10
"Anything else? You've already given me your safeword, your limits in bed..." Amanda tapped a manicured finger against her lip, searching her memory.
"I think that covers it. Honestly, this was a lot more formal than I expected."
He leaned down, grabbing another dollop of lotion and smoothing it across Amanda's back. Keeping his focus while kneading her shoulders had been an uphill battle.
"It's better this way. Total clarity from the jump means no awkward situations later. So yes, it's a contract. If you break it, you get punished."
"Understood." He offered a faint smile, recalling their conversation about physical hard limits. Punishing and being punished felt like the exact right terms.
"Lastly, exclusivity. Unless, of course, I order you to sleep with another woman."
"No other guys, just to be clear. That's my limit."
"Of course, sweetie. I'm not assuming you're bi just because I am."
"Good."
A beat of silence hung between the three of them.
It wasn't awkward—Brandon had expected her to lay down ground rules like that, and he was ready for it.
Still, the look Isabella shot him was pure, unfiltered mischief.
She had the smug grin of a poker player holding a winning hand and completely incapable of bluffing.
"Oh... I guess this is my cue, isn't it?" Isabella piped up in her usual playful drawl, flashing a radiant smile.
"What are you talking about?" Amanda turned her head toward Isabella while Brandon worked the tanning lotion into her skin, the blonde peering over the rims of her designer sunglasses to fix her friend with a sharp look.
"Ha!"
"What do you mean, 'Ha'?"
"Isn't that what you say right before a plot twist?" Isabella smiled with the effortless confidence of someone who had made herself perfectly clear.
She's really jumping in on this, Brandon realized, already watching the train roll down the tracks.
"Hate to break it to you, but that's off the table. No exclusivity for little Mandy-pie," Isabella teased, wagging an admonishing finger.
Amanda didn't flinch. In fact, as the realization set in, a slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She let out a soft sigh as Brandon worked his way up her spine, digging into the knots around her shoulders with firm pressure to melt away the tension.
"You fucked him, didn't you? How the hell didn't I see that coming?"
"You're not the only one who gets to play! I want the boy for myself, too."
"And you waited until now to tell me? When did this even happen? You've been with me for the last two days... I don't remember us—"
"I came in for my tennis lesson while you bailed. And after you raved so much about him, I just had to see for myself."
"Clever girl."
Brandon kept his mouth shut and stayed on task.
Johnny, the sports lounge bartender, strolled down the walkway leading away from the pool deck, passing just behind the girls' loungers, and flashed him an enthusiastic double thumbs-up in silent congratulations for rubbing down Amanda.
For a second, Brandon tried to picture the scene through an outsider's eyes: perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, his hands gliding over the sun-warmed skin of a gorgeous, bikini-clad member.
Amanda's flawless body melting beneath his touch was an undeniably provocative sight—to say nothing of Isabella stretched out on her side right beside them, hips cocked in an arresting curve, head propped in her hand as she watched the entire show.
"So, you're just going to have to write me into your little game."
"What are you getting at?"
"After everything you said, I want him too. It'll be nice having someone around to cater to my every whim. Besides, I can compensate him just as well as you can. He knows..." she purred, shooting Brandon a slow wink.
Both women turned to him, waiting for his reaction.
He had already agreed to Amanda's terms. He would be her sub.
They had laid out a clear set of boundaries so nothing would cross into uncomfortable territory for either of them—safewords, a promise of perks for good behavior.
She had even touched on giving him gifts, though she hadn't elaborated and he hadn't pressed.
Perks weren't why he'd agreed, anyway; the erotic thrill between them was more than enough to hook him.
Now, it was his turn to lay his cards down. Neither of them seemed remotely bothered that they'd both slept with him. What did he really have to lose?
"I don't see a problem with that."
"Of course you don't," Amanda sighed. There was no real bite to it, just a dry, cynical lilt. "Fine. Exclusivity between the two of us. If another girl ever enters the picture, it'll be entirely our call."
Brandon chuckled, feeling the tension ease out of him now that the lines were clearly drawn. He'd figured Amanda wouldn't care, but hearing her confirm it outright was a relief.
"Look at that, Mandy-pie! A love triangle with me." Isabella rolled onto her stomach and pointed toward the bottle of lotion, wordlessly commanding Brandon to give her the exact same royal treatment.
"As if. This isn't one of your cheesy romance movies—it's not a love triangle," Amanda retorted, stepping aside to let Brandon tend to her friend. "This is a competition. No, scratch that. It's a bet."
"Oh, really? And what are we betting on? Yes, sweetie, mm... right there," Isabella murmured, squirming contentedly as Brandon gripped the base of her neck with firm, deep strokes.
"Which one of us he's more devoted to."
Amanda locked eyes with Brandon, the wicked grin still playing across her lips.
She looked thoroughly pleased with herself.
And he couldn't deny feeling a rush of his own.
It was a damn good deal: two rich, gorgeous women competing for him, sharing him as their personal plaything.
What guy on earth wouldn't kill to be in my shoes right now?
"How does that sound to you?" Amanda asked, trailing her fingers lightly along his thigh.
Brandon traced his palms down Isabella's back, savoring her soft curves until his thumbs pressed into the small of her back. She arched into the pressure with a muffled whimper before glancing over at Amanda.
"Sound fun, sweetheart? Ready to play?" Isabella asked through languid, relaxed moans.
"I agree." Amanda arched an expectant brow at him. "I agree, Mistress."
"Good boy. If I think of any other rules, I'll let you know. Now, grab my phone over there, would you?"
Brandon complied, wiping the excess lotion off his hands with a towel before picking up the device and handing it to the blonde. She unlocked the screen and passed it back. "Go on, put your number in."
Isabella chimed in, holding hers out as well.
After that, he returned to working the knots out of Isabella's back.
His mind spun with the sheer weight of what was coming.
What did they have planned for him? Vivid, filthy images of both women flashed behind his eyes, impossible to shake.
His previous encounters with each had only been a taste of the future—of just how thoroughly he could be "used.
" The very thought sent a surge of heat straight through his veins.
"Guess we're going to be spending a lot more time around the club, huh?" Isabella purred between soft groans from the massage.
Amanda gave a low hum of agreement.
"So, Brandon... any of my other friends you're fucking?"
Isabella giggled. A brief flash of insecurity spiked through Brandon, but it faded just as quickly. Amanda was smirking now, just playing mind games.
"Should I be?"
It was the right call. Amanda's brow arched, her wicked grin widening.
"Good. I prefer a sharp tongue on you. Gives me all the more reason to discipline you."