Emmy lay gasping, her body limp and glowing, while Spencer slowly pulled away and knelt with his ass on hisheels, cock rock-hard and leaking, face flushed with effort and denial.
“Does our boy deserve an orgasm?” Zander asked softly, voice laced with dark amusement and pride.
Emmy met his gaze, eyes sparkling with sated mischief. She made a noncommittal noise, glanced at Spencer, then back to Zander.
“Start a countdown for three minutes, please.”
Zander’s smile widened, and he reached to the side table for his phone.
“Done.”
Emmy scooted so she could get her mouth on Spencer, took him in to the root, and his boy’s eyes went wide as quarters.
This isn’t proper, Sir—she shouldn’t—
Zander merely smiled and asked,Do you really think it’s a good idea to order her to stop?
Spencer’s protest died instantly, his submission too strong to even ask her to stop, much less make it an order.
He could sense what his boy was feeling, the heat of her mouth plunging down, tongue swirling as she sucked him deep. Raw, overwhelming pleasure blazed through him after hours of denial, every nerve alight, the release building fast and furious.
He warned her out loud, voice breaking. “Ma’am, I’m—close—”
When she didn’t pull away, he tried again. “I’m close, Ma’am. Please! This isn’t proper!”
But she only moved faster and hummed. The vibration shattered his control and an orgasm ripped through him like wildfire, milking spasms that left him shaking with the intensity of it, body convulsing as she swallowed every drop.
And then she rose over his trembling body and kissed him slow, sharing the taste of him on her tongue, a final claim that silenced his lingering protest.
“You don’t get to decide what’s proper,” she whispered against his lips, voice husky with affection.
Zander pulled them both close, arms encircling his loves, the triangle complete and humming with quiet, profound joy.
He’d seen Spencer’s thoughts for some time, but was waiting for the right way to pull them into the light. He was glad he’d waited. It had worked perfectly to let Emerald deal with it.
Emmy’s hands trembled slightly as she helped Spence into his pants, Zander supporting him from behind while she pulled the fabric up his legs. The tremor wasn’t from exhaustion, though she was tired, but from the weight of what she’d just done.
Breaking someone open like that, peeling back layers until the rawest truth spilled out … it required precision. Cruelty wrapped in care. The exact right balance of threat and comfort, pushing without shattering.
And then, once the truth was out, she’d had to think on her feet. One wrong word and she could’ve driven him deeper into shame instead of pulling him out of it. One miscalculation and she might’ve broken his trust instead of earning it.
But she’d done it. She’d seen the exact moment he cracked, watched the surrender ripple through him, heard the confession tear from his throat, and then she’d caught him, held him, and told him the truth he needed to hear.
You’re choosing us.
Spence stood docile between them, swaying slightly, his eyes distant and soft. Blissed out. Safe.
Zander’s cool hands steadied him while Emmy pulled his shirt on.
“From this day forward,” Zander said quietly, his gaze on Emmy while his hands supported Spence, “he belongs to both of us equally.”
Emmy’s breath caught. She looked up, meeting those impossibly blue eyes.
“The two of us will discuss goals when necessary, so we’re on the same page with where we want to take our boy,” Zander continued, his voice matter-of-fact. “But when one of us is alone with him, we can play with him as we want, in any combination of pain and pleasure. You don’t need my permission for anything you feel appropriate. You don’t need to check in first.”
His hand came up to cup the back of Spence’s neck, a gesture of possession and affection. “He’s ours. Co-owned inevery way. Drop into a scene whenever you want, though of course, you’ll be aware of any deadlines he’s working towards. You’ve already done so, when you were only having sex with him. There’s no doubt you understand the jobs he does for the silo and coterie.”
Our boy.Ours.
