Wild Violet (The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) (8 page)

They spend a bit of time sipping their drinks on an extra-wide, plush cream sofa on the top floor of the brownstone with soft, sensual music playing in the background. Vi’s in the middle, her back against Andrés’s chest. Being close to him gives her a sense of comfort and safety.

Talking to Senna is like talking to any of her girl friends, but with a bit more touching involved. Senna would casually touch her arm or move her hand along Vi’s leg. Already she can feel how attracted Senna is to her, and the feeling isn’t wholly one-sided. There’s something potent and tangible in the desire she’s directing toward Vi. It’s impossible to feel immune to it. Instead, it’s turning Vi on more with every passing minute.

Without warning, Senna leans over and kisses Vi on the lips. “You have the softest lips, Laurel.” She parts Vi’s lips with hers and enters Vi’s mouth with her tongue. Vi matches the strokes, licking and sucking. Andrés lowers Vi’s backless dress down to her waist. Senna smiles playfully at him before running her tongue around the soft underside of Vi’s breast. “She’s exquisite, Andrés.”

Vi circles her arms around Andrés’s neck as Senna continues to caress and fondle her breasts. Senna tugs and pulls lightly at Vi’s hard nipples before taking one into her mouth and sucking hard. Vi moans with pleasure as Andrés bends down and suckles her earlobe. Senna moves onto the next breast, leaving a wet trail as she goes.

Andrés’s hand pulls up the bottom of Vi’s dress, exposing her throbbing pussy. All the hands and lips on Vi are overwhelming her with sensations she’s never fully experienced before.

Senna presses her now naked body against Vi, her own hard nipples poking into her new friend. Vi watches as Andrés lowers his mouth onto Senna’s. Their collective sensual moans stir Vi’s desire. At the same time, she feels a slight pang of jealousy. Vi pushes away this awareness that threatens to ruin the moment.
Could their relationship even possibly be the same after tonight?

Vi reaches behind her and takes Andrés’s hard cock into her hand. He hisses as she strokes his velvet-soft hardness. Senna and Andrés are locked in their own passionate kissing. Vi reaches around her firm ass and touches Senna’s open, dripping pussy. Senna briefly pulls away from Andrés, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of Vi’s hand on her. Vi first traces the outer lips then spreads Senna’s juices around the hole before inserting two fingers inside.

The hot walls of Senna’s vagina squeeze Vi’s finger. The sensations from the kissing and touching, mingled with the pleasure she’s offering this beautiful woman, is a high unlike anything Vi’s ever had.

Senna takes it as an invitation to explore Vi’s own, wet cunt, her hand moving lower until she reaches Vi’s pulsing clit. She rubs her fingers up and down, lubricating it with Vi’s wetness then sucking her fingers. Their lips are moving over each other’s, tongues licking and sucking, no longer distinguishing the person. It’s purely physical now, no one caring or wondering who is touching or kissing whom.

Vi continues to get Senna off, driving her fingers in and out. Senna moans her enjoyment as she moves her hips to the rhythm.

“Kiss me,” Andrés whispers to Vi. She smiles seductively at him and adjusts her position to allow Senna to keep fingering her as she lowers her head to his waiting cock, licking his pre-cum before taking him completely in her mouth. She moves up and down his shaft, mirroring Senna’s pace. They continue this way until Vi feels her orgasm coming. She draws herself up as Senna thrusts a finger into her, pushing her further into her ecstasy.

Vi raises her pelvis off the sofa as she begins to come. Senna takes over for her, gliding her tongue over Andrés’s rock hard shaft while Vi massages her own engorged tits, savoring the sensual touch and feel inside and outside of her. An uncontrollable gasp escapes Vi when she crashes down hard. With her body trembling and quivering in pleasure, Vi and Senna share Andrés, one sucking his cock as the other licks his balls. Vi comes down from her orgasm, then kneels on the floor and replaces her fingers with her tongue, excited to taste Senna’s sweetness.

Suddenly, she feels Andrés behind her. He grips her waist tight and pushes himself into her. Vi pours her bliss into Senna, her tongue invading the woman’s soaking cunt.

