Chapter 24: The Price of Admission
Time had dissolved into the wet, rhythmic sound and the sharp, citrus-tinged air. Aidan’s world had narrowed to the heat of Jenny’s mouth, the pressure of her throat, and the paralyzing knowledge of Lucia’s gaze on him. His own groan still echoed in his ears, a confession ripped from him.
On the sofa, Lucia hadn’t moved. Her hand was still tucked under Catriona’s, a captive bird. Her eyes were wide, dark pools reflecting the obscene, beautiful act on the rug. The initial horror was still there, but it was now layered with something else—a raw, naked curiosity that had stripped her face of all its earlier judgment.
Catriona studied her profile. She gave Lucia’s hand a gentle, approving squeeze before releasing it.
“It’s not a spectator sport, darling,” Catriona said, her voice a low, intimate murmur that somehow carried across the room. “Understanding requires participation. Don’t you think?”
Lucia flinched, finally tearing her eyes from her sister to look at Catriona. “I… I couldn’t.”
“You could. You’re already part of it now. You’ve seen the machinery. Don’t you want to feel how it works?” Catriona’s smile was benevolent, inviting. She nodded toward Aidan. “Go on. Touch him. See what all the fuss is about.”
Jenny, hearing this, slowed her movements. She pulled back, leaving Aidan glistening and achingly hard in the cool air. She looked over her shoulder at her sister, her expression complex—a mix of challenge, shame, and a desperate hope for validation. She didn’t speak. She just moved slightly to the side, making space.
Lucia’s breath hitched. She looked from Catriona’s encouraging face to Jenny’s defiant one, then finally to Aidan. He met her gaze, his own blurred with lust and a profound disorientation. He saw the battle there—the lifetime of Catholic school teachings and ingrained morality warring with the visceral, pulsing evidence in front of her. The taboo was no longer abstract. It was flesh and heat and sound.
Slowly, as if moving through deep water, Lucia stood from the sofa. She took one step, then another, her socked feet silent on the hardwood until she reached the edge of the white rug. She stared down at him.
“He’s… bigger than I imagined,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could catch them.
Jenny let out a small, wet laugh. “Yeah.”
That one word, so familiar, so sisterly, seemed to break a seal. Lucia knelt. The posture was awkward, foreign. She reached out, her fingers tentative, hovering inches away.
“It’s okay,” Aidan heard himself say, his voice rough. “It’s just… skin.”
Her touch, when it came, was feather-light. Just the tips of her fingers brushing his length, a touch so light it was almost worse than no touch at all. A shiver ran through him, and through her. She saw it, felt it. Her touch grew bolder, her hand closing around him with an experimental firmness. Her medical student’s mind was visibly engaging, cataloguing weight, girth, texture.
“Jesus,” she breathed, not in prayer.
“See?” Catriona said from her perch. She had reclaimed her mimosa and was sipping it, a director enjoying the first act. “He’s quite a phenomenon. Our shared project.”
Lucia’s hand began to move, a slow, uncertain stroke. Her eyes were fixed on her own hand, watching the skin shift, watching him react. Jenny watched Lucia, a strange pride now mixing with the tension on her face.
“Now taste him,” Catriona instructed softly, as if suggesting a new vintage of wine. “Jenny’s done all the work. It’s only fair you get to sample.”
Lucia’s head snapped up, her hand freezing. “I don’t…”
“You do.” Jenny’s voice was quiet but firm. She was kneeling close, her shoulder almost touching Lucia’s. “You want to. I can see it. It’s okay.” There was an older-sister authority in it now, a guidance into this shadow world she now ruled.
The permission, coming from Jenny, seemed to be the final key. Lucia’s defiance had been aimed at this exact thing—proof her sister was corrupt. Now her sister was giving her blessing to be corrupted alongside her. The resistance melted, leaving only a terrifying, thrilling want.
Lucia leaned forward. She didn’t have Jenny’s practiced confidence. Her approach was hesitant, her lips parting just before they made contact. She gave a small, tentative lick at the tip, her eyes squeezing shut as if bracing for an impact.
The taste was a shock—salty, musky, utterly alien and profoundly intimate. Her eyes flew open. She looked at Aidan, then at Jenny, a silent question in her gaze.
“More,” Jenny whispered, coaching. “Take him in. Just a little.”
Lucia opened her mouth wider and obeyed, sinking down an inch, then two. She gagged lightly, pulling back, then went in again, her curiosity overriding her reflex. Her inexperience was electrifying. Where Jenny was a symphony, Lucia was a series of raw, discovery-laden notes. The clumsy suction, the scrape of teeth gently corrected by a touch from Jenny’s hand on her head, the utterly genuine noises of effort and surprise she made—it unraveled Aidan completely.
“Good,” Catriona purred. “Very good. Now together.”
Jenny didn’t need to be told twice. She moved in, her mouth finding a rhythm alongside her sister’s, taking the length Lucia couldn’t yet manage. They touched, their hair mingling, their shared breaths hot against his skin. It was a sight of such profound, forbidden collaboration that Aidan’s vision hazed.
He let his head fall back, a string of broken curses falling from his lips. He tangled one hand in Jenny’s ponytail, the other finding its way into Lucia’s loose curls. He didn’t guide, just held on, anchor points in a crashing sea.
Catriona set her glass down. The quiet clink was a punctuation mark. She rose and walked over, standing behind the kneeling sisters, looking down at her husband’s ravaged face. She placed a hand on each of their heads, a benediction.
“This is the family business,” she said, her voice thick with a possessive delight. “This is how we care for him. How we care for each other. Do you understand now, Lucia?”
Lucia pulled off, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her lip to him. She looked up at Catriona, then at Jenny, who was still moving with relentless focus. The last vestige of confusion was gone, burned away by shared physicality. She nodded, mute, her lips swollen and slick.
“Yes,” she rasped.
“Then don’t stop,” Catriona commanded, her fingers tightening slightly in their hair. “Make him forget his own name.”
The sisters bent their heads together again, a unified front. Aidan felt the build-up, a tidal wave of sensation amplified beyond bearing by the sheer psychological force of the act. He shouted, a raw, unbeautiful sound, as his control shattered.
He came in a violent, pulsing rush. Jenny took it deep, swallowing with a practised ease that made her eyes flutter shut in pleasure. Lucia, caught by surprise, received a hot stripe across her cheek and chin. She jerked back, stunned, her hand rising to touch it.
She looked at the wetness on her fingers, then at Aidan’s spent form, then at her sister’s blissful face. Instead of revulsion, a slow, dazed smile touched her lips. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, but then, holding Catriona’s gaze, she brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean.
Catriona’s laugh was a rich, delighted sound that filled the sunlit room.
“Welcome to the family, Lucia.”