Chapter 9: Drunk Confessions and Shared Desires
The silence Ellie left behind was a physical weight. Josh lay in the dark, the smell of her on his skin turning sickly sweet. The phone buzzed again on the nightstand. He ignored it. He finally moved only when the gray light of dawn began to outline the blinds, pushing himself into a shower so hot it scalded, as if he could burn away the layer of her.
The workday was a hell of avoidance. He stayed in the office, buried in invoices. Ellie, pale and silent, kept to the front counter. Lily moved through the kitchen with her usual electric energy, but her smiles at him were sharper, more knowing. She’d brush past, her hip grazing his, and whisper, “Rough night?” He’d grunt something non-committal, his gut churning.
By evening, he was raw-nerved and exhausted. He ordered them both to leave early, needing the space. He stayed, trying to balance the books, but the numbers blurred. He finally went home, pouring a whiskey he didn’t taste, collapsing onto the couch in the same spot as the night before. The framed photo glared at him. He turned it face down.
The knock, when it came hours later, wasn't tentative. It was loud, insistent, a rapid drumbeat that brooked no hesitation.
He opened the door, and the world tilted.
Lily and Ellie stood pressed together on his threshold, a dizzying, impossible portrait. Ellie was swaying, her eyes glassy and red-rimmed, her chestnut hair a mess. The scent of cheap vodka and salt hung around her. Lily had an arm hooked firmly around Ellie’s waist, holding her up. Lily’s own cheeks were flushed, but her green eyes were clear, sharp, and blazing with a terrifying comprehension.
“We…” Ellie slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at him. Her face crumpled. “We both know now!” The words ended in a wet, hiccupping sob.
Josh’s blood turned to ice. He just stared, his mind blank.
Lily’s smirk was a blade. “Surprise,” she said, her voice cool. She heaved Ellie across the threshold, the two of them stumbling into the cluttered living room. Ellie slumped against the wall, crying softly into her hands.
Lily turned back to Josh, closing the door with a definitive click. She stepped into his space, so close he could see the flecks of gold in her predatory gaze. “So,” she said, her tone conversational, deadly. “If you wanted both of us, you should’ve just said. Instead of playing the guilty boss with her,” she jerked a thumb at Ellie, “and the dirty texter with me.”
“Lily, it’s not—”
“Shut up,” she cut him off, not unkindly, but with absolute authority. Her eyes locked onto his, and then, deliberately, she turned to Ellie. She cupped the crying girl’s face, tilting it up. “Look at me, sweetie,” Lily murmured. Ellie blinked, her sobs quieting to whimpers. Then Lily kissed her.
It wasn’t a sisterly peck. It was deep, passionate, open-mouthed. Ellie stiffened, then melted into it, a moan escaping her as Lily’s tongue swept into her mouth. Josh watched, paralyzed, his cock hardening traitorously against his will at the sight of Ellie’s surrender, at Lily’s blatant ownership.
After a long moment, Lily broke the kiss, leaving Ellie breathless and dazed. Then she turned back to Josh, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled his mouth down to hers. He tasted the vodka on her lips, and beneath it, the faint, unique taste of Ellie. The transfer of intimacy was shocking, erotic, a violation of every boundary left standing. She kissed him with a bruising intensity, biting his lower lip before pulling away.
“No more talking,” Lily stated. She took Ellie’s hand, then Josh’s, and led them both, a captive chain, down the hall to his bedroom.
She worked with a frightening, efficient clarity. Under the overhead light he flicked on, she pushed Josh to sit on the edge of the bed. She knelt before him, pulling a bewildered Ellie down beside her.
“Watch,” Lily told Ellie, her eyes never leaving Josh’s. She undid his jeans, pulling his cock out. It was fully hard, jutting up, a blatant confession. Lily leaned in, her pink tongue licking a long, slow stripe from base to tip. She then turned her head to Ellie. “Your turn.”
Trembling, Ellie leaned in. Her movements were hesitant, innocent. She pressed a soft, closed-mouth kiss to the side of his shaft.
