Henry sent Jay to the door. The soup didn’t need tending, the salads had been plated, and the main course wouldn’t go into the oven until the salads had been served. He’d opened the wine bottle a few minutes ago. He could’ve gone to greet Emma himself.
But he stood in the kitchen with his arm around Alice and his hand splayed on her back. Resting his forehead against her temple, he breathed warmth in her ear.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Let it out slow.
Jay’s voice anchored a distant murmur of polite hello and may-I-take-your-coat chatter. On his best behavior for their guest. Having another woman in the house wasn’t a threat to him. Ugh. It shouldn’t be a threat to her, either, not with Henry’s reassuring attention. Though Emma’s presence served as a reminder to them both of last week’s disaster. The memory might be all that had her on edge.
“No, thank you, Jay.” A light, feminine voice. “That’s a gift for the chef.”
Henry kissed her, leaving behind a whisper. “I love you, sweet girl.” He straightened, though his hand stayed on her back.
Opening her eyes, she nodded once. No problem. She could handle this. She’d been the one to make the invitation. Impulsively. Out of equal parts compassion and curiosity. Which everyone knew only killed cats.
Emma turned the corner with her escort, her hand resting on Jay’s forearm.
Yeah, no. Definitely more than nerves over seeing a woman who’d been at the club. Irrational fear seized her chest.
Emma was the sort of woman who screamed perfection. Well, not screamed, because ladies didn’t do that. She dressed impeccably without Henry’s guidance. Alice nurtured a polite smile as she studied their guest. Outside the club, she wasn’t distracted by other concerns.
Mahogany hair, a deep brown glinting red in the light, twisted up in some elegantly simple design. Not a strand out of place. A knee-length sheath dress not unlike the one Henry had chosen for Alice to wear tonight. Emma’s was a smoky blue-gray. Not flashy and designed to draw eyes from across a room, but tasteful. Understated.
Bet she didn’t own a pair of jeans. A woman who’d never run to pick up takeout in a T-shirt, pajama pants, and sandals. With this expert woman right in front of him, Henry had to be wondering what the hell he’d seen in the beginner model.
“Emma.” Henry extended his hand. “It’s lovely to see you. I trust Jay was the consummate butler.”
Emma patted Jay’s arm as she let go. “He was indeed. He’s grown into quite the proper valet.” She stepped forward and laid her fingertips over Henry’s cupped hand as if it were a dance they performed. One ending with a half embrace and a kiss on Henry’s cheek before Henry released her hand and Emma stepped away.
Her smile at Alice raised tiny lines around her eyes. The eyes matched the dress, a shadowed, winter blue. A choker of platinum and pearls circled her neck above the slight vee of her dress. She clasped a book to her chest with her left hand, upon which rested two rings. Antique sapphire engagement ring. Platinum wedding band with intricate scrollwork.
Relief fizzed like a fresh can of soda. Emma might be widowed, but she wasn’t in the market for new love.
Henry petted her back in slow circles. “As we have the opportunity for a proper introduction this evening, Alice, this is Emma, a dear friend.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.” Alice added a wry twist to her smile as they shook hands. “I hope you’ll excuse me for not saying hello at our first meeting.”
Emma laughed quietly. “Entirely understandable. I’ve been in the same situation many times myself.”
Manners. Kindness. Two more to add to the list of Things Emma Excels At. Alice growled at her jealousy in silence until it settled down.
“My boy, would you pour the wine, please?” He’d set out a dry white for the evening, a Verdelho that paired well with every course. She’d gotten the full rundown while they’d prepared the veggies and Jay set the table.
Jay went to work, and Emma held out her slender book to Henry. “I know, I know, wine or dessert for the host is traditional, but I wouldn’t dream of usurping your prerogative in your own kitchen. I hope this will suffice in their place.”
Henry accepted the book with both hands, leaving her back cold and empty. He opened the cover. Flowing script inside ended in the words With love, Em. Alice forced herself not to read the lines above.
Henry turned the page with a soft hum. The elegant script continued, page after page, but those pages, at least, held titles with words like chicken and beef and pastry.
“Victor’s mother gave me a copy of the family recipes when I married him. The collected wisdom of her kitchen and her mother’s kitchen and so on back down the line.” Emma took the wineglass Jay held out to her and inhaled the bouquet. “I don’t suppose I’ll have a daughter to pass the wisdom to, but you’ve a family to feed these days, Henry. Surely you can find some use in it.”
“You wrote out a fresh copy for my own kitchen, Em?” He caressed the edge of the pages. “A thoughtful and tremendous gift.”
Her gut twisted. Henry’s gentle tone belonged to her and Jay, for their gifts. Disliking someone who made Henry happy was irrational at best and shameful at worst.
“They’re all in there, Henry. Including that spicy beef dish you loved for Saturday supper and the sweet pirozhki for Sunday breakfast.”
Irrationality ripped through the room and took the floor under her feet with it. Emma’s wedding ring might not mean she still mourned her husband or even that their marriage had been monogamous. Santa had a wife, yet he’d been playing at the club. And Henry had Jay, but now he had her, too. But he’d said he and Emma weren’t lovers.
“Thank you, Emma.” Henry closed the book with care. He dropped his arm into its former place, curling Alice into his side.
She rested her hand below his breastbone. Mine.
“I do enjoy the opportunity to instruct my dear ones in the kitchen, though some of them have terrible thieving manners.”
Distributing the remaining wineglasses, Jay boasted an unrepentant smirk. “I’m chief taster. It’s an important job.”
Emma laughed. “William used to insist he fulfilled the same function in my kitchen until I shooed him out.”
Henry raised his glass in a toast. “To hearth and home, and all those who gather therein. Where’er they roam, may they find their way back again.”
Glasses touched. Smiles passed around. The wine was cool and dry going down, with a sharp citrus aftertaste.
Emma surveyed the room, making a show of peeking at everything in sight. “In all the years we’ve known each other, and all the time you’ve spent in my kitchen, do you realize this is the first time I’ve gotten a look at yours?”
Her brain was developing whiplash. Categorizing Henry and Emma’s history necessitated revision with every conversational turn.
“It’s that secretive quality of yours that kept all the girls and boys so intrigued before you settled down.”
His kitchen wasn’t a secret. He’d invited her into it from day one.
Her. Not Emma.
“And here I’d labored under the mistaken impression that my skills held their interest.” Henry hung his head in mocking mourning. “All they sought was a glimpse of my kitchen.”
“I want a glimpse of more than a kitchen,” Jay faux-whispered.
Alice giggled. “Because you know Henry’s skills are excellent in every room.”
“Ah, my lovely chorus of defenders to the rescue.” Henry’s eyes gleamed dark and intense. “I’m pleased to be more to you both than a full stomach. Though that, too, is important.” He gestured toward the dining room. “Jay, if you’ll seat our guest, please, and then come assist me at the stove.”
Jay offered his arm to Emma and waggled his eyebrows. “Soup’s on. I haven’t tasted it yet today, but the chef is excellent. May I show you to your seat?”
She laughed, polite but genuine. “By all means. I can’t recall the last time I had such a handsome escort.”
Henry led Alice to the table and lowered her into her regular seat. Adjusting the back of her chair, he brushed his mouth against her ear. “I do so love to see you sitting here, dearest. Such a pleasant temptation.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks and less-visible places. She’d been sitting right here in August when he’d spoken his first command to her. An order to stand. If she hadn’t listened then, no way would she be here now. Did he think of that life-changing moment as often as she did?
