Chapter Nine

“Thanks for meeting me.” Sam stretched his tense muscles, shaking out his legs, breath puffing in the gray light of early morning.

Mitchell nodded, kneeling down to tie his car key onto the laces of one sneaker. “Nobody ever wants to come running with me at this hour. It’s nice to have some company.”

“Well, it’s cold as fuck out here, so that makes sense.”

They settled into an easy jog, figuring out each other’s pace. Sam generally preferred CrossFit to running, but he still tried to switch things up now and then, and his body settled easily into the familiar rhythms. Somebody kept the rail trail treated all winter, and salt crunched beneath their feet as they jogged along. The morning was otherwise crisp and quiet.

Mitchell broke the silence, glancing over to Sam and then back at the trail in front of them. “I assume this is about you and Abby.”

“Things have escalated.” That was putting it mildly. Last time he’d talked to Mitchell about this was before Zach. He’d only been trying to wrestle with power exchange back then. He tried to put his thoughts into words, and Mitchell just waited, jogging alongside him without pushing him. “It started with that vibrator I bought. So, we went to this dance club.” Slowly, the story trickled out, without the salacious bits, the overview about Zach and then Stephan, as much as he felt like he could share about Abby’s uncertainties without betraying her secrets. “And now, she’s going to Stephan’s glassblowing studio tonight.”

Silence next to him made Sam look over, surprised to see Mitchell grinning. “What?”

Mitchell chuckled. “You’re right. Things have escalated. How do you feel about all of it?”

He’d been asking that question to himself over and over. “Good. It feels big. And fast. And a little overwhelming. But I feel good about it.”

Mitchell nodded. “I know those feelings.”

“Does it ever stop?”

“It gets more normal over time.” Mitchell smiled. “It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. We’re building this life together, and there aren’t roadmaps. Even other polyam people, everybody does it differently.” He caught his breath for a few steps before continuing. “Open relationships, hotwifing, triads, quads, intimate networks, there’s so much out there. All these paths, all just trying to find our own way.”

“It’s good to know people. To have friends I can talk to.” Without them, Sam would probably just be Googling things on the internet to no end.

“Same.” Mitchell nodded. “You and Abby should come over sometime. Meet the family.” He smiled. “It’s still weird to call them the family.”

“Definitely.” He’d met them all separately, now, but it would be great to see them all together.

“Tell Abby she can’t fuck any of us, though. We’re a closed triad.”

Sam whipped his head around toward Mitchell, stumbling before catching himself, while Mitchell guffawed. “I’m giving you shit,” Mitchell said, clapping Sam on the back.

Sam smiled in return, regaining his footing. “I’m starting to think you’re kind of an asshole sometimes.”

Mitchell nodded. “That’s how you know we’re friends. You still coming out for drinks with us tomorrow after CrossFit?”

Strange that some things could still be normal, when everything else was turning upside down. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

…

All studios kind of looked the same. Walking into Stephan’s glassblowing studio, Abby immediately noticed all the similarities to her own pottery studio: the urban-industrial vibe with metal lockers and steel tables, the wooden crates filled with tools, the lighting that never seemed bright enough. The only real difference, aside from the equipment, was the smell. The pottery studio smelled like clay, the faint tinge of glaze, and the light electrical burn of too many pottery wheels; the glassblowing studio smelled like fire.

Stephan didn’t notice her come in at first. Hard at work at his bench, turning a small piece she couldn’t really see over a glowing flame, he wore tinted safety goggles and a look of pure concentration. The room was a mixture of temperatures: cold winter air poured through the open windows, but the air closer to the tables was warm, and Stephan wore short sleeves. Not far from where he was sitting, a glassblowing oven flamed in the darkness, casting an eerie red light into the room and blasting heat in a very small area.

Her movement made him look up, and he smiled. “Just give me a second to finish this.”

