You’re coming home with me, she said with a smile.
I was in Toronto for work and had spent the night out with colleagues. Vivian was 5’3 and sexy as fuck, even though she’s a good 10 years older than me. She’d been flirting with me all night, standing closer than necessary, letting her fingers linger on my arm when she laughed, whispering things in my ear that made my cheeks flush. She’d been teasing me about being so quiet and soft all evening, tilting her head and studying me like I was something she was thinking about purchasing. More than once, she’d leaned in close enough that I could smell her perfume and murmured about how her husband would absolutely eat me up. I still wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but the way she said it made my stomach flip.
I mean it, she said, her hand already sliding around my waist. You’re coming home with me right now. There was no question in her voice, no pause for my answer. She simply guided me through the crowd and out into the cool night air toward a black Mercedes idling at the curb.
I brought you a treat, she says to her husband as she opens the door. He turns from the driver’s seat, his eyes moving over me slowly, deliberately, a smile spreading across his face. He was handsome in that older, polished way — strong jaw, silver at his temples, the kind of man who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. The way he looked at me made me feel like something gift-wrapped. I felt warmth spread between my legs before we’d even pulled away from the curb.
Neither of them spoke much on the drive. Vivian kept her hand on my knee, her thumb moving in slow circles. Her husband watched me in the rear view mirror at red lights. By the time we pulled into the underground garage of their building my heart was hammering.
Their apartment was all dark timber and low light, the kind of place that felt immediately intimate. Vivian poured drinks without asking what I wanted and handed me a glass of red wine. Her husband settled into a wide leather armchair, his legs apart, completely at ease. I stood near the couch, unsure where to put myself.
Come here, Vivian said, her voice dropping. She pointed to the carpet directly in front of where she and her husband were sitting. Right there, cutie. On your knees.
I felt a rush of heat move through my whole body. I set my wine glass down and lowered myself to the floor. Looking up at them both from the carpet — Vivian perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, his hand resting on her thigh — I felt completely exposed and completely captivated at the same time.
Is this your treat? her husband asked, his eyes on me.
Vivian smiled. What do you think?
He studied me for a long moment. I think she’s perfect, he said quietly.
Vivian reached over and unzipped his pants without ceremony, drawing out his cock and stroking it in her hand as it stiffened. She did it without breaking eye contact with me, watching my face, watching my lips part.
You’re wet already, aren’t you, she said. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, barely.
She smiled like she’d won something. Come here then, she said softly. Come show me how you suck cock.
I moved toward them on all fours, and before I could reach him Vivian caught my face in both hands and kissed me hard, her tongue finding mine, her fingers gripping my jaw. When she finally pulled back her lipstick was smeared and she was breathing harder.
Good girl, she murmured. She guided my head down toward her husband’s lap, her fingers tangled in my hair. I ran my tongue slowly up the length of his shaft, feeling him harden further before I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock. Vivian kept her hand in my hair, applying gentle pressure, encouraging me deeper. Her husband’s hand dropped to the back of my neck, his thumb stroking my skin. He groaned and I felt him throb against my tongue.
Vivian pulled me up by my hair and kissed me again, slower this time, tasting herself on my mouth. Not bad at all, she said, but watch me.
She sank down and took him fully in one practiced motion, her face pressed all the way to the base of him. Her husband’s head dropped back. I knelt beside her, transfixed, and when she lifted her eyes to me I instinctively moved closer. We shared him together, my lips against hers and his cock between us, her tongue sliding against mine. Her husband’s hand moved from her shoulder to my back, sliding down under the waistband of my skirt to palm my ass.
Why am I the only one undressed? he said, his voice rough.
Vivian lifted her head and looked me up and down. He has a point, she said. Stand up.
I stood. She sat back and watched with her arms folded loosely, a half smile on her face, as I reached for the hem of my dress and lifted it over my head. I reached back and unclasped my bra, letting it fall. Vivian’s husband leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes moving over every inch of me.
Turn around, Vivian said.
I turned slowly.
God, she said softly. She stood up and walked toward me, trailing her fingertips from my shoulder down to the small of my back. She unhooked my underwear and let it drop to the floor, then pressed her body against my back, her hands sliding around to my stomach. Look at what you brought home, she said to her husband over my shoulder.
