Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (Fixed #5.5)(3)

Andrew maneuvered over to me, awkward as it was with his erection hanging out. “T, I want you to kiss me while I come in Betsy’s mouth. You gotta let it happen.”

I rubbed my thighs together. I wasn’t quite wet, but the idea was actually a turn-on. Kissing a guy while another woman sucked him off…

Yeah. That was the kind of kinky shit I was into. Andrew was definitely in the lead.

I glanced around to see if there were any other entrants, ready to announce him as the winner, when another voice piped up.

“I’d like a try.” It was the stranger with the green eyes.

Hot damn.

Of course the night would ramp up right when I announced I was leaving. I looked up at him expectantly, but he didn’t approach. I realized he was waiting for my invitation. He was definitely new. Everyone else knew Miss T was one of the most ready and willing participants in the room—to the point where some tried to take advantage of it. I never needed to issue invitations, but I often needed to reinforce boundaries.

“What are you waiting for, then?” I sat up straighter, ignoring Chuck’s grunt of complaint.

The stranger came forward with slow, swaggering steps. When he reached me, he loosened his bowtie a little before lowering himself to one knee at my side. He placed his arm next to mine on the chair, his fingers barely grazing my skin. Goosebumps sprouted up my forearm all the way to my neck, and he hadn’t even bent in to whisper yet.

And then he did. His breath skated over the shell of my ear, and my heart tripped unexpectedly in my chest.

How long had it been since that had happened from just the feel of someone breathing against me?

“I’m going to kiss you one way or another tonight,” he said, low and with such surety a shiver ran down my spine. “It’s your decision whether it’s now or later.”

So. Not just a voyeur then.

He sat back to study my features. My jaw was slack, and I scanned his expression, searching for a hidden motivation. My body tingled from head to toe. I was used to men—strangers—wanting me. I was used to them approaching me. I was used to them telling me how much they desired me.

Why was this man so different?

Maybe it was because those other men always looked everywhere in the room. When their eyes landed on me, I knew I was just one of many options.

This man…

He’d looked around the room. I’d watched him throughout the night. But nothing had interested him. I could tell by the way he was still wearing his jacket, by the way his eyes were only now beginning to dilate as they stared into mine.

He’d studied the room and decided nothing here had interested him but me.

That was definitely not the kink that usually got me off. That was Cinderella-story kind of kink. The fairytale kink with a happy ending was traditional, but a kink all the same—being chased. Being placed on a gilded pedestal. I never wanted to be somebody’s Only One in the Room. I liked having my own space. I liked being able to disappear when I wanted. I liked not having chains or boundaries. I was turning thirty-five soon. I wasn’t a starry-eyed teenager anymore. I knew what I wanted from life and love and relationships and sex. And it wasn’t a pedestal.

But the stranger whose lips were just full enough to nibble on... Fuck, he was so damn hot.

And I was entranced. Because he wanted me.

Somehow he knew that, knew that he’d won, even without me announcing it.

Without me delivering the proclamation, he bent forward. Eagerly, I tilted my face up toward him.

Our lips met.

And though I’d been the one who’d offered the kiss, it was the stranger who gave. Slowly introducing himself, he pressed his upper lip between mine. He tasted me, as though he were deciding if I were poisonous. And then, when he determined I was safe—or perhaps despite determining that I wasn’t—he moved in more aggressively, his tongue sliding into my mouth as his hand reached behind my neck and pulled me closer to him.

I grabbed the lapels of his tux and pulled him closer to me as well, wishing I could be pressed tighter against him, wishing I could feel his chest against the tight beads of my tits, wishing it were his hands stroking my thigh and my breast instead of Chuck’s, wishing it were his erection I felt pulsing against me instead of the man whose lap I was sitting on.

He tasted good. Like all the other men in the room, he tasted like money and secrets. Like power and sex. But he tasted like something new too. Like fresh air and California. Like a salty breeze. Like the deep of the jungle. Like places I’d never been, but somehow recognized.

We kissed for what felt like a long time. I could have kissed him for hours. I could’ve stretched my body long against his and made out with him like I had back in high school in my father’s Chevrolet, when I’d been content to just kiss and fondle, never taking off a bit of clothing.

I could do that with this man—just kiss him.

That scared me.

I broke off the kiss abruptly, moving my face away from his. Only then did I register the calls that had come from the men around me.

“I guess he won,” Kennedy complained. He was jerking himself off through his briefs, obviously too turned on and too frustrated to wait any longer for someone else to help him with the situation. Or maybe that’s exactly what he’d wanted all along this evening—to whack off while watching.

“Yeah, kiss him,” Andrew directed. “Kiss him, but let me touch you.” Betsy was now sucking him off again, and I knew he was enjoying watching me kiss the stranger while she did.