Chapter 12 Hana
Hana
Isipped slowly from my mug, the chamomile tasting stale now that it was cold. It was another gray and bleak morning, and the snow was still falling faintly.
Jack sat across from me at the small breakfast table, shirtless and quiet, one hand rubbing the back of his neck the way he always did when something was on his mind.
The light coming through the window made his tattoos look softer, but there was a look in his eyes I recognized. He was off somehow.
“You okay?” I asked, nudging my foot against his under the table.
He looked up at me, his mouth pulling into a crooked half-smile. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
I smirked back, sitting back in my seat. “I’m good. I mean…last night was a lot. But not in a bad way.”
He nodded slowly, but didn’t respond right away.
“What?” I prompted gently.
He tapped his fingers against the rim of his coffee mug, his wedding ring clinking against it. He looked at me through his lashes. “Elliott seemed weird, right? Like, after?”
I hesitated. “A little,” I admitted. “When Jackie was with you. He looked…tense.”
“Yeah.” Jack leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I kept thinking he was gonna step in. Or stop it. Or say something. And I get it—this shit’s fucking intense. Especially when you’re not used to seeing someone you love in it.”
I nodded, understanding. “Do you think he was upset with you?”
Jack shrugged, but his jaw clenched. “Maybe. I mean, it’s not like I was doing anything to her she didn’t want. She was into it. You saw that.”
“I did,” I said, reaching across the table for his hand. He took it, squeezing gently. “And I think he saw it too. I just think it’s harder when it’s someone else doing it.”
“I know,” Jack muttered. “But still. It kinda rubbed me wrong. Like he thought I couldn’t be trusted or something. And you know how much I’ve changed. You know I’d never—”
“I know,” I said quickly. “He knows it too. You’ve got nothing to prove.”
He exhaled hard, letting the air out between clenched teeth. “Yeah. I just don’t like the idea that he might think I’d cross that line.”
I squeezed his hand. “Maybe you guys should talk. Clear the air.”
He nodded and shrugged. “Maybe. Later.”
We were quiet for a moment. I watched the way his posture changed, more relaxed, and the way he looked at me tenderly.
“And us?” he asked, a little softer now.
I smiled. “We’re good. I feel closer to you, honestly. Seeing you like that…so into it, so in tune with me and with her…”
He smiled. “I fucking love you, my wife.”
* * *
We were all together again that night, things feeling a little lighter than before. The forecast said it would clear by morning. Our little bubble was almost up.
We agreed to do something fun, something light.
Jack and Elliott poured whiskey in the kitchen, clinking glasses with a little too much camaraderie, like the air hadn’t been tense between them just hours earlier. Maybe that was their version of clearing the air—let the tension dissolve in a drink.
Jackie sat beside me on the couch, her knees up to her chest but her body pointed toward me.
“Can’t believe we’re gonna leave tomorrow,” I said lightly.
She nodded. “Feels weird. It feels like we’re in our own little world out here.”
Across the room, Jack laughed at something Elliott said. The sound was warm and casual, like nothing had ever been weird between them. I guess that’s what alcohol could do to you.
But I’d seen the way Jack looked at Elliott. I’d seen Elliott look back.
“Truth or dare,” Jack called, like he couldn’t stand the quiet. “Just some simple fun.”
Jackie snorted. “Nothing about you is simple.”
“Oh, you should know, sweetheart,” Jack replied with a wink.
We played, laughed, the energy picking up again, slowly but steadily, like we were testing the water again before diving back in.
Jack dared Elliott to mimic an orgasm. Elliott passed.
Jackie dared me to describe my dirtiest fantasy. I didn’t.
No one pushed.
And maybe that’s what made the tension build—the restraint, the looks, the almosts.
And then it was inevitable: Jackie rose from beside me with a low laugh, then walked over to Jack and eased into his lap after he dared her to.
And the moment she did, the air shifted again.
Elliott and I both stared at them. My heart beat a little faster. This was happening again, and we all knew it.
Jackie ended up straddling Jack while Elliott bent me over the edge of the couch. His touch was firm and dominant, one he had shown me briefly before.