Emma smiled as she unfolded her napkin. “I finally had the opportunity to drop by the gallery this week and see the fruit of Henry’s skills in the studio. One of those rooms in which he excels, wouldn’t you say, Alice?”
She accepted the conversational diversion, holding up her end while Henry ladled soup and Jay carried bowls. Maybe the ability to pick a route through a potential verbal minefield wasn’t strictly a dominant skill. Henry masterfully directed conversation without seeming to, but Emma wasn’t bad herself.
Years of dinner parties or small talk at the club would teach subtlety. Henry and Emma shared a knack for it. Not a skill she possessed. Directness, that was more her style. Jay’s too.
They kept to safe topics, agreeing that Henry’s agent, though a cheerful fellow, drooped with a cadaver’s gauntness.
“The nerves, I expect,” Emma said. “I’ve never met that man when he was standing still.”
“He did seem high-strung when I met him. Jay fidgets a lot—I mean, a lot.”
Bringing the last of the soup bowls, Jay stuck his tongue out.
“But Henry keeps him well-fed.” She resisted the urge to return Jay’s gesture. Better not to open the floodgates and spill the less-cute juvenile shit clogging her head in front of the intimidating woman across the table. “Enough to put meat and muscle on his bones. Otherwise he’d be a dancing skeleton.”
“Dibs! I’m calling it now, so nobody else can be a dancing skeleton for Halloween.” Jay’s enthusiasm caused laughs all around. “Henry, you heard me call it, right?”
“I did. We’ll investigate the possibilities of body paint at a later date.” Henry set his hand on the back of his chair.
Jay slid into his seat at the foot of the table.
Emma swiveled, one perfectly manicured eyebrow rising. “You don’t have a server? I would have thought—” She glanced at the floor beside Henry’s chair. At Alice. Settled on Jay and shook her head in a single slow motion.
Jay had already brought the soup to the table. Full-service waitstaff.
“No, no pillows this evening, Em.”
Her glance again went to the floor beside Henry’s chair as he sat.
Holy shit. Emma expected someone to kneel at Henry’s side instead of participating at dinner. A cold night in January. Henry’s voice snapping commands. The hollow feeling in her stomach, the chill in her chest. The unpleasant distance between herself and Henry. To be loved and rewarded for her submission was one thing. To sit ignored like a slave unless the master needed something was another thing entirely. Not a game she wanted to play.
Henry picked up his soupspoon.
With the quiet clink of the metal against the ceramic bowl, Emma drew her chin up and focused an unwavering stare at Henry.
Her intensity matched Jay in his best waiting pose.
“Grateful though I am for Victor’s training in the formalities, I don’t run my household in the same fashion.” Henry steered the spoon in a slow curve through his soup. “As he balanced his needs with yours, so I balance mine with Jay’s and Alice’s.”
“No, of course.” Emma nodded, more to herself than to Henry. “Of course you would.”
The talk turned to inconsequential chatter, Henry smoothly encouraging Jay to share stories of the week’s most amusing deliveries. He settled down as Henry guided him, Emma asked polite questions, and Alice chimed in on occasion. The charming comedian. Untroubled by the deeper currents. Definitely not thinking about Emma’s marriage or what her submission had involved. Things Alice couldn’t stop thinking about.
Jay even remembered to tip his bowl properly away to spoon up the last of his cream soup. Henry laid his own spoon down as he surveyed the table. “Salads are in order, it seems.”
Jay stood, picking up his soup bowl. Emma half stood.
Shit. No point in standing when she’d already been out-subbed by both of them. Whatever the mindset needed for a submissive, she didn’t have it. The instinctive desire to serve. Fuck. Henry would’ve done better to pick this other woman, the one who spoke art fluently and offered her service with smooth elegance.
“Just Jay to clear, thank you.” Henry gestured to his left. “Emma, please, sit. You’re our guest tonight.”
“Of course.” Emma retook her seat. Her hand went to the choker at her throat. “My apologies, Henry.”
Silence fell over the noise of Jay bustling about with the dishes, swapping soup bowls for salad plates. Henry excused himself to put the main dish, a baked seafood ravioli tossed with fresh vegetables, served in separate ramekins, in the oven to heat while they enjoyed their salads.
Alice chased down a stubborn piece of lettuce with her fork and stabbed. “Your necklace is beautiful.” Three rows of pearls circled Emma’s neck, little silk knots between them. “Was it a gift?”
“Oh, yes.” The depth of Emma’s smile dazzled, a brilliance more than simple politeness, and her eyes shone. “Victor gave it to me many, many years ago.”
“A wedding present?” Expensive, for sure, with vertical bars of platinum evenly spaced after every five pearls.
“Our first anniversary.” Cheeks pinking, Emma lowered her eyelids in a slow blink. “I knew of his pursuits when I married him, but he refused to begin training me until after we were wed. He surprised me on our anniversary with a collaring ceremony.” She shook her head, her voice little more than a whisper. “Told me I was exquisite. That he was well pleased, beyond even his hopes for our joining. I feel his hand on me even now when I wear it.”
She’d felt an inkling of that herself. When she wore clothing Henry had chosen for her. Emma had spent decades with a reminder of her husband’s claim around her throat. No wonder if the sense memory of him lived in her skin.
Jay ate his salad, seemingly unaffected, but surely he had moments, too, when it took nothing at all to recall the warmth of Henry’s hand. The pressure of his lips. The sweet stroke of his tongue.
With the main course snug in the oven, Henry stood in utter stillness, watching them from the kitchen. No. Watching Emma, though he couldn’t have seen more than the back of her bowed head.
Lust for his knowledge, his insight, his history, bit Alice with fierce teeth. He saw more than the woman before him. An echo of who she’d been or the memory of his friend and mentor or something Alice couldn’t name and might never know.
His parting lips and shifting shoulders bespoke a sigh, though no sound emerged. He came to the table and took his seat. “Moonlight,” he murmured. “Victor once told me that was why he’d chosen the pearls.”
Emma looked up, one elegant eyebrow arched. “Moonlight?”
“I’d asked him about collaring. The personal significance and how he knew. He said his grandmother told him a story when he was very young. Poetic, though hardly scientific. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but…” Henry paused, head tilted. “When the full moon holds sway over the tides, its brilliance keeps the oysters from their beds. They open, and the pearls inside bathe in the luminescence. Forever on they glow with an inner light, a shard of the moon hidden within.”
He grimaced. “I was young and clumsy and entirely too ignorant of the nuances of love at the time. I asked if you were his moon, if he meant the pearls as a reminder that he had trapped bits and pieces of you and knotted them into a net to hold you fast.”
Fine, if Emma liked that sort of thing. Not me. Dishonest. She clamored for Henry’s ownership. Greedy desire and pride had shot through her at the club when Santa William said Henry considered them collared. But if Henry had that claim, she demanded an equal claim in return. Another failure to be submissive. She was racking them up tonight.
“Never before nor since did I ever see him so offended, so personally affronted.” Henry shook his head, his eyes distant and clouded. “And rightly so. He told me I’d gotten everything backward, and he would have to begin again with me, because for all my skills I lacked wisdom.”
Ridiculous. She’d never met a more insightful man. Who was this Victor guy to say otherwise?
