Season of Gifts (Neighborly Affection #8)

83. Alice

Chapter eighty-three

Alice

T he sun rose late—well, late-ish—at the end of the year. At quarter after seven, Henry roused Alice with hard kisses at her throat. His gravelly toned encouragement urged her to leave the heater she’d been curled around—the broad plane of Jay’s back and shoulder.

Henry rewarded her obedience with a glorious shower, billowing steam transforming their bathroom into a sauna as he sudsed her and Jay both. He dug his hands into her flesh; his heavy massage could’ve puddled her at his feet. Maybe she wasn’t awake, only dreaming the slow manipulation that left no inch of her unwashed. But the happy whines beside her suggested the low moans belonged to her. And the end of the pounding furor of water through her freshly washed hair brought a heated towel rather than a disappointing wakeup.

With a thick towel in both hands, Henry briskly patted her dry. Her pulse thrummed. Her flushed skin might’ve matched the painting he’d sold in the spring, the rose-tinted pinks and reds he so loved on her. Her mind fuzzily swam toward coherence as he dabbed the towel against her forehead and cheeks.

“Good morning, sweet girl.” His breath smelled of mint and their bodies of citrus, sharp and crisp and clean. He gave orders in his low baritone, guiding their morning routine with a voice fit to drown in.

Green eyes captured and catalogued every motion as she and Jay brushed their teeth side by side at the sinks. The fogged mirror cast their bodies as hazy shapes, more suggestions than reflections. Henry combed out their hair, his strokes tender but strong. In the thick air, her wheat-blond waves swirled high atop her shoulders.

Henry pressed a kiss against her spine between her shoulder blades, just below the edge of her hair. “Come with me.”

A charcoal gray suit hung from the valet stand in the bedroom, a deep green tie draped across a white shirt. Henry didn’t need a suit to be in control, but the man knew how to wear one. And how to unzip slowly, and leave his fly dangling open while he fucked her, rough fabric surging against her—

“Later, perhaps.” Eyes gleaming, Henry taunted her with an I know what indecent thoughts you chase, sweet girl smile and steered them toward the hallway. “I would have nothing between us now.”

His ass flexed as he walked before them, past the gorgeous painting of Jay’s back, straight to the playroom. Alice shivered despite the toasty air. Henry must’ve upped the thermostat before he woke them. All of the house was theirs, but this room, more than any other, even the studio, was his. Stepping inside meant entering another world.

The wood-and-glass doors clicking softly shut behind them formed a sanctuary for three.

Jay’s gifts lay where he’d left them, the open box an offering at the edge of Henry’s dark leather chair, resting between the wide wood arms.

Henry led a naked, trembling Jay by the hand to the massive floor pillow in front of the seat. “Kneel for me, my brave boy.”

Jay sank into waiting pose with such smooth grace that his arrival on the cushion made no sound. Long sleeves and cloudy days had faded his summer tan, the lines nearly gone across his biceps and at his wrists where his biking gloves ended. Next summer he’d have new pale circles from Henry’s bracelets. He sat on his heels with his back sleek and straight, his head high, his sweet brown eyes fixed on the collar and cuffs waiting in the box.

She edged closer, standing behind Jay but not too near. This ceremony wasn’t for her; she already had cuffs of a sort, the bracers with the intricate scrollwork. And she was a switch, not a submissive. Henry’s co-pilot, his lieutenant. Whatever was in the box waiting for her, it would be great. Just not the clear markers of ownership that made Jay curl his toes as Henry lifted the collar in both hands.

“Some would say a collar is earned.” Henry rotated the collar slowly, rubbing his thumb along the edge. “Were that the measure, your steadfast devotion and endless capacity for love would have warranted this ceremony ages ago.” The tongue slipped from the buckle, Henry pushing the rich brown leather through with deft fingers. “Your service is impeccable.”