Andrés starts to thrust into her harder, the image of Vi eating out another woman making him lose himself in his desire. Sharing her like this turns him on more than he thought it would. However, a small part of him hates it. Seeing her at the mercy of another, and him, is almost too much. She’s far more precious to him, and he couldn’t recognize it until now.

He closes his eyes and loses himself in Vi, his cock covered in her juices. Andrés leans over Vi’s back and cups Senna’s breasts, tweaking and squeezing them. No, he can’t dismiss his job, but being with Vi makes him want to forget everything. His thrusts become deeper, his tempo changing as he feels Vi begin to climb again. He doesn’t want her to come yet. Sweat drips from his body and covers Vi’s back as he tries to hold himself back. She can feel it too, and she loves how into it—into her—he is. But she hasn’t forgotten why she’s there either and continues to eat Senna’s pulsing snatch, creating a frenzy inside this woman whose husband was too blind to ever see her for the sexual being she is.

Senna arches her back off the sofa as her orgasm starts to take hold. Andrés pistons his hips in and out of Vi faster than before. She moans into Senna’s pussy as she nears her second release. She grips Vi’s hair and holds her firmly to her cunt. Vi can taste and feel her throbbing, sensitive clit as Senna finally lets go.

Andrés grunts and hisses when he feels Vi’s snatch begin to pulsate around him. His pounding become more forceful as he pushes Vi harder than he ever has. He’s punishing her, punishing himself for this. It’s bittersweet for him. Sharing her like this is too much for him. He finally loses himself as his swollen cock explodes into Vi.

They collapse onto each other, kissing and caressing as they start to come down from their nirvana.

“Double vodka, Grey Goose if you have it,” Vi says, removing her coat and perching on a stool at the far corner of the bar. She watches with amusement as a young male couple belts out the final verse of “Suddenly Seymour” from
The Little Shop of Horrors.

“Being with the family too much to handle on Thanksgiving?” The bartender offers a sympathetic smile as he slides the glass toward her.

Vi smiles back, hoping a little friendliness might get her a drink on the house. “Try Thanksgiving with the dysfunctional social elite.” She downs half her drink and claps as the couple takes a slight bow for their performance.

“Sounds like Thanksgiving in my home,” he replies, drying glasses.

“So you opt for a quiet night at work instead?” She says chuckling, eyeing the same couple who are just starting the first notes to “I Know Him so Well,” from the musical
Chess.

He shrugs. “I’ve learned to tune it out. Besides, some of the people that come in here have impressive voices. It is New York after all. There’s no shortage of failed wannabe performers who need their five minutes in the spotlight.”

“True.” Vi turns back to the couple and listens.

When she first stumbled upon the tiny karaoke bar on St. Mark’s Place, she was skeptical since she had a preconceived notion that karaoke smacked of people’s desperate need for affirmation and attention. What she found was quite the opposite—they were all quite happy to sing whatever they wanted without a care in the world. The freedom to do as they wished was something she could appreciate, and over time, when she’d grow tired of her shoe closet of an apartment, the not-so-quiet company of these never-to-be-heard-on-Broadway patrons was something she’d come to appreciate.

“Want to talk about your Thanksgiving?” The bartender leans onto the bar.

“Don’t you have clients to serve?” Vi looks over at the four other people at the bar.

He follows her gaze. “Nope. They’re set. Want to talk about it? Being a bartender makes me a quasi-therapist.”

Vi shakes her head. “Nothing in particular. Thanksgiving isn’t a holiday for me, so I can’t attribute any real importance to it.”

“Right, I get it. Well, it used to be a big deal at my house until my parents divorced when I was ten.”

“Uh-huh,” Vi feigns interest, drumming her fingers on the bar, hoping someone will interrupt him before he breaks out into some sob story.

“Then after that, I was with a different parent every year, but it was never the same. When my dad got remarried, my mom changed. She just didn’t want to try during the holidays. I guess she got depressed.”

“That sounds utterly miserable,” Vi offers, beginning to wonder if she should’ve taken Dahlia up on her proposal to go to some pop-up club in DUMBO. But she couldn’t be bothered. It was pretty obvious that Dahlia was high throughout much of the Baron Thanksgiving party, which was an even more elaborate affair than the year before. Spending time with Lily wasn’t going to happen since she and Jack were leaving that very night to join his family in Paris.