“The moonlight, he informed me, could never represent you.” Henry leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting almost on the table, hands clasped in front of him. “You were his sun, Em. He filled himself with the light you shared with him. He gave you the pearls not as a show of his ownership and mastery over you, but as a reminder to himself of how thoroughly he was tangled in you. That each pearl carried a shard of his love for you, the reflected light he thanked God for each day. The gift you gave him.
“You should feel his hand on you when you wear it, Em. You’re carrying his love with you.”
Shuddering breaths drifted across the table.
Alice averted her gaze. Intruders, she and Jay. Eavesdropping on an intensely private moment. Henry wouldn’t have told the story if he didn’t believe Emma needed to hear it. And maybe because she needed to hear it, too.
Whatever the rules of their marriage, Emma had loved her husband deeply. She did still. The undercurrents between her and Henry belonged to something else. Nothing Alice could rigidly define, but if Henry had a sun, it wasn’t Emma.
“He—he never told me that. Not like that.” Emma cleared her throat. “Thank you, Henry.” Voice growing stronger, she became the poised perfectionist once more. “That was very kind of you.”
She transitioned to a question about the salad with little more than a breath between, as if she hadn’t learned something surprising about her husband’s view of their relationship. An understanding between them that allowed others, even ones so insightful as Henry, to view Victor as the one who shone brighter. But Emma’s husband, her dominant, knew better. Where the rest of the world, even his loving, submissive wife, saw him at the center of things, he saw only her.
As it should be, Henry whispered in her mind. Alice shivered, drawing his eyes, and she shook her head. No, it was nothing. She was fine. Just analyzing. Evaluating.
Wondering how Emma could shrug off the emotion and so easily accept Henry’s decision to even talk about it now, in front of her, in front of Jay.
The conversation meandered down lighter paths, the main course served and lauded.
Irritation itched at her shoulder blades. Henry wasn’t Emma’s dominant. Whatever her training, her years of experience, she didn’t have the right to act as if he was.
A sliver of doubt wedged itself deep. Every last bit of Emma’s perfect, poised, submissive charm and grace revealed Alice’s shortcomings. She’d never be this woman. A woman Henry admired and cared for. A woman brimming with praise for his culinary skills as forks slowed and plates emptied.
“Thank you, Em. It’s always lovely to have one’s efforts appreciated and acknowledged. But you haven’t come to dinner merely to compliment me on the output of my kitchen.”
“I owe you an apology, Henry.” Emma laid her fork down with precision and gazed at each of them in turn. “All three of you, truly.”
“If you feel you must, Em.” Kindness emanated from Henry’s voice, his eyes, even the tilt of his head. “Was there an egregious breach of which I am unaware?”
“You asked me for one thing, Henry, and I failed to manage it. In the past—” Lips pinched in a thin line, she glanced at Alice and Jay. “You’ve never failed me when I needed you. You asked for such a simple thing. I should have been more vigilant. My failure led directly to traumatizing young Jay and leaving poor Alice to cope with a situation far outside her experience. Victor would have been disappointed in me.” She rubbed her necklace like a talisman. “I’m disappointed in myself. I concede your right for recompense in this, Henry, and submit myself to your judgment.”
Alice struggled not to gape, her fork held in nerveless fingers.
Jay, too, had stopped eating.
Judgment. Not forgiveness.
“You believe you deserve punishment for your actions, Em?” Henry slipped into unreadable neutrality, the tone of game nights and safeword demands.
“I believe your Alice suffered a punishment as a direct result of my failure to alert you to Cal’s presence in the club. If you judge I ought to share in that punishment, so be it.”
“Jay.” Henry’s voice was quiet.
Fuck. He wouldn’t play with Emma the way he played with them.
“Yes, Henry.” Jay’s whisper drifted from a trembling lip.
Never send Jay to fetch a flogger or a paddle or whatever implement suited the grievance.
“Do you feel Emma is responsible for the injury you suffered last week?”
“No, Henry.” A sworn vow, Jay fervent and overflowing with feeling. No way was he ready to watch that. No way would Henry make him.
“Do you feel she deserves to be punished for her oversight?”
Jay studied each of them in silence, but his gaze rested on her last and longest. “I think whatever Alice feels is fair is right.” He tapped his fork on the edge of his plate, a chiming metronome in disarray, gaining speed. “Emma thinks she failed us all, and I know I failed you and Alice, and you probably think you failed us, too. But Alice is the only one who got punished.”
“Alice?”
Jesus. Did she want him to punish Emma? Was that seriously the question? Ask an eye for an eye when the person truly at fault suffered no punishment. Cal. That fucking jackass and his bully tactics, trying to intimidate Jay, trying to intimidate her, threatening to harm them and—
Henry held out his hand, and she put hers in it, letting his touch calm her.
“I don’t blame Emma.” Trust. Understanding. The sexual exclusivity their contract demanded wouldn’t prevent Henry from disciplining another player in some other fashion.
“She doesn’t owe me a share of the punishment.” He loved her. He understood the precarious nature of her footing in this new environment. He wouldn’t intentionally slight her.
“What she feels she deserves and what you feel owed are”—she forced the rest of the words out—“are your decisions. I won’t interfere or usurp your right to determine what’s best. But for me, no. The one responsible is Cal. If he were punished, I’d be satisfied.”
The smallest tic jumped in Henry’s cheek as he squeezed her fingers. The flash in his eyes cleared with his blink. “Tell me, Em, where did the failure originate? You took steps, I’m certain, to prevent the outcome that arose.”
“Yes, Henry. Of course. I flagged him in the database. Had he reserved a room or requested special equipment, I’d have been informed well in advance. I investigated his visit log. Saturday nights only. He hadn’t attended on a Friday in more than a year. The door and desk staff knew to inform me if he arrived, a small lie about a matter regarding his membership. I intended to know in an instant and send a runner to warn you.” She shook her head. “But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there, and by the time I’d heard, you’d already gone.”
“What drew you away, Emma? Some trivial matter, easily handled by another?”
“No, no, not then. Ultimately, yes. One of the patrons had chest pains and slurred speech. His partners caterwauled like children and refused medical assistance. They wouldn’t trust the discretion of the private ambulance service on call. I had to calm the fools before they’d allow him to be moved. Useless. Utterly useless. All the while a true emergency was happening, and I did nothing to stop it. Of no more use to you than those idiots were to their dominant.”
“You took extensive precautions on our behalf, and fate intervened. I might as easily say I should have taken Alice and Jay home sooner. Let their first night on display together be a short one. My own desire to see them enjoy themselves blinded me to the potential difficulty.”
He couldn’t possibly believe those things.
“Or I might have refused them permission to leave my side. Taken them myself. Spent more time training them beforehand.”
What was she thinking? Of course he blamed himself.
“Perhaps my desire to surprise Alice with a night out overrode my sense of caution.” His dispassionate delivery concealed the guilty currents. No telling how deep they ran.
“Shall I go on, Em? We might play this game all night.” Henry tapped the table twice in quick succession. “Or we might accept that what’s done is done, and for all the possible missteps each of us made, the one person whose actions caused this is Cal.”
But Henry would shoulder the responsibility to fix it.
“All other things being equal, his choice to pursue my dear ones, to corner them and verbally assault them, was the choice of a man who cannot control himself. And a man who cannot control his own actions has no business attempting to control others’.”
She’d slept in safety and comfort. He’d spent hours chewing over concerns she’d given no thought to. Repaid his selflessness with selfishness.