“Take your time.” Abby took her own time looking at him. There was no harm in looking, after all, especially when the subject of her gaze was absolutely gorgeous. Sam had been encouraging her to set her guilt aside about these feelings, and maybe she could. Looking wasn’t touching. It was harmless. Eventually, he stopped his work and set the piece he was crafting aside.

Stephan turned off the torch, allowing him to push his safety goggles up into his hair. A faint sooty smudge marred his cheek, and she had to put her hands in her pockets to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it away. “Have you ever been inside a glassblowing studio?” he asked.

“Nope.” She glanced around, which was safer than getting caught looking into his beautiful eyes. “Reminds me a lot of the pottery studio. Just with more fire.”

Stephan grinned, and she caught his gaze. That was a mistake: he looked at her like she was the only woman in the universe. Sam could do that, too, make the world dissolve around them. She steadied herself against a wave of dizziness. Damn, he was handsome.

He pulled off his gloves. “You can hang up your coat over here.”

Abby hung her jacket on the coat hook, then her sweater as well, since it was really warm in the studio. She was left in a cotton T-shirt and jeans.

“Natural fibers, just like I said.” He smiled approvingly.

There was no real reason to feel proud, since all she’d done was literally follow the instructions in his text from yesterday, but his approval settled on her like a balm.

“I can do what I’m told,” she said. Once the words were out of her mouth, she gasped. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She covered her eyes as they both started laughing. At least it broke some of the tension.

“It’s okay.” Stephan beckoned her closer. “I knew what you meant. Come on.”

His hand burned hot through the thin fabric of her shirt as he touched the small of her back. He was too close, too intimate, suffocating her with his presence. This could easily be a platonic touch; his hand was closer to the middle of her back than the curve of her ass, but that small point of contact provided a constant distraction as he guided her through the stations. She forced herself to focus as he explained the types of tools, the difference between glassblowing and lamp work, then showed her the piece he was working on, a small curlicue for what would become a larger showpiece.

The oven was last, blazing heat forward out of the glory hole—which would never not be a funny word—and washing over her like it wasn’t the middle of winter outside.

“I’m blowing a piece next.” Stephan showed her the equipment he had set out for the task. “You want to watch?”

“Of course.”

He smiled, warm and inviting, and Abby tried to ignore the rush of arousal. Moving away from him helped. Leaning back against the counter helped as well, as the cold steel pressed against her arms. God, why was it so fucking hot in here? It was freezing next to the door, but the heat from the oven pressed against her like a physical force. Stephan’s hair was damp, a few curls wet against his forehead, and it looked…really fucking sexy.

Shit.

Trying to set her ridiculous hormones aside, she focused on Stephan’s work. It was easy to become mesmerized. She watched in wordless, rapt enthrallment as he shaped the glass, spinning it in the flames in the oven, removing it, adding additional embellishments, eventually blowing it into a shape through a steel pipe. Watching someone do something they were really good at was its own kind of erotic.

Eventually, Stephan broke the piece away from its support, hitting hard enough that it seemed like the glass must shatter, but instead it separated perfectly. He set the piece to cool, so close that she could, if she wanted, reach out and touch it.

Stephan smiled at her. “Don’t touch it.”

He meant the piece, but he might as well have been talking to her about himself. “I won’t touch it. I’m not an idiot.” She tucked her hands into her jeans pockets.

“Sometimes it’s tempting. Looking like it does right now.”

She side-eyed his physique, attractive in the casual, beat-up clothes he was currently wearing, probably irresistible in a suit. “Yeah.”

Stephan sat down on a stool next to her. “You ever think about trying it?”

With her attention split as it was, she had to pause to catch his meaning. “Glassblowing?”

His grin widened. “Yeah, glassblowing.”

“I don’t know. I like pottery. This is gorgeous, but I’m not sure I could create anything like that.”

“Nobody does, at first. I have a whole shelf of terrible first drafts of things, and those are just the ones I kept instead of smashing and melting down.” His smile invited her in, welcoming her. “You know, Jo is really hoping you’ll go climbing with her.”

Suddenly shy under his gaze, Abby ran a hand through her hair. “It seems like it could be fun. You ever do it?”