He pinned Jay with a hard gaze, the sort that couldn’t be argued with, his unreadable dom expression blasting full force. Jay squirmed, his ass tightening. Knees sliding outward, he dug his fingers into his thighs.

“My ownership cannot be earned.”

Jay gasped, and she swayed toward him, hands aching to pet and stroke and soothe.

Gripping the supple leather at either end, Henry snapped it taut. “No fulfillment of tasks or collecting of points can obtain what I grant. No other may emulate your path in hopes of supplanting you, for it is not what you do but who you are that makes you mine. This collar cannot be taken from you. It will never be used as a weapon to compel your submission, nor its removal threatened for failure to complete some task. Do you understand?”

A full-throated sigh relaxed Jay’s shoulders. He bowed his head in a bobbing nod. “Yes, Master Henry. Thank you for making me yours.”

“You are—” Henry tipped his chin; his eyes ever so briefly closed. “I am reminded that I wish to be more transparent with my loves.” He included her in his gaze, his face softening, his body fit but not muscular, a naked, vulnerable man at the edge of forty wearing nothing but the ring on his finger that proclaimed him theirs. “I have withheld this gift out of fear. Not yours but mine—that marking you as my possession would be wholly for the satisfaction of my ego, to silence a long-ago fear of being left alone.”

Could she hug Henry right this second, in the middle of Jay’s moment? Could they both bull rush him and pin him to the rug and cover him in kisses and promise he would never, ever be alone? Adrenaline surged through her. How Jay could stay so still, waiting, gazing up at Henry in abject worship, was pure mystery.

“But you belong to me whether you wear my brand or not, Jay. You are mine.” Henry bent on one knee in front of Jay, the collar held wide, closer and closer as Jay leaned forward. Dark hair parted, leaving the back of Jay’s neck bare. “And I should like to see you know it, and feel the weight of it, and welcome the envious stares of those who covet what you have.” Resting two fingers inside the collar, Henry coaxed the tongue through the buckle and closed it at the third notch. “I would have you know confidence and security, pride and protection. The man you are is the man I love. The man I would possess for eternity.”

Broad hands slid around Jay’s neck, under his jaw, cupping his face above the thick leather collar. Henry clasped Jay tight and kissed him hard, rocking him back with a rough growl. “There now. That’s been a long time coming.”

The breath shuddered out of Jay, and he buried his face against Henry’s neck. Henry crooned quietly to him, stroking his hair and his shoulders, praising his courage and commitment. Alice’s heartbeat pulsed static in her ears until she took a breath of her own. The whole room hung heavy with Jay’s—relief? Gratitude? The riot overwhelming him, whatever it was. The collar, Henry’s mark of possession, held profound meaning for him. This moment was every bit as sacred as the vows they’d spoken in front of witnesses. Her gift wouldn’t be nearly so emotional.

Swaying, Jay bumped his cheek against Henry’s. “You just love making me wait.”

“Sassy today.” Henry chucked Jay beneath the chin with his knuckle. “Good.” He kissed him quick, there and gone. “That’s the sound of confidence.”

“I learned it from Alice.”

That chipper voice and winning smile had been in her head since Jay, shirtless and flirty, had toted her boxes up the stairwell to her studio apartment. “Pretty sure that’s all you, stud. You’ve been sassy since the day I met you.”

“Back then it was a front.” Jay stared at his wrists as Henry fastened the cuffs—a good two inches wide, with a thick metal ring opposite the buckle, and Henry’s initials seared into the leather. “People who are laughing aren’t shouting, mostly. Now, it’s—” He dipped his head back, hunting, and she stepped closer, daring to brush his hair from his face. Tears dotted his cheeks, but he wore an enormous grin. “I dunno what it is. Sassy just feels good.”

“Testing boundaries,” Henry murmured. He too wore a smile, his lips soft and utterly kissable. “A willingness to explore and tease is a sign of comfort and safety, a certainty that such play will not draw harsh consequences. I am greatly pleased by your faith in me, brave boy.”