“You won’t accept my apology, then?” Emma bowed her head. “Nor punish me for my failure?”
“The latter is unnecessary, Em. Any failure on your part was a single snowflake in an avalanche. His voice, not yours, shouted it down. No, I will not punish you, as I perceive neither negligence nor malice in your actions.” Henry pushed his chair back and stood. “I will, however, accept your apology on behalf of my family.”
He stepped around the corner of the table and touched the pearls at Emma’s throat with two fingers.
Alice bit her tongue and swallowed a pained gasp. If Henry had put collars around her and Jay and another dominant tried to handle them, surely he would’ve taken personal offense. The closeness and trust in Emma’s acceptance of Henry’s touch struck her like a blow.
He used the same fingers to lift Emma’s chin, and she gazed at him with eerie calm. Jay’s acceptance without the joy. A neutral mask. If Henry weren’t the man he was, he could slap Emma across the face right now and she’d thank him. Not the sort of pain Alice enjoyed. Emma seemed more of a masochist, and even she wanted to ban Cal’s brand of sadism. How much of an ass did he have to be for a masochist to find him unappealing?
Henry bent at the waist, the bulk of his body a fair distance from Emma’s, and pressed a closed-mouth kiss to her forehead. “I accept the apology of Victor’s gentle flower, knowing she intended no offense, and grant her forgiveness. The debt is paid.”
Emma sighed, soft and low. “Thank you, sir.”
A ritual. Some kind of ritualized apology, and no she wouldn’t leap across the table and demand Emma not call him sir like she had a right to. Because she was the hostess here, and it would be poor manners, and she wasn’t a child, and Jesus Christ it still hurt.
Pink-lipped and pouty, Jay blew her a kiss across his fingertips.
She soaked up the welcome in his deep brown eyes and caught his kiss against her cheek and held it there. Thanked him silently. Her sweet boy. Hers and Henry’s.
Henry straightened and turned from Emma.
Alice hastily lowered her hand.
A flicker of something crossed his face.
“Coffee and dessert, please, Jay. In the living room.” Henry rounded the table with controlled swiftness to reach her side. He held his hand out. “Ladies, if you’ll join me?”
She laid her fingers in his and let him help her to her feet. A formality he didn’t insist upon when they dined alone. Trying to meet Emma’s expectations. Or set Emma at ease with behavior she’d find familiar. The woman crackled with upper crustitude.
But Henry had reached for her hand, though he’d had to leave Emma’s side to come to hers. He gestured Emma in front of him to the living room, where she took the plump formal armchair angled toward the couch.
Henry seated Alice at the end of the couch nearest their guest. He settled beside her, leaving no gap. The warm weight of his hand against her spine pressed her closer.
“Comfortable, sweet girl?” he rumbled in her ear.
Never more so than in his arms. “Very.”
Realization dawned. Henry intended his possessive behavior as a lesson for her. Emma already knew who held Henry’s heart. Across the coffee table, she tucked unknowable thoughts behind a wistful smile.
“Perhaps you’d care to choose a topic for conversation, Emma?” Henry leaned against the cushion and wrapped his arm around Alice’s back, squeezing her hip.
“You’ve already accepted my apology, Henry. I may have exhausted my conversation starters for the evening.” Emma sat as straight as she had at the table, her legs neatly together.
“Em.” Henry chided with familiar firmness. “We both know you’ve more than an apology on your mind.”
Jay knelt beside the coffee table and set the tray down. Henry hadn’t made a complex dessert but a variety of bite-size pieces. Fancy little cakes, she and Jay had dubbed them. Petits fours, he’d insisted.
“You’ve always been good at that, Henry.” Emma accepted the coffee Jay offered with quiet thanks. “What gave me away this time?”
“You haven’t relaxed, Em. If the apology were all that weighed on you, forgiveness would have been enough. And you would have set the stage for it with flowers or a fruit basket earlier in the week.” Turning, Henry addressed Jay. “No, thank you, my boy. You’ve provided lovely service this evening. Come join us on the sofa, hmm?”
Jay popped one of the little cakes in his mouth and sat beside Henry. He squirmed, his body straight and tense, as unsure of his place as she’d been of hers all night. He’d probably rather be snug in his waiting pose at Henry’s feet.
Henry studied Emma. “You learned something more recently—last night, perhaps?—that affects us.”
If he’d tensed, Alice would’ve followed suit. But he rolled his shoulders, settling comfortably against the back of the couch and rubbing his hand over her hip. Relax. Henry’s not worried.
“So, Emma, tell me,” he continued, his voice casual. “How did the board meeting turn out? Was there a challenge?”
Jay stiffened, a rabbit in a hawk’s shadow.
Henry touched his shoulder. “Lie down, my dear boy.” He patted his thigh. “Head here, please.”
The younger man settled on his side in a loose fetal position, his head in Henry’s lap. He draped a hand over Henry’s knee, fingers moving in a steady pattern of gentle squeezes.
Alice ruffled his hair, and he let out a quiet hum.
“You’re good, Henry.” Emma sipped her coffee. “But this time you’re not quite on target.”
“Cal didn’t object? I admit, I’m surprised. I expected he would attempt to bring a complaint over what he perceives as an inadequate level of punishment.”
If he’d expected a problem, why the hell hadn’t he mentioned it to her and Jay? Because he’s the dominant and you’re the submissives, Allie-girl. This was part of it, and she’d have to get used to it. Sometimes she’d be insulated. Sometimes he’d worry and wouldn’t say a word until and unless the trouble directly affected her.
I don’t like that. As his partner, she had to be allowed to support him and share his burdens.
Emma clinked the saucer as she set her cup down. “He didn’t have the standing, not after last week.”
The startled reflex in Henry’s muscles didn’t sound in his tone. “I know the board wouldn’t have revoked his privileges for being an ass, Emma. You haven’t the votes, and his behavior has been overlooked before.”
“Not revoked, no. But suspended.” The glee on Emma’s face matched Alice’s at the idea of cutting off Cal’s balls and feeding them to him. “For fighting.”
“Fighting?” Henry frowned. “It’s unlike him to be baited into blatantly violating the rules.” He stroked Jay with a light touch along a smooth cheekbone. “He’s more likely to take out his frustrations on the defenseless in private.”
In the chaos of the night at the club, the image she’d seen over Jay’s shoulder as Henry shepherded them out had stuck with her. The one question she needed answered tumbled free. “Is Santa okay?”
Henry whipped his head around and studied her with a look not unlike the shrewd one on Emma’s face. Approval and a whiff of admiration, if she hadn’t imagined it.
“William really does earn the nickname, doesn’t he?” Emma’s smile might have reflected her affection for William or her enjoyment of teasing Henry by withholding the answer. “I keep telling him he ought to shave, but—”
“Em, delightful as it is to see you bonding with Alice, I would greatly appreciate an answer to her question before you enumerate Will’s various charms.”
“He’s fine, Henry. A bruised jaw and a highly satisfied ego.” She waved it off as nothing. “Probably listening to his harpy’s complaints over how it looks to their friends.”
Henry loosed a single chuckle. “I suppose he let Cal get in a free punch to make a clear case? In front of witnesses, no doubt.”
“You’d have done the same thing yourself for him.” Emma chose one of the little cakes, orange with white icing, and ate it in two dainty bites.
“Sanctions?” Watching Emma, Henry squeezed Jay’s shoulder. Reassurance. No matter how the subject disturbed Jay, he’d refuse to leave.
