8. The Fantasy
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FANTASY
Julian
“What’s going on?” I ask, coming to stand beside Sophie.
Kai stands less than a foot away. His shoulders are tense, and his gaze flicks back and forth between us as though he’s witnessing a moment he shouldn’t be. He shifts his weight before crossing his arms tightly over his chest, a protective shield. His eyes dart away every time they land on me, then reluctantly return to Sophie, as if he’s not sure where to look—or where he belongs in this exchange.
“Kai saw me kissing…” Sophie trails off, and when I look up at Kai, his jaw hardens.
“Ah,” I say, smiling as I face him. “And you thought I’d ever allow another man to touch my wife without my explicit permission?”
Kai’s lips part. “You knew? So, what? Is it like a game, or are you guys in an open marriage?” Before I can respond, he holds a hand up. “You know what? As I told Sophie, I don’t want or need to know. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever the fuck is going on.”
Just as he moves, I grab him to keep him from walking away. As my fingers wrap around Kai’s hand, an electric current shoots through the space between us, startling me in its intensity. I can feel the rough calluses from him working with his hands. The veins and cords along the back of his hand, thick and bulging.
He stops mid-stride, his body tensing as he glances down at our joined hands, his face momentarily unguarded. For half a second, the angry and frustrated expression is replaced by something softer, something almost familiar. His fingers twitch against mine, like he’s deciding whether to pull away or hold on.
I remember the last time I held his hand like this. It was summer. Crestwood was hot, and we’d been tipsy, laughing over nothing in particular, our fingers brushing and lingering in the dark on the grounds of Ravage Castle, weeks before our freshman year at uni together.
Our eyes meet, and it’s as if the years between us vanish, pulling me back to late-night talks and the hesitant, stolen moment we’d shared in our college dorm. I remember when he kissed me—how I’d paced the hallway, every nerve buzzing with the possibility of what we could be.
And then he walked away like it never happened.
Like we never happened.
For a long time, I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it, and part of me still feels that loss, buried under the years but never entirely gone.
Kai’s expression shifts, his guard wavering as he studies me. I can see the confusion there, the wariness laced with a hint of something warmer. He swallows, a hint of something that might be regret or longing passing over his face before he glances away. I know he remembers too. He must.
“Kai… Sophie is a hotwife. Do you know what that is?” I ask, voice softer.
He pulls his hand back, slowly, as if reluctant to break the connection but too wary to let it linger.
“No.”
“Julian…” Sophie’s voice is sharp with warning.
I shrug. “He thinks he saw something he didn’t. I think we owe him an explanation, don’t you?”
She swallows, and I can sense the hesitation in her stance, the blush slowly creeping up the fair skin of her neck and onto her cheeks. But there’s no going back now.
It strikes me then that Sophie is ashamed to tell him. I can’t fault her. Until this moment, we’d managed to keep this secret from everyone in our personal life.
“Tell me,” he says, looking right at Sophie. His tone isn’t demanding. It’s curious . Maybe even a little intrigued. And there, in the way he’s not hiding his feelings at all , I see it—the way his eyes skim over her full lips, the way he takes a subtle step closer to her.
“It means Julian likes to watch me sleep with other men,” she tells him.
Kai’s body stiffens. His gaze locks onto hers, and for a split second, I watch the realization crash through him.
I watch him. Really watch him.
His pupils dilate. There’s something in his eyes—possession. Lust .
My cock twitches, and I clear my throat to cut through the heavy, tense atmosphere.
Why do I enjoy the way he’s looking at my wife like a delicious snack?
I shouldn’t. I should hate it, maybe even feel threatened by it. But instead, it coils low in my stomach—something dark and thrilling.
“What you saw was completely consensual and planned by yours truly,” I tell him, keeping my voice light. “I like watching her be desired by other men. It’s intoxicating. But don’t mistake it for something secretive,” I finish, my eyes boring into his.
His gaze hardens again, but there’s something else beneath it, a trace of vulnerability I haven’t seen in years.
“Clearly,” he says, his eyes lingering on Sophie a little too long. “I should go. Have a good night.” Turning to face Sophie, I see the way his eyes soften for her. “The party is great, Soph. You outdid yourself.”
With one last look at me, he begins to walk away.
When he’s a few feet away, Sophie takes my hand and clears her throat. She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, I pull her body into mine and kiss her.
She moans, her hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer, and when my eyes flutter open—just as my tongue brushes against hers—I see him.