Jay wriggled head to toe on the pillow, raising one hand toward his neck. “Can I—can I touch it?”

“As often as you wish. How is the fit? Not too snug?”

Shaking his head, Jay traced the monogram with his fingers. “Just right.” He jerked his head twice to his left, a most unsubtle hint in her direction. Even Henry firmed up his mouth to stop a laugh that hovered at the corners. “Sooo…”

“Yes, I suppose it’s time for Alice to receive her gift as well, if you are finished with the spotlight, dear one.”

Her turn. A twinge fired down her chest, a plucked string vibrating. As long as she didn’t open the gift, she could imagine it a hundred ways, a thousand, each one a perfect reflection of Henry’s love for her. Hers wouldn’t be like Jay’s—she wasn’t the same submissive who’d given herself to Henry for playtime last year. She was a switch now, half dominant, half submissive. “It’s still in the drawer.” She spun and headed for it. “I can grab—”

“Halt.” Henry’s voice rang with command, a heavy thudding at her back like the buffalo flogger he’d wielded for her birthday. “Crawl for me, Alice. Bring me your gift.”

Her body clenched; the shudder rolled out in a strong wave from low in her belly, bringing heat and warring desire. If she’d been a different person, less combative, more sunny and eager, she might still be so deeply owned as Jay. But then she wouldn’t be the strong, comforting dominant Jay needed—and as uncertain as she’d been at the start, that role fit her more and more every day. Felt good and necessary and right, a powerful cloak that transformed her into a goddess for him. Goddess for Jay or plaything for Henry: Which was she?

She sank to her knees and spread her palms on the rug. She crept two paces forward, then a third, caught in a maelstrom. Humiliating, to be brought low. Ridiculous, to be crawling across the floor when she could’ve walked over and opened the drawer in a matter of seconds. Arousing, knowing Henry and Jay would be watching her bare ass and the glimpses between her legs as she moved. Humiliating again, to want their stares and their possession.

“Release the thoughts, Alice.” Henry somehow wrapped a stern command in as much warmth as the fluffy towel he’d swept over her after the shower. “Feel the pleasure of your body in motion. You are a creature of infinite grace and sensuality. Accept your desires without questioning or judgment.”

The fourth step smoothed out. By the fifth, she’d added a sway to her hips and a lazy-summer lift of her arms. She lengthened her stride, stretching with her ass high above her rolling shoulders. A whimper from Jay sent power coursing through her; Henry’s approving hum chased it with the deep satisfaction of pleasing him.

The wide drawer had two handles; she couldn’t stay on all fours and open it with her teeth, though the urge tingled beneath her skin. She pulled with both hands, her knees spread, her ass rocking above her feet, all of her open and wanting, needing. The gift lay in a flannel drawstring bag of Christmas plaid.

“Leave the bag behind.” Ten feet away, Henry might’ve been whispering straight into her ear. “You won’t have need of it.”

At her steady pull, the cloth slid loose and collapsed into a soft heap in the drawer. She should be so lucky—an exhausted puddle by midnight. The box matched Jay’s, a long black velvet case with some heft to it. A flogger could fit, if Henry had looped it in a U-shape. She couldn’t carry the case and crawl on her hands. Henry offered no other audible guidance.

Turning to ask, she sat hard on her ass.

Henry lounged in his chair as a king on his throne, Jay in an indolent lean against his spread leg. Idly playing with Jay’s hair, he crooked his finger at her and pointed to the empty pillow at his feet. “Come to me, sweet girl. Slowly.” Leaning forward, he pierced her with his stare, the green dark and deep as a forbidden fairy-tale forest. “On your knees.”

She swallowed hard; her body throbbed. When she got to the pillow, they would open the box, and she would see what Henry considered a proper gift for a switch, an in-betweener.

Branded leather proudly circled Jay’s neck, the darkened initials visible across the room. He was thoroughly owned, his position known, and his possessive lean into Henry revealed how well he understood it. His secretive smile and the tilt of his head urged her to join him.