“He accepted disciplinary action equal to Cal’s, a two-week suspension, for provoking the altercation.”
God, to have heard William take down that prick. He’d proved to have a quick tongue when it came to goading Cal.
Henry snorted. “Would they have suspended Cal otherwise? Or do we no longer even have the votes for enforcing basic civility?”
“We could.” Emma squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “If you stand for Jacob’s seat.”
Henry and Emma studied each other in silence. Tension hung between them.
“So we’ve come around to the real purpose of your visit, have we?” Unflappable, Henry settled back as if he’d expected Emma’s gambit.
Were subtlety and sly moves a submissive approach? It wasn’t her approach. Except when she and Jay had worked together in January to forestall disaster. Henry had seen through them in an instant.
Yeah, he had. But he’d still given them what they needed.
“You have the support among the voting members, Henry.” Emma picked up speed. “Victor was grooming you for the job.”
She’d have killed for her laptop to take notes.
“Your behavior is above reproach.” Emma ticked off points on her fingers. “The novices respect you.”
This conversation had taught her more about Henry’s standing at the club in three minutes than she’d discovered in the month and a half since she’d learned the place existed.
“Andrew would back you. His niece and her husband thanked you at their wedding, for God’s sake.”
“And six years ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated.” Draping his arm over Jay, Henry patted his chest. “Even two years ago I might have considered it.” He rubbed his other hand along her ribs and squeezed her close. “But I have other priorities now.”
“You don’t think they’d benefit from it, Henry?” Emma narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “I know you’ve ideas for updating the code of conduct. For providing better protections for submissives and specific safety and training requirements for dominants. They’re good ideas.”
“I’m not saying the job isn’t worthwhile. I’m saying it would take too much of my attention from the people I love.” He raised his hand from Jay’s chest in a dismissive wave before settling again. “Find someone else to implement the ideas. Will would relish the greater involvement. More time away from his…lovely wife.”
“If he hadn’t just baited another long-standing member into a fight, I might agree with you.” Emma sighed. “But the older members see him as a hothead. One who needs more seasoning. Whereas you followed protocol. Your subs conducted themselves well and so did you.”
Emma set her coffee cup on its saucer and laid them on the table.
“I nosed around afterward, Henry.” She leaned in, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands clasped. “A good portion of the people watching Alice’s punishment considered it a well-choreographed show.”
Alice nudged forward, certain she’d misheard. “They what?”
Emma nodded. “Many of them have seen Henry direct scenes. Some have had instruction from him.”
She shoved aside the voice in her head asking what the hell that meant.
“He showed up with subs when he normally attends alone and has for years. It created a buzz.” Emma spread her hands, palms up. “They saw what they expected to see, a lesson in trust, affection, and gentle discipline, with you, Alice, cast as the unwitting novice, and Cal as the villainous poacher, and Henry teaching the appropriate course of action. A dominant must always put the health of his sub first and adhere to proper behavior, even when provoked. He must remain in control.” Emma shrugged lightly and leaned back in the chair.
All the confusing emotions swirling in her head, the sobs she’d been embarrassed by, the fear that she’d disappointed Henry, her anger at that man—was it better or worse if no one had known how real the punishment had felt to her?
“Alice gave them the emotional center.” Crossing her ankles, Emma shifted her attention to Henry. “You gave them the calm control. Jay highlighted the sweeping romance. Several players interpreted him as your loyal watchdog eager to attack the enemy but instead playing the defender, cradling Alice to his chest. A bit of Lancelot. Honestly, Henry, if I didn’t know you so well, I might’ve thought it scripted myself. But you would never put an untried sub through that deliberately.”
“No.” Henry growled, thick and heavy. “A scene fraught with emotion, soaked in bitterness and violence—I would not have chosen that as an introduction.”
She’d forgiven him. The outcome hadn’t been his choice. She squeezed Henry’s thigh, hoping to offer comfort without breaking any unwritten dom rules, and combed her fingers through Jay’s hair. No rules against offering him comfort, and he’d retreated. Her carefree playmate found refuge in submission and silence. “Wait. If William only let Cal take a swing at his jaw, why was he suspended?”
“He let Cal take the first swing.” Ducking her head, Emma only partly concealed her broad smile. “And then he took the bastard to the floor, not gently, and held an arm across his throat until a bouncer got to them. I received a thorough report.”
“I wish I’d seen that.” She scratched Jay’s scalp in slow circles. Her tender stud deserved fierce defenders, friends who shared Henry’s decisiveness, compassion, and protective nature. Tonight’s dinner had acknowledged Emma’s effort, but William had done his share, too. “I want to thank Santa.”
Henry kissed her forehead. “We’ll discuss something appropriate, sweet girl.”
“You’re certain I can’t persuade you to take Jacob’s seat?” Emma rubbed her hands together. “He intends to step down before Christmas and spend half the year in Arizona with his grandchildren.”
“I’m sorry, Em, but I don’t think so. My strength belongs to my family.” Henry deepened his hold on them. “It’s been a difficult week, and we’ve more work to do.”
“Teach a class, then.” Nodding, Emma almost stepped on the end of Henry’s answer. “You’re still training Alice. It’s an excellent opportunity.”
“Take her back, you mean. No.” Henry shook his head, and Jay echoed the movement beneath her hand.
She couldn’t, at this moment, unreservedly say going back rated high on her to-do list, either.
“I have no intention of returning, Em.”
Emma rippled in a single shudder. Concussive blast, a woman standing too close to a building demolition shoved back by the force.
Alice studied Emma differently from the way she had all night. Not considering what Henry might see in Emma or want from her. Not considering how Alice herself might measure up beside her. What did Emma see when she looked at Henry?
“You have—” Emma cleared her throat. “Henry, may we speak in private?”
Jay curled tighter, rustling Henry’s pants and clutching his knee.
“I’m afraid not, Em.” Henry rested his hand on Jay’s neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth. “Not tonight.”
Alice stared, beyond caring about the rudeness. She needed data. If she hadn’t been staring, she’d have missed the tightening around Emma’s mouth. The tension in her calf as she flexed her leg. Emma had acted pleased for them earlier, for their little family or Henry’s happiness. Her friendship with Henry had begun when Alice and Jay were in elementary school. And now Henry had placed himself in their corner.
“No intention at all?”
Emma’s requests wouldn’t budge him.
Voicing her sympathy wouldn’t help. Apologizing for having Henry’s support when Emma feared losing it smacked of gloating.
“Not even if they asked? If they needed it?” Emma gestured toward Alice and Jay, but her eyes stayed with Henry. “Do you recall what we discussed last summer, the irreparable harm—”
“Emma.” His voice a low command, Henry tightened his arm around Alice’s shoulder.
She barely dared breathe. This near stranger might know things about her. Private things.
“We spoke in confidence.”
“But your concerns were unfounded, weren’t they?” Emma’s voice rose in volume and speed. Their eyes met, Emma’s tight and pinched and ringed by deep lines beneath drawn brows. Emma flipped her gaze to Henry, her fingers tapping the chair arm. “Here she sits, accepting your discipline and your love—”
“Emma.”
Emma’s gaze dropped to her feet.
Alice almost expected her to fall into a waiting pose. She felt the impulse herself. Hell, Jay had startled as if that tone had carried instructions for him.
“Your behavior tonight—” Henry shook his head. “Victor would have taken—”
A high, thin note pierced Emma’s clamped lips and cut off in an instant.
