Chapter 9
Spence woke to warmth.
Emmy’s body curved against his side, one leg thrown over his hip, her breath slow and even against his shoulder. The room was dim, no sunlight to mark the hour, just the soft glow of a single lamp Zander must have turned on in the outer room before he left.
These months without sun were always tough.
Zander was always awake, and that part was nice, always having his presence in the back of his mind.
But still, going so long without the sun was harder than anyone who’d never experienced it could possibly understand.
People are tortured and broken by being kept in a hole away from the sun, after all.
The Silo had full-spectrum bulbs fourteen hours a day, and dimmer light the other ten. It probably helped, but not enough.
He shifted slightly, testing his body, and winced.
Good pain, the kind that sang through muscles and reminded him exactly what had happened.
His ass throbbed around the plug still nestled inside him, five pounds of steel keeping Zander’s essence locked deep.
The weight of it pressed against his prostate with every tiny movement, a constant reminder of being filled and owned all the way to his soul.
His wrists held the ghost of the pressure from the cuffs. His nipples were tender, hypersensitive. He breathed in, wishing he had belt marks, or perhaps cane stripes, but content with what he had.
Emmy stirred against him, mumbling something incoherent, and Spence’s chest tightened with emotion.
She’d been magnificent. Everything he’d dreamed of and hoped for — and more.
The way she’d commanded him and hurt him. Held him. Looked at him.
No, not just looked at him.
She’d seen him.
And then afterward, when Zander had taken Emmy and they’d all tangled together, Spence had felt something shift. Not just physically, but deeper.
He wanted it to be permanent. Wanted to wake up every morning between them, wanted to serve them both, wanted—
The outer door opened, and Spence smelled food.
He heard something being put down, and then Zander was in the doorway wearing a sweater and canvas pants.
Dressy and casual, rocking the billionaire outdoorsman look like no one else.
It’d taken Spence some time to get used to his always-in-a-suit Sir looking casual, but it suited him.
Mostly because it was camouflage for the always-strategic brain.
“Good morning, Dearest. I felt you wake.”
“Morning, Sir,” Spence murmured, careful not to wake Emmy yet.
“I brought food. You’re both going to need it.”
Spence breathed deeply and picked up bacon, sausage, eggs, and honey. Something yeasty as well, probably biscuits.
His stomach growled, and Emmy made a soft sound and burrowed closer.
“Food?” she mumbled against his shoulder.
“Lots of it,” Zander confirmed, amusement coloring his tone. “Come. Both of you. Eat before it gets cold.”
Less than five minutes later, Spence sat wrapped in a robe at the small table, working his way through a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and honey-drizzled biscuits.
Emmy sat across from him in a shirt and joggers, her hair a wild tangle, demolishing her own breakfast with single-minded focus.
Watching her eat made something warm settle in Spence’s chest. The hollow look that had haunted her since the poisoning was finally fading, her skin was the right color again, and she was slowly gaining weight back.
“So,” Emmy said around a bite of egg, then swallowed and started again. “Last night was … I mean…” She set her fork down, her gaze locked on his face. “I guess I need feedback. It felt right at the time, but…”
Spence blinked, surprised by her vulnerability. She looked genuinely worried, those green eyes searching his face for reassurance.
“It was perfect,” he said simply.
“No, I need more than that. What worked best, what could’ve gone farther, or maybe went farther than you’d have preferred?”
“Emmy.” He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “It’s my job to accept whatever you and Zander wish to do to me in bed. However you want to make use of me for your pleasure, and last night was perfect. You were perfect.”
She frowned, and then looked to Zander for help.
“Spence’s needs are best met by not making him talk about what he wants.
His rules say that if something truly doesn’t work for him, whether it’s because I went too far or not far enough, he must tell me.
If his needs aren’t being met, he must tell me, and I trust that he will always do so, so he will.
However, his preference, his need, is to not have the ability to direct scenes.
To simply receive what we choose to give him. ”
Zander met Spence’s gaze, warm approval in his clear blue eyes. “He finds deep satisfaction in simply accepting whatever we decide to do to him.”
