39. Lars
I’ve seen women move through this club for years.
Confidence here is currency. Seduction is a choreographed game.
I’ve watched men lose their composure over a glance, over the brush of a hand along a lapel.
The Monarch always carries an undertow of tease and escapism.
But watching my wife experience this corner of my world turns me on more than I expected.
When she rises to tip another dancer, there is no insecurity in her.
She leans in close, whispering playfully into the dancer’s ear, and slides folded bills into lace with a composure that suggests she understands exactly what this place is.
The men at surrounding tables glance in her direction, but none of them approach her.
They understand hierarchy. Even if they don’t understand who she is, they know she’s here with me.
When she returns to the table, she settles onto my lap without hesitation, her thighs across mine. Her fingers slide into my hair and curl lightly at the base of my skull, nails grazing my scalp just enough to make my cock twitch.
“Are you behaving?” she whispers against my ear.
“I’m trying to,” I answer, my fingers tracing the inside of her thigh.
She kisses me before I can say anything more.
It isn’t a polite kiss meant for public display.
Her mouth presses to mine with confidence, champagne still lingering on her tongue.
I pull her closer, my hand flattening against the curve of her back as my other tightens at her waist. The music is loud around us, but the only rhythm I’m aware of is the slow drag of her tongue against mine and the way her breath begins to thin.
When I lift my head, her eyes are dark, and her lips parted.
It’s then that I feel it again—the gaze from across the room.
The man at the bar hasn’t looked away since the tequila exchange. He watches with a stillness that reads less like indulgence and more like curiosity. Even now, his attention isn’t focused on the stage, or the dancers, but on us.
From across the floor, I take him in properly for the first time.
He’s tall, easily over six feet, built with the kind of muscle that doesn’t come from vanity but from discipline and repetition.
Golden skin catches the low club lighting in a way that makes his features look even more masculine, and his light brown hair is pushed up and back from his forehead.
His eyes are dark, and ink disappears beneath the collar of his black button-down, the fabric stretched over broad shoulders.
His pants strain against the muscles of his thighs, a watch sits on his wrist, rings catching light as his fingers curl around his glass.
Neomi follows my line of sight, her gaze lands on him, lingers, and then returns to me. When her eyes meet mine, there’s curiosity there.
“You said,” she begins, her voice tentative, fingers toying with the collar of my shirt, “that if I ever wanted to play, you would be my man.”
“I did,” I reply.
She looks into my eyes. “Is that still true?”
“It is.”
She studies my face carefully, searching for hesitation. “Have you ever done that before? Shared?”
“I’ve had threesomes,” I answer honestly. “In the past.”
She nods once, absorbing it without visible jealousy. “I haven’t.”
“It’s never something I’ll need,” I tell her. My thumb traces the line of her jaw, grounding the moment. “You are everything I want, you’re perfect, Bella. Nothing changes unless you want it to. I’m not interested in disrupting what we’re building.”
Her gaze flicks back to the man at the bar again, thoughtful. “I’m not asking because I feel pressured,” she says quietly. “I just…I like the way he’s looking at us.”
I follow her gaze once more. The man hasn’t moved. He’s composed, his glass resting against the bar, shoulders relaxed. He isn’t signaling for attention, he’s waiting. Dangerous scenarios begin to fill my imagination.
“Would you like to be watched as I fuck you?” I whisper in her ear. “Or would you like to watch me with a man? Or do you want all the attention on you?”
She shivers in my lap, eyes focused on my mouth. “What if I think all of those options would be hot?”
Her honesty has my cock at full attention.
But what if it’s too soon? We’ve barely settled into our home. We’re still learning the quiet spaces between us. Inviting another presence into that space could complicate something that is only just beginning to feel permanent.
“Even if we were to explore that,” I say carefully, “it would be on your terms. You would dictate the pace. You would decide how far it goes.”
“Shouldn’t your wants be considered, too?” she asks.
“I’m always going to be focused on you, Bella. I’m here to make your fantasies come true, to serve you.”
Her lips curve at that, satisfied. She leans in again and kisses me, slower this time. I deepen it, my hand tightening at her hip as my tongue moves against hers in a sweep that leaves her breathless when I pull away.
Over her shoulder, I see him still watching.
The knowledge that he’s witnessing this, threads through me in a way I didn’t anticipate. It sharpens the kiss. It makes my grip firmer and my cock grow harder.
When Neomi straightens in my lap, smoothing her dress, she reaches for her champagne flute.
“Can we invite him over?” she asks.
“Only with a couple of rules,” I answer. “You leave here with me, and you tell me the second that you feel uncomfortable.”
She nods, but that’s not enough for me.
“Use your words, Bella. Tell me you understand.”
She links her hand with mine and lifts my wrist to her lips. “I understand.”
I kiss her one more time, softly, and allow the moment to stretch between us. When I pull away, I lift a hand, catching our waitress’ attention from across the floor. She finishes with her customer before walking to our table.
“Yes, Mr. Marchetti?”
I nod subtly toward the bar. “The gentleman at the bar, the man who sent the drinks. Ask if he would join us, please.”
She inclines her head and moves away.
Across the room, our waitress approaches him. She leans in, speaking close enough for him to hear over the music. I watch his reaction carefully. His eyes lift first—not to her, but to us. Then the corner of his mouth lifts into a grin.
He speaks to the bartender, picks up his glass and begins walking toward us.