His stomach growled, and Emmy made a soft sound and burrowed closer.
“Food?” she mumbled against his shoulder.
“Lots of it,” Zander confirmed, amusement coloring his tone. “Come. Both of you. Eat before it gets cold.”
Less than five minutes later, Spence sat wrapped in a robe at the small table, working his way through a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and honey-drizzled biscuits. Emmy sat across from him in a shirt and joggers, her hair a wild tangle, demolishing her own breakfast with single-minded focus.
Watching her eat made something warm settle in Spence’s chest. The hollow look that had haunted her sincethe poisoning was finally fading, her skin was the right color again, and she was slowly gaining weight back.
“So,” Emmy said around a bite of egg, then swallowed and started again. “Last night was … I mean…” She set her fork down, her gaze locked on his face. “I guess I need feedback. It felt right at the time, but…”
Spence blinked, surprised by her vulnerability. She looked genuinely worried, those green eyes searching his face for reassurance.
“It was perfect,” he said simply.
“No, I need more than that. What worked best, what could’ve gone farther, or maybe went farther than you’d have preferred?”
“Emmy.” He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “It’s my job to accept whatever you and Zander wish to do to me in bed. However you want to make use of me for your pleasure, and last night was perfect.Youwere perfect.”
She frowned, and then looked to Zander for help.
“Spence’s needs are best met by not making him talk about what he wants. His rules say that if something truly doesn’t work for him, whether it’s because I went too far or not far enough, he must tell me. If his needs aren’t being met, he must tell me, and I trust that he will always do so, so he will. However, his preference, his need, is to not have the ability to direct scenes. To simply receive what we choose to give him.”
Zander met Spence’s gaze, warm approval in his clear blue eyes. “He finds deep satisfaction in simply accepting whatever we decide to do to him.”
Spence nodded, relief flooding through him that Zander understood and could explain it, so he didn’t have to. “Yes. Part of being submissive means not having control over what happens. Trusting you both to use me however you want.”
Emmy’s scent bloomed with arousal and caring.
“Which brings us to my question,” Zander said, giving Emmy a gentle smile. “How doyoufeel about last night?”
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her plate. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “It felt like more than sex. More than even a scene.” She looked at Spence a second, then back to Zander. “It felt like … like the power worked some kind of magic. Using come instead of blood, maybe? With me as some kind of, I don’t know — like it mixed on and in me and meant more than just the physical act. I can’t explain what I felt, but somethinghappened. Something bigger than just the three of us getting off together.”
Spence’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. She’d felt it too. It wasn’t just his wishful thinking or post-scene endorphins.
Zander went very still, his expression turning thoughtful. “Magic is about intent, and I believe all three of us went into the night with the idea of the threesome.”
“Yes,” Emmy agreed. “It felt like we’d performed a ritual, almost. Like we were weaving something together.”
Zander leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes — and Spence held his breath, desperately hoping Zander would open them and say they’d forged something permanent and unbreakable.
The silence stretched, heavy with possibility. Spencer could only sit and wait, his food forgotten for the moment.
Finally, Zander opened his eyes. “The bonds between the three of us are certainly there and tangible. It’s a stronger connection than one would expect after a single scene,” he said carefully, “but nothing substantially significant. Not as if a rite were performed, and yet, more than mere sex and pain play.”
Disappointment crashed through him, so sharp it stole his breath. He’d wanted permanence. Wanted to know last night had locked them together in ways that couldn’t be undone. Wanted the certainty of forever.
Zander’s voice slipped into his mind, cool and steady.Patience, Dearest. What you felt was real, but what we’re building needs a better foundation before it can be made permanent, lest we risk building it on unstable ground, so it crumbles and falls apart.
Spence swallowed hard, forcing his expression to stay neutral even as his chest ached with want.I know, Sir. I just … I hoped.
I know, Dearest.Warmth flooded the mental link, Zander’s love a palpable thing.Keep hoping. We’ll all build it together, just give it time.
Spence took a shaky breath and focused back on the conversation, finding Emmy watching Zander with an unreadable expression.
“So it wasn’t just me imagining things,” she said. “There’ssomething.”
“There is,” Zander confirmed. “The foundation for something significant. But foundations require time and care to build upon. Last night was a beginning, not a conclusion.”
