussy lips and puckered pink hole were void of any hair.
Or maybe I hallucinated and saw my fantasy.
“Jesus, she’s pretty,” I moaned, squeezing the base of my dick.
Dean slapped her pussy with his palm, hard enough Ginger jolted against the bench and moaned. “Like that?”
She muttered a curse, canting her hips higher. “Yes, Sir.”
“Fuck yeah,” Dean said, letting another palm fly. “Shit—you’re wet. Look at this, Micah—her pussy is already dripping.”
Did pussies actually drip? Arousal was more like…cream, not water. Right?
Fuck, my head…
I moved in close, standing by Dean’s side as he shoved two fingers deep into Ginger’s pussy. He groaned. Cursed. Fucked into her hole a few times. “Jesus, you’re so damn hot for us.”
“Hurt me, please,” she begged, shifting on her bare feet.
Dean’s gaze cast to the wall with all the toys. “What’ll it be, sweet girl? Flogger? Paddle? Cane?”
“You’re not experienced enough for a cane,” Ginger said, her voice breathless.
A scowl dented Dean’s forehead before it melted in front of my eyes.
I snickered.
He hated being told he couldn’t do something. Hated when his dad’s money couldn’t get him whatever he wanted. I thought my baby brother at eight was a spoiled brat, but Dean was ten times worse than Sean ever was.
“Think I’ll start with the flogger,” Dean said, striding toward the wall—more like floating on water. “We’ll take things from there.”
Ginger talked Dean through his stance, how to hold the toy, and how to release lashes that would give the most impact, but I didn’t hear a word. Barely could keep the two of them from liquifying into a puddle of color that sounded…golden? Maybe tinted with red?
I was hearing colors. Fucking lovely.
I snorted with laughter as Ginger claimed my best friend was a natural. A few lashes striped her skin a gorgeous shade of pink that reminded me of cotton candy.