Henry’s struggle, his leashed anger, spilled into Alice’s skin. He turned his face into her hair and breathed out, hard.
Across from them, Emma curled bloodless hands in her lap.
Henry left a ghost of a kiss against Alice’s head.
“Emma.” Henry softened his voice. “Sverchok. Even were I to renounce my membership at the club, our friendship would not end.” He took another deep breath.
Alice attempted to identify what he’d said. A command? An apology? A nickname? Her lack of knowledge itched at her.
“But we’ve finished with the subject for tonight. I won’t hear more about it. Not one word.”
Without looking up, Emma nodded once. “Not a word, Henry. Of course.”
“Good. We’ve kept you overlong in any case. Jay.” Henry patted his back, encouraging him to rise. “Retrieve Emma’s coat, please. It’s late, and she ought to be getting home soon.”
Jay rolled off the couch and onto his feet, trotting to the armoire that served as a coat closet. If he moved fast, well, Jay did everything fast unless Henry specified slow. But his hope for some alone time manifested in every bouncing step.
Emma, in her stillness, rode the inverse line. Head bowed, she wore the blank face she’d had accepting Henry’s judgment at the table. If not for her slow blink, she’d have been a store-window mannequin.
Alice scrutinized Emma for a shift from potential energy to kinetic. A sign of irritation. Of frustration or resentment at being silenced. But it didn’t come. Maybe Emma didn’t feel she’d been treated like a child. Or was accustomed to it. Or had the good sense to recall she was a guest in Henry’s home. Or maybe Alice didn’t know her well enough to know what the hell went on in her head. Dammit. She’d tie herself in knots trying to figure it out.
“Yes, thank you, Henry.” Emma straightened. “I’m…tired. A bit of sleep will set me to rights again.”
Refinement. Poise. Emma had it in spades. She accepted Henry’s reproach without complaint. Took the excuse he offered her with grace. She’s a better submissive than I am. Alice resettled her shoulders, channeling Jay’s clinginess, wishing she had Henry to herself right now.
Henry cupped Alice’s head and kissed her cheek, his forehead warm against hers. “A moment, sweet girl,” he murmured. He stood, leaving her on the couch alone. “Of course, Em. I’ll walk you out.”
Jay brought the light dress coat over while Henry helped Emma to her feet. Henry accepted the coat, thanking Jay, and held it open. Polite words rolled off Emma’s tongue, thank-yous for the lovely dinner and the gracious host and the opportunity to spend time getting to know Jay and Alice better. She turned her back and allowed Henry to slide the coat up her arms and onto her shoulders. He didn’t button it for her. Emma didn’t reach for the buttons herself, either.
He might do it for her downstairs. Where their interaction wouldn’t be seen.
Ugh. Her jealousy was unworthy of her and them. He wasn’t having an affair with this woman. The hour was late, and although the guest parking area was well-lit, he wouldn’t send his guest out alone. Couldn’t, not and still consider himself a gentleman. She didn’t understand what they were to each other, but he wouldn’t hide an affair.
Ex-lover, though, that was possible.
Fuck.
* * * *
Jay closed the door behind Henry and Emma. Turning, he cocked his head like a puppy trying to understand a new command. “You’re thinking.”
“Huh?” The dishes hadn’t been taken care of yet. Jay had cleared, but he hadn’t rinsed them or loaded the dishwasher. She could do that now.
“You’re thinking something.”
“Not really.” Yes really. All sorts of things. None remotely worth mentioning to Jay.
He followed her into the kitchen. “Yes, you are.” He nudged her with his hip as she opened the dishwasher. “What’d you think?”
“Think?” Why had he chosen now to be perceptive? If he could tell, Henry would know in an instant. “I think—” She’d better not be thinking when he returned. “She’s very—” Get it out and let it go. “Mature.”
Jay slouched against the counter, facing her as she rinsed salad plates. “Funny, you don’t sound catty when you say that, so I know you don’t mean old.”
“She’s elegant.” She kept moving under his stare. Loading dishes. “Poised. Refined.” They could have the place cleaned by the time Henry came back. “Very, umm…”
“Art crowd. Upper crust.”
“Yeah.” And now Ms. Upper Crust had Henry downstairs spending time with her. Talking about things Henry liked. Things they both liked. Things she didn’t even know Henry liked.
Jay slid closer, boxing her in with his body, the sink, and the dishwasher rack. Leaning his head against hers, he kissed her cheek. “I used to think it, too, you know.”
She set the glass down. Jay couldn’t really read her mind. She traced the edge of the hammered copper sink apron. “You did?”
“I was a massive bundle of insecurities, and for months I couldn’t have sex without panicking, and my hobbies were nothing like Henry’s. Of course I did.” Wrapping his arm around her back, he pressed her toward him. “You’re thinking, ‘What does he see in me? What if I’m not good enough for him? He could have all that class and sophistication if he snapped his fingers, and I’m just me.’”
She closed her eyes and sighed. Jay did know. He did understand.
“I know he loves me,” she whispered. “But she’s so…perfect.”
Jay slipped his head against her own, a slow no. “Not for me and not for Henry. For us, you’re perfect.”
“Absolute perfection.” Henry startled her, but Jay didn’t budge.
How much had Henry heard? Had he hurried back to them? She twisted around, desperate to read his face.
Henry locked eyes with her. He stalked them, crossing the kitchen with deliberate steps.
“Jay.” His voice was soft. Controlled. “Fetch me a condom. Quickly, now.”
Jay darted from the room, leaving her to Henry’s mercy. He didn’t look merciful.
“My sweet girl. Do you know”—with his body he herded her to the kitchen wall—“how many hours”—hiked her dress to her waist—“I’ve been waiting”—hoisted her with hands beneath her thighs and leaned into her—“to do this?” Fully hard, he pushed into her panties.
He raked her neck with kisses and ground his hips, his cock the strike of a match across her clit. Trapped against the wall, she whimpered and stroked him in return.
“Thank you, Jay. Lend me your hands, hmm?” Henry squeezed her thighs, lifting her up and sliding her back down. “Mine are occupied.”
He returned to kissing her—her throat, her collarbone, her earlobes, her jaw, finally her mouth. All the while, Jay worked between them, unbuckling Henry’s belt and opening his pants. Knuckles bumping her through her panties with accidental strokes, he lowered the condom over Henry’s cock. When the kisses paused, Alice held her breath.
“Is she wet for me, Jay? Best to check. Be a good boy and give Alice two fingers.”
Her panties slipped to the side. A finger stroked between her lips with an audibly wet slide. Drenched. No hiding the truth of her eager response. Jay thrust inside. Her bucking hips locked him between her and Henry, shoving the heel of Jay’s hand against her clit. Fuck yes.
“More than wet enough, Henry.” Jay spread his fingers, readying her for a larger invasion.
Henry forced her hips to the wall. “Show me.”
Jay pulled free and raised his fingers.
Henry sucked them into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing.
Jay moaned.
Henry let go and licked his lips.
“Thank you, my boy.” He kissed Jay softly. “Hold our girl open a moment. I’ve a gift to give her.”
The best gift. Her breathing quickened as Jay pushed her panties aside and the tip of Henry’s cock rested just inside her. Jay stepped back. But Henry made no move to enter farther, and his hands kept her still.
“You want to watch, don’t you, my boy?”
