"I wondered if he smells like you."
Lyda drew back enough to arch a brow. "Pardon?"
Gen swallowed. "Everyone carries a certain combination of scents, natural as well as soap or perfume, that kind of thing. I wondered if your scent is on him."
Lyda's eyes glowed like burnished metal, her glossy lips pursing. "I might just let you get close enough to both of us tonight to find out."
Gen couldn't help taking another look at the distracting size of Noah's genitals beneath the hold of the pants. It hadn't abated since he'd met her at the door.
"On your knees, Noah," Lyda purred. "Keep your eyes on the floor until I say otherwise. Put your hand inside those pants that have all the women creaming themselves and stroke yourself."
Gen's heart fluttered up, not just at the direct order, but at Noah's instant compliance. He dropped with lithe masculine grace. No hesitation. The pants had the provocative flexibility of a condom as he slid beneath the waistband, found himself. She could see the outline of his knuckles, the thickness of his cock as he gripped himself.
"Her pulse just rabbited." Lyda had her thumb alongside Gen's neck as she fondled her hair. "Her pussy's getting wet, the more she thinks about your cock ramming into her."
"No, I..." She didn't think of it that blatantly. Couldn't. Too fraught with potential disappointment. Lyda pushed her hair aside, put her mouth to Gen's ear. Gen let out an unsteady breath as Lyda nibbled and teased the shell, nipped the tender skin beneath.
"What are you thinking then, fierce rabbit?"
"I think about...touching myself while he does that. The other's...too much. Too soon."
"Like this weekend." Lyda lifted her head. Gen kept her eyes on Noah, not sure she could face Lyda's intense scrutiny, but Lyda delved into her guarded consciousness anyway. "Someone's made you gun shy. You have trouble getting out of the way of your own head, don't you?"
Gen guessed that was part of it. She wanted to look at Noah. Doing that, not thinking, was so much easier. He was stroking himself nice and slow, that gorgeous upper body rolling with the movement. Though it captivated anyone looking their way, he didn't seem aware of any other audience. When he dared to flick his gaze up, she saw a male desiring only to pleasure the two of them. The jolt that came from such concentrated attention beat the hell out of a hundred female self-empowerment books.
"You can tell he's stripped for a living once or twice, can't you? He's done a little of everything. But that's not where he belongs. Is it, Noah?"
The sharpness of Lyda's tone pulled Gen out of her head. This time as Noah's gaze rose, Gen saw more than just desire. When he shook his head, Lyda's muscles tensed against her.
"You'll answer me, Noah."
"I only want to pleasure you both, Mistress. Please." The rough plea was a clear request to stay away from whatever gate Lyda was crashing. Lyda considered, pressing her lips together.
"You get a pass for now. But we'll come back to it." Sliding her hand down the side of Gen's throat to her shoulder, Lyda hooked her bra strap beneath the dress's neckline. The pure sexual intent yanked Gen's attention away from the puzzle of that exchange. "Did you buy something nice to wear beneath this dress?"
"Yes." On a normal date, it would be an outrageous question. In this environment, such questions seemed normal. Though Gen wasn't sure what she would do if Lyda told her to strip, right here, right now.
"Turn around. Lean against me and stretch out. Noah is going to give you a foot massage."
"Oh...well, he doesn't need to do that."
"Don't deny him, or yourself, the pleasure."
Noah removed his hand from its distracting task and rose to help. Gen couldn't resist them both. He lifted her legs, helped Lyda turn her so her upper body was settled back against Lyda and she felt Lyda's breasts, molded and held up by the corset, press into her shoulder blades. Lyda's thighs spread to accommodate Gen's hips.
Her arm slid around Gen's waist, her jaw pressed against Gen's temple. Lyda feathered her fingers over Gen's cheek. It started out as gentle as before, but then the pressure on her jaw firmed, turning Gen's cheek toward Lyda's shoulder. This time when Lyda's lips touched Gen's neck pulse, she gave her the edge of her teeth.
Arousal surged within Gen, but panic as well, caused by her lack of control over her own responses. "This feels strange to me."
"This isn't being done for you, but for me, Gen." Lyda spoke against her flesh. "It pleases me to hold you like this, to explore your body while you're stretched out in front of me." She traced the neckline of Gen's dress and played in the valley between her breasts, causing ripples of sensation that ran across them and made Gen shift restlessly.
"When it's not about you, but what I want, what I demand, it becomes easier. Does it feel good, pleasing me?"
It did. But Gen wasn't sure what strings were attached to such a question, so she didn't know what to say.
"Simple truth, Gen. No analysis." Lyda held her chin, her mouth so close to Gen's she couldn't think beyond the thought of how Lyda had kissed her. "Does pleasing me feel good?"
"Yes."