Chapter 7: Scissor & Spank
The whiskey burned a smooth, smoky path down Sia’s throat, a fleeting warmth that did nothing to quell the fire still smoldering in her veins. Isabella’s gaze was a physical weight, both appraising and possessive. Before Sia could form a word, Isabella took the empty glass from her limp hand and placed it on the nightstand with a definitive click.
“On your feet, darling,” Isabella commanded, her voice low. There was no malice in it, only absolute certainty.
Sia stood, her legs unsteady. The room seemed to tilt, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold. Isabella’s hands, cool and firm, landed on her shoulders and spun her around to face the vast bed. With a sharp shove, Sia stumbled forward, her palms slapping against the rumpled silk sheets, her face pressed into the fabric that still smelled of Daniel, of Marcus, of their shared sweat.
“Such a pretty picture,” Daniel’s voice came from behind her, thick with renewed interest. Sia heard the soft slap of flesh, and a moment later, Marcus’s low chuckle.
Isabella didn’t waste a second. She climbed onto the bed behind Sia, her movements fluid and precise. She pressed her body against Sia’s back, her skin shockingly cool. Then she hooked a leg over Sia’s hip, rolling them both onto their sides, their bodies forming a twisted, intimate ‘X’ on the mattress. Sia’s face was now buried in the hot, musky junction of Isabella’s thigh, while Isabella’s mouth sought the same from her.
The world narrowed to scent and taste and the frantic, scissoring rhythm of their hips. Sia’s tongue delved into Isabella’s wetness, a tangy, complex flavor that was entirely new. At the same time, Isabella’s mouth worked on her with ruthless expertise, her tongue circling Sia’s clit with a pressure that made her back arch and a muffled scream vibrate against Isabella’s skin. The pleasure was suffocating, all-consuming.
A sharp, stinging crack echoed in the room. Sia jolted, a cry tearing from her throat, muffled by Isabella’s flesh. Heat bloomed across her left ass cheek.
“Fuck, look at that,” Marcus groaned. “They’re both so red.”
Another slap landed, this time on Isabella, the sound just as loud, the impact making her hips stutter for a second before she doubled down on Sia, her fingernails digging into Sia’s thighs.
“Your turn, mate,” Daniel said, his voice rough.
The blows came in a random, brutal rhythm. Sometimes on Sia, making her clench and gasp. Sometimes on Isabella, who would only moan louder, her body bucking. Sia lost all sense of whose body was whose, lost in a haze of overlapping sensation—the punishing sting on her skin, the relentless, devouring pressure between her legs, the taste of another woman on her tongue.
She opened her eyes for a second, looking down the length of her own body. Daniel and Marcus stood on either side of the bed, their cocks hard and gleaming, pre-cum beading at their tips. With every spank they delivered, their bodies jumped, those drops of moisture falling onto her and Isabella’s quivering, flushed skin like hot, shameful rain.
“You like that, don’t you, Sia?” Daniel grunted, bringing his hand down on her with particular force. “You love being our little plaything. Our dirty secret from the petrol station.”
The words should have humiliated her. Instead, they sent a fresh, shocking bolt of arousal straight to her core. She was coming, her orgasm ripping through her without warning, a silent, seizing convulsion that made her teeth clamp down on Isabella’s thigh.
Feeling Sia climax, Isabella followed suit, her own cry a sharp, broken sound as her body went rigid against Sia’s face.
The slapping stopped. The only sounds were their ragged, desperate breaths and the crackle of the fire.
Daniel leaned over the bed, his green eyes dark with a feral light. He wiped the head of his cock through the mess on Sia’s ass, mixing his pre-cum with the sweat and the heat of her skin.
“Now,” he breathed, his voice a low rumble that promised no mercy. “The night’s not over until we’re all properly fucked.”
Sia, her body spent and trembling, could only manage a weak, shuddering nod. The girl from the petrol station was gone, replaced by something hungrier, something wilder, and she knew, with a terrifying thrill, that this was only the beginning.