Chapter 5: The First Taste
Fiona’s lips parted. Her breath, warm and quick, washed over him. There was a suspended second of pure anticipation, a silent vow exchanged in the flickering light, and then her mouth was on him.
The wet, enveloping heat was an electric shock. Aidan’s head tipped back, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, rose almost involuntarily, his fingers threading into the dark silk of her hair.It was instinct.It was gratitude.
“No.”
Catriona’s voice was a whip-crack, slicing through his pleasure. Her hand, still on Fiona’s shoulder, pressed down with firm authority. “Your hands do not guide her, Aidan.They stay on her head, but they do not push.You hold still. You receive.”
He forced his fingers to relax from their gripping tension, to simply cradle Fiona’s skull. The discipline was a new kind of ache, a fierce counterpoint to the soft, skilled movement of her tongue.He looked down.
Fiona’s eyes were closed, her lashes dark fans against her cheeks. She worked with a focused, eager artistry, her head beginning to bob in a slow, deep rhythm.A soft, desperate sound escaped her, vibrating through him.
“That’s it,” Catriona murmured, her voice dropping into a register of dark, intimate praise. She watched, her green eyes tracking every movement, the flush on her own chest deepening.“Look at her. Look at how she takes it. She’s wanted this for a long time, haven’t you, Fi?”
Fiona couldn’t speak, but she made a muffled, affirmative sound, her pace increasing.A strand of saliva gleamed on her chin.
“She’s thought about this in her quiet little house, in her boring marital bed,” Catriona continued, the words both cruel and tender.“She’s imagined what it would feel like to be properly filled. And now she knows.” Her hand slid from Fiona’s shoulder to the nape of her neck, not pushing, but present.A conductor’s touch.“You’re doing so well. Taking him so deep. Such a good cocksucker for me.”
The filth of the word, spoken in Catriona’s cultured, melodic voice, sent another jolt through Aidan. His thighs trembled with the effort of absolute stillness. He was a statue, a monolith being worshipped, every nerve ending screaming under the patient, relentless attention of her mouth.
Fiona moaned around him, one of her own hands coming up to cup the heavy weight of him, her thumb stroking the base.The simple acknowledgment of his size, her wonder at it, undid another piece of his control. His breath came in short, sharp gusts.
“Look at me, Aidan.”
He dragged his gaze from the breathtaking sight of Fiona’s lips stretched around him and found his wife’s eyes. They were blazing, fierce with possession and a wild, shared lust. She was perfectly still, but every part of her was vibrating with intensity.
“You feel how eager she is?” Catriona whispered.“How empty she’s been?You’re not just fucking her. You’re answering a question she’s been asking for years.”
Fiona’s noises grew louder, more urgent.Her free hand drifted between her own legs, her fingers circling with frantic need.
Catriona saw it.A new, sharper smile touched her lips.“No, Fiona. Not yet. That’s not for you to decide.” Fiona’s hand stilled instantly, a whimpering protest catching in her throat. “His hands may not guide you,” Catriona said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant for all of them, “but mine can.”
She increased the pressure on Fiona’s neck, not a brutal shove, but a firm, undeniable directive.Fiona understood, surrendering completely to the guidance. Catriona set the pace now, a deep, slow, consuming rhythm that made Aidan see stars at the edges of his vision. The syncopation was perfect: the rain on the window, the crackle of the dying fire, the slick, wet sound of Fiona’s mouth, and Catriona’s soft, commanding breaths.
Aidan was unmoored, lost in the sensation and the surreal, breathtaking sight of his wife orchestrating his pleasure with such focused ardor. He was hurtling toward a peak, a familiar tension coiling savagely in his gut.
“Don’t you dare,” Catriona warned, reading the clench of his jaw, the tightening of his abdomen. “You do not finish there. That’s not where this ends.”
With a final, lingering pull, she guided Fiona’s head back, breaking the connection. Fiona gasped, her lips swollen and wet, her eyes dazed and pleading. A thin strand still connected her mouth to him, glistening in the firelight.Catriona stood, her own breathing unsteady. She looked from Fiona’s desperate face to Aidan’s strained one, a sublime authority in her posture. “Stand up, Fiona.Turn around. Bend over the back of the couch.”
The command hung in the air.Fiona stumbled to her feet, her legs unsteady. She turned, presenting the full, generous curve of her backside to the room, and lowered herself over the worn leather couch back, her arms stretching out ahead of her.She was open, exposed, waiting.
Catriona walked to Aidan.She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the frantic hammer of his heart. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear, her voice a private, heated promise. “Now you fuck her.You look at me while you do it.You watch me watching you claim her. And you fill her up.I want to see it happen. I want to see her feel it.”
She stepped back, sinking into the armchair directly in Fiona’s eyeline, a queen on her throne. She curled her legs beneath her, her green eyes wide and demanding. “Now.”
The permission was a detonation.Aidan moved behind Fiona, his hands finding her hips. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against her slick, welcoming heat. Fiona cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound of pure need as he began to push inside.
It was a tight, breathtaking stretch. He saw the muscles of her back tense, then relax into a profound acceptance as he seated himself fully within her, a low, continuous moan pouring from her lips.
“Look at me,” Catriona breathed.Aidan raised his eyes. He locked onto his wife’s gaze as he began to move, drawing back and then driving forward with a slow, devastating power. Fiona’s cries filled the room, but they were background noise to the silent, searing conversation happening between husband and wife. In Catriona’s eyes, he saw a reflection of his own savage wonder, a shared victory, a love so deep it had carved out this strange, dark, beautiful space for them.
“Harder,” Catriona whispered, her own fingers digging into the arms of the chair.
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming sharper, deeper, the sound of their bodies meeting turning skin-slapping sharp.Fiona’s pleas dissolved into incoherent, ecstatic babble.
Catriona’s lips were parted, her chest heaving. She was floating on the edge of her own arousal, carried by the sight she had authored. “You see?” she gasped, her voice thick.“You see how she takes it?That’s yours. That’s for us.”
The end was a tidal wave, building from his soles, up through his shuddering legs, a roaring pressure he could no longer contain.His rhythm fractured, becoming frantic, urgent.
“Now,” Catriona commanded, her body leaning forward.“Inside her. Let me see.”
With a final, driving thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go, and let go. A guttural shout was torn from him as he pulsed within Fiona, who clenched around him with a sharp, keening cry, her own release triggered by the violent, claiming finality of it.
For long seconds, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the rain. Aidan stayed there, locked inside her, his eyes never leaving Catriona’s. She watched, unblinking, as he finally withdrew, as the physical evidence of his possession began to seep from between Fiona’s trembling thighs.Catriona released a long, trembling sigh. A single tear tracked through the freckles on her cheek, but her smile was one of triumphant, satiated glory. She uncurled from the chair and walked to Fiona, stroking her damp hair.
“Perfect,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.Then she looked at Aidan, her eyes soft and fierce. “Come here.”