And now they were on her, and I was watching. Something about that made my chest tight with want that had nothing to do with strategy.
She broke away from Keane, already turning toward me. Her hand caught my collar, pulling me down to kiss her.
Softer at first. Then deeper.
Her mouth tasted like want and trust and permission, and I was kissing her back before I could think about whether I should calculate the angle, the pressure, the rhythm…
Just kissing her.
Just wanting her.
When I pulled back to breathe, Keane had moved behind her, his hands steady at her hips.
The three of us. Connected. Real.
I reached for the hem of her shirt, meeting her eyes. Can I?
She nodded.
I pulled the fabric over her head slowly. Not performing seduction. Just… undressing her because I wanted to see her.
Keane lifted her hair, kissing along her neck as he unhooked her bra. His movements were deliberate, reverent.
I removed my shirt—aware of both their eyes on me. Aware of my body in a way I usually weaponized. Lean muscle, careful posture, the aesthetic I’d cultivated since puberty.
But this wasn’t performance. This was just… me.
Marigold’s hand reached for my chest, tracing the lines of muscle with curious fingers. Her touch sent heat straight through me—genuine, unscripted heat that pooled low in my stomach.
I kissed down her sternum as Keane’s hands slid around her from behind. He cupped her breasts, his fingers finding her nipples with practiced certainty.
She made a sound—breathy and wanting—that went straight to my cock.
Oh, Mari, I breathed against her skin, my head falling back as her mouth found my chest.
Her hand slid down between my legs, finding me already hard through my pants, and she grinned up at me. Strip. I want you in my mouth.
The command in her voice—certain, greedy, real—made me groan.
I stood, removing the rest of my clothes with hands that trembled slightly—not from nerves but from wanting her so badly I’d forgotten to control the performance of calm.
She watched me, taking in every bit of me.
I’d been looked at before. Assessed. Desired for strategic reasons.
This felt different. This felt like being seen.
Keane reached for her chin, pulling her to face him and kissing her thoroughly while I stood there, bare and wanting and completely past pretending otherwise.
She pulled Keane’s shirt over his head and then tugged at his pants. He helped her ease them down, and his cock sprang free—thick, flushed, and ready.
She kissed the tip, teasing, familiar with him in a way that should have made me jealous. Instead it just made me want to be part of this, part of them.
She stood again, reaching for both of us. One hand on my cock, one on Keane’s. Skin over muscle, hot and ready.
The touch sent electricity through me—her magic meeting mine and Keane’s. Three frequencies finding harmony.
One of us is still wearing too many clothes, darling, I said breathily.
