“Then what thefuckis the problem?” I grin. “We’re not children. We’re fucking adults, who can curse like tittyfucking sailors if we want.”
His smile, when it comes, does interesting things to my insides. “I suppose you’re right. Sadie ignored Dad’s no-swearing rule. Apparently it stuck to me instead.”
“Swear as much or as little as you fucking want. You have my blessing.” I lower my voice. “Especially in bed.”
“Oh?” He looks genuinely intrigued.
“Nothing hotter than being told you’re going to ram yourcock into my pussy and fuck me hard ’til I come like a train.”
The sound that leaves him is half groan, half whimper. His forehead drops to my shoulder. I shiver when he presses a slow, tentative kiss to my collarbone.
“I’ll say whatever you want,” he whispers. “Do anything. Just… tell me what to do, and I swear I’ll do it.”
Hello, my dormant dominant streak. Nice to see you again.
“We’ll ease into theanything,” I say, resting my chin on his head. His hair smells delicious, like mint and tea tree. “Why don’t we start with you telling me what you want to try? You don’t have to answer, but I’ve always lived by the rule that you shouldn’t do things you’re not ready to talk about. For your own sake.”
He stays close, but shifts back enough to look somewhere near the pram. “You’re right.” His fingers tighten around mine. “I want… all of it.”
I half-smile. “You’re gonna need to be more specific, handsome.”
His throat works. “Your posts about that club.”
Ah.
I’m a member of a private club called Pink Sugar that runs events in their own venues around the world. Membership is tightly controlled; guests can only attend as a member’s invite, with up-to-date medical records and thorough background checks. Break the rules - ignore boundaries, skip consent, push past a no - and both guest and member are banned for life.
“I can’t stop thinking about them,” he admits. “I must have read them all five times.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He goes quiet again, so I help him along. “Did you want to watch, or take part?”
“Both.” He looks at me again. “I want to watch. I want to watchyouand tell you what to do… but I also want to be in the middle of it. Even though I don’t want to betray you.” He grimaces. “But I get the impression you don’t think in those terms. Of fidelity, I mean.”
“In that context, extra hands and mouths aren’t a betrayal to me,” I say gently, curling my fingers around his. “And you probably already know this if you’ve read the blog, but I need to be crystal clear before we go further.” His attention sharpens. Good. “I’m pansexual, and I practice ethical non-monogamy. I don’t stick to one partner, and I never will. Now or ever.”
He nods slowly, lips pressed together. “I understand.”
“Good. I don’t want you to have false expectations.” I rub the back of his neck, and he leans into it. “I’ve never had a capital R relationship, so I’ve always been free to do what I like. And I can’t change that part of me, any more than I can change to a new species -”
“Tippi,” he says, voice going soft in that way that kills me, “you don’t have to.” His hands come up to cradle my face, and nowI’mthe one in danger of dissolving. “I don’t expect you to change anything to accommodate me. Especially when the idea of watching you with someone else is…” He swallows. “So undeniably arousing.”
Something unknots across my whole body. I hadn’t realized how tight I was wound waiting for his response.
“So,” he goes on quietly, “as long as you’re enjoying everything that happens…”
“I will.” I make sure he’s looking at me. “And you’re allowed to say no. To anything. That’s non-negotiable as well.”
There’s so much trust in his eyes it almost hurts. “I know. And I promise if I get uncomfortable, I’ll say so.”
I squeeze his hand with a fond smile. He really is accepting everything I tell him, and laying himself and his inner workings bare with me in return. I’m not ignorant of what an honor that is. “One more thing,” I say. “You’ll let the Pink Sugar Club access your medical records and run their security checks?”
“I’d expect nothing less.” He actually looks relieved.
“In that case,” I grin, squeezing his hand, “fuckin’ A. Let’s do this.”
Chapter 9
Jacob
