Seven Scarlet Tales

‘Nice one.’

They rode on in silence for a while, through the single lit street of the tiny town and out into the darkness, rainswept shapes of hills and trees their only view.

‘She’s not wearing knickers,’ said Richard suddenly.

Lucy’s heart contracted.

Rob swallowed. ‘Oh?’

‘I made her take them off to meet you. Seems a waste if you don’t, you know …’

Rob looked at Lucy, who looked at Richard.

‘Do you mind if we do?’

‘Kiss her,’ said Richard. ‘Do what you want to do with her.’

Lucy turned back to Rob.

He took her by the chin. ‘Did you start without me, you two?’ he asked softly.

Lucy shook her head. ‘We waited for you.’

He smiled, and then tilted her mouth into a long, wet kiss. His cheeks and chin were still damp from the rain, and his skin was so cold. But she felt it warm against hers, quickly, and soon all of that was forgotten, locked outside of their embrace.

His long, chilly fingers tapped a path from her knee upwards, finding the heat and shelter of her skirt, delving underneath and massaging her thigh.

Lucy hoped Richard was keeping his eye on the road, and yet she also hoped he was watching, seeing how obedient she was to his will. She had wondered, over and over, how her lovers would feel about seeing her with another man. That Richard had initiated the first opportunity was wonderful to her, a huge weight off her mind. She was grateful and she was accordingly more permissive with Rob than she might otherwise have been, letting him do anything and everything he wanted to her.

She spread her thighs wide and laid her head back, accepting the rude probing of his tongue inside her mouth. Soon enough it was mirrored by the ruder probing of his fingers. He kneaded between her pussy lips with his knuckles, grinding them in her moist slit, bumping over her swollen clitoris.

She began to make deep, throaty sounds of encouragement.

‘She likes that,’ said Richard. An indicator clicked. ‘She likes a good fingering in the car. I should know.’

Yes, you should, thought Lucy, thinking back to that afternoon in the passenger seat of his Mercedes, her skirt rucked up and tights around her knees while he steered single-handedly, reaching over to massage her clit every time they stopped at a set of lights. They had both been strung up with erotic anticipation of her birching.

And now what were they strung up with? The possibilities seemed endless to Lucy as Rob kept his mouth firmly on hers and began to thrust slowly inside her with three juiced fingers. She let her bare bottom squirm against the leather, although it was starting to stick to it.

‘How wet is she?’ asked Richard, negotiating a hairpin bend.

Rob broke the kiss just enough to gasp, ‘Fucking soaking,’ before resuming.

Lucy jolted her pelvis forwards, moaning with satisfaction when Rob’s thumb circled her clit. His hand was all over her, owning her pleasure, while Richard drove implacably onwards, a witness to her brazen lust.

The rain lashed on the windscreen and the engine purred along with her own voice.

‘Make her come,’ said Richard. ‘Make her come all over your fingers.’

The words precipitated the flood. Lucy bucked and mewled under Rob’s domineering mouth and hands, the vibrations from the engine adding to the intensity of it all.

‘She loved that,’ said Richard, his voice scratchy, as if caught on something sharp.

‘Mm,’ agreed Rob, holding Lucy close, stroking her hair. ‘She always does. Don’t you, kitten?’

Lucy rubbed the crown of her head into his chest, the way she had earned that nickname in the first place. She shut her eyes and let the feeling of satiety seep into her bones. The weekend had begun. And it was going to be incredible.

When a lurch and a jolt and a sudden ending of the lovely low-slung vibrations sent her into a tizz, Lucy realised that she had dozed off.