I’d wanted to tell him it was okay. That wanting Kiernan didn’t change anything between us. That desire didn’t have to fit into neat categories. But it wasn’t my place. He had to figure it out himself.
When Kiernan had finally stopped in a shadowed alcove and told me I deserved a reward, I’d nearly wept with relief. The arousal had been building for over an hour. Every scene, every command, every moment of Oliver’s fingers holding still inside me had wound me tighter.
Make her come. Quietly.
Oliver had obeyed. He knew my body now—knew the rhythm I needed, the pressure, the pace. He’d worked me with focused intensity, and I’d fallen over the edge. However, it was what came after that I couldn’t stop replaying.
Ophelia. On your knees.
I’d sunk down without hesitation. The stone floor had been hard beneath my knees, but I hadn’t cared. Oliver’s belt, his zipper, his cock in my mouth—I’d taken him eagerly. I was grateful for the chance to give pleasure after receiving so much.
Kiernan had stood beside us, and the tension between them was almost palpable. Oliver’s hand had landed on my head, guiding my rhythm, but he hadn’t looked away from Kiernan. When his hand had gripped Oliver’s shoulder, Oliver had made a sound that had nothing to do with what I was doing to him.
I thought about how Oliver’s body had gone still when Kiernan touched him. His hips had jerked forward—not from my mouth, but from that single point of contact on his shoulder. His pupils had blown wide when Kiernan leaned closer.
He’d wanted Kiernan to kiss him. I’d seen it in how his lips had parted, how his head had tilted almost imperceptibly toward the other man. He probably hadn’t even realized he’d done it. But I had.
I’d felt the moment everything shifted. The moment Oliver stopped fighting and started wanting. His hips had stuttered, and he’d gasped before coming down my throat with Kiernan’s name on his lips.
Not sir. Not Archon.Kiernan.
I didn’t think either of them had noticed. But I had, with a surge of satisfaction that surprised me.
My fingers worked faster now,chasing the memory.
The private room. Kiernan ordering Oliver to undress me. How Oliver’s hands had trembled as he’d peeled the dress over my head.
Sit in the chair.
Oliver had retreated to the corner while Kiernan undressed, but his attention had lingered on Kiernan’s shoulders and chest, then on his cock.
I’d wondered then what Oliver was thinking. Whether he was horrified by his own responses or starting to accept them. Whether he understood what it meant that he couldn’t stop looking at another man’s body.
I’d wondered, too, what it would feel like to watch them together. To see Oliver finally give in to what he wanted. To see Kiernan’s control applied to Oliver’s resistance until it crumbled. Then he’d ordered him to kneel at the side of the bed. To watch.
The thought had made me clench around nothing.
Then Kiernan had been inside me, and I’d stopped thinking about anything except the feel of him.
He’d fucked me like he did everything else—with complete control, absolute focus, and relentless intent. Every thrust had been deliberate. Every angle calculated. He drew sounds from me I hadn’t known I could make.
Even lost in sensation, I’d been aware of Oliver’s presence. Imagined his hand pressed against his jeans. His focus on us—on Kiernan—with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
The knowledge hadn’t made me jealous. It had made me want it for him.
When Kiernan had commanded me to come, I had. Instantly. Completely. The orgasm crashed through me, and I’d screamed without caring who heard.
Then Kiernan had found his own release, and I’d felt him pulse inside me. In the heat of the moment, we’d both looked at Oliver, and it was as though the three of us were connected by a current that ran between all of us.
Oliver’s face had been raw. Exposed. Hungry. He wanted this. Wanted us. Wantedhim.
I’d thought about it during our walk through the tunnels. What it would mean to share Kiernan with Oliver. What it would mean to watch them together, to be part of something that included all three of us equally.
I’d thought I might feel threatened. Another person wanting what I wanted. Competition for Kiernan’s attention.
Except that wasn’t what I felt at all.
What I felt was excitement. Possibility. The sense that we were building toward something none of us had experienced before—something bigger than any pairing could be on its own.