Stephan chuckled. “Once. I got halfway up the wall and swore never again. I really am deathly afraid of heights.”

“Aren’t you wearing a harness, though?”

Stephan shook his head. “This fear is not logical. The body wants what it wants, and my body wants to be firmly on the ground.”

Abby studied those dark eyes, the line of his nose, the fullness of his lips. So many fears weren’t logical…and so many were. The body wants what it wants. She could so easily kiss him, right here, in this glassblowing studio, with no one else around to see.

“I’m gonna step outside.” Abby gestured toward the door. “I think I heard my phone.” She was already hopping off the stool and grabbing her coat. She had to distance herself, escape from the heat of his body in this tiny, intimate, sweltering space.

The cold air outside hit her superheated skin like a slap as she stepped outside. With shaking hands, she dialed Sam. The steel door of the studio separated her from Stephan, and around her, snow fell on the gravel walkway. She walked a few feet away, back into the parking lot, out from under the overhang of the building. As the phone rang in her ear, she looked out at the emptiness of the space, their cars the only ones in sight. This studio sat on the outskirts of Mapleton, off a side street, the sounds of traffic too distant to hear.

“Hey, hon. What’s up?” Sam’s voice grounded her, anchoring her in this moment, even though her head was swimming.

“Why did you and Jo tell me to come to this studio tonight?”

A long silence from his end of the phone. “What happened?”

So much happened, and nothing happened. “Nothing. Nothing happened. I took a break to come out here in the parking lot and call you.”

Sam sounded guarded. “I don’t know why you’re calling.”

“Why did you tell me to come see Stephan here alone?”

Another long silence, his soft breathing the only sign that he hadn’t hung up. “Stephan’s a good guy.”

Suddenly dizzy, Abby walked over to her car and leaned against it. After the heat of the studio, the temperature difference overwhelmed her senses. “Did you want something to happen? Did you think I was just going to cheat on you?”

“Of course not.” He sounded impossibly calm, even a bit cautious. “I thought you might call.”

What? He thought she was just going to call him and… “And what? And ask about fooling around with him?” Words started tumbling out. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Or what I’m supposed to do. Are you setting me up with him? Does he think I’m coming here to get laid or something?”

“No!” Sam sounded surprised, almost offended. “I thought…”

“Is Jo in on this? Is Stephan?” She didn’t say it like a question, but like a fact.

A long pause. “Jo overheard us at the party. She approached me afterward to see if we might want something more.”

Abby buried her face in her hands, embarrassment bubbling hot inside her. “So Stephan knows?” Is this why he had been touching her, working her over with those bedroom eyes?

“Yes.”

Her stomach dropped. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think you’d go. I thought, maybe once you were there in person…” His voice trailed off.

“I’d what? I’d just get overwhelmed? I’d let my hormones take over? I’d turn into some kind of raging slut who doesn’t believe in her marriage anymore?” Her voice had gotten louder, echoing into the empty space around her. She was on the verge of hysteria and tried to tamp down the emotions.

“Abby. Abby, listen.” Sam’s voice was firm and steady in her ear, and if she closed her eyes, she could picture him next to her. “I love you. I know you love me. I know that you would do anything for our relationship. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And I also know that you’re attracted to other men. That you’ve ignored your attraction for years, that you would ignore it forever for the sake of our marriage.”

Her throat was too tight to respond, but he didn’t wait for her confirmation to keep talking. “I don’t want you to ignore it,” he said. “I don’t want you to ignore your feelings for Zach, or for Stephan, or anyone else that you’re attracted to.”

“It’s just…” She waved her arm around, even though they were on the phone and he couldn’t see her. “I feel guilty. I needed to come out here and call you before I did something I would regret.”

Another pause. “What if you didn’t have to regret it?”

How could she not regret it? “I don’t want you to encourage this out of some sacrifice for me. I don’t want you to send me off to…to…” She forced the word out. “To sleep with other men, while you’re sitting at home wondering.”

