Page 1 of The Loneliest Number (The Thirst Trap #3)

Chapter one

Pixie

Unicorn ; noun

A mythical animal typically represented as a horse with a single straight horn projecting from its forehead

The national animal of Scotland

A person (usually a bisexual female) who joins a couple, either for a single sexual encounter as a threesome or for a longer-term relationship

Glasgow, Scotland

If I don’t get at least one screaming orgasm from this experience, I’m giving up being a unicorn. And that would be sad, given that Scotland’s national animal is a unicorn.

Low-level classical music plays inside the hotel lift; the numbers on the panel increasing as it ascends.

I have the carriage to myself, and I use the opportunity to stick my tongue out at the image of my reflection in the smoky mirror opposite where I stand.

This place is fancy. The marbled floors of the lobby were so shiny I would be able to see my face in them if I got down on my hands and knees to look.

I dread to think what a hazard that must be when it rains.

And in Scotland, it rains a lot. It’s been drizzling consistently since Laura and I arrived a couple of days ago.

This evening has been the first break in the gloomy rain, and I wonder if I should flag this rendezvous and take advantage of the fairer weather to wander the city.

The architecture of the buildings fascinates me, and this city is full of interesting people and street art.

I wish we were staying longer. I’d love to explore more, but this is our last night here, so I’ve left my friend, Laura, to catch up with her brother, Alex, before we head back down south tomorrow.

It’d been easy to open up the hook-up app I’ve used on and off over the last couple of years, to search in my current location and see what other people have posted.

I learnt early on not to set up my own listing.

Unicorns are rare, and when I first advertised my desire to join established couples for a night of fun, I was inundated with requests.

No, thank you. Now I only look at others’ listings and lean heavily into the vibes I get from the adverts before I make contact.

The listing I saw this afternoon intrigued me, posted only a few minutes before I started scrolling the ads.

Call me basic, but the image of a beefy, tatted guy in a kilt lured me in.

Even though I couldn’t see his head. I swiped to see a photo of a wonderfully curvy woman (again, headless) in a t-shirt emblazoned with the words, ‘I love men who whimper’ and I was fully onboard.

That was before I’d even read the words accompanying the photos.

Come play with us. Looking for a fierce woman to join us for a night of fun. We’re celebrating with orgasms. Wanna join in?

How could I resist?

The lift dings with its arrival at the top floor.

I wipe my palms on my jean-clad thighs and draw in a steadying breath before stepping out into a big lobby area.

The first thing I notice is there’s only one door, situated between two giant plants in pots taller than I am, standing like sentries on either side of the entrance.

Is this the right place? I check my phone and open up the text convo I had earlier with ‘Saffy’.

Yep, I followed her instructions to the letter. But this looks more like an apartment than a hotel room. Ooh, this must be the penthouse. The previous fancy score has just gone up a notch.

I open up my texts with Laura and quickly type a message:

Me:

This place is fancy AF - I’m going into the only room on the top floor of the hotel I sent you the dropped pin for. Just so they know where to find my body later *winking face emoji*

Her reply is speedy.

Laura:

Please don’t joke about stuff like that. Any hint of red flags and promise me you’ll leave straight away.

Me:

Honey, you know this isn’t my first rodeo. Trust me - I will keep my wits about me. I’ll message you by midnight, so you know I’m safe and hopefully completely zenned out on orgasms at that point.

Laura:

TMI. But also, enjoy!

Before I can lose my nerve, I stride across the hallway to press the doorbell.

I’m on full alert, listening for sound on the other side, and hope I’m not about to be kicked out for trespassing.

Footsteps approach from the other side, and I draw in a breath while trying to school my features into something pleasant.

The door swings open and a curvy woman wearing the ‘I love men who whimper’ t-shirt stands before me.

This must be Saffy. Her auburn hair flows down her back in loose, beachy waves, and there’s a delightful sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

I meet her green eyes, and they twinkle with what could be delight.

