One side of Kat’s mouth hitches up into a devious smirk, and, suddenly, I feel like a fly in a spider’s web. I thought we were here to fulfillmysick-fuck fantasy—so why do I suddenly feel like I’m merely a pawn in fulfilling hers?
“Let me introduce you to my friend, Frieda Fucks-A-Lot,” Kat says. She motions to Bridgette who takes that as her cue to pop up and waltz toward me.
Frieda Fucks-A-Lot?
“Hey there, Mr. Faraday,” Bridgette coos in her clipped English, outstretching her arms to me as she approaches.
I take a step back, but Bridgette continues advancing on me. She lays her hand on my shoulder and leans forward as if to kiss my cheek and I jerk back like Bridgette’s hair is on fire. I promised Kat I wouldn’t lay a finger on the “window dressing” of our threesome, whoever that turned out to be, and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna risk making my temperamental “window” beeline out of yet another hotel suite and stomp down yet another hallway in a jealous huff.
But my anxiety about Bridgette touching me and bringing out the terrorist in Kat is all in vain, apparently: Kat’s all charm and ease on the far side of the room, throwing her head back and giggling. “Oh, come on, Mr. Faraday,” she says. “You can give Frieda a little kiss on her cheek in greeting.Of coursethat’s allowed.”
Bridgette turns around to look at Kat and the two women break into peals of laughter.
What the hell? How’d these two become besties so fucking fast? And why the hell is Kat acting like Bridgette’s in on our game? Bridgette’s not aplayerin our fantasy—she’s nothing but a fucking pawn.
Bridgette hugs me and kisses me on both cheeks, but when she does, I recoil at her touch. I want absolutely nothing to do with her. The only person I wanna touch right now is Kat; specifically, I wanna rip Kat’s clothes off and fuck the shit out of her—it’s what I’ve been fantasizing about doing night and day all week long—not sitting in a chair in a corner, jerking off while watching someone else touch and kiss and lick my girl. In fact, the thought of Bridgette—oranyone—laying a fucking finger on my Party Girl with a Hyphen makes my stomach turn over.
“Hey, asshole,” Bridgette says, swatting my shoulder. “Youdidn’t tell me your girlfriend wasthisgorgeous.” She motions to Kat. “I was just telling Kat—Heidi Kumquat”—she giggles and Kat joins her—“if she ever wants to try modeling, she could make an absolutekilling. Look at that bone structure! Those legs! That skin! Oh my God, she’s to die for. I can’t wait to take a juicy bite out of her.” She licks her lips.
Kat told Bridgette she’s “Heidi Kumquat” for the night? So does that mean Kat’s told Bridgetteeverythingabout our little game? Because when I called Bridgette and invited her to our little party, I certainly didn’t. I merely asked Bridgette if she’d come hang out with me and this gorgeous girl I’m seeing, maybe make out with the girl while I watched and wacked off if things were to go in that direction (something I knew would be right up Bridgette’s alley)—but I certainly didn’t mention Kat being my high-priced call girl. What have these two been talking about for the last few hours before my arrival?
Kat’s looking at me with hard eyes, though her mouth is smiling. Jesus. She looks like she’s plotting my murder. Literally.
“No, seriously, hon,” Bridgette continues, sounding remarkably sincere, “I’ll hook you up with a photographer-friend of mine so you can get a kick-ass portfolio together. My agent will crap her pants when she sees you—I’m sure she could get you booked solid, if that’s something you’re interested in.”
“Aw, thanks,” Kat purrs, her smoldering gaze still fixed on me. “You’re a doll, Bridgette.” Her eyes flash. “I meanFrieda.” She smirks. “I’ve got your number—I’ll definitely give you a call. Thanks so much.”
What the fuck? Why did Kat and Bridgette exchange numbers? What could possibly be the point in that?
“Why aren’t you sitting, Mr. Faraday?” Kat says, motioning to a chair in the corner. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Frieda and I are both excited toentertainyou.”
I don’t move. My brain and body are at odds. I know my role and what I’m supposed to do—what I should bewantingto do—but all my body yearns to do is kiss Kat. I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m physically aching for her.
Bridgette claps her hands together. “Okay,lieblinge, let’s start the fun, hmm? You want a drink, Faraday?” She glides toward the bar. “A shot of Patron, I presume?”
Kat levels me with a smoldering stare as she speaks to Bridgette. “Great idea. Would you be a doll and pour me a shot, too? I could use a little liquid courage.”
“Aw, of course,häschen. Don’t be nervous. I’ll be gentle.” She flashes Kat a brazenly sexual look. “I won’t bite youtoohard.” She grabs a bottle behind the bar and begins pouring.
I still haven’t moved from my spot just inside the door. I’m leaping out of my skin. Why do I feel like Kat’s doing this to make me jealous, rather than to turn me on? And why the fuck is it working?
“Why don’t you make those shots doubles?” Kat says to Bridgette. She winks at me and begins gliding toward a couch across the room from my assigned chair, unbuttoning her dress slowly as she goes.
“You got it,” Bridgette coos.
Oh shit. I feel like I’m gonna explode. I’m shaking.
I want her.
I look at Bridgette behind the bar. I have no desire to touch any part of her—and certainly no desire to watch her kiss and stroke and lick my girl, either. If anyone’s gonna do any of that stuff to Kat right now, it’s sure as hell gonna be me.
Fuck this shit.
I march across the room to Kat, thwarting her progress toward the couch, and before she can say or do another goddamned thing, take her into my arms and maul her. My lips are on hers, my hands in her hair, my hard-on pressed into her crotch. Without hesitation, she presses herself into me, throws her arms around my neck, and returns my kiss voraciously.
“Aw, come on—party foul,” Bridgette shouts from the bar. “It took all my restraint not to make a move on your girl ’til you got here, Josh. Kat said we had to wait and I’ve been—”
“We’ll be back,” I bark, grabbing Kat’s hand and pulling her forcefully toward the bedroom. “Come on, babe. Fuck this shit.”