“Yes, Henry.” His trembling tenor flirted with the edge of a whimper.
“No touching. Neither us nor yourself. You’ll wait your turn like a good boy, hmm?”
Jay rasped yes between heavy exhalations. He’d wait. Wait like she was waiting now. Wait for Henry’s pleasure. His choice of when and how to take them.
The tingling need firing along every nerve shivered through to her skin. “Please…”
“You want your gift, Alice?”
“Yes. Please.”
Henry thrust with a single, smooth stroke. Her thighs spread as he reached his depth. She clutched his shoulders. He drew back and thrust again, starting a deep, rocking rhythm that carried her along until she was whimpering with need and unashamed of it.
“Who makes you feel good, Alice? Who gives you this pleasure?”
“You do.”
“Who am I, Alice?”
“Henry. Henry-Henry-Henry.” She called his name with each thrust, a rolling chant.
“And why do I do it, Alice? Why do I allow you so much pleasure?”
She almost fumbled the rhythm, but then certainty filled her as surely as his carefully measured thrusts. “Because you love me.”
“Say it again, Alice.”
“Because you love me.”
She repeated the words until she couldn’t, until her throat grew tight and her head pressed against the wall and she met Henry’s every thrust with violent force of her own. The drape of her dress and the slide of the fabric teased her as they had on their first night. The tension in her body teetered on the cusp of uncoiling.
He tightened his hold on the backs of her thighs as he drove into her.
Even Henry lacked the breath to speak now, she thought, until he growled against her throat. “Come now, Alice. Come now or not at all.”
The pure command in his voice and the realization she’d somehow driven him to the very edge of his control gave her the final push. Enough to leave her shaking uncontrollably as pleasure unwound beneath her skin.
He came, pressed deep inside her and groaning as she rippled around him, pinning her to the wall, a thin membrane of latex keeping his heat from spilling into her. Curiosity laced her satisfaction. She’d never allowed the elimination of that barrier with previous lovers. But with Henry? With Jay?
She curled her fingers in the short hairs at the nape of Henry’s neck. Might be time to start.
Henry raised his head and pressed his lips to her forehead. “All right, Alice? No fears, hmm?”
Maybe he meant the emotional insecurity she’d been sharing with Jay, but his predatory behavior registered with a tumbling click. He’d used his body, his size, his voice, to crowd her against the wall. She’d sat across from a reminder of the club all night, but Henry’s stalking hadn’t once awakened her fear and anger over Cal’s jackass intimidation tactics.
Her euphoria set off a string of giggles. “No fears.” She wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face in his neck and rocking. “Just love.”
“Good girl.” He pushed off the wall. “Shall we take Jay to bed? Show him how loved he is as well?”
She tightened her legs around his hips. “Definitely.”
Past Henry’s shoulder, Jay stood at the kitchen table with his pants tented.
“We haven’t shown him for hours.”
Leaning toward them, obedient to Henry’s command not to touch, he threatened to crack the chair behind him with his grip.
“We should fix that.”
“Wonderful. Come along, Jay. But don’t come. Not quite yet.”
She grinned like a fiend at Jay, who followed behind while Henry carried her to the bedroom. The clutch of her legs around Henry’s waist seemed all that kept his pants from tripping him. He set her gently on her feet—well, the heels she’d worn at his request—near the foot of the bed.
Her dress cascaded into place around her knees. His pants dropped to the floor. Henry casually stepped out of them, as if he weren’t flustered to stand in front of her with his shirttails draped over his softening cock and his boxers hitched under his balls. Poised and elegant. She resisted the urge to giggle again.
“Jay. Come here, please.” Henry positioned Jay in front of Alice and raised her hands to his chest.
Jay’s heart thumped hard under her palm. Eager desire beamed from his smile and his eyes.
“Undress our boy for me, Alice. Slowly.”
Henry’s movements around the room divided her focus as she worked open Jay’s buttons. Images flickered like a gif set.
Henry, disposing of the condom.
Jay, nuzzling her hair and inhaling.
Henry, removing his own clothes.
Jay, his skin paler below his neckline.
Henry, watching her push Jay’s shirt down his arms.
She knelt to take off Jay’s shoes and socks, helping him balance as she made him stand on one foot and then the other. Lifting her head and moving her hands to unbuckle his belt, she slammed up against a twinge of nerves. His cock stood right there. In front of her mouth. Bulging behind a pair of dress slacks.
If someone’s a good boy, he can watch me fuck her after his whipping.
She gripped belt leather in tight, immovable fingers. Cal droned on.
I have a lovely coachwhip.
“Alice.” Henry coaxed her in quiet, understanding tones. “It’s all right, my dear. Finish the task I set you. You haven’t been asked for anything more than that, dearest.”
Her fingers fumbled through unfastening Jay’s pants and lowering them as he stood unnaturally still. She was careful with his boxers, pulling them out and around to avoid teasing him, and then she was left with nothing more to remove. Jay’s erect cock waited inches from her face. He jumped, and her gust of breath resounded in her ears. She’d been blowing air across sensitive skin. Aside from one uncontrolled jump, he hadn’t moved a muscle. Hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t cracked a joke.
“Alice. Stand up, please.”
She forced herself not to rush. She wasn’t afraid of Jay. She wouldn’t let him think she was. His erection stirred arousal and affection. But kneeling, and while his pants were still on, that was…difficult.
“Raise your arms, please, Alice.” Henry stood behind her, his nearness swirling in her awareness before he stripped her sheath dress off over her head and laid it aside.
She curbed the impulse to check for unwanted eyes watching her.
Henry nuzzled her face. “Up unto the bed, my girl.”
Jay gifted her with a compassionate gaze. He knew fear and vulnerability beyond any she’d encountered. Seeing her shaky responses, helping her, gave him purpose and permission. If she hid, he would too.
Henry stepped aside, gripped her hips, and lifted her.
She sat on the edge while he and Jay removed her shoes with synchronized motions, right down to the playful kisses they planted on the balls of her feet. She flexed toes happy to be free of their long confinement in fashionable footwear.
Henry removed her panties and gave her a gentle push. “Go and sit at the head of the bed, Alice. Make yourself comfortable with the pillows.”
Reclining against a pile of pillows and the headboard, she mimicked Jay’s position from the night before. If Henry meant to let her cradle Jay while he made love to him, he’d need lubrication. The nightstand displayed no condoms, lube, or toys.
Henry ordered Jay onto the bed. “On your back, my boy. Lay your head on Alice’s thigh.”
Not in her arms, not like she’d been with Jay behind her.
Jay followed directions quickly. Of course he had. Jay, duh. With a raging hard-on. He settled his head, nestling up against her with his face tipped toward the slight roundness of her belly. A pleasant weight but an unpleasant reminder. If they’d given up condoms, he might’ve enjoyed licking her clean. As it was, she wouldn’t get oral stimulation until she’d bathed, and things were a little busy to request a washcloth. She ran her fingers through his hair. He clasped her ankle, fingers circling in ceaseless motion.
Henry paced around the foot of the bed and stopped at the far corner with his head tilted just so and a soft smile on his face. He breathed deep and let the air trickle out.
She’d see this scene again. Not soon, and not until he’d finished, but he’d disappear into his studio tomorrow to sketch. Possibly even tonight while she and Jay slept.
“My patient, patient boy.” Henry lowered himself to the bed beside Jay. Now she had two heads in her lap, and neither would be giving her any attention. Last straw. They were done with condoms. She was a responsible adult about birth control, and the three of them were a monogamous—God, that’s hot.
