I’d chosen a deep-blue dress for her tonight that was elegant as well as revealing. Oliver wore dark jeans and a gray Henley that was tight across his torso and clungto his body in a way that made me want to push him up against the side of the tunnel and grind my cock into his.
When we emerged into the club, the crowd was already gathered on the social floor. I spotted Callen immediately, and he noticed us.
“Kiernan.” He greeted us with a warm smile. “Twice in one week. People will talk.”
“Let them.”
His eyes flicked to Oliver and Ophelia. “Can I get you all a drink? Gus and Rafe are holding a table.”
We followed him across the room. Gus rose when he saw us, his massive frame dwarfing the chair he’d been sitting in, and a grin spread across his face. “Ophelia and Oliver. Welcome. It’s nice to see you both.”
Oliver’s spine went rigid, but he quickly recovered as he watched Gus pull Ophelia into a hug.
“Rafe, meet Oliver and Ophelia.”
He rose when he saw us, taking the stance of a man who’d spent years in special forces. That constant coiled energy never left him. It was evident in everything he did.
“Kiernan. Good to see you.” He shook Oliver’s hand, then Ophelia’s. His gaze had lingered on each of them until another man—a dom—approached our table andleaned close to Rafe’s ear. Whatever he said made my friend nod once and follow him to a quiet corner.
Oliver tracked the two men, swallowing hard when Rafe’s shoulders dropped and his chin dipped. Good. He was starting to see it.
“Drinks,” Callen announced, setting glasses on the table. We stayed for one round, and all the while, my focus remained on Oliver. He tried to act normal, to make appropriate responses, laugh at the right moment, and engage in small talk. But his attention kept drifting to the corner where Rafe stood with the other man. He watched how Rafe’s posture had changed, the quiet intimacy of their exchange.
His defenses were crumbling.
“Ready?” I asked when we were finished with our drinks.
Oliver’s nod was jerky. “Yes.”
I ledthem down to the observation level. Past the rooms they’d seen on their first visit, where standard scenes of domination and submission took place. Instead, we entered a different wing. One I’d been saving.
There were two men and a woman in the first room we stopped to view. She was on the bed while one man kneltbetween her thighs and the other at her head. She pleasured him with her mouth while the first man fucked her. But what made the scene remarkable was what happened next—the man at her head reached down and gripped the other man’s face, pulling him up for a deep, claiming kiss while she writhed beneath them.
Oliver’s sharp intake of breath was audible.
I stayed silent and watched as the flush crept up from his collar, then as his fists clenched at his sides.
On the other side of the glass, the scene evolved. The woman was on her hands and knees now. One man still fucked her while the other fed her his cock. But the men’s eyes were locked on each other. Their hands reached across her to grip each other’s arms.
Oliver’s chest rose and fell faster. His lips had parted, and he no longer watched the woman at all. He was watching the men.
Then they changed positions. The one who’d been fucking her withdrew and stood by her head. The second man took his place behind her. But before he entered her, the first man reached across and wrapped his hand around his partner’s cock. He stroked him twice, three times, then guided him into her body.
Oliver made a small, choked sound. His hand twitched toward his groin before he caught himself.
He didn’t know I’d seen. He thought he was hiding it.
He wasn’t.
When Ophelia glanced at me and I shook my head, she looked away.
Neither of us spoke. Oliver lingered in whatever he was feeling, and I let the images burn into his mind without words to rationalize them away.
When the scene ended, I led them to the next room, where two men were scening. The dom had his sub pinned to the wall. Their mouths were fused together as the more powerful of the two ground his hips into his partner’s. Then he dropped to his knees and took the sub’s cock into his mouth.
While Oliver didn’t make a sound, his reactions were reflected in the glass.
His breathing had gone ragged. His hands trembled, and his cock was visibly hard, straining in his jeans.