He paused. “What if I find it really hot to think about you with someone else?”

She sagged against the car. “You’re not here to watch.”

“I know. But you could tell me about it after. That actually…” He paused, then started to chuckle, and his next words came out like a question. “It actually really turns me on? Like, really turns me on. At least as much as being there.”

“Fuck, Sam.” Abby sank down to the gravel. “I don’t want to push you. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Do you want to go back to the way things were?” he asked.

Did she? Did she want to just leave, and pretend this whole escalating experiment had never happened? “I don’t think we could.”

“But if we could. Would you want to undo it all?”

They’d done so much since New Year’s, when they’d first tumbled headfirst into their mutual kinks. The new direction was uncertain.

But at the same time, she’d never felt so alive.

“No,” she said at last. “I wouldn’t want to undo it.”

“Me neither.”

Abby let out a shaky breath. “You really want me to go through with this? With Stephan?”

“If you’re okay with it, yes. I want that.” He sounded so sure, so confident.

“And Jo is okay with it, too?”

“You know she is.”

“But what about after? What will this mean for us, and for the future?”

“Whatever we want. It could mean nothing at all.” She heard the sounds of shuffling, as though Sam were getting into a different position or adjusting his phone or something. Picturing him in her head, sitting there, talking to her, was almost like having him here. He cared about her. He loved her. And he wanted this. “You don’t have to do anything, Abby. But you could. It’s okay. It’s more than okay. I trust you.”

“Okay. I… I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” She paused. “I love you.”

“I know.” He sounded like he was smiling as he spoke. “I love you, too.”

With the phone back in her jacket pocket, she stayed seated in the gravel and tilted her head back to look up at the sky. Tiny pinpricks of cold landed on her skin like icy reminders of her body, her sense of self. She knew what she was going to do. She knew it from before she hung up the phone with Sam.

Stephan was working in front of the ovens when Abby went back inside. He still had the same focused look, turning a glass ornament in the oven, spinning it while staring into the light through his glasses. He was so beautiful. Being attracted to Stephan didn’t mean she wasn’t attracted to Sam as well. Maybe this was okay. Maybe none of this was as serious as she wanted to make it out to be. That thought remained in her mind as she took off her jacket and hung it up once more.

Stephan had to know she was standing there, but he was in the middle of a task, and he completed it as she walked closer to the table between them. He moved with precision, and when he finally detached the piece from the rod and set the equipment aside, he did so with the same laser focus he had showed through the entire process. Then, setting his glasses on the table, he locked eyes with Abby. They stood staring at each other across the width of the long steel work table.

“Did you talk to Sam?” He’d guessed who she had called and probably why.

She thrust her hands in her jeans pockets. “Did Jo tell you?”

Stephan smiled lopsidedly. He clearly knew what she meant. “I told Jo, actually. I told her I found you hot and asked her how she felt about it.”

Abby swallowed. “When was this?”

“After dinner.”

After Abby and Sam had confirmed they were trying out some sexual adventures. “And what did she say?”

“You already know that.” Stephan began to walk toward one end of the long table that divided them. Abby watched him, her heart crowding her throat.

“How do you feel about me, Abby?”

He approached slowly, rounding the end of the table. Now that she was staring into his eyes again, she couldn’t look away, and all the words had dried up in her throat.

“Are you attracted to me?” he asked.

Stephan walked right up to her and she backed up, bumping the edge of the work table. They were close enough to touch. She nodded.

“What did Sam say?”

Abby swallowed. “You already know what Sam said.”

Stephan licked his lips. He reached up and traced a fingertip along her jawline, the light touch making her shiver. “And what do you say?”

This was the moment where she could say no, or stop, and he would walk away from her. Everything was different from Sam: his scent, his height, his touch, even the very energy between them, but those differences triggered an excitement building up inside her like a tangible itch beneath her skin. She tipped her head back and parted her lips, watching the way Stephan’s mouth mirrored hers, and then she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss her.

