Chapter 50

CHAPTER FIFTY

LAYLA

Club Triskelion is quickly becoming the hottest and most exclusive club in all of Manhattan. Lines snake around the corner of people wanting to check their inhibitions at the door and explore their deepest desires.

The club has been packed full every night this week. Word has spread through the city's elite, and Tristan is receiving requests for membership faster than he can vet the applicants.

We've been holed up in the office all day sorting applicants. There are piles of yes, no, and maybe applicants on the table before me. The pile of maybes seems to be quickly outgrowing the other two piles.

"No more," I huff, placing what feels like my thousandth application on the table.

Tristan returns from a ridiculously long trip to the bar downstairs and enters the office, taking a sip of his whiskey. He retakes his seat beside me on the couch. " Definitely, no more. I think we've both had way more than enough work for today."

"Thank God," I exhale.

"I can think of much better things I'd rather be doing with you." Tristan pulls me into his lap, and his lips immediately finds my neck.

"You're fucking insatiable, Mr. Evans," I tease with a chuckle.

"Fucking addicted is more accurate." He presses a hand between my thighs. "And I still owe you my half of our deal."

My face scrunches in confusion. "Our deal?"

"You let me show the club what a good fucking girl you are," he reminds me. "I'm supposed to show you what it's like to be shared."

"Now? I swallow hard, trying not to panic.

Sex with Tristan is often pushing the limits of what I can handle. In theory— or the vivid faceless dreams I've had since watching that threesome —it seems like it would be amazing. But I don't know if I'll actually be able to survive Tristan and another man.

Or if I want to be with someone else.

That feels foreign even as I think it; my whole sexual life before I met Tristan was full of frivolous and fleeting meaningless sex.

Tristan slides me from his lap and helps me to my feet before standing. As though on cue, there's a knock on the frame of the door. I spin around to find Conor standing on the threshold.

"Did he draw the short straw?" I nervously joke.

"Short straw?" Conor snarks. "We fucking beat the piss out of each other for you."

"You aren't serious!"

"Deadly." Conor closes the distance between us, and suddenly, I find myself sandwiched between two Irish giants.

Fuck, why do they both smell so good?

Staring up at the two of them, my heart pounds against my rib cage as though it's trying to burst free. Conor looks to Tristan for approval, and the moment it's granted, his lips are on mine. His tongue swipes through my mouth, and he takes his time familiarizing himself with me as Tristan's lips find my neck.

They take turns plundering my mouth as their hands roam over my body. Kneading my breasts, trailing along my sides, and grabbing my ass.

Their hands are everywhere.

Tristan and Conor both slip a strap of my dress from my shoulders, and it slides down my body to the floor. Conor palms my breasts and peppers kisses over my cleavage. "My brother is a lucky man. You are fucking gorgeous," he growls.

My skin is on fire from their touch, every nerve in my body overstimulated as they focus their attention on me. I grind my thighs together, trying to calm the growing need in my pussy.

Conor sucks at my nipple, his tongue swirling around it as Tristan continues to kiss over my shoulders and neck. "On the desk and spread those luscious thighs. Let him get a good look at you," he demands before he kisses a trail from my neck to my ear.

I push myself on the desk, sliding back far enough to bring my knees to my chest. With their eyes completely fixed on me, I teasingly slide my bare feet along the edge. Slowly granting them the view I know they want.

The view I want them to have.

They stare at me with undeniable feral need, and I'm unable to control how my body reacts to their desire. To my desire . I can feel my arousal trickling from my pussy and down my ass.

"She's so fucking wet," Conor declares to Tristan. "She looks so fucking sweet. I just want to lick every drop falling from her."

Conor moves between my thighs as Tristan rounds the desk and stands behind me. He leans close. "Should I let him taste you so you can feel his tongue licking over your clit?"

"Please, Sir," I beg, needing someone to finally touch me there. He tips his head, and Conor's stubbled face slides along my inner thigh as he inches toward my pussy. He groans against me as he licks from my entrance to clit with the flat of his tongue. I can't hold back the moan that rattles from me when he licks again. His tongue presses to my entrance, and it pushes it inside of me, swirling it as he sucks my arousal into his mouth.

"Does he feel good, mo cuishle ? Eating my cunt as he demands you to come for him."

"So good," I whimper and lean back into Tristan's chest as Conor licks and sucks as though he can't get enough of me.

My hips begin to ride his face, and I'm seconds from coming when he pulls back. "Do you need permission to come all over my face, beautiful?"

"Yes," I groan.

He grips my thighs and yanks me toward his face. His warm words blow over my swollen clit when he growls, "Then you better hurry up and fucking ask for it."