Kai stands at the top of the stairs, frozen, his gaze locked on us, his expression a dark storm of emotions. His jaw tightens and yet he doesn’t look away. He can’t. His stare feels like an accusation and a confession all at once, as though he’s both furious and interested.
Like he’s unable to extricate himself from the scene unfolding before him.
I meet his gaze and, for a brief, reckless moment, I don’t stop.
I should stop. I know I should.
But I don’t.
I want to see how far this stretches.
My fingers tighten on Sophie’s hips as I grind my hard cock against her, lifting her dress just enough for my intentions to be clear. A spark of defiance flares in me as I hold his gaze, a silent challenge I barely understand myself. Her soft gasp escapes as I nuzzle into her neck, feeling her shudder beneath me.
“Julian,” she whimpers, her voice a delicate mix of need and surprise. But my attention is somewhere else now. I can barely hear her as I watch Kai’s reaction, my own pulse quickening in ways I didn’t expect. His lips part, his breath catching as he watches us, his grip tightening on the banister, knuckles white. Sophie moans again, but I’m focused on Kai—the sharp, almost pained expression flickering across his face as he watches me touch my wife.
I swear I see something unraveling in him.
Does he like this? Does it make him angry? Jealous?
I push Sophie against the wall.
If he’s jealous, why does that excite me so much? Kai’s grip tightens on the banister.
He could leave.
He should.
But he doesn’t.
His gaze lowers for half a second, taking in the way her legs part, the way my hand presses between them. It hits me like a punch to the gut. I want him to want this. To want her.
To want us .
These feelings have been creeping up on me since he showed up again—these stray thoughts I thought I’d buried. The way his hand brushed against mine in the kitchen last week, the ease in how he touched Sophie when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
The way Sophie’s cheek had been smudged with white paint, and how Kai wiped it away with his thumb, so natural and intimate.
The way Kai focused intently on aligning the shelves, his brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration, had me swallowing hard more than once.
The way he wiped paint from his hands onto an old rag, the veins in his forearms standing out as he worked with meticulous precision, left me unable to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.
The way Kai had stood behind Sophie, guiding her hand as she tried to drill into the wall, his low voice rumbling in her ear, felt like something I shouldn’t be aroused by—but was.
The feelings are subtle, but they’re there, winding through me in slow, quiet waves. It happened without me even realizing.
And now? Now it crashes hard and fast, like I’ve been ignoring it too long. In that moment, I realize I want him to feel this ache—the same wild confusion I feel every time I’m near him. My feelings for him are sharper than ever, simmering beneath the surface, tangled with a sort of anger and desire I can’t seem to untangle.
The depth of his gaze shifts, a flash of pain and longing I recognize, the same pull I felt years ago. He looks away then, turning abruptly, and I almost call out, a strange sense of loss tightening in my chest. But before I can say anything, he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs, leaving me feeling more exposed than I’d ever admit—even to myself.
Hoisting Sophie up and pressing her against the wall, I pull her knickers to the side, unzip my trousers, freeing my cock, and push into her without any warning.
She gasps and pulls away from my lips, looking at me with hooded eyes. “Julian,” she mutters, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. “We should talk?—”
“About what?” I ask, grunting as I slide all the way into her.
With parted lips, she groans. “About—about?—”
“Kai?” I ask, his name on my lips low and sensual.
“Yes,” she whispers, throwing her head back. “God, Julian?—”
“It’s okay, you know,” I tell her, kissing her jaw before pulling out and driving back into her soft, wet cunt. “I see the way you look at him, Soph.”
She gasps as I slam into her on the last word. “Julian.”
I can’t help it. I think of Kai staying instead of leaving—standing behind me instead of running away. It feels dangerous and exhilarating. It’s worrying how easily I imagine him stepping closer.
My cock throbs, and Sophie arches against me.
Would she arch like this if it were his hands on her waist?
“It should bother me,” I growl, baring my teeth as I roll my hips. Her eyes flutter, threatening to close, so I place one of my hands gently around her throat. “Look at me when I say this,” I tell her, my voice earnest as I continue fucking her. With each hard push into her, her tits bounce inside her dress and her eyes spark with lust. I know her well enough to know that a minute playing with her clit will have her exploding on my cock, but I hold off because I want to get this off my chest.
“It should bother me, but it doesn’t,” I confess. “Sometimes, when he looks at you… and when you look at him… it makes me really fucking hot,” I add, squeezing her thighs with my hands.
“I’m not— I don’t ever want him to come between us,” Sophie says, eyes locking into mine as she wraps her legs around me even tighter. Her hand comes to my cheek, and the faint blush from earlier returns. “You matter more than anyone, and I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m betraying you.”
