Chapter 2
His finger remains suspended in the air, a silent command that roots me to the spot. My heart beats frantically against the cage of my ribs. I watch, breath held, as he helps Elara back into her hiking shorts with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the raw possession of moments before. She is pliant, boneless, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her climax. He whispers something else against her temple, and she turns her head, following the line of his gaze. Her dark, passion-glazed eyes land on me. I flinch, expecting shock, anger, a scream, though it doesn’t come.
Instead, a slow, dawning smile spreads across her kiss-swollen lips. There’s no surprise in her expression. Only a deep, simmering knowing. She wasn’t oblivious. The thought is a thunderclap. She knew all along. Her earlier cries, her abandon—it was all a performance. For him. For me.
“Oh,” she breathes, the sound of a husky ripple in the quiet forest. Her eyes travel over me, from my flushed face down to my trembling hands. Her gaze is not invasive, but… appreciative. Curious. Her partner—his name still a mystery—chuckles, a low, rich sound that vibrates through the clearing. “Elara, this is our audience.” His pale blue eyes are alight with a dark, playful fire. “She enjoyed the show.”
“I can see that,” Elara says, her voice a purr. She takes a step toward me, and I instinctively shrink back against the rough bark of my pine tree. My pulse hammers in my throat. This is really happening.
“Don’t be shy,” she murmurs, closing the distance between us. The scent of her, of them—sweat, sex, and wild flowers—washes over me, intoxicating. “We enjoyed it, too.” He moves behind her, a solid, powerful presence. His hands settle on her hips, his chin resting on her shoulder as they both look at me. I am the specimen under their combined gaze, and a fresh wave of heat floods my core.
“I think our watcher deserves a reward,” he says, his voice dropping to that possessive growl that liquefies my bones. “Don’t you, my love?” Elara’s striking eyes sparkle with a feral light. “A reward for such… attentive viewing.”
She reaches out, and her fingers, surprisingly cool, brush a stray strand of hair from my cheek. The contact is electric. I shudder, a full-body tremor I can’t control. “He wants to watch something new,” she continues, her gaze flicking back to him for a split second, a silent communication passing between them. A shared hunger. “He wants to watch me kiss you.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. No. Yes. My mind is a whirlwind of fear, and a want so deep it feels like it’s etched into my DNA. I’ve never kissed a woman. I’ve never been with a woman. But the sight of her, the taste of this forbidden fantasy, is a drug as he nudges her forward gently. “Go on.”
Elara doesn’t hesitate. Her hand cups my jaw, her thumb stroking my cheek. Her touch is confident, assured. “Is this okay?” she asks softly, her eyes searching mine. There is a genuine question there, a thread of consent woven into this unbelievable scenario. Frozen with my voice is gone; all I can do is give a tiny, desperate nod with my head. Her smile is triumphant, and she leans in.
The world narrows to the space between our mouths. I can see every detail of her lips, slightly parted, still glistening. I can smell the faint, musky scent of her arousal and his. My eyes flutter closed a second before she presses her lips to mine.
The kiss is an exploration of me; soft, yet insistent, moving with a practiced ease that makes my head spin. A small, broken sound escapes me, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Her tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for her, willingly, hungrily. The taste of her is sweet, like wild berries, and underneath, the earthy, primal taste of him lies from their passion. The intimacy of kissing her, of tasting their sex, is intense. My hands, which had been clenched at my sides, rise of their own volition, my fingers tangling in the silken length of her dark hair.
A low groan rumbles from behind her. He’s watching. The realization sends a jolt straight to my core. My knees feel weak. I break the kiss, panting, and look over her shoulder at him. His eyes are twin flames of blue heat, locked on our connected mouths. One of his hands is splayed across Elara’s stomach, holding her tight against him, but his other hand is working the button of his jeans.
Elara feels my distraction. She turns her head, following my gaze, and a wicked smile plays on her lips. “He likes it,” she whispers against my cheek, her breath hot on my skin. “He’s so hard for this. For us.”
She kisses me again, deeper this time, her tongue plunging into my mouth in a rhythm that is blatantly, devastatingly sexual. I meet her thrust for thrust, a frenzy building between us. My body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming. The rough bark of the tree behind me, the scent of the pines, the sound of his ragged breathing—it all mixes into a potent cocktail of sensation. I feel his presence shift as he moves around Elara to stand beside us, a monument of male intensity. I can see the thick, proud length of him now, freed from his jeans, gripped in his own fist. He’s stroking himself slowly, his eyes devouring the sight of our kissing.
Elara pulls back, her own breathing as ragged as mine. A thin strand of saliva connects our lips for a second before breaking. Her eyes are black with desire. “He wants more,” she says, her voice thick. His free hand reaches out, not for me, but for her. He grips the hem of her tank top. “Take this off,” he commands, his voice rough with need. “I want to see you both.” Without taking her eyes off me, Elara obeys. She pulls the top over her head in one fluid motion and lets it fall to the bed of pine needles. Her breasts are full and heavy, tipped with dusky, hard nipples. The sight steals the last of my breath.
“Your turn,” he says, and now his gaze, intense and unwavering, lands on me. My fingers tremble as I fumble for the bottom of my own shirt. The air feels cool on my heated skin as I peel it off. My breasts are free now, my nipples pebbled tight from the cool air and overwhelming arousal. We stand there, half-dressed, exposed to them, to the forest, to each other. “Touch her,” he says to Elara, his voice a low thrum of command. Elara’s hands come up, her fingertips ghosting over my collarbones before trailing down, so lightly, to my breasts. A sharp gasp rips from my throat as her palms finally fully cup me. Her touch is electrifying. Her thumbs brush over my nipples, and my back arches, pushing my chest further into her hands. It feels so good. So different from my own touch.
“Yes,” he hisses, his stroking hand moving faster. “Just like that.”
Elara leans in, her dark hair curtaining our faces, and her mouth closes over one taut peak. The heat of her mouth, the soft, sucking pressure, is my undoing. A ragged cry is torn from me, echoing hers from earlier. My eyes squeeze shut as pure, undiluted pleasure arcs through me. My hand flies to her hair, holding her to me, as my other hand grips the rough bark of the tree for support. I can hear his steady, wet rhythm accompanying my own pounding heart. He’s fucking his fist while he watches her mouth on me, and it’s both filthy and erotic.
Elara switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, her tongue circling, sucking, nipping gently with her teeth. The dual sensations—the exquisite torture of her mouth and the knowledge of his intense, voyeuristic pleasure—push me toward a dizzying precipice. I am panting, writhing against the tree, completely lost in their shared fantasy.
He moves closer, his heat radiating against my side. I open my eyes to see him watching us, his face a mask of primal lust. “Look at me,” he growls. Elara pulls her mouth away with a soft, wet pop, both of us turning our heads to look at him. His gaze is locked on where her hand now rests, possessively, on my bare hip.
“I want to watch you make her come,” he says, his voice hoarse with wanting.