“Hey.” Her voice is breathy and husky, and all I can think about is how good she’ll sound when she’s moaning. She steps towards me, holding her arms out. “Are you a hugger? Because I am.” She grins, showing off dimples in her cheeks, and her Scottish accent is perfection.

“Usually only with people I know,” I say, but I’m eager to be closer to her, so I add, “But what the hell. Sure.” I step into her embrace and instantly feel cosy as her arms wrap around me.

“I’m Saffy. And I’m guessing you're our unicorn, Pixie?” She grins, showing off perfect white teeth as she closes the door.

“Sure am. And where’s the other person in this equation?” I quirk a brow, trying to peer past her shoulder, but she’s a few inches taller than me and blocking the view.

“Cam’s just inside. This is…” Her voice fades, causing me to look straight at her, trying to get a read on what exactly is going on here. She bites her lip. “It’s a surprise. He doesn’t know you’re coming.”

“Oh,” slips from my lips. “I like everyone involved to consent before we start. Is this the first time you’ve done something like this as a couple?”

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she lets loose a husky giggle. “We’re not a couple.”

“I think we’ve got crossed wires then,” I tell her. The vibes don’t feel off, but this isn’t what I expected when I was chatting to her earlier.

“Come in and I’ll explain.” She grabs my hand to tug me inside an open plan kitchen and lounge area. “If you’re not happy with the arrangement, you can leave, but please just hear me out.”

“Saffron, what the fuck are you doing?” comes an agitated, deep Scottish drawl from one of the rooms. I look in the direction it comes from, but the door is closed. I grimace at his tone.

“Just a minute, Cam,” Saffy calls out. “It’s a surprise.”

There’s a quietened sound of cursing, which sounds even better in a Scottish accent.

“He sounds grumpy,” I say with a wince.

“Oh, he is. But together, we can cheer him up.” She steps towards the kitchen island. “Would you like a drink?”

“Just water, thanks.” I rarely drink alcohol in these situations. It pays to keep my wits about me. She takes a glass from a cupboard and fills it from a filter tap before handing it over. I take a sip, looking at her expectantly.

“So, we’re not a proper couple. We’re friends that bang occasionally. We’re both non-monogamous at the moment. Cam’s been having a rubbish time, hence the additional grumpiness. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to help me give him a good time.”

I draw my lips in and try to get a sense from my gut. There are no alarm bells ringing, even with a different arrangement to the one I was expecting when we set this meeting up.

“I think I need to meet Cam, too, and then I’ll decide from there,” I tell Saffy. She nods, and her eyes dart across to the door across the room.

“That seems fair. But he’s a little tied up right now.” Another of her husky giggles slips out. “Literally. How do you feel about meeting him if he’s tied to the bed and blindfolded?”

My eyes bug out. “Is he dressed?”

“Nope, stark bollock naked.”

“Maybe cover him up then, and I’ll talk to him. Is that okay?”

“Aye. Just give me a moment.” She struts across the room and sneaks around the door without pushing it all the way open, meaning I still can’t see him, Dammit.

“It’s fucking Baltic in here, Saff. What the fuck is going on?

” Without being able to look at him, I make sure to really listen to his tone.

I consider myself strong—the regular weight lifting helps—but my small stature often puts me at a disadvantage with bigger guys.

At least until they realise how scrappy I am.

I don’t have a problem spending time with bigger guys, and when I’ve built up some trust, I enjoy it when they can throw me around.

But this guy sounds pissed, and he looked huge in the photo Saff posted on the ad.

There’s a murmur of low voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. His deep voice blends well with her huskiness. Combine that with the strong Scottish accents, and it makes them hotter. As long as he’s not an arse, that is.

“Hey, he’s decent. Come in,” Saffy calls.

Here goes nothing. A mixture of excitement and nerves skitter through my veins as I step towards the doorway.