“I would be happy to assist you,” Neil said, pushing his chair back.
“I would be happy to watch.” El-Mudad rose and offered me his hand. “I need a bit of a break. Honestly, Neil, I don’t know where you get your stamina.”
“Cialis, mostly,” he said, his neck coloring with embarrassment. He still had a bit of a hang up on the fact that he relied on erectile dysfunction medication.
“I send the CEO of the drug company a Christmas card every year,” I quipped. “But he’s also got…what was it you said once? ‘The libido of a seventeen year old?’”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
We went to the bedroom, and I left Neil and El-Mudad to go to the closet. I stripped down and selected a shimmery gold silk and black lace Agent Provocateur slip and shimmied it down over my hips. Though admittedly the choice was made out of a desire to look hot, the overall idea of wearing something to bed was wholly practical; sleeping with one person could get a little warm in the night. Sleeping with two people, especially if I wound up between them, turned into New Orleans in August.
Or, so I’d heard. That was another place I’d never been.
I don’t know why that bothered me so much, and why the wanderlust had hit me tonight, when there were other things that should have been on my mind. I’d had so many amazing experiences with Neil in our life together. Did it truly matter if I never went to New Orleans or Venice or the Riviera?
I put those thoughts from my head and indulged in a replay of what I’d come home to. Seeing my husband making out with another man would have been a tragedy in a Lifetime Original Movie, but in reality, it was super hot. I was just disappointed to have missed out on watching the blowjob.
Just thinking about it got me wet.
“Sophie?” Neil called.
“Coming!” I hurried out of the closet.
“I hope not yet,” El-Mudad quipped, but he grew quite serious at the sight of me.
Neil balled up his sleep pants and tossed them aside. He was already half-hard. I would have liked to take some of the credit, but I suspected there had been pre-hanky-panky hanky-pankying going on while I’d been changing.
“Since El-Mudad is taking the night off, we’ve come up with something a little…less strenuous.” Neil nodded toward El-Mudad. “We thought he might go down on you while I watched.”
“But you’re going to fuck me, right?” I asked. Not that El-Mudad eating my pussy wouldn’t have been enough all on its own; the man’s tongue was tireless.
“Oh, I’m going to fuck you,” Neil promised.
I pointed to El-Mudad. “And then, it will be your turn to watch.”
He shrugged. “I’d like to lend a hand, if I may.”
“I think I could stand that.” I swayed on my feet, drunk on anticipation.
El-Mudad sat on the edge of the bed and patted the duvet. “Get up here.”
A little skip snuck into my step as I hurried over to the bed. But when I climbed on, El-Mudad’s hand closed over my ankle, stopping me from crawling to the center.
“There was something else Neil and I discussed.” El-Mudad paused. “I asked his permission. And now, I’m asking yours.”
I swallowed nervously. “W-what are you asking for permission for?”
His hand slid up, over the curve of my calf, then skimmed the back of my thigh. “I’d like to spank you.”
My chest locked down on the breath in my lungs, and my heart sped up in desire and apprehension. El-Mudad had never spanked me before, never caused me physical pain at all. Once, during a scene, Neil had instructed him to slap me, but I hadn’t wanted that. I’d analyzed that moment, my denial, so much, but I still wasn’t sure if I simply didn’t have feelings for El-Mudad that included pain, or if I just felt as though all my pain belonged to my Sir.
When El-Mudad was included in our scenes, he was always the one who comforted me, who took the pain away, while Neil was the one to inflict it. I couldn’t imagine El-Mudad in the role.
But I didn’t have to imagine, did I?
Cautiously, I knelt beside him to look down into his gorgeous eyes. In the low light from the bedside fixtures, the brown lit up like the deepest golden topaz. I turned to Neil, my pulse beating hard between my legs. “And you’re okay with this?”
“I won’t know until it happens,” he admitted. “But I gave him permission, yes. Now, all he needs is yours.”
I took El-Mudad’s hand in mine and lifted it, comparing the size and shape to my own. Would they feel different from Neil’s? I might be a little disappointed if they didn’t; I wanted to believe I would be able to tell my Sir’s slaps apart from anyone else’s.