Obey and enjoy.

She swallowed back the thread of fear, of not-enoughness, and balanced the velvet box across her palms. Elbows bent at ninety degrees, she shuffled forward on her knees. Physics demanded the sway of her hips, insisted upon the spread thighs to keep her level. Simple physics, not desire. Not the heat of Henry’s stare that had her mouth dry and her center wet. Not measuring the twitches in his rising cock by her strides, or the soft whines from Jay as her knee-walking added bounce to her breasts.

The pillow dipped beneath her. She wriggled into the middle, with her knees pointed toward the front corners, and dropped into waiting pose. The box had her arms trembling. She could’ve blamed the weight, but it wasn’t that. So what if she wasn’t getting a formal collar and cuffs like Jay had? She didn’t serve Henry in the same way. She didn’t even need that depth of ownership.

Henry’s brand wouldn’t affect her the way it did Jay; he held his hands crossed, thumb stroking the letters seared into his cuffs over and over again. His hazy stare might’ve seemed sleepy if she didn’t recognize subby delirium on him, the bliss that quieted all else. His cock stood tall, and he paid it no attention, focused instead on the leather claiming him.

She held the box level. The velvet nap alternated soft and rough against her finger. She already had floggers, both to use and to be used on her. Shoes might fit inside such a box—fancy shoes, a complement to the commuting boots Jay had given her, something with a heel to elevate her at the club. A set of clamps? Henry had introduced them before the month had gone sideways, and maybe he’d been planning—

Henry’s splayed hand landed across the top of the velvet, his wedding band shimmering in the light. “Forever my problem-solver,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, my love, to have left you unguided for so long. You’ve forgotten how to stop thinking.” He curled his fingers around the front of the box, and she clutched the bottom as he lifted the hinged lid. “I shall have to apologize until you remember.”

The lid stood straight up. Nestled inside the box, displayed on black silk, were a collar and cuffs in the same soft brown as Jay’s, the same soft brown of his harness and her suede. Henry’s initials, burnt and dark, carved deep furrows into the leather. A branded collar and cuffs. Sized more delicately for her neck and wrists, but otherwise indistinguishable from Jay’s. A matched set.

Her stomach lurched. A rasping sob forced itself past her lips, and her body collapsed, folding around the box, the lid nearly catching her skin as it shut against her chest. Tears streamed from nowhere, from nothing, a torrent—how had Jay managed this flood without lying in a crumpled, weeping heap at Henry’s feet?

More than relief, more than gratitude—this was awe. Not the watered-down version of the modern age but the powerful transformation of the ancient myths, her eyes struck blind by a glimpse of the heavens. She curled her fingers like talons, clawing into the velvet. No one would take this from her. He’d said. He’d said to Jay, no one, not anyone, could take this from them, could say they didn’t deserve it or hadn’t earned it, or—

“Oh my sweet girl, my beautiful Alice.” Henry cradled her in his arms, straddled naked around her as he rocked her on the pillow. “No one, not ever, my love. I promise you with my very soul, you are mine, and you will never stop being mine, not for a single instant. When you crawl on your hands and knees, when you spread your legs for me, you are mine. When you order Jay to do the same for you, you are no less mine. All of you is mine, Alice. A switch is not a mistake or a half anything. You are a glorious, multifaceted you, as intricate and shining as the gemstones that proclaim our bond to the world. Would they be improved by showing only one face? Or is it their nature to find the greatest clarity and beauty from multiple angles?”

He rained kisses on her face and neck, forceful and pounding as a summer storm. He clasped her tight, one hand at the base of her spine and the other at the top, fingers buried in her hair. Jammed between them, the box shifted with each breath, its unyielding frame a promise of reality, of existence.

