Party Favors 3: Menage a Trois

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 6,568
0 Ratings (0.0)

Irina is thrilled to be visiting Paris, but having to accompany her boss to the investor dinner is a chore she’s not looking forward to. That is, until she meets the son of her boss’s rival - a handsome Frenchman who invites her to drink some absinthe in his swank Parisian loft. With two gorgeous men on either side of her, Irina finds herself caught in the middle of a steaming hot sex party!

Party Favors 3: Menage a Trois
0 Ratings (0.0)

Party Favors 3: Menage a Trois

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 6,568
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Aubrey Watt
Excerpt

“A glass for me, Florent,” Andre said. He poured a measure of the green liquor into the glass. Florent passed him the carafe of ice water, and Irina watched as again the water flowed over the sugar cube and into the glass of absinthe, clouding it where the two liquids met. The ritual was repeated for Florent, and the two men took up their glasses. She felt a pleasant buzzing in her head.
“To the American!” Florent cried, raising his glass in a toast.
“She is Russian, you idiot,” Andre said with a laugh.
“To foreigners, then!” Nothing could dissuade Florent from his joviality. “May every one of them be as deliciously beautiful as this lovely lady here!”
“I’ll toast to that,” Andre said. Their glasses clinked.
Irina took another gulp of her drink. Everything seemed wonderful: the soft candlelight in the room, the handsome men sitting next to her, the Eiffel Tower beckoning from outside the window. She laughed out loud with the pleasure of it.
“She is already feeling the magic,” Florent said. He smiled, and Irina suddenly felt a warmth creep over her body.
“How is the Russian beauty doing?” Andre asked. He reached out one long finger and drew back a lock of her long blonde hair, kissing her shoulder. At the touch of his lips on her skin, an electric shock ran through her body. Goosebumps stood up on her skin.
“Ohh,” she said, her lips slightly parted. The desire that she had felt at their first embrace came back to her in a rush.
Andre continued the line of kisses up her shoulder and onto her neck. Her eyes moved to Florent, who was already filling his second glass of absinthe, but he was not paying attention to them.
Irina’s head was fuzzed and dizzy, her gaze fixed on Florent’s glass. The green liquid, the sugar, the water, then poof! It was white, all white, and Florent was sipping at the delicate cloud of alcohol while the candles burned and the moon moved in its slow arc across the Paris sky. The kisses on her neck grew more insistent, as did the ache betwen her legs. She tilted her head to the side.
“Wonderful,” she said, not knowing herself whether she was referring to the view or to the embrace. It was all wonderful, wasn’t it?
“Will you let Florent join us?” Andre asked. Irina turned to look at Andre and saw only that grin, that childish grin. It reached his eyes and crinkled them at the corners. Looking back to Florent, she saw that he had alreadyy begun to take off his shirt. His blond hair rested softly on broad, muscular shoulders, his skin gleaming in the candlelight.
“Well, Russian princess?” Florent asked. They were both smiling, and Irina smiled too. She was being swept along into a dream, the best dream she could imagine. Two handsome men on either side of her, and the city of lights watching over them all.

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