Chapter 19: The Double Return
The twenty minutes stretched like warm taffy. Aidan moved through the silent house, extinguishing the dining room candles one by one. Each small puff of smoke carried the ghost of the evening's conversations. He could still feel the phantom pressure of Catriona's hand on his thigh, a brand beneath his trousers. In the living room, she had already been at work. The overhead lights were off. A single floor lamp in the corner cast a dim amber pool. The heavy silk curtains were drawn against the night. On the mahogany coffee table, she had placed a half-empty bottle of his good whiskey and two clean glasses next to a haphazard stack of old Playboy magazines, a relic from a bachelor life that felt a thousand years gone.
A low, thrumming bassline seeped from the speakers—a jazz record, something classic and smokey, played just loud enough to mask the absence of ordinary talk.
Catriona stood by the unlit fireplace, a silhouette against the pale stone. She had changed into a simple silk robe, the color of dark wine. It was tied loosely. "Nervous?" she asked, not turning around.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the fabric of his shirt pull tight across his back. "I don't know what I am."
"That's perfect." She finally looked at him, her face half in shadow. "Don't think. Just feel. And watch me."
The doorbell rang, a soft chime that seemed to vibrate in the charged air.
Aidan stayed where he was, a statue by the sofa, as Catriona went to answer. He heard the door open, the faint rustle of coats, the murmur of voices—lighter, higher now, stripped of their husbands' presence. Then they filed into the living room.
Siobhan came first. She’d changed into a simple black dress, the kind that could be for anything. Her blonde hair was down, slightly tousled. Chloe followed close behind, wearing jeans and a soft-looking sweater, her brunette curls tied up in a messy knot. They both had the wide-eyed, breathless look of people who had just run a gauntlet of lies. Their eyes found Aidan immediately, a flicker of apprehension and something hotter, darker, flashing across their faces."Whiskey?" Catriona asked, already pouring two fingers into a glass. Her tone was that of a gracious hostess at a far more conventional gathering.
"God, yes," Chloe breathed, accepting the glass and taking a swift, bracing sip.
Siobhan took hers more slowly, her gaze not leaving Aidan. "Your home is so quiet at night."
"It is now," Catriona said, smiling. She didn't take a drink. She simply stood, holding the bottle, watching them watch him. The jazz saxophone wailed softly in the silence.
Catriona set the bottle down with a definitive clink. "Come here," she said to the women, gesturing to the space on the deep-pile rug before the fireplace. They obeyed, moving with a strange, liquid grace, settling on their knees. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air denser.
She turned to Aidan. "Undress them."
The command, so calmly delivered, sent a jolt through him. He moved forward, his boots quiet on the hardwood until he reached the rug. He stood over Siobhan first. Her eyes were level with his belt buckle. He could see the rapid pulse in her throat. He reached down, his hands feeling clumsy and too large, and found the zipper at the back of her dress. He drew it down slowly. The sound was loud in the hush. The fabric fell away from her shoulders. She shrugged it off, letting it pool around her waist, then wriggled free of it completely. She wore simple black lace beneath. Her skin was pale in the lamplight, her breaths shallow.
He moved to Chloe. She kept her eyes on her whiskey glass as he pulled her sweater up and over her head. Her hair tumbled down. Her jeans were next; he popped the button, dragged the zipper down, and helped her shimmy out of them. She wore matching cream-colored silk. She was trembling, just slightly.
"Now the rest," Catriona murmured from her armchair. She had settled into it, one leg curled beneath her, the wine-dark robe falling open to reveal a bare thigh. Her expression was one of deep, focused appreciation.
Aidan hooked his thumbs into the sides of Siobhan's panties and drew them down her legs. He did the same for Chloe's bra, then her panties. They knelt before him, completely exposed, their skin pebbling in the cool room. The fire was unlit, but a heat was building nonetheless.
"Look at you both," Catriona said, her voice low and warm. "Beautiful." She took a sip from her own glass, which Aidan hadn't seen her fill. "You know what he needs. You've done it before. Just not together."