I liked the way Jack watched from across the room, clearly turned on by it.
Or so I thought.
When Elliott started fucking me, it felt so fucking good. Familiar, even. He was vocal—filthy words in my ear, his hands strong around my hips. But something changed in the way he moved. His grip grew harder. His thrusts got rougher. Not playful rough, not dominant rough—competitive rough.
It didn’t register at first. Not until he yanked my hips back again, his voice a low growl. “You like that, huh? Gonna come for me while he watches?”
Jack couldn’t tear his eyes from us, and Jackie, lost in the rhythm, had no idea how tense the air had become.
I tried to lose myself too—to forget the weight of his gaze—but then the air changed. They were beside us. He’d drawn her closer, the distance between us dissolving.
Jackie was now on her knees, blowing Jack as he placed his hands on each side of her head, guiding her up and down his length.
Elliott grunted again, slapping my ass harder this time, and I gasped—from pleasure, from surprise. From the sudden realization that this wasn’t about me.
This was about Jack.
My eyes met Jack’s. There was a darkness there I hadn’t seen in a long time. Possession. Like something primal and territorial had been stirred, and Elliott had stepped directly into it.
Elliott was still thrusting into me like he had something to prove. And Jack didn’t say anything, but I knew he was about to. He was watching with that controlled fury I hadn’t seen in years. Not since Michael. Not since the beginning.
I turned my head, but then Jack moved.
He reached down and pulled me off Elliott like I weighed nothing. My body gasped from the loss of him, but I didn’t have time to think. Jack was already spinning me toward him, his mouth crashing down onto mine, full of possessive heat and unspoken rage.
He backed me into the nearest wall, his hand gripping my jaw tight as he broke the kiss with a growl. “Get on the fucking floor.”
I dropped immediately, my knees hitting the plush rug by the fire. It was Jack who consumed me now.
He grabbed his cock, thick and ready. He fisted my hair in one hand and guided me to his cock with the other. “Open.”
I obeyed.
And when he slid into my mouth, when I hollowed my cheeks and looked up at him with wide, obedient eyes, I could feel his possession growing. His other hand joined the first, cradling my head roughly as he started to fuck my mouth—rough and fast.
This was dominance laced with emotion. A storm breaking loose.
He pulled out with a gasp and lifted me effortlessly, turning me so fast I nearly lost my balance. He bent me over an arm of the couch, yanked my legs apart, and thrust into me.
“You’re fucking mine, Hana,” he growled in my ear.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes, Jack—”
His palm cracked across my ass. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped. “I’m fucking yours—”
The sound of him slamming into me echoed with each word, each thrust, each breathless cry that spilled from my lips.
Behind me, I caught movement—Jackie’s widened eyes, her mouth parted in awe or shock or arousal, maybe all three. Elliott was beside her, watching us with his body turned to her, tense as he held onto her waist.
Then something in him seemed to snap.
He grabbed her hips and bent her over the back of the armchair. Jackie gasped, startled, but immediately pushed back into him.
His thrusts were just as rough, just as relentless as Jack’s had been to me. The slap of skin filled the space between low moans and gasps, Jackie’s fingers gripping the arm of the chair as he drove into her from behind.
My body tightened, shook violently as Jack slammed into me one final time before pulling out with a growl, his hand jerking himself fast.
A hot splash hit my back—Jack’s cum, thick and warm, painting my skin as I collapsed forward on shaking arms.
I looked up and Jack’s breathing was heavy–not from exertion, not from release, but from something else. He was watching Elliott fuck Jackie just as roughly, and he saw a challenge.
And the way Elliott looked back at him—he saw it too.
My stomach flipped.
I glanced at Jackie—blissed-out, unaware, lost in pleasure—and I felt a pang of protectiveness. She didn’t see it yet. But I did.
This wasn’t for her. This wasn’t for me.
This was for them.
And I didn’t know how to stop it.
But I knew, deep down, if it kept going like this—if they kept turning our bodies into battlegrounds—it was only going to get worse.