“Use your tongue, you prude,” Lily whispered, and Ellie flinched, then obeyed, her timid lick following the path Lily’s had taken.
“Good. Now together.”
Lily guided Ellie’s head, positioning them so their faces were side-by-side, their mouths level with the swollen head of his cock. Their breath, one steady and warm, one shaky and hot, mingled on his sensitive skin. Then, in a move that made Josh’s vision blur, Lily flicked her tongue out to lap at the precum beading at the tip at the same moment Ellie, following her lead, opened her mouth and took the very crown inside.
Their lips and tongues met around him, a wet, sliding collision of flesh. He groaned, a raw, animal sound, his hands fisting in their hair—the springy curls of Lily, the silken fall of Ellie. They learned a rhythm. Lily would suck him deep into her throat, gagging lightly, then pull back so Ellie could swirl her tongue around the rim. They kissed each other around his shaft, their moans vibrating through him.
“Enough,” he gasped, pulling them up by their hair. The need to dominate, to claim, overrode everything. He pushed them onto the bed, on their hands and knees, side-by-side. Lily smirked over her shoulder, arching her back. Ellie just trembled, hiding her face in the duvet.
He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, rolled it on. He didn't hesitate. He positioned himself behind Lily, guided his cock to her slick entrance, and shoved in with one powerful thrust. She cried out, a sound of pure satisfaction, pushing back against him instantly. “Fuck yes, finally,” she growled, taking him deep.
He fucked her hard, his balls slapping against her, the sound filthy and loud. After half a dozen punishing strokes, he pulled out, glistening with her wetness. He shifted over to Ellie. She was sobbing quietly into the bedding. He pushed her thighs wider, not gently. He pressed the head of his cock against her drenched, tight opening.
“Look at me, Ellie,” he commanded, his voice hoarse.
She turned her head, her cheek against the sheet, her eyes shattered.
“Watch me fuck her, then watch me fuck you.”
He drove into her, and her whole body jolted. She was impossibly tight, clenching around him in shocked waves. He set a brutal pace, owning her, reducing her to gasps. Then, after a minute, he pulled out and plunged back into Lily’s willing, hungry heat.
He became a machine of pure appetite, pivoting between their bodies. Lily chanted, “Harder, god, right there, you bastard.” Ellie just whimpered his name, a broken prayer. The room filled with the symphony of their sex: slapping skin, choked moans, the creak of the bed, his ragged grunts.
The condom felt like a barrier he suddenly couldn't stand. He pulled out of Ellie, tearing it off. “Turn over,” he ordered Lily. She rolled onto her back, understanding instantly, spreading her legs. He mounted her, slamming back inside her bare, welcoming cunt. The feel of her, raw and hot, undid him. He fucked her with a frantic, final desperation, his eyes locked on Ellie watching beside them, her hand moving between her own legs.
His climax tore through him like a lightning strike. With a guttural roar, he pulled out of Lily at the last second. He scrambled over Ellie, his cock pulsing, and jets of hot come spattered across both their stomachs, their breasts, striping their skin with the physical proof of his transgression.
He collapsed between them, spent, the air reeking of sex and sweat and salt. For a long moment, there was only the sound of three people trying to remember how to breathe.
Lily was the first to move. She sat up, looked at the mess on her torso, then at Ellie’s, and let out a low, incredulous laugh. “Well,” she said, swiping a finger through the cum on her stomach. “Now we really both know.”
Ellie flinched as if struck. She scrambled off the bed, grabbing her discarded dress, holding it to her chest like a shield. She looked from the smirking Lily to the hollow-eyed Josh, her expression shifting from post-coital haze to a dawning, horrific clarity.
Without a word, she fled the room. The front door opened and closed, quieter this time. Final.
Josh stared at the ceiling. Lily stretched beside him, cat-like, unconcerned. “She’ll get over it,” Lily murmured, tracing a pattern on his chest. “Or she won’t. But you got what you wanted, didn’t you, boss?”
He had. And as the cold reality seeped into his bones, he knew, with absolute certainty, that it had just cost him everything.