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I wait in the sudden silence, expecting the same clinical pattern.

Instead, nothing.

A long moment stretches out, long enough for doubt to creep in. Did it malfunction?

Then it moves—not in rhythm, but with intention. A deep, rolling thrust that makes my back arch off the chaise. Another pause, shorter this time, just long enough to make me ache before it starts again, harder now.

Every time I start to anticipate the pattern, it changes; slowing just as I tense, quickening as I relax. I stop trying to predict what comes next, surrendering to the uncertainty.

It feels less like being operated and more like being known. Every shift calculated to unravel me.

“Oh—” The word is a choked-off gasp as the next adjustment hits a depth I didn’t know was possible. “Yes… right there.” My own voice sounds foreign, ragged. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Everything stills without warning. I lie there, eyes closed, pulse pounding against my ribs. Whoever is on the other side of that console isn’t just testing a toy; they’re conducting an interrogation of my body, and I am not in control.

When the vibrations return, it's a cresting and falling rhythm, deliberately designed to tease.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I whisper into the air.

Behind my eyelids, Nate materializes—silver eyes behind those wire frames, cool and assessing, already knowing how this ends.

“Please.”

The thrusts resume, harder now, as the clitoral stimulator pulses in opposition. Just as my hips lift off the chaise, the pattern shifts again, and Jace replaces him in my mind’s eye, grinning like he’s won a prize he always knew was his.

“You smug bastard,” I whisper as the next adjustment catches me completely off guard.

Then Elias is there—the phantom weight of his hand closing around my throat, the memory of his scent cutting through the sterile room. What little composure I had left dissolves. Sweat beads between my shoulder blades.

“Fuck me,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Zero-four-five, your physiological responses are significantly above baseline,” the woman’s voice cuts through the haze. “I’m maintaining the current configuration for another minute. Please report if you feel any discomfort.”

Would she shut up, I think, as my fantasy continues.

My grip on the sheet loosens. One hand drifts up the curve of my waist, fingertips tracing the bare skin beneath my ribs before skimming my breast. My head falls back against the velvet as I circle the pointed peaks, and I let myself imagine Nate standing over me, watching with that infuriating composure of his as Elias holds me in place.

When Jace lowers his mouth between my legs, my body shudders like it can almost feel his tongue teasing the most intimate part of me.

The next thrust is punishing. I cry out, the sound echoing off walls that have probably heard worse. The gold ring kisses me with every stroke, and I can feel everything—the stretch, the way my body clenches around it like it’s trying to keep it.

“Please—I can’t—I need—” Every muscle coils tight around a pleasure that keeps retreating just before it crashes. When the operator finally brings every mechanism into perfect synchronization, I shatter. “Yes—god, yes—”

The orgasm isn’t a wave; it’s a rupture. Behind my eyelids, all three are watching me come undone. The device gradually slows, its final movements fading until the room falls quiet.

I keep my eyes closed.

In my imagination, none of them has left. Nate is still watching me with that impossible composure, Jace wears the satisfied grin I know entirely too well, and Elias remains close enough that I can almost convince myself I'm not alone.

For a few precious moments, I let myself have that. No office, no professional boundaries, no complicated questions about what any of this means. Just the three men I've been trying so hard to stop thinking about.

“Zero-four-five?”

The woman's voice reaches me through the intercom, and I reluctantly open my eyes.

“Your session is complete. You'll receive a follow-up survey through your participant portal. Please take as much time as you need before leaving.”

I stare at the ceiling, annoyed by how quickly the fantasy disappears.