“I was afraid.” Her whisper hardly left her lips. “I didn’t realize…” Her submissive desires had crawled down deep and tugged the door shut after them. Jay couldn’t sate those, and Henry had been gone, and she had tried to be what they needed from her. Who had—Ollie. Ollie had told her that, months ago. “I kept trying to be you, because I thought that’s what was missing. If I could just be you, everything would work out. But the more I tried to be you, the less I felt like me. I couldn’t be you and be yours.”

“You need only be you , my love.” Henry slid the box from between them and tapped hard on the lid; Jay opened the box and raised it up. Henry lifted the collar in both hands, thumbing open the buckle. “And you are always mine.”

The leather settled around her throat. The inside rubbed more softly than she’d expected, sliding against her skin as she swallowed, the front edge pressing into her as she bowed her head. Henry worked his fingers against the back of her neck, the metal buckle warming as he teased the tongue through and closed the circle.

“My wife, my beloved.” He caressed down her arm and plucked a cuff from the box with a soft shrrr of slippery fabric. “My pet, my plaything.”

The cuff curled around her wrist, each notch sliding past the metal until the leather clung to her. Rough, soft—owned. No other word described the sensation that sent goose bumps up her arms.

Henry smoothed the leather and pulled at the metal ring; her body rippled forward. Humming, he pinched her nipple. “My exquisite work of art. Do you think I cannot feel how you tremble?”

The second cuff found its way into his hands, deft fingers spinning the leather and wrapping her wrist. His embrace had left her straddling his thigh; her cuffed hand rested on his shoulder, the seared initials gazing back at her, the towering W at the center with the smaller H and B nestled on either side. Her body rocked; she hissed in a breath as her clit grazed his thigh.

“You cannot conceal what you are from me, sweet girl. I place my claim upon you”—he closed the second cuff with the quiet tink of his fingernail against the metal—“and your pupils dilate. Your breath grows uneven. Your heartbeat flutters in your throat beside my brand.”

He drew his finger across the monogram at her neck, pushing the leather against her skin. Warm now. The room itself had grown much warmer, the air thicker, her mouth drier.

“Yes,” he murmured, his eyes dark and piercing. “I see you understand. You are mine, and I would have you carry that knowledge with pride. You are neither me nor Jay, Alice. You are a beautiful chameleon, changeable as a storm-tossed sea, and all of your surging power yields to me. ”

Hooking his fingers through the ring on her collar, he slowly stood, bringing her with him. Her feet tingled. Her body shook with urgent desire, as wet and open as she’d been the first night he’d pressed her against the dinner table and lifted her dress.

“I am no less pleased by your strength than by Jay’s devotion. But for now…” Walking backward, he coaxed her forward by her collar, quick steps, the pillow giving way to rug and hardwood. Henry snapped his fingers; Jay opened the playroom door. The hallway to the bedroom had never been so long and narrow, nothing but the corridor of Henry’s gaze, the green path she followed.

“For now I would have you on your back, begging for permission to come.”

Yes. The craving pulsed through her, attuned to Henry’s certainty that he could accomplish such a thing. That he could master her mind. His cuffs weighted her wrists as he led her to their bed, issuing orders to Jay with a deep calm.

Henry worked magic with quiet confidence. He controlled her with two fingers hooked through a metal ring at her throat. The friction at the back of her neck wound through her like a live wire, sparking down every nerve, and his touch powered the circuit.

Once Jay had flung the covers back and thrown the pillows into a heap on the floor, Henry backed her into the bed. Her thighs hit the mattress. A tug at her collar sat her down on her ass. Henry wedged himself between her knees, his cock firm and rising toward his stomach. He might hook his hands under her knees and drag her onto him. He might—

“Name your safeword for me, Alice.”

“Pistachio.” The response came to her lips, still automatic, as natural now as breathing.

“Good girl.” He played at her throat, the collar sliding left and right, her body swaying to his rhythm. “If the game becomes overwhelming and you need to stop, what will you say to me?”

