The Life That Mattered (Life #1)(11)

“Graham, stop…” she breathed his name with little conviction.

My head jerked away, eyes still unblinking.

“Touch Evelyn like I’m touching you, baby.”

My whole body stiffened. “No, baby, do not touch me like he’s touching you.”

Lila ran her hand down my arm which made Graham moan. It did something to me too, but I wasn’t sure what.

“Evie, you were my first kiss,” she whispered in my ear.

My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

No threesomes.

No way.

We weren’t those kind of friends, even if Lila and I practiced kissing on each other before we ever kissed a guy. It was science … an experiment of sorts, not preparation for a threesome.

The bed moved slightly as Graham rocked his pelvis against the back of Lila. Her breath hitched, and her hand slid to my hip, fingers digging into my flesh. She was intoxicated. The Lila I knew would not engage in such behavior.

I was … well, I was nervous and panicked, but also curious. While I didn’t feel tipsy anymore, the residual alcohol in my blood had to be the reason I remained in that spot, perfectly still, instead of flying out of the bed—shocked and offended.

Lila inched her hand from my hip to my breast.

“Fuck yes …” Graham’s throaty enthusiasm did nothing for me.

“Do you like that, Evie?” Lila pressed her lips next to my ear as her thumb brushed my nipple over my nightshirt.

Graham kept one hand between her legs, and god only knows where he had his other hand, but no doubt giving her pleasure. His pleasure seemed to come from her exploring my breast.

“Do you?” I muttered, not feeling it like I felt the pull in the hallway with Ronin. Not feeling it like she felt Graham’s touch.

“I …” her warm breath washed over the side of my face, tiny little pants in response to Graham getting her off. At least, I hoped it was Graham and not me.

Was that what rich people did? Alcohol, sleeping pills, and threesomes?

I found it a little perverted, kind of gross, but still … oddly mesmerizing like I wasn’t really the one on the bed with them. My body no longer belonged to me. These three close friends entertained an odd curiosity, but I wasn’t part of it. No. I remained a bystander who knew it was wrong to watch but couldn’t seem to turn away.

They shifted behind me, and I closed my eyes. After all, it wasn’t real. Lila guided me from my side to my back, greeting me with a glassy-eyed gaze when my eyelids fluttered open. She slid the front of my nightshirt up my body, exposing my breasts. It made every tiny hair on my body stand erect. Her long blond hair tickled my skin as she knelt beside me, lowering her head to my chest. Graham remained on his side with his head propped up on his right arm while his left hand slid into the front of his expensive lounge pants.

Oh god …

Lila drew my nipple into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. It wasn’t bad. I’m not sure it was good either. Just different. Had it been anyone else but Lila, I would have been out of there, halfway back to Aspen already. My best friend’s fascination with my breasts kept me idle, studying her, not really giving a shit about Graham getting off from the show.

Was it her altered state? Did she think of me in a sexual way in her sober state? Did it make her a lesbian or bisexual? Did it make me one for letting it happen?

In a sudden change of events, she teased my nipple with her tongue ring and … well … it sort of turned me on, but I had no impulse to reciprocate. No desire to touch, see, or taste any part of her body.

“This is insane,” she slurred her words as her mouth brushed across my chest to my other breast. “Why is this so hot?” she murmured just before laving my breast with her warm, wet tongue.

I glanced over at Graham again. His jaw was slack, hand going to town, pumping his cock.

It wasn’t hot. It was weird and wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

So. Very. Wrong.

Lila would know it in the morning.

At least that’s what the my-parents-raised-me-right part of my brain said while pleading its case. The rest of my body, specifically my breasts, had a different case to plead. I couldn’t take anything away from my friend; she knew what she was doing, and she did it well.

“Slide your fingers inside her,” Graham’s drunken eyes blinked heavily as he ordered Lila to do something I … I just couldn’t.

Nope.

Ten more piercings and a dozen additional tattoos—sign me up. That was my kind of wild side and impulsivity.

Lila’s mouth feathered up my neck as her hand slinked down my abs. Her lips brushed mine. I stiffened even more, holding my breath.

Some lines weren’t meant to be crossed. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lila’s fingers inside of me would be really hard to mentally shake off as easily as her mouth on mine or her tongue teasing my nipples.

Or was it too late?

I wasn’t familiar with all the acts that two people (no matter their sexual preference) considered sex. For two women, was breast and nipple play considered sex?

Kissing?

Genital rubbing?

Masturbation?

Seriously … I had no clue because I never had any reason to study that topic and consider the possibilities. Until … I found myself on a bed in a Vancouver suite with Lila’s tongue doing things to my nipples—things that awakened possibilities. Would letting it go further make me feel more free, liberated?