Someone at the other end of the room shushes us. We’re plainly doing this wrong, and everyone knows it. I shake my head at her, and although she smirks at my expression of mild frustration, Solange accepts my offer and slips in front of me. Slowly, so slowly I can barely detect her progress, she rests her back against my chest and puts most of her weight on one hip.

I lean in and whisper my question near her ear. “Better?”

“Yeah.” She angles her head to the side, as though she’s signaling to me that her neck is fair game, and the impulse to suck on the skin there nearly makes my knees buckle. Fuck, I’m reading signals where there are none.

Trying to get a handle on myself, I focus on the exhibitionists on the bed, but it’s a struggle. Solange is surrounding me on all sides: her touch, the faint scent of vanilla on her skin, the miniature clouds of hair filling my peripheral vision and tickling my jaw. Her presence so easily diverts my concentration that somehow the sensual scene in my line of sight is the distraction rather than the main attraction.

There’s no use denying it: I want this woman so bad I can’t think straight. For a man who prides himself on always keeping his wits about him, that’s a serious problem.

Solange

Is this really happening? Am I watching three people having sex in public as I lean against Dean’s chest? Yes, yes, I am.

I wish I could pretend this is an out-of-body experience, but I am very much in my body, and said body is very aware of the man behind it.

The woman on the bed could be me, could be anyone, and I gather that’s where my mind is meant to go. But I don’t think I’m supposed to superimpose Dean’s face on the two men pleasuring her. I’ve created a pair of Deans in my head, and oh my God, they’re experts at bringing me to the brink and electrifying every inch of me.

What was it he said once? I’m never dull when it counts.

Not wanting to torture myself any longer, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to clear my brain. When I return my gaze to the scene, I make every effort to consume it as a spectator rather than a person wishing to be an active participant.

The men are what most people would consider conventionally attractive, both fit but not overly so. One of the men is Black, his skin a deep brown and enviably smooth. The other man is white, his eyes and hair dark as night. The woman appears to be a natural redhead, a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks her most arresting feature.