“Pistachio.” Overwhelming would take a lot of doing. Her senses had mobilized, grown sharper. Jay walked back to them from the valet stand, something dangling in his grip—

Henry shoved her backward, his palm flat above her breasts, and she toppled onto the bed. He poured himself over her like hot caramel on a sundae, weight and heat melting her into the mattress. Grinding his hips, he pressed his cock against her pubic bone, trapping her thumping clit between. Her gasp left her mouth open for his tongue; he swept through, his kiss pushing her down, sealing their lips. Her legs rose on instinct, and she clamped them around the backs of his thighs.

His amused hum vibrated against her mouth. He tugged her lip between his teeth and teased with tiny nibbles. Shifting his weight, he pushed the top of her knee with one hand. “None of that now, my eager pet.”

Her legs fell open to either side, knees bent, thighs twitching with the urge to grip him even tighter still. If he were Jay, she could order him to roll—yes, to her left, that would give her plenty of space to ride him.

“Ah, but this is not your game, is it?” Henry stared her down, his eyes inches from her own, the green a multitude of dark, hungry shades.

He could read her mind so easily. Her face telegraphed her every thought to him. Or not the exact thought, but the intent, at least. He always knew when thinking had tangled her in its net.

Thrusting his hips, Henry rocked her into the pressure. “This is my game. And I would not have it end so quickly.”

He planted his hands and pushed himself up. Straddling her hips, he reached for her hands. Turned them this way and that, admiring the thick cuffs surrounding her wrists. He hadn’t dolled up the leather with unnatural shine or exotic patterns or faux aging. Henry made his bold statements the way he spoke them—with a whisper that attracted attention.

“Do you know”—he toyed with a cuff, twisting the center post, which wasn’t quite the way a belt worked, and a closer look would be nice—“what I particularly appreciate about these?”

He could mean anything. The quality of the leather, or the stitching, or the craftsmanship. The joy of seeing his claim on her. She rolled her shoulders, her wrist tugging gently against his hold, the lined inside of the cuff brushing her skin, her breasts tipping up as she arched her back. “What do you particularly appreciate?”

The corner of his lip curled toward a smile as he took in the view she offered. In his fingers, the cuff popped free of the buckle. “Versatility.”

The cuff came off her wrist faster than a heartbeat. Henry flexed to his left, the cuff spread in his palms as another set of hands—Jay, Jay was lifting her leg—presented her ankle to him in midair. The cuff’s loosest clasp snugged her ankle, Henry lowering her foot as Jay offered him the other.

Curiosity crackled through her chest. Her nipples tightened. She curled her toes and rotated her ankles, testing the tug of the cuffs. Henry raised himself off her, and cooler air rushed in. Sucking air through her teeth, she rode out the shiver.

“Cold, dearest?” Henry’s smile held no repentance whatsoever. “Ah, that’s right, you did want these closed.” Bear-hugging her calves, he squeezed her thighs together and spun her sideways as her clit pulsed with fresh demands. “Alas—” He spread her knees wide and reached behind him. “A temporary relief, at best.”

The man was aiming to tease her to death. “You could make it last longer anytime you wanted.”

“Could I?” Metal clicked, snap-snap , and then again. “What an intriguing thought.”

The sweet depth of bass in his voice signaled danger. Thin ice. Turn back now. She pulled her legs in and came up short—they were tethered, both of them, to opposite corners of the headboard. He laid his hands against her thighs and pushed her up the bed, which was down the bed, toward the foot, extending leather straps and spreading her legs in a wide vee.

“How long, do you think?”

“What?” She almost missed the question, his tone so lightly conversational, his thumbs so very close to her center, rubbing half-circles across her thighs.

“How much longer could I make this last? An hour, do you think? Two?” A tilt of his head sent Jay scurrying behind her. Pillows rustled on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Gather up those hands for me, would you, Jay? We mustn’t let Alice attempt to rush.”

An hour or two ? Her heartbeat throbbed through her, prepped for a sprint, facing a marathon. “You don’t have to—I don’t need—”

“We’ve already agreed that you do need, sweet girl. You require a lesson in forgetting. And I—” He spread her wider with his fingers, bands of pressure a bare inch from where her body clamored for it. “I have a rather lengthy apology to make.”