Spence nodded, relief flooding through him that Zander understood and could explain it, so he didn’t have to. “Yes. Part of being submissive means not having control over what happens. Trusting you both to use me however you want.”
Emmy’s scent bloomed with arousal and caring.
“Which brings us to my question,” Zander said, giving Emmy a gentle smile. “How do you feel about last night?”
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her plate.
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft.
“It felt like more than sex. More than even a scene.” She looked at Spence a second, then back to Zander.
“It felt like … like the power worked some kind of magic. Using come instead of blood, maybe? With me as some kind of, I don’t know — like it mixed on and in me and meant more than just the physical act.
I can’t explain what I felt, but something happened.
Something bigger than just the three of us getting off together. ”
Spence’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. She’d felt it too. It wasn’t just his wishful thinking or post-scene endorphins.
Zander went very still, his expression turning thoughtful. “Magic is about intent, and I believe all three of us went into the night with the idea of the threesome.”
“Yes,” Emmy agreed. “It felt like we’d performed a ritual, almost. Like we were weaving something together.”
Zander leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes — and Spence held his breath, desperately hoping Zander would open them and say they’d forged something permanent and unbreakable.
The silence stretched, heavy with possibility. Spencer could only sit and wait, his food forgotten for the moment.
Finally, Zander opened his eyes. “The bonds between the three of us are certainly there and tangible. It’s a stronger connection than one would expect after a single scene,” he said carefully, “but nothing substantially significant. Not as if a rite were performed, and yet, more than mere sex and pain play.”
Disappointment crashed through him, so sharp it stole his breath. He’d wanted permanence. Wanted to know last night had locked them together in ways that couldn’t be undone. Wanted the certainty of forever.
Zander’s voice slipped into his mind, cool and steady. Patience, Dearest. What you felt was real, but what we’re building needs a better foundation before it can be made permanent, lest we risk building it on unstable ground, so it crumbles and falls apart.
Spence swallowed hard, forcing his expression to stay neutral even as his chest ached with want. I know, Sir. I just … I hoped.
I know, Dearest. Warmth flooded the mental link, Zander’s love a palpable thing. Keep hoping. We’ll all build it together, just give it time.
Spence took a shaky breath and focused back on the conversation, finding Emmy watching Zander with an unreadable expression.
“So it wasn’t just me imagining things,” she said. “There’s something.”
“There is,” Zander confirmed. “The foundation for something significant. But foundations require time and care to build upon. Last night was a beginning, not a conclusion.”
Emmy nodded. “Yes. A beginning.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to keep building it. Thanks for taking me seriously and looking.”
“Always,” Zander said. “Now eat your breakfast. Both of you.”
She stared at him a few seconds, then lifted her fork. “Only because I’m hungry anyway. You’re getting good at figuring out what you can pretend to order me to do, and I just want to go on record as saying I see what you’re doing.”
He laughed, leaned so he could kiss her temple, and sat back up. “I’ve always loved the way your mind works.”
They ate in comfortable silence a few moments, the weight of revelation settling around them.
“Spence still has the plug in,” Emmy noted. “How long will you leave it in? How often do you plug him outside of scenes?”
“He’s often plugged in the hours before a scene, and frequently in the hours after an intense one. Occasionally, I’ll plug him when a scene isn’t planned, merely because I can. His mind is his own outside of scenes, but his body is mine in and out of scenes.”
Heat crept up Spence’s neck. “It stays in until Sir wants it out.”
Zander’s smile was slow and wicked. “And I rather like knowing you’re carrying me inside you, but you have a lot on your plate today, so I’ll probably remove it after breakfast.” His gaze moved between them, heating.
“I think the three of us should reconnect before we go in different directions. Not a scene, just some sex to begin the day.”
Emmy’s pupils dilated, and her scent spiked with sudden arousal. “Yes. Completely agree.”
Spence’s cock stirred, but he merely said, “Yes, Sir.”
They finished breakfast quickly after that, anticipation building in the air like static electricity.
Spence ate a little faster, and he was pretty sure Emmy did, too.