French Quarter by Lacey Alexander (small books to read .TXT) 📕

and never left. I grew up in Lansing, Michigan, but I’m a Cajun at heart.” He concluded with a friendly wink. “Jack says you’re from Maryland?”

She nodded and wondered if Jack had told his friend why she’d moved to the Big Easy, and what he’d investigated for her. She decided to steer clear of that unpleasant topic. “I’ve been here for six months, but before meeting Jack I really hadn’t had the opportunity to get out and enjoy the town very much.”

“And do you like it?”

“More and more all the time,” she said, again wondering exactly how much Jack had told Ty about their recent string of evenings together.

But that didn’t matter, she reminded herself. Because she regretted nothing she’d done with Jack and she wasn’t ashamed of it, either. And if she and Jack were going to invite Ty into their bed tonight, it was probably better that he knew a little of her recent sexual history.

She bit her lip, realizing with amazement that she was truly considering a threesome with Jack and his best friend. The very thought made her nipples pucker against the gathered fabric of her dress.

After they ordered dinner and a bottle of wine had arrived, Ty excused himself to the restroom, and Jack took the opportunity to place his hand on Liz’s thigh. He leaned nearer. “What do you think of Ty?”

She smiled at her sexy lover in the shadowy room. “He’s nice. Friendly.”

Jack nodded.

“How much did you tell him? About me, I mean. About us.”

He shrugged. “Enough for him to know what kind of entertainment we’ve been enjoyin’ together. Not enough that we don’t have any secrets.”

Secrets. She liked that, the idea of Jack and her having secrets from the rest of the world, the idea that Jack wanted them to have things that remained just between them. Somehow the thought put her more at ease with the concept of a three-way.

“Like I told you earlier, though, chere, it’s all up to you. No pressure. Whatever you want to do. I want to make you happy, want to make you feel good, want to do whatever will leave you the most pleasured in the end.” He concluded with a sexy smile and a caress to her thigh that shot straight to her pussy.

He lowered a soft kiss to her lips just as Ty returned from the bathroom.

As Ty scooted back into the booth, Liz thought perhaps he situated himself a little closer to her than he’d been before. It was probably a matter of centimeters, but his knee touched hers now, his thigh brushed against hers on the leather seat. On her other side, Jack sat close, his fingers still gingerly stroking her leg, just above her knee. The thought made her look down, made her see the dress that had risen more than halfway up her thighs upon sitting, so that the lace edges of her stockings were almost visible. She considered pulling it down, but as a ribbon of excitement wove through her cunt, she changed her mind.

That ribbon of excitement and awareness stretched taut over the course of their meal. It was nothing anyone said or did—conversation flowed normally as the men discussed sports, friends they had in common, their work, and Liz talked about her job a bit, too. No, it was how close each man sat on either side of her, the way her legs touched both of them beneath the table, making her sensitive and ultra-aware of each shift or movement anyone made. Adding to that was the way they did discuss normal things, acting as if a subtle form of foreplay weren’t slowly beginning to take place beneath the tablecloth.

The very act of eating became sensuous, given the sexual tension pulling at Liz from both sides. Her entire body began to feel overly-sensitized. Each soft, warm bite she took of the lasagna she’d ordered, each time she closed her lips around one of the garlic sticks that came along with it, made her more aware of her mouth, her tongue, the movements of her hands. Each drink of wine seemed to slither down through her body. Even the smooth stem of the wine glass in her hand turned into something sensual, so that she found herself running her fingers up and down its length. She felt both men watching her throughout the meal, perhaps becoming as aware of these things as she was.

After they’d eaten and their plates were taken away, Jack returned his hand to her inner thigh, higher this time, his fingers delivering a maddeningly soft caress through her stocking. When she attempted to place her napkin on the table and instead accidentally dropped it underneath, Ty reached down to retrieve it. As he rose back up, he let both his hand and the napkin graze her calf all the way past her knee.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding a bit breathy as he returned it to the tabletop. At that precise moment, Jack’s silky touch rose slightly higher. She parted her legs a little, unwittingly pressing her other thigh more directly against Ty’s. The contact made her look up at him—his eyes held a hint of awareness, a hint of fire. But they also reminded her of what Jack kept saying—this was up to her. The men would follow her lead, she supposed. So even as she lowered her gaze, not quite able to maintain the intensely close contact with Ty, she licked her upper lip and made no move to shift her body away, and hoped that told him she was interested in at least a little more of this experience.

“So, what’s your pleasure, darlin’?” Jack asked with a hint of raw sensuality that made it impossible not to hear the double meaning of the question.

Let’s go back to your place. All three of us. I want this, want both of you on me, in me. But Liz couldn’t say those things, not yet. She still wasn’t completely sure. “Let’s stroll Bourbon Street,”