Holy fuck. Her back arched, thrusting her hips toward him. That kind of apology.

Green eyes gleamed as Henry lowered his head. “Let’s see if we can’t overwhelm rational thinking, hmm?”

Her body tensed for battle but welcomed the conqueror.

Henry engulfed her in his mouth. No tentative prodding—all heat and suction. Every current in her ran toward his hungry pull. He dug beneath her and palmed her ass in both hands, kneading and squeezing. Her knees tried to rise; the tethers held, cuffs taut at her ankles. Her fingers clawed at the sheet—he’d run out of air soon, wouldn’t he? Release that heavy, unrelenting demand for every drop of energy in her.

Jay stroked her wrists. Light kisses rained across the backs of her hands. He traced her wedding band with his tongue and buried her finger in his mouth. Fierce, loyal, he twined his tongue around her between hard pulls.

Henry took a breath. The pressure eased. Her stomach rounded as she sucked in air. He dove forward, pierced her with his tongue, and fucked her with the tip. His groaning appreciation rattled through her, muscles spasming in ever-widening ripples.

The cool silk of the bedsheet warmed as she writhed, chasing competing pulls forward and back. Jay feasted on her fingers, ran kisses up her forearms; his cuffs dragged against her skin, invisibly covering her in Henry’s initials. Henry swirled his tongue inside her, winding his control into a bolt of lightning. Sparks flared in the edges of her vision. A storm was arriving.

All motion ceased. But the crack rolling through the bedchamber wasn’t thunder. Henry held one hand above her thigh, his fingers pinched post-snap. Jay touched nothing but her wrists, his fingers in loose circles. Henry breathed out across her clit; her body twitched, but the sparks had gone, and she was hurtling back to earth.

His smile spread slowly. His mouth and cheeks and chin were wet with her, with the proof that she’d been so close, right there on the freaking edge.

Her panting breaths filled her own ears and maybe his, too. “Why did you stop?”

Henry settled his hand back beneath her, taking his time, squeezing the fullness of her ass and sighing with pleasure. “If you yet have the capacity to ask the question, you know the answer.”

Her face drained of heat, a chill slipping down through her collar and toward her chest. “Because I’m still thinking.”

He wouldn’t allow that in this game. He could bring her to the edge as often as he wanted, until she was a frenzied, incoherent mess of need.

His raised eyebrows credited her with the right answer. “If you’ll excuse me, I have more apologies to make.”

He teased her with his flicking tongue against her clit. Too quick, too short, too lacking pressure to bring relief. Green eyes watched her, challenged her—dared her to ask for more. To beg.

Rebellion fired through her, grappling for control, refusing to submit.

No. Refusing to be so easily won. Not opposed to being his. Only wanting to know she was worth the effort. That he wouldn’t toss up his hands and be done with her if she needed the same lesson repeated a thousand times.

The lightning current returned, running to fingers and toes, causing tiny jerks of her hips and knees that yanked at the tethers holding her down. This time. This time the storm would strike. Henry swept his tongue across her clit impossibly fast. Jay laced his fingers over hers, and she curled their hands into tight fists. Her back arched high to meet the lightning.

Nothing.

She shrieked her frustration. Dug her heels into the bed and tried to drag herself to the lost friction, tried to close her legs and build the pressure, but Henry was everywhere, hands keeping her spread wide, gaze hard and implacable.

“My timetable, Alice.” So calm, his voice, as if her defiance bothered him not at all. “You may come when I wish it and not before.”

His cock twitched against his stomach, veins dark with need. He caught her looking and stroked himself, squeezing a shining bead of ready-to-fuck glaze from the tip and letting it run down the side, onto his knuckles. Her empty thighs clenched.

Henry’s laugh rested on a bed of gravel. “We aren’t nearly there, sweet girl. We’ve all day yet.”