He stood up and closed the distance between us. He ran his hands over me, slowly, like he was learning the shape of me — across my collarbone, down over my breasts, his thumbs grazing my nipples until I gasped, then further down across my stomach and hips. He turned me gently and ran his palm over my ass, his fingers pressing between my cheeks. I reached out and gripped his forearm to keep steady.
Vivian laughed low in her throat when my knees softened. She guided me down to the floor, following me onto the plush rug.
My turn to be selfish, she said.
She pulled her dress over her head and knelt over my face, her thighs on either side of my head, hovering just above me. I looked up at her. She was breathtaking from below — her hair falling around her face, her expression entirely composed, entirely in control.
Show me what you can do, she said, and lowered herself to my mouth.
I licked her slowly at first, exploring, learning what made her breath catch and what made her thighs tighten. Her husband knelt between my legs, his eyes moving between my face and his wife’s. He spread my thighs wider and lowered his head, his mouth finding me, and I arched up off the floor with a cry that was muffled against Vivian. He worked me with his tongue and then with his fingers, pressing deep inside me, curling them forward until I was trembling and grinding against his hand.
She’s ready, he said.
Vivian looked down at me with dark eyes. Yes she is, she said. She ground her hips slowly against my mouth. Don’t stop, she murmured.
I felt the tip of his cock against me. I tilted my hips instinctively, opening for him, and he pushed inside slowly, letting me feel every inch. I moaned into Vivian as he filled me and she responded by grabbing my hair and pulling my face deeper into her. He started moving and I lost any grip I had on coherent thought.
His thrusts built in rhythm and depth, his hands gripping my thighs, lifting them higher. Vivian rode my face with her own rhythm, her breath coming in sharp bursts, her fingers twisted in my hair. I was sandwiched between them, overwhelmed from every direction, and I had never felt so entirely taken apart.
She comes first, Vivian said to her husband, breathless.
He moved his hand between my legs and I shattered almost immediately, crying out, my whole body shaking. Vivian held my head firmly in place as I fell apart beneath her.
Good girl, she said softly. Good girl.
Her husband flipped me onto all fours with an ease that made my stomach drop pleasantly. Vivian repositioned herself on the edge of the couch in front of me, spreading her legs, one hand already resting in my hair by way of instruction. I pressed my face between her thighs again as her husband gripped my hips from behind and pushed back inside me. The position drove him deeper and I moaned against her.
I reached up to grip Vivian’s thigh to steady myself and my nails dragged across her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed a fist of my hair.
Do that again, she said.
Her husband wrapped an arm beneath me, his forearm pressing against my stomach, his hand finding my throat. He held me half upright as he fucked me, my back against his chest, completely in his grip. Vivian slid forward off the couch onto her knees in front of us and reached between my legs, her fingers working in circles. I was completely surrounded — his cock, his hand at my throat, her fingers, her mouth finding mine. I came again with a sound I barely recognised as my own, my whole body shuddering between them.
Her husband let go and I folded to the floor. I lay there catching my breath, watching through half-closed eyes as he stood over Vivian, stroking himself. He came with a low groan that seemed to roll through the whole room, spilling across her chest and stomach. Vivian tilted her head back and laughed softly, delighted.
I lay on the rug completely undone, every muscle loose, barely able to form a thought.
Come here, little one, Vivian said. She patted the couch beside her. Clean this up for me.
I pulled myself up and crawled to her. I kissed her throat, her collarbone, worked my lips and tongue slowly across her chest, her stomach, taking my time, feeling her shiver under my mouth. Her husband sat behind me, his hand moving in long slow strokes up and down my spine as I took care of her.
Vivian looked down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read — fond and possessive and deeply satisfied.
What do you think? she asked her husband.
He was quiet for a moment. His hand stilled warm against my back.
She’s exactly what I wanted, he said. Bring her back.
Vivian tilted my chin up to look at her. Well, she said, with that same smile she’d had at the bar. I suppose that’s settled then.
I felt the warmth of the words move through me like the wine had earlier. The night had wound down to something soft and quiet, the three of us tangled and unhurried, and the last thing I wanted was to leave.
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