The heat of his mouth on hers contrasted sharply with the cold of her skin, chilled from her time outside. Abby closed her eyes, reveling in this sensation. Touch. His lips were soft, gentle, not insistent and firm or persuasive. Instead, he led the kiss like a dance: his lips teased hers open, and then his tongue brushed her lower lip, delicate, playful, inspiring her to kiss back in the same way. His biceps flexed beneath her hands. Under her touch, he felt solid, not strong in the same way as Sam, but present and real and kissing her like a man who had all the time in the world.

When he stepped back, it took Abby a moment to open her eyes and return to this place, this time. Stephan was still so close, kissing distance, and now that she had taken that first step, she wanted more.

Stephan leaned in again, but instead of kissing her, he closed his teeth on her earlobe and gave her a gentle nip. Her body quaked from head to toe at the contact. “I want you to call Sam,” he murmured.

“What?” Her voice came out as a whisper.

“I want you to call him and ask him if he wants to listen.”

Fuck. Abby made a strangled noise, and she got wet just at the thought. She fumbled the phone, trying to press the right contact while Stephan’s hands inched her T-shirt up over her hips and skimmed around to the front of her jeans, already fiddling with the button. It was so damn hard to breathe in here.

“Abby?” Sam’s voice sounded concerned. He had, after all, just talked to her, and he could probably hear how heavily she was breathing.

“Hi. Oh,” she gasped, because Stephan took that moment to reach beneath her shirt and cup her breasts, his touch electric. For a second, she couldn’t remember why she called, and then it all came flooding back. “Do you…want to listen?”

He swore harshly, his voice suddenly raw. “God, yes.” He sounded like he was shifting position. Maybe he was touching himself already, or at least freeing his cock from his pants, and that thought turned her on even more, especially in conjunction with the way Stephan casually began rolling her nipples between his fingers through her bra.

Stephan patted the table behind her. He was already tugging her jeans down her thighs along with her underwear, and she climbed up onto the edge of the table with her feet dangling. Stephan finished pulling off her bottom layers, taking her shoes with them, and suddenly she was naked from the waist down. He pushed her legs to the side and got down on his knees in front of her. Looking up, he gave her another devilish smile. “Tell him what I’m doing to you.” Then he slowly leaned in and dragged his tongue up against her clit.

Abby moaned loudly, brokenly, a sizzle of touch sparking outward from that tiny point of contact.

“Tell him,” Stephan repeated, and did it again.

“He’s licking my clit.” It came out like a sob, and she couldn’t sit up anymore, had to lie back on one elbow on the table and clutch the phone to her ear with the hand that wasn’t currently pressed palm-down like a lifeline.

In her ear, Sam cursed again, and she barely heard the telltale sounds of his hand moving over his cock, the slick sounds of flesh. Between her legs, Stephan continued to lick and suck her clit, taking his time, his teeth even brushing the tender bud every so often and making her hips buck up. It was nearly too arousing, too intense, her nerve endings firing rapidly.

“He’s…sliding a finger in me. No. Two fingers.” It was too much of a stretch for one. She was so wet, and the noises embarrassed and aroused her at the same time.

“You’re so wet. I love how wet you are.” Stephan’s voice sounded distant, muffled from his position still between her legs. “And you taste so sweet. I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you. I could eat your pussy all night.”

“Holy shit,” she swore.

Sam was in her ear, just like he was there beside her. “Does it feel good? Do you like having another man go down on you?”

“Yes, my God.” She let her head drop back, because keeping it upright was too much effort. Her orgasm was already building, starting down in her toes.

“Are you gonna come like this?” Sam sounded like he could come right now, too, his voice deep and rough.

“Yes, yes, he’s gonna make me come.” She sounded like she was crying, but this was taking all of her concentration just to talk, and the curl of Stephan’s fingers up against her G-spot had her moaning brokenly once more.

“Let me hear you.”

Abby lay flat on the table, dropping all the way onto her back, holding the phone loosely to her ear. Stephan was going to drive her all the way over the edge like this. He knew just how to fuck her with his fingers while sucking her off, and she didn’t hold back the gasps and moans falling from her lips like wordless prayers.