He bent back to his purpose. Sandy brown hair filled the wedge between her legs; he inhaled deeply, drawing cool air over the clit he held exposed, elevated, above two clamped fingers. Her heart, barely settled from the last close call, surged ahead of her.

Henry tugged her clit between his lips and pulsed his tongue against her.

Closing her eyes, she let go of the rest. Of the sun barely slanting through the windows, of a passing car in serious need of a new muffler, of the tug from the cuffs as she flexed her feet and the press of Jay’s fingers against her wrists. She pulled all of her focus to the point where Henry touched live wires together, hotwiring her body to follow his commands.

She rose and fell on flicks of his tongue. On the thrust of his fingers, moving now to the same rhythm, sending shivers through her. Inevitability crackled in the clouds, blue fire behind her eyelids. Her breasts ached with the pounding of her heart. Her skin burned against the air above and the bed below. Henry held the only answer.

Her hips jerked. He pinned her flat with the hand not thrusting inside her, his palm a broad weight atop her abdomen. She could almost close her fingers around the lightning. Please.

The pressure from Henry’s tongue faded.

“No, please.” A garbled croak. “Pleeease.” Better. Better. Henry brought back the heat and pressure, and she sobbed with relief. “Want this.” All of it, the sensations buzzing inside her, too big to control. The currents only he could control. “Want what you give.”

Henry kept on, every motion the same, endless, steady and constant and forever hers.

“Want…” She’d lost her breath. “Be…” Every muscle locked. “Yours.”

She caught the lightning. Heat crashed through her, jagged and sharp, burning her with blue and golden fingers of fire.

And still Henry kept on.

She would die in this blaze. She couldn’t possibly—a shout wrenched itself from her throat, maybe words, maybe not. The ringing in her ears covered all else. Henry delivered shock after shock at the tip of his tongue. Her body shook for hours. Days.

She swam in a sea of storms, lightning flashing even when the storm moved on.

“Echoes.” Giggling, she floated, dragging her hands through the clouds, the electricity arcing in her fingertips. Something moved the other ends. Toes? The toes. Fingers stroked the bottoms of her feet and around her ankles. “Tryna tickle me.”

Heat rolled up against her on both sides. “The echoes are trying to tickle you, sweet girl?”

She shook her head into waves of hair. Hands smoothed it back, tucking the frizz behind her ears. “Echoes flashing. Fingers tickling.”

“Mmm, I see.” Henry. That was Henry’s smooth, serious, trying-not-to-laugh voice.

“You said you wanted incoherent. Pretty sure she’s there.” Jay dotted her face with soft kisses. “Wild you is gorgeous, Alice. And loud as hell. Think you got over your quiet phase.”

If her cheeks burned, her body was too hot to notice. Satisfaction left her limp and lazy, letting scattered thoughts flow back in their own time. “I kinda did, didn’t I? Maybe…” Henry had said she wasn’t a half anything. The energy was inside her all the time, ready to follow Henry or lead Jay, the same swirling storm. “Maybe got over a lot of phases. Misunderstandings.”

She could be everything. Anything. Owned in the morning and owner at night. Follow feelings that moved in nonlinear ways, give all of herself over to the moment. She would never be not enough. She would never be too much. Whatever, whoever, she chose to be, Henry and Jay would love that Alice.

They’d already proved that love was real and she could have it—both possibilities she’d completely rejected a year ago. She really ought to choose a new hypothesis to test. Maybe that love could last a lifetime. It would be a long, arduous study period. But they were up for the challenge. After a good long rest.

Yawning, she stretched, her hips swaying, bumping two very not-resting erections. She teased the scratchy-soft hairs on Henry’s chest. “Any plans for the rest of the day, sir-husband?”

Henry rolled back slightly, angling his body up, and fisted his cock at the base. His knuckles whitened. “Our husband needs a meal. I may have one in mind.”

Well now she did, too. And what a pretty picture it made.