Mercer grips the back of my chair, using it for support as he lowers himself to the floor.
When he’s settled, cross-legged, he looks up at me, his expression pensive but sincere. “Just so we’re clear, intimacy isinevitable if we’re going to share her. We will touch. In time, we may even grow to enjoy a familiarity and establish a rhythm during sex. At the very least, we’ll learn to work together and trust each other. But I acknowledge and respect your intention to only ever be with Sawyer. It’s a sentiment I share.”
“Same here,” Noah adds.
I swallow. I can live with that.
What I can’t do is pass up the chance to rattle Mercer.
“Whatever you say, prof.”
He smirks, but a new level of understanding blooms between us.
“So?” he says. “Let’s have it, then.”
I frown. “What?”
The man rolls his eyes like he’s the exasperated one suddenly. “Your safe word. We just covered this. You have to tell us your safe word before we can proceed.”
Fuck it.
“Zamboni,” I declare.
Sawyer giggles.
Heat creeps up my neck. “What? It’s the first thing that came to mind.”
“That works,” Mercer says. “For reference, Noah and Sawyer use harmonica. Mine’s avocado.” He shifts, sizing me up one last time. “If you want or need this to stop at any point, it’s your obligation to say Zamboni.”
“Sheesh, prof. I get it,” I insist.
With a nod, he looks across the room to Sawyer and Noah.
I follow his gaze to find Noah whispering in Sawyer’s ear, his big hand cupping the side of her neck.
“Without further ado,” Mercer says, “let’s get started. You’re up, Tytus. Tell them what to do.”
His words, oddly, fill me with confidence.
I lean forward slightly and consider them, then clear my throat. “Straddle his lap, mon ange.”
She does as I ask, offering a cheeky smile over her shoulder once she’s got her legs spread wide over another man’s lap. With her eyes locked on me, she licks her lips and swivels her hips. “Like this?”
I smirk as heat begins to coil inside me. “Yeah, baby. Just like that.”
She looks gorgeous in the shadows of the room, her face and hair illuminated by the warm glow of the flickering flames at my back.
“Noah.” I lift my chin. “Take off her shirt. Bra, too.”
“I’m not wearing a bra,” Sawyer singsongs.
Of course she’s fucking not.
“Kiss her neck. Go easy on all those marks you left.”
Noah follows my directions perfectly, peeling the flannel and T-shirt off Sawyer’s body and discarding them, then tilting her head and exposing her neck.
He kisses her, and her hips roll in response.