Aidan's cock, thick and heavy, was already straining against his trousers. Without being told, he unbuckled his belt, pushed his pants and boxers down. He kicked them aside. He stood before them, fully exposed, the sheer size of him drawing a sharp, shared intake of breath from the women.
"Together," Catriona instructed. "Take turns.Taste him. Learn him."
Siobhan leaned forward first, her tongue tracing a slow, tentative line from his base to his tip. A soft moan escaped her. Chloe watched, her lips parted, then she moved in, taking him into her mouth with a sudden, eager hunger. They found a rhythm, not competing, but collaborating. One would lick and tease the swollen head while the other took the length, their hands roaming over his thighs, his abdomen. The wet, soft sounds of their mouths on him mixed with the saxophone's cry. Aidan braced his hands on his knees, his head dropped back, a groan rumbling in his chest. The sensation was overwhelming, a dual pleasure that threatened to short-circuit his mind. He looked over at Catriona.
She was watching, her green eyes dark as forest pools. One hand rested on her knee. The other was beneath the fold of her robe, moving slowly. Her gaze was fixed on the sight before her—her husband, her friends, their mouths working in unison. A faint, serene smile played on her lips.
Aidan felt the telltale tightness coiling deep in his gut, a pressure building toward an inevitable release. "Cat," he gritted out, a warning.
She understood. Her hand stilled. "Stop," she said, her voice cutting smoothly through the music.
The women pulled back, their lips glistening, faces flushed with arousal and effort. They looked up at him, waiting, panting softly.
Catriona uncurled from her chair and walked over. She stood beside him, her presence both commanding and intimate. "You choose," she said to Aidan, her eyes on the women. "Who takes you first? Who gets that first, deep fill?"
His gaze swept over Siobhan, then Chloe. Both were beautiful, both willing, both already marked by him in secret. The memory of Siobhan beneath him, her nails scratching his back, surged forward. He reached a hand out, his fingers brushing Siobhan's cheek."You."
A shudder ran through Siobhan. She rose to her feet, her body aligning with his.
"On your lap," Catriona directed, pointing to the wide, low arm of the sofa. "I want to see everything."
Aidan sat, the cool leather against his back. Siobhan turned, her back to him, and lowered herself slowly, guiding him inside with a hand that wasn't quite steady. She sank down onto him with a deep, guttural cry, her head falling back against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight against him as she began to move, riding him with a rising desperation.
Chloe had crawled closer on her knees, her eyes riveted to where their bodies joined. Catriona knelt beside her, a priestess at an altar. She put a hand on Chloe's back. "Watch," she whispered. "See how she takes him. See how he fits."
Aidan lost himself in the sensation, the tight, hot clasp of Siobhan's body, the slide of her skin against his. He was a piston, driving up into her, each thrust drawing a sharper cry from her lips. The room dissolved into a haze of sensation: the smell of sex and perfume, the sound of skin against skin and ragged breathing, the sight of Chloe's rapt, hungry face, and Catriona's proud, possessive gaze fixed upon him.
The coil snapped.
"Aidan," Catriona's voice rang out, clear and sharp as a bell."Now. Fill her. Let me see it drip out of her."
With a final, powerful surge, he obeyed. He buried himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside Siobhan as she convulsed around him, her own climax tearing through her with a wordless scream. He held there, grinding against her until he was spent, until the last shudder left his body.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted her off him. She slid to the rug beside Chloe, limbs liquid and weak.
Catriona was there instantly, on her knees between Siobhan's splayed legs. She watched, mesmerized, as Aidan's release began to seep out, a slow, pearlescent trickle onto the creamy rug below.
"Perfect," Catriona breathed. Then she leaned back on her heels and began to clap. Slow, deliberate, satisfied applause that echoed in the rhythm-heavy air. She looked at Aidan, then at the dazed, fulfilled women, and her smile was the most beautiful, complicated thing he had ever seen.