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“Yes. Ah-hah.” She almost came from saying it; from the shock of wanting it.
“You’re sure?”
She pressed her forearms to Reid’s chest and moved on him.
“God, Flygirl.” He met her glide with a thrust.
She set a ragged rhythm with Reid’s hands to support her. She looked for Ancel.
“Thank you,” he said. His eyes were all over her.
She shouldn’t like it, but it was night and Paris and Ancel’s eyes and Reid’s voice in her ear saying he loved her, asking if she wanted more.
“More.”
“Do you want him to touch you?”
“No. No.” The right thing to say; the wrong thing to feel. “Yes.”
Reid gave the instructions. Ancel stood behind Zarley. His hand went to her shoulder, trailing down her arm, then brushing hair from her face, cradling her skull. He wasn’t to kiss her. But he could smooth his hand down her dress over her right breast, while Reid did the same to her left. He could circle a finger around her nipple and when she pressed into his hand, he could squeeze.
“You with me, Flygirl?”
“Ye-es.”
They played a mirror reverse game of follow the leader on her body. Where Reid touched her on one side from in front, Ancel’s hand would follow on the other from behind. Reid watched her face and had her mouth, but his words were for Ancel.
“Easy.” Oh, easy was standing on the edge of a great chasm.
“Slower.” Slower was destruction.
“Harder.” The pleasure was frighteningly intense. It made her senses rattle.
“Put your hand under the dress, play with her nipple.”
Ancel’s hand, hot and smaller than Reid’s, slipped over her breast. Reid pulled the other side of the dress down till her nipple was bare and tongued it. Her bones turned to mush. Her head dropped back against Ancel’s stomach. He touched her cheek gently, “Magnifique,” then his hair brushed her face as he leaned over her and took her nipple in his mouth.
She felt rippling heat everywhere, and nervous, tripping energy roaring though her muscles. The souls of her feet tingled, she could feel her hair growing. Nonsense sounds poured from her mouth, it was too much, too much. She pulled on Reid’s neck and he took her mouth, arms closing around her, locking Ancel out as wave after wave of ecstatic vibrations wracked through her body.
Ancel did kiss her. Lightly on the shoulder. “Merci,” he said, and was gone.
Reid held her till she stopped shaking, then put her back together, because she was fumble-fingered and so tired she could hardly hold her head up.
When she could focus again she realized he was tense and watchful. “I didn’t know if it was right to let that happen.” He dropped his forehead to hers.
“That was incredible.” She stroked his face. “Thank you. I didn’t know I wanted it.”
“But now you know.”
And that made him unhappy. Still on his lap she hugged him close, wanting to comfort but not knowing how. He’d gotten off too. She hadn’t guessed he didn’t enjoy it like she had, but then she’d been the focus of attention.
“Would you like it if there was another woman touching you?”
Jabbing him with a flaming spike would’ve been less painful. He flinched. “I didn’t want Marja. I don’t want another woman.”
She had to shake this out of him to understand. “Not even like we just did, with you in the center.”
He lifted her from his lap to the seat. “No.”
