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“Take your hair down.”
She loosened the tie holding her messy bun in place. Her curls came down past her shoulders in soft, beachy waves. They fell atop her curving breasts, almost tickling the delicious space between them.
I wondered how my tongue would feel in that valley. I wanted to run it across and over, go down under, deeper.
Her left hand clamped above her breasts, heaving as if her heart rate had gone up. She was blushing, her skin a perfect shade of peach.
I could sense the excitement in the room.
“What are you thinking, Sylvie?” Elijah asked.
She smiled. “I’m thinking how it would feel to have your hands up under my skirt from the bottom, caressing me.”
It was so sexy hearing her talk like this in her soft, sweet voice. I could almost feel her breath on my neck. My heart began pounding too.
“Now, task two,” Elijah chimed in. Our boy was finally letting loose.
“Take off your lingerie, but leave the thong on. Touch your waist and explain how you feel.”
Sylvie was curiously shy as she stepped out of her nightie. She oozed curves and charm.
“Talk to us.” I began touching myself, unable to stop.
“I can feel your hands over me,” she said, her voice small. “Your hands are so warm; my skin burns at your touch. You’re sliding them up, caressing my body, and breathing into my neck.”
“My lips are close to your skin,” I interjected, feeling passion storm through me. “When I reach your breasts, my fingers meet, and I squeeze their plumpness. My thumb and forefinger pinch your nipples, rolling them between my fingers.”
Sylvie moaned. “Oh, God, that’s hot. I’m a furnace inside.”
True to her words, she was trembling. “I wish I were sitting on your lap right now.”
Noah spoke once more. “Your ass and pussy are separated from the warmth of our skin only by your lace thongs. You can feel our hardness behind you, against your body.”
“I’m so wet,” she mewled, her eyes wide with desire.
“I’m nuzzling your neck,” Elijah said. “Smelling your hair. My hands are caressing your breasts. Your nipples are harder than they’ve ever been.”
Noah followed up, his baritone gravelly. “You feel my finger sliding up inside your thigh, from your knee to your panties. I slide a finger inside your pussy, feeling your swelling lips.”
As if he’d hit gold, Sylvie let out a long, low moan. Her fingers traveled down, past the lace of her panties, and she began caressing herself.
“I’ve found your clit,” Noah said once more, urgency in his voice. “You slide it against my fingers, and I run them over and inside you, one at a time. You focus on making me a drink as my fingers fuck you.”
Sylvie tried pouring out a glass of gin as she made love to herself with her fingers, but it sloshed everywhere. She moved faster, gyrating against her own hand as her eyes rolled upward.
“Not so soon,” Noah commanded. “Take your fingers out.”
Groaning, she retrieved her hand and looked at the three of us obediently, waiting for us to tell her what to do next.
“Taste yourself.”
She lifted one finger to her mouth and licked it.
“We’re tasting you, too,” Noah said. “Our tongues are exploring every inch of your body, caressing, making love to you, and now, I’m carrying you to the bed.”
Sylvie slowly got up from the chair, her curves swaying like a siren as she moved toward her bed. Every inch of her, the way her body’s softness left no room for any harsh edges, made me want to hold her and kiss her.
I’d never seen someone so utterly in control of themselves and so sure of the hold they had over a room.