“Then my dad kicked me out a few years back and that was it.”

Vi turns her attention back to the bartender. “Dad’s an asshole, yeah?”

He nods. “Damn prick.”

“What did you do?”

“After he kicked me out?”

Vi shakes her head. “No, to piss him off?”

The bartender holds up a finger and goes to refill a beer for one of the patrons. “Screwed his wife.”

Vi chokes on her drink and sputters. “Wasn’t expecting that. Sorry.”

He laughs. “Neither was I.”

“You make it a habit of fucking your dad’s better-halves?”

He shrugs. “Total lapse in judgment. In my defense, I was a teenager when she seduced me. Kinda hard to resist when this hot woman is sticking her tits in your face.” His full lips slide into a half-smile.

Nice guy who doesn’t show an ounce of remorse. Go figure.
“And now?”

“No more Thanksgiving at his house or anything. He froze my trust indefinitely, but my mom has her lawyers working on that since a lot of that money is from her family. It’s all such bullshit you know. Ever since their divorce I feel like I’m the one who keeps getting fucked over. At least now, I’m not at the mercy of my Dad. I’ll take being poor over that any day.”

Vi finishes her drink, considering those words. She envies him, the freedom he has to do what he wants, unafraid of what living without his parents’ money means.

She sighs and runs her finger along the rim of the glass.

“Hey, by the way, aren’t you in my Religions of India class?” He asks.

She looks up and studies his face, not having taken a good look at him before in the dimly lit space illuminated by a single black light in the corner. He has big chocolate brown eyes that make him appear more innocent than he is, considering he fucked his own step-mother. Her eyes fall on his lips. Those lips with his big eyes are a winning combination in Vi’s book.

But ever since that night with Senna and Andrés, she hasn’t been in the mood. She came home a few days later to find an envelope with five thousand dollars in cash that he had slid under her door. No note. It wasn’t hard to interpret the message—whatever it was they’d had is no more.

Is that why I agreed to that night in the first place? In order to push things toward some kind of end—to be together or not at all?
She shakes her head to banish the thought, tired of thinking about it anymore.

“So I’m mistaken?”

“No sorry, I was just thinking. Maybe . . . it’s a big class. You mean the one taught by Professor Gilbert?”

“That’s the one. I thought it was you. Wait, turn around and look over there.” He points to the poster of Dolly Parton on the wall.

Vi does as she’s told.

“It is you. I recognize the back of your head.” He chuckles.

“That’s utterly ridiculous,” she replies, trying not laugh.

“No really. You got everyone’s attention when you and Prof. Gilbert had that argument about the source of the
Bhagavad Gita
and it being an allegory for the soul and stuff. You had some interesting things to say. Are you a Divinity major or something?”

Vi shakes her head. “Math.”

“You’re kidding?” He refills her glass when she points to it.

Again she shakes her head. “Why is that funny?”

“For starters, you are too much of a babe to be math-smart.”

Vi’s left eyebrow goes up. As if she hasn’t heard that enough times. “You’re implying that attractive women can’t be competent in math?”

His smile widens, and he surreptitiously takes a sip from a glass behind the bar. “From my experience, most women with brains try to hide behind their looks. I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s cool.”

“And you?” Vi feels herself calming down. His knee-jerk reaction is yet another reason why she never enjoyed dating. Most men were either intimidated by her looks or her intelligence. She really couldn’t win, except with Andrés who seemed to like everything about her.

Vi’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted when a microphone is shoved in front of her. “Do a duet with me.” The bartender winks, waving his own microphone at her.

“No,” she mouths, not wanting to offend the other patrons.

“Come on,” he urges. “Just one, and your next drink is free.”

Vi looks down at her glass. “Tempting but . . . .”

“Don’t think math-girl. Just sing.”

The lines on the screen begin to scroll. “I’m not singing that. Do people even listen to ABBA anymore?”

“Just do it.”

The gay couple winks at her and helps her with the first few bars of the song. Before she knows it, the words come out despite her best efforts to resist.

The bartender takes her hand at the end, and together they take a bow. “I’m Todd, by the way. What’s your name?”