Stephan whispered to her, his mouth still against her clit, but she heard him anyway. “Come on, beautiful. Come for us.”

That was it. That mounting tension peaked, a spring coiled inside her body, holding her on the knife edge for an endless moment, and then everything unleashed at once. She cried out, riding that spiraling pleasure as she clenched and clenched and clenched around his fingers. He kept licking and sucking her through it, guiding her through the peak and the aftershocks, letting her down while she twitched and moaned into final silence.

Sam was crooning into her ear when she became alert enough to realize it. “You’re so good. God, that was so hot. You made me come so hard. I came all over my hand. Was it good, sweetheart?”

“So good.” She twitched as Stephan slid his fingers out of her, getting to his feet a bit stiffly but looking like someone who had just accomplished something amazing.

Sam’s next words took her by surprise, coming low and husky in her ear. “Do you want to suck him off?”

She did. That seemed even more illicit than having him go down on her. “Yeah.”

“Good. You hang up and go thank him properly. All right?”

She could tell from his tone that this wasn’t an order. This wasn’t a dip into power exchange. This was about her, and what she wanted, and Sam pushing her forward when she might not make the next move herself.

“All right.” She paused, wanting to tell him she loved him again, but was this the time?

Into the silence, he said. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Go on.”

Smiling back, Abby hung up the phone. Stephan was standing at the foot of the table, looking smug and satisfied even though she was the only one who’d been pleasured. She slid down, finding her pants and underwear in a heap on the floor and pulling them up her hips, then dragging Stephan down for a kiss. It was easier, now, a simple action, just one next step. He went willingly and kissed her with the same contented laziness, even though when she rocked her hips against his, he gasped in surprise.

He gasped in even more surprise when she slid down to her knees in front of him. “Jesus, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” she interrupted him. “Let me.” She unzipped his pants and freed his cock, which was hard as steel, soft-skinned in her hands. Then she swallowed him down. He gripped the table behind her, leaning over to steady himself, but didn’t grab her head. He was so sensitive, shifting his hips with each long suck she gave, throbbing against her tongue. The weight of him, so foreign from what she had been expecting, so different from her husband, was a tangible reminder of what she was doing. How funny that something like this, kneeling in front of someone and sucking them down, could make her feel so powerful.

Stephan was trembling. His legs quivered. She doubled down on her efforts, gripping the base of his shaft with one hand as she sucked at the top half of his cock, tasting the first slick salty drops of his arousal. “Fuck. Abby. I’m gonna …God, your mouth is incredible. Oh my God.” He grabbed her hair, let it go immediately. “Sorry. I won’t…”

She lifted her mouth off and looked up at him. “No. Do it.” She smiled, then slid him into her mouth again.

Stephan gripped her hair once more, his fingers tightening reflexively as he approached his orgasm. She hummed her appreciation, which made him twitch again. Rather than pull back, she stayed where she was, and he began to thrust a bit into and out of her mouth, like he just couldn’t hold back. Cradling his balls with her free hand, she marveled at how they tightened against his body, drawing close with his impending climax. Above her, he was making the most incredible, desperate noises, like he was losing himself in this moment as much as she had been, and God, she wanted to do this again.

He came with a cry, and she drank it down, swallowing fast, sucking him through his climax as he twitched and moaned, hand tightening painfully in her hair before he released it. There was nothing like taking a man all the way like that, and when she finally, carefully got to her feet, Stephan was still leaning heavily on the counter with his eyes closed, like he might not possibly be able to stand anymore. He took a moment before he drew himself together again, tucking his dick away and letting out a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, Abby. Did Sam tell you to do that?”

She blushed, another illogical blush given the circumstances. “He asked me if I wanted to, and I told him yes.”

Stephan leaned against the counter. “You are something else.” He pulled her in and hugged her, and the affection felt…perfect. Not too intimate, not too detached, but exactly what she wanted at this moment.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “So what now?”

