Game night 2

Claire returned to her seat, legs a little unsteady, a half-smile on her face as if nothing had happened. The tension from her minute on Marcus’s lap hadn’t disappeared—it had settled, sunk into the room like a low frequency everyone felt but no one acknowledged.

Nia whistled under her breath. “Okay. That’s going down as one of the hottest dares I’ve seen outside a party with blackout curtains.”

Claire laughed, but her eyes never left John.

He shifted in his seat, hard and hiding it. The room was too warm now. He picked up his drink and downed what was left in a single swallow.

The bottle spun again.

It landed on Claire.

She turned, slow and sharp, toward John.

“Truth,” she said.

John raised his brows. “Me?”

She nodded, licking her lips. “Have you ever masturbated thinking about me… with someone else?”

The silence hit hard.

Nia raised an eyebrow and let out a low, amused whistle.

John opened his mouth. Closed it.

Claire tilted her head. “Be honest.”

John swallowed and just took a sip.

“Yes”

Her smile deepened.

Marcus leaned back on the couch, arms spread, eyes steady.

Claire didn’t say another word. She didn’t have to.

Next turn: Nia to Marcus.

“Dare,” Marcus said.

Nia grinned like she’d been waiting. “Whisper something you’d say during sex… to Claire. Out loud. Real volume. We all get to hear it.”

John’s stomach dropped.

Marcus didn’t flinch. He leaned forward slowly. Claire sat still.

Then he brought his lips close to her ear and said something no one else could hear—but everyone saw land.

Claire inhaled sharply.

Her thighs shifted.

She closed her eyes for a second—just a second—but when she opened them, her face had changed.

Flushed. Breathing different.

She looked down.

John’s heart hammered. He didn’t ask what Marcus said. He didn’t want to know.

He wanted to know too much.

Claire spun the bottle again.

It pointed at Nia.

Claire leaned in. “Dare.”

Nia looked game.

“I dare you,” Claire said slowly, “to kiss Marcus. In front of me. No peck. A real kiss.”

Marcus looked amused.

Nia didn’t blink. “You sure?”

Claire just nodded.

Nia straddled Marcus’s lap like she’d done it a thousand times—which she probably had—and leaned in.

Their kiss was deep. Hot. Wet. Lasting.

Claire watched the whole thing, lips parted, eyes sharp.

John didn’t blink.

Nia pulled away with a smirk, wiped her mouth. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said to Claire.

Claire shrugged. “I know.”

Next: Marcus to Claire.

He turned his head lazily. “Dare.”

Claire raised an eyebrow.

“I dare you,” Marcus said, “to sit on your boyfriend’s lap… and describe how it felt when you were on mine.”

Claire stood slowly.

John didn’t know if his legs would hold if she asked him to stand.

She walked over and lowered herself onto his lap. She didn’t straddle him—just sat sideways, gently, like a girl on a date.

But her weight was enough. He was already hard. She could feel it.

Claire looked into his eyes.

“It was warm,” she said, voice soft.

Marcus watched calmly from the couch.

“It was thick. I could feel him pressing up against me before I even settled in.”

John’s breath caught.

“He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. But I knew.”

She brushed a hand down John’s chest.

“I stayed there. Because I wanted to. I felt it… pulsing. Growing.”

John’s hands gripped the couch.

Claire leaned in to his ear. “And you were watching.”

He nodded.

She kissed his cheek, then stood.

Walked back to her seat.

The bottle spun again. It pointed at John.

Nia leaned forward, devil in her grin. “Dare.”

He hesitated. Nodded.

“I dare you,” she said, “to touch yourself. Over your pants. While Claire talks dirty to you.”

Claire didn’t wait for permission.

She stood, walked over to him, sat on the floor between his knees.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

He did.

Her voice came low and smooth.

“You were thinking about it this morning, weren’t you? Me and Marcus. Still sweaty from the workout. Him behind me, pressing in.”

John’s hand moved. Pressed.

“He’s so big. You know he is. You’ve seen the way I look at him.”

He rubbed harder.

“And if he took me, right there on the mat, you’d just sit there. Watching. Hard like this. Wishing it was you.”

A groan slipped from his lips.

He stopped himself before he could go further.

Claire kissed his thigh through the fabric. “Good boy.”

The final round came as a vote.

Nia leaned back, twirling the empty bottle. “One last one. Majority rules.”

She looked around the circle. “One more dare. For Claire.”

Everyone agreed.

“Here it is,” Nia said. “Show us how you’d ride Marcus. Fully clothed. Use the cushion.”

John felt like his heart stopped.

Claire didn’t hesitate.

She stood, grabbed a pillow from the couch, dropped it on the floor.

Then she straddled it.

And started moving.

Slow. Rhythmic.

Her hands rested on her knees. Her eyes never left John’s.

She rocked back and forth, hips moving in slow, tight circles.

Her breath deepened.

Her hair slipped over her shoulders.

She moaned—quietly. Just enough.

John couldn’t breathe.

Marcus watched without blinking.

Nia leaned forward, whispering to Marcus, “She’s into it. And so is he.”

Claire kept riding the pillow until her thighs trembled.

Then she stopped.

Stood.

Walked to the kitchen for water like nothing had happened.

John stayed seated.

His cock throbbed against his jeans, painfully hard.

No one said a word.