Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(46)
I saw her try to stifle her laughter, and I inhaled her sweet scent. Coconut. Always coconut. “Does seem a little much,” she whispered back.
“I can’t wait to watch him have sex. I bet he makes sure there’s always a mirror nearby.”
She let out a small titter then clasped her hand over her mouth. We took seats side by side at the dining table, and I endeavoured not to grit my teeth when Warren pulled out a chair on the other side of Ellen.
Just like in a period drama, a line of servers came and placed our fig starter down in front of us. I had to admit, I appreciated the pomp and ceremony. There was nothing worse than showing up to an orgy that turned out to be in a grotty bedsit, a bottle of cheap, week-old sauvignon blanc the only available refreshment.
I may have come from impoverished beginnings, but as soon as I started to earn money, I’d acquainted myself with the finer things in life.
“My favourite,” Warren said in a silky voice as he leered at Ellen, picked up a fig and popped it in his cartoonishly handsome mouth. I absently wondered if he used lip fillers.
“Fresh figs are always a treat,” I agreed, plucking one from Ellen’s plate and holding it to her mouth. She took my flirtation in stride, making eye contact as her soft lips met my fingers. She ate it right out of my hand, sending a jolt of arousal directly to my cock.
I flicked my gaze to Warren, my expression steely. It all worked to communicate a blaringly loud she’s mine without any need to say the words.
All through the starter and main course, Warren tried to ingratiate himself with Ellen, and I successfully cockblocked him at every turn. Ellen didn’t appear interested in him, and it pleased me that she saw through his act. Irritated that he couldn’t get anywhere with my date, Warren turned his glacial gaze to me.
“How is Rose doing these days, Julian? I was always fond of her.”
She’s happily engaged to a movie star and living on a remote Scottish island, far away from you.
“She’s well,” I replied congenially, not providing any details.
“Please tell her I was asking for her,” he went on, sipping smugly on his wine.
I didn’t know why he felt smug, since he’d never actually gotten anywhere with Rose. It was a typical Warren style head game. I held my tongue and ate a slice of veal. The food was delicious, but I would’ve enjoyed it more in better company. As people finished their meals, they started to leave the dining room, partnering off in search of private nooks around the house.
I rose from my chair and held my hand out to Ellen. Relief flashed in her eyes. I knew she feared being approached by another attendee and propositioned. Like I said, Ellen was a people watcher. I sensed she wanted to be here to observe how the attendees interacted, witness how the whole thing played out.
It would take time before she felt comfortable taking part. These sorts of sexual exploits were something one worked up to. You didn’t just go from ordinary, everyday sex to swinging. It was a gradual process, which was why I wouldn’t allow her to do anything tonight that she wasn’t comfortable with.
There was also the fact I felt possessive of her, but that was something I tried not to delve into too much.
I led her to a cushioned window box just off the dining room. We sat down, and from our vantage point, you could see directly into the study, where a man and two women were entering into foreplay. The man kissed one woman’s neck, while the other woman started to unbutton his shirt. When Ellen saw what I was seeing, her eyes got big and she glanced away.
“Are we supposed to be watching this?”
“They would’ve closed the door if they hadn’t been hoping for an audience,” I replied, studying her reaction. Her breathing quickened as she bit her lip. “Voyeurism is a large part of all this. In fact, some people like to watch and nothing more.”
“Oh. That’s…interesting.”
I enjoyed the physical responses she gave off. She continued to bite her lip, eyes flicking to the scene in front of us and then away. Despite her persona as Elodie, she was a fish out of water.
The man, shirtless now, spread one woman out on the desk. He pushed up her skirt, pulled down her underwear and proceeded to eat her out. Ellen emitted a quiet, startled noise, but her gaze never left the scene. She shifted in place, squeezed her thighs together and let out a long, shaky breath.
I wanted to touch her.
Without thinking, I reached out and pushed her hair over her shoulder, revealing her smooth neck. The urge to kiss her right in that hollow curve was maddening. I leaned close, then whispered in her ear, “Do you like watching them?”
She didn’t respond right away, goose bumps rising on her skin, then said, “I think so.”
I sat back. “Then we’ll stay.”
She appeared disappointed when I didn’t touch her again, which was expected. Watching the threesome, she was aroused. She wanted someone to soothe her aches, but I didn’t trust myself to stop once I started.
The other woman let her dress drop to the floor, her eyes on the two as she removed her underwear. She sat down on a velvet armchair, spread her legs wide and began stroking herself.
“Oh, my God,” Ellen whispered.
My pants tightened, which wasn’t surprising, though I wasn’t very interested in the threesome. It was how Ellen reacted that turned me on. A flush rose on her chest, the dress revealing a healthy dose of cleavage that I could hardly take my eyes off.