“Well, do you want to try glassblowing?”

Abby laughed. There was no tension here anymore, nothing that made her worry about the future. “Not tonight.”

“Then how about you and Sam come over for dinner sometime soon?” Stephan smiled. “It would be nice to talk someplace comfortable.”

Talk. Right. She knew what this would be, and yet rather than being worried, she was only excited. “I’ll check with him tonight.”

…

Walking into her house that night, Abby’s body hummed with the same level of anxiety as when she had walked back into the glassblowing studio that afternoon. She was still slick from Stephan’s mouth on her pussy. She had sucked his cock, and she imagined she could still taste him. What would Sam say? What would he do? He had told her to go through with this. He had been into it on the phone. Now, though, he might have changed his mind. In the heat of the moment, people sometimes agreed to dumb things.

Sam was sitting on the couch, resting against the cushions, the television off and music playing throughout the house. His expression looked calm, relaxed, even serene, and he beckoned her over when she stopped in the doorway. Before she could say anything, or ask him about his feelings, he pulled her down on top of him and kissed her, open-mouthed and deep.

“I can taste him on you,” he said against her mouth, and her pussy clenched once at the husky tone in his voice. “It’s all I could think about. I need to get these clothes off you.”

It happened so fast, him pulling at her clothes and her helping, because she wanted him, too, wanted him with the same intensity like if she had not just come hard an hour beforehand. He flipped her down onto her back and slid his fingers through her wetness.

“You’re so wet. God, Abby, I want you so bad.”

“Fuck me. Please.” She needed him, his cock, the solidity of his body on hers to mark her. He scrambled out of his own clothes and climbed on top of her, hiking one of her legs up onto the back of the couch, her other leg trailing down onto the floor, and fucked into her in a wet, hard slide.

It was messy, brutal, deep, the kind of fucking that left marks, and Abby gripped Sam’s back and tried to pull him into her even more. She was his. He was hers. They belonged to each other. She hadn’t even realized she was saying anything until she heard him breathe out a choked laugh near her ear.

“Yeah. I’m yours. You can stop saying it.”

Abby laughed, that desperate laugh of strung-out emotion. “You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine.” He kissed her, his cock buried all the way inside her, still rocking his hips to thrust steadily, breath after breath.

“Do you like when I fuck someone else?” She needed to hear him say it.

“Does it seem like I like it?” He punctuated his words with more rough thrusts, one per word, the kind of thrusts that shifted her back and forth on the couch.

She gripped his arms tight, fingernails biting into his biceps. “Say it.”

“I want.” He kissed her lips. “You.” He kissed her again. “To fuck other people. And sometimes I want to watch and listen as some other guy fucks this tight pussy and explodes inside you.”

Abby shivered, imagining the hot rush of that feeling.

“And then.” He pulled back all the way, sliding entirely from her warmth. “I want to step up and fuck into you when you’re loose and wet from him.” Gripping her hips, he pushed hard all the way inside again.

She hadn’t realized how close she had been, but that one hard thrust sent her spilling over the edge. Her orgasm rolled over her in a series of spasms, and the whole time, she imagined the feeling of Sam fucking her while she was dripping from another man. Overwhelmed, she rode out those waves as Sam thrust a few times more and then spilled inside her.

In the silence afterward, when they had cleaned up and sprawled on the couch in the same lazy way, she rested her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes. “Do you really want all that?”

“Yeah.” He was open and honest, now, direct eye contact and no guile to be seen. “I really want that. What about you?”

Abby nodded, then smiled. “You know, Angela said I was worrying about all this too much. She said I wasn’t giving you enough credit, and I should see where things led. She’s gonna be insufferable now. One ‘I told you so’ after another.”

Sam laughed. “You know you don’t mind.”

Abby pursed her lips. “Then I guess there’s no harm in continuing on this path.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

“Stephan invited us over for dinner. I think we should go.”

Sam curled a lock of her hair over his finger. “I like the sound of that.”