He’s fucking talking dirty to her. First, he made her laugh, now he’s talking dirty to her.

I’m so jealous I can’t even see straight. I knew it would be like this. I knew she’d want him and not me, because he’s funny and charming and I’m... well, I’m me.

I’ve always been like this — serious and straight-laced — and even though it works for me, out in the world, I don’t think I’ve got a chance one-on-one like this.

Beckett freezes for a split second, then his shoulders relax.

“It’s going fine,” he says, turning casually, leaning against a desk. “Bianca found a trashy old romance novel and we were just laughing about some of the stuff in it.”

“It calls a vagina a damp love-cave,” she adds, then blushes.

“It’s true,” Beckett says.

His dick is at half-mast. I don’t mean to notice, but it’s not like I haven’t seen his dick before — how many times have we fucked the same woman? — and it’s right there.

Fucker.

“Sounds like your favorite kind of literature,” I say to Beckett. “Sexy and overwrought.”

“Just like my memoir will be,” he says, and finally grabs a notebook and pen from the desk behind him.

With a final glance at Bianca, he rises, then walks for the door.

“Enjoy the book,” he says, and walks past me.

I turn and follow him back out into the main area of the cabin, where we sit. I read. He doodles or something, and neither of us speak for a very long time.

* * *

Later that day, close to sunset, I take a walk to secure the perimeter. This whole scenario — protecting the princess — has made me jumpy and anxious, constantly looking at every window to see whether a noise was a branch or an assassin.

There’s nothing, of course. Nothing looks even remotely suspicious: there’s the whole stone façade of the cabin, the low wall around it, the massive trees that were probably planted by my great-times-five grandparents.

The only thing out of place is the all-wheel-drive Jeep that we drove here in, an hour down the rutted dirt tracks that are the only way to even get here. When the main method of transportation was mules and horses, that didn’t matter so much — but now it’s at least ideal for keeping Bianca safe from whoever’s hunting her.

As I come back around the side of the cabin, I see her, standing on the veranda, leaning against the railing with her arms crossed, looking at the still-covered hot tub.

Even though she’s just wearing jeans and a shirt, she’s still stunningly beautiful, beyond gorgeous. I stop for a moment just to catch my breath, let myself appreciate the curves of her body, the way her hair flows past her neck and over her shoulders.

Before I can say anything, she turns to look at me.

“You didn’t tell me there was a hot tub,” she says, tilting her head slightly.

I walk forward, eyes still feasting on her body.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“Of course you were supposed to,” she says, a smile around her eyes as I get closer. “If you’d told me I’d have brought a swimsuit.”

Now I’m on the veranda as well, leaning against a post, only a few feet from Bianca.

“You know,” I say. “We’re the only ones around for miles and miles. There’s no reason you need a swimsuit.”

“You and Beckett are still here,” she says. “Unless you’re promising you won’t look...”

Her face is totally innocent, but there’s something in her tone that tells me she knows we will.

That we’ll look, and she’ll know, and she’ll like it.

For easily the thousandth time I think about the conversation that Beckett and I had last night. About how neither of us will make a move for Bianca, since we know she won’t share us. And no hell sounds worse than lying awake in my bed at night, knowing that she’s with him.

But I’m starting to rethink that position. I’ve got a feeling that, despite her virginal state, Bianca might not be quite as innocent as we’ve been thinking. Just because she’s a virgin doesn’t necessarily make her sweet.

After all, every single girl we’ve ever shared was a virgin once upon a time. Who knows what kind of girl is hiding inside Bianca?

“I don’t think I can promise that,” I say, keeping my voice low and serious. “If there’s a situation, we might need to come rescue you.”

I try not to imagine it, but I can’t stop myself. The way she’d bend over the hot tub to take the cover off, the deep pink edges of her pussy just barely peeking out from between her legs. Her getting into the hot tub, breasts bobbing in the water, nipples puckering among the bubbles.

I wonder if I could hold my breath long enough to eat her pussy and make her come, I think.

Maybe.

“What kind of situation?” she asks, still playful. “I need to know what not to do before I commit to getting naked out here.”

“Well, I can’t exactly say before it happens, can I?” I say. “The only way to really know is to try it out and see if anything can coax us out of the house while you’re out here stripped, hot, and wet.”

Now she flushes, her cheeks flaming all the way down to her neck, but she doesn’t look away from me.

“Who knows?” I say. “I might not take much at all to get us to come.”

I leave a long, long pause.

“...Out to rescue you,” I finish.

Not thinking about it is fucking hopeless. I’m hard as a rock, imagining Bianca standing in front of me, water frothing around us as she grabs the side of the tub, her body buoyed up. The way I could grab her legs and lift her.

Or it could be both of us, her sandwiched between us, half-floating. I could claim her sweet, tight little pussy, her hard, pink nipples rubbing against me as she moaned while Beckett claimed her other hole and I watched her eyelids flutter, her brain nearly short-circuiting...

“Sounds like the only way for me to know is to try it,” she says, her face still red, but with something wicked in her blue eyes.

She wants this, I realize.

She’s gonna do it. She’s gonna come out here, naked, into this hot tub.

And sweet fucking Jesus, I’m going to have to resist her.

Behind me, the door opens. I know it’s Beckett, so I just glance around, pretending to be perfectly casual.

He gives me a long, hard look up and down. There’s no way he misses my bulging erection, but right now, I don’t even care.

We’re even now, I think.

“Want to help me with dinner?” he asks.

I give Bianca one more long, lingering glance, and I swear the girl shudders.

“Think about that offer,” I say, and follow Beckett back into the house.