Kissing her hand, I fuck her harder. “You won’t be, because Kai kissed me at uni. If anything, I’m betraying you.”
Her eyes flick between mine, widening in surprise at first before her pupils bloom dark. “I shouldn’t find that so sexy, but I do,” she says after a minute.
“That day I got a splinter? He sucked it out, and I wanked to the feel of his mouth on my hand.”
Sophie grins. “You didn’t.”
I place a hand near her head to give myself more leverage, and then I dig my nails into her arse.
“I did.”
Her eyes flash, and she kisses me— hard. “Fuck,” she gasps, panting against my lips. “That’s—really—fucking—hot?—”
“Yeah?” I ask, laughing as my wife’s cunt feathers around my cock, drawing my orgasm closer. “You like the idea of your husband having a little crush on his friend? You like the idea of fucking him while I watch, or watching while I fuck him?”
“Yes,” she whispers, pleading. “Fuck, Julian.”
“You’re not alone, baby. Maybe we both want him, and that’s okay.”
“Yes,” she says quickly, whimpering. “God, I’m close.”
“You and me,” I growl, biting her lower lip as I slam into her over and over.
“Yes. You and me. Oh God, Julian, I’m so fucking close?—”
“Nothing will ever change that?—”
“Yes, yes, fuck, yes?—”
“Come for me, Sophie.”
She does, and her pussy grips me as her eyes roll into the back of her head. The tight squeezes draw my climax out, and my knees shake as my cock pulses into her.
“Fuck!” I roar, coming hard and fast, spilling into her with zero abandon.
She goes limp as the last of it leaves our bodies, and for several seconds, I just hold her, pressing her back into the wall as I breathe heavily into the space between her neck and ear.
I thought I’d buried it, whatever this thing with Kai is. But seeing him now, watching him watch us… it’s all starting to come apart at the seams.
Neither of us says anything—we just stand there, catching our breaths, the hallway thick with a silence that feels almost confessional. The party is still going downstairs, but it feels so far away from this moment. There’s a charge between us, as if we’ve crossed into territory we can’t retreat from. Malakai Ravage. His name lingers unspoken between us, like a spark that’s finally caught fire.
For so long, he was a forbidden presence I kept carefully pushed away, a relic of another life, a fantasy I never let fully surface. In the years since I met Sophie, I’d convinced myself I’d let him go, that what we shared was locked firmly in the past. But over time, the idea of him crept back in, tucked into casual remarks, brief mentions of his name that felt electric. At first, I was careful. I only let myself wonder what Sophie might think if she knew I still thought of him. But as we became closer, I noticed how her curiosity about him grew, too. Small, offhand comments about his job as a pastor or seeing him working in our house turned into subtle, unguarded interest.
Somehow, without either of us saying it out loud, Kai had become a shared intrigue, a half-formed desire. A kind of thrill neither of us admitted to but both secretly entertained. It was the edge of danger that came from knowing there was someone else we both craved, a ripple of excitement that stayed at the edges of our lives, out of reach but never entirely out of mind.
Of course neither of us would ever consider cheating—it was unthinkable, and I knew Sophie felt the same way.
But something had changed tonight.
Even though Kai had walked away, his presence had lingered in the air. The look on his face before he’d turned—the quiet fury and confusion—had left an undeniable mark on both of us.
I could feel him in the air between us like a haunting.
He’d become more than a fantasy. He was real now, and he’d turned into a dangerous fascination neither of us could deny.
Sophie meets my gaze, and I know she feels it too. There’s a hunger in her eyes, a thrill that comes from knowing the boundaries we’d only teased at have been completely erased.
Kai had become part of our shared fantasy.
It’s something neither of us will be able to unsee.
And tonight, he’d infiltrated our marriage bed, without even being here.
What if I let him stay? Would he like that? Would that make him happy?
Would he have watched me touch her? Fuck her?
Or would he have touched us both?
The room is quiet, but the choice hangs between us like a precipice—either we embrace this, let the idea of him move from fantasy into something more real, or we step back, cut the threads, and walk away from whatever might lie down this path. Full steam ahead, or sever the pull we feel, once and for all.
But as I watch her, the hint of a smile, a spark of something electric in her eyes, I know there’s no going back.
I tell myself this is just a phase—a fleeting curiosity. But deep down, I know it isn’t.
It never was.
I wonder if Kai knows how easy it would be to break the rules.
I wonder if he’d even hesitate to participate.
To involve him in our fantasies… for real this time.