Kissing Jay with fierce intensity, Henry pushed him harder against her thigh, one hand in a firm grip on Jay’s shoulder. He left Jay’s lips wet and swollen and his expression dazed.
“Tell me your safeword, Jay.”
“Tilt-A-Whirl.” No hesitation. No confusion.
“And when should you use it?”
“Anytime I feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”
“And if you’re uncertain how you’re feeling?”
“I should use it anyway, and you’ll help me figure it out.”
“Good boy.” Henry leaned his torso over Jay’s when he kissed him again. The muscles in his back worked to keep him balanced on his arms, the right tucked along the inside of her left leg and the left outside her right leg. He stayed in close contact with both of them, no one alone or unwanted.
Jay squirmed. God, could that boy squirm. He wasn’t a quiet kisser, either, emitting whimpers and half-vocalized moans Henry swallowed. A private lap dance from her two favorite men, entirely focused on each other. The intense, personalized eroticism made their show so much stronger than the distant arousal she’d experienced at the club. Watching strangers lacked the intimacy of Jay’s head tipping back across her thigh as he bared his throat.
“You want to submit to me, don’t you, my boy?”
Jay moaned his agreement, and Henry covered his throat with harsh, biting kisses.
He’d done the same to her in the kitchen. Had it looked this way to Jay? Primal, and violent, and fucking rip-off-my-panties-and-bend-me-over hot?
The mattress rolled as Jay bucked his hips. Lean muscle thrust him high, his erection bobbing past the flexing in Henry’s back. He put on an entrancing peep show, there and gone with a wet, shining tip. Excitement brought on by Henry’s punishing kisses.
Sitting up, Henry added to the show. He wasn’t hard, but he’d come with her less than thirty minutes ago.
He stroked Jay from neck to navel, and Jay wiggled and whined. Henry closed his hand around the base of Jay’s cock and squeezed.
Jay groaned. His hips jerked.
Henry held him too tightly to let him come so quickly. A handjob, like he’d given Jay last night. Jay working himself made for a fun show, but the excitement of Henry working Jay even beat the thrill of solving a complex design puzzle on the first try.
Henry leaned across Jay’s thighs, pinning him to the bed, and surrounded Jay’s cock with his mouth.
Jesus.
Jay gave a strangled gasp and dug his fingers into her calf.
Surprised you too, huh, stud?
Clamping his mouth tight, Henry built up pressure like a hydraulic cylinder and Jay the piston rod driving home. Henry’s jaw stood out in a stark line, the tendons in his neck a relief map of tension quaking with every hard suck. He raised his head, licking his lips, leaving a wet and shining cock beneath his chin, and his gaze fastened on Jay’s.
“It’s all right to enjoy this. I want to hear your pleasure.” Soft at first, Henry dropped into his low command voice by the end. “Let me hear you, Jay.”
He closed his mouth over the head of Jay’s cock again. Sliding lips took him to the root. Henry gave blowjobs. Paradigm shift. Better than she could. Better than Jay, and he got bucket loads of practice. Sucking cock seemed so un-Henry-like.
Yet Henry retained control. Dominant, even with Jay’s cock in his throat. Whimpering and writhing, Jay was helpless to do anything but accept his gift. Bold and confident, Henry commanded Jay’s submission to having his cock sucked.
Jay arched his back and dragged his feet up the bed, swaying the mattress. His shoulder blades jutted into her stomach and thighs as he rose to meet Henry’s pull. The strain outlined every gorgeous muscle beneath his toned stomach. His teeth flashed, his mouth wide and pouring forth sweet, wordless whines.
The power dynamic was the opposite of what Cal would’ve done—had threatened to do—to her. But a blowjob didn’t have to be a demeaning, frightening act. She’d enjoyed giving to Henry and Jay before. She would again. The people, not the act, made it what it was. She brushed back shaggy black strands of Jay’s hair falling in his eyes.
Henry’s right arm, bent at the elbow, rested on Jay’s stomach, his hand mostly out of sight. Hidden between Jay’s legs, shadowed by the movement of Henry’s mouth as he sucked. Massaging Jay’s balls. Or lower. Teasing and circling Jay like he’d done to her months ago.
Her body clenched, and it wasn’t in fear. It was curiosity. A stirring of desire.
Jay’s groans grew louder, their familiar eager note signaling his imminent orgasm.
Henry gained velocity, his lips sliding with a twisting motion from root to tip and back again, his cheeks hollowing out. His breath was harsh and loud and all but drowned out by Jay’s noises.
Jay shouted Henry’s name, hips jerking beneath Henry’s weight.
Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Holy fuck.
Henry let Jay’s cock slip from his mouth and covered Jay’s chest with his own. “To whom do you belong, Jay?” His voice was hard and commanding and punctuated by his breaths.
“You, Henry.” Limp and smiling, Jay stared up at Henry with wide, adoring eyes. Bliss. Maybe the same sort of muddled bliss she floated in when Henry mixed pain and pleasure into a devastating cocktail for her.
“You enjoy belonging to me, don’t you, Jay?”
“Love you, Henry. Want to be yours always.”
Henry’s breaths quieted, and he stilled. “You know I’ll never hurt you.”
Jay’s head shook vaguely. “Never ever.”
“Good boy.”
Henry kissed him, a kiss that started fierce, like the ones he’d given Jay earlier, but this one softened, and gentled, and slowed into the lingering affection of longtime lovers. And when Henry pulled back, he brushed his hand through Jay’s hair, running across Alice’s fingers, lifting them to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.
“Never ever,” she echoed.
Henry raised startled eyes—grateful eyes—to hers.
“I know it.” She sank into the love in his steady stare, the weight as real as his embrace.
“My sweet girl,” he murmured. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
He delivered the barest brush of his lips on one corner of her mouth, a chaste and reverent touch, before he claimed her lips fully and gave her the lingering attention he’d given Jay.
Afterward, they lay together in silence, Henry’s head at her neck and Jay’s atop her thigh, her hand and Henry’s meeting in Jay’s hair.
A long while passed before they rose from the bed, all three of them together, unwilling to part even to send one for a washcloth. Henry washed his hands and face in the sink while Alice and Jay nuzzled and kissed. Affectionate but not passionate, at least for her. With libidos satisfied, the emotional closeness mattered now.
Henry patted the countertop and urged Jay to lift her onto it as he wet a washcloth. Wary of the edge beside her hip, she spread her thighs at Henry’s command.
Henry frowned. “We must give thought to enlarging this countertop. It’s entirely too small.”
Jay smiled at her over Henry’s shoulder.
She clapped a hand to her mouth as a giggle escaped. And another. She and Jay cracked up, unable to stop themselves.
Henry watched with a half smile and his I’ll-have-you-figured-out-momentarily squint.
Jay got himself almost under control first. “I had”—snort—“the same thought”—gasp—“myself”—chuckle—“last week.”
“He did.” She sucked in a breath and held it until she could talk without giggling. “He was going to ask you about redecorating.”
“Ah—I said two words. Alice. Mirrors.” Jay gave her a smug smirk.
Henry waggled his eyebrows.
Alice’s giggles erupted again.
“Such a brilliant boy. We’ll put it on the to-do list. But right now—” Henry pressed the washcloth between her legs, and her giggle deepened into a moan. “I believe the to-do list is full.”