Chapter Eleven
The marble floor was cold and cruel under my knees. I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there, waiting for them. Every second stretched beyond time, endless, mindless, until all that remained was me, kneeling in the darkness, my hard nipples tormented by the tulle of my black Marchesa V-neck gown, my diamond collar heavy around my throat.
It wasn’t dark in the Pavillon’s center room—just behind my blindfold. I knew that beyond, warm candle-like light filled the octagonal space. And I knew they were there, my Sir and El-Mudad, watching me. Circling me. Considering what they would do to me.
They’d likely planned it out already, of course. Tonight was El-Mudad’s last night with us, and Sir did not like to disappoint guests.
He finally spoke, his voice deep and serious. “On any other night, Sophie, I would offer you as a gift to my friend. I would let him use you temporarily. But tonight, it won’t be quite so temporary.”
Heat flooded my belly. Of course, we’d discussed all of this before. The change to our sexual relationship, the new roles we’d all agreed upon and were eager to try out. El-Mudad was a switch, able to perform and desiring the roles of both Dom and sub, depending on the circumstances. Because of this, there would be some adjusting and arranging. Neil wouldn’t concede his total ownership of my submission, but he was willing to share. Though I wasn’t yet sure how I could handle the idea of someone else submitting to my Sir, I was sure that the only person I’d be willing to try it with was El-Mudad.
We’d tried to talk over and preemptively solve any problems we anticipated, and everything had felt right. But that had been Sophie and Neil and El-Mudad drinking our morning coffee on the beach. It was so much different when it was happening, when the platinum of my collar still felt cool against my skin and I’d been deprived of the privilege of one of my senses at their will.
Their will. Not just my Sir’s will.
“Have you decided what she’ll call you, yet, El-Mudad?” Sir asked, his footsteps stopping just beside me. I swayed on my knees, hoping that millimeter of movement would bring my body into contact with his, however brief.
It didn’t, and his hand connected with my face in a sharp slap.
“You were told not to move.”
That was something else we’d discussed at length. How far we would go, how hard they would push me, what I thought I could handle and what I wanted to experience. The sting suffused my entire body with a wash of anticipation; it wouldn’t be the only pain I felt.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whispered. No matter how aroused I was, no matter how much I knew in the back of my mind that this was all a game we played, I still wanted to please him. Knowing that I’d displeased him hurt more than the physical punishment.
“What did you call me?” El-Mudad mused aloud to Neil. Years ago, Neil had consented to sub for El-Mudad. It had been light play, owing to Neil’s past trauma, but the idea of my Sir being ordered to his knees struck me as impossible and impossibly arousing at the same time.
There could even be some of that in our future. When we discussed the roles we would take together, Neil had been direct and honest about not being open to letting El-Mudad Dom me without his involvement, but he hadn’t shot down the idea of submitting to El-Mudad.
“I believe I called you Monsieur,” Neil replied, a note of amusement in his voice.
“Then, she shall call me that, as well,” El-Mudad said from somewhere behind me. The sound of his expensive shoes on the polished floor told me where he was, but I felt his approach more than heard it.
The air around me changed, filled with the scent of his cologne and the heat of his body. His clothes rustled as he leaned down, and one finger hooked beneath my chin to lift my face. Though I couldn’t see him, I imagined that I somehow met his gaze. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip.
“Say it.”
“Monsieur,” I breathed, and almost cringed at how clumsy it sounded on my mouth. But if that’s what he wanted—if that was what Monsieur wanted—then it was what I would call him.
A different hand, bigger, replaced Monsieur’s. Where his touch was elegant and gentle, Sir was commanding and cruel. He gripped my chin and touched his thumb to my lip the way Monsieur had, but roughly smeared my wine-red lipstick across my mouth.
“But she made herself so pretty for us,” Monsieur said with a disappointed sigh.
“Tell him why you made yourself so pretty,” Sir ordered, and I could see his smirk in my mind.
“So that you could mess it up, Sir. Monsieur.”
“I think we could make her very messy, indeed, can’t we, Monsieur?” Sir asked. Hearing him use the title sent a thrill through me. The more distance they put between themselves and who they were outside of our game, the more impersonal and, frankly, frightening this could feel for me.
“She’s trembling,” Monsieur observed. “Are you not looking forward to that, little one? Are you afraid of what you’ll see when we’re finished with you? Sweat, tears, cum dripping from your mouth and your cunt…”
I moaned.
“You’ve struck a nerve.” Sir chuckled darkly. He released my chin, his hand sliding along the curve of my jaw and into my hair. He gripped a huge handful and pulled; I lifted up slightly to follow it, and he tugged, again. “On your feet.”
I stood, grateful for the reprieve from the floor but aching from the position I’d held. That at least gave me some idea of how long they’d forced me to wait.
Sir stood so close to me that his shirt brushed against my nipples, the legs of his trousers against my knees. He didn’t let go of my hair or relax his hold on it. “Where should we start?”
I held my breath. Though we’d discussed rules for the scene, I rarely wanted to know ahead of time what was actually planned for me. Neil knew my limits and knew that I would tell him in advance if there was a particular activity I wasn’t comfortable with. It was a perfect arrangement; he could surprise me, and I could be safely afraid or titillated, while we both knew I was perfectly safe.
“The machine room, I think,” Monsieur said casually, as though he were ordering something off a menu. “Is there a bench there?”
“There is,” Sir confirmed.
“Wonderful. Let’s bend her over it and use the machine to fuck her. To get her warmed up,” Monsieur added.
“Shackles?” Sir asked.
“Of course.”
Sir handed me over to Monsieur with a quick shove that almost toppled me from my feet, forcing him to catch me. With the blindfold on, I felt helpless, and Monsieur’s strong arms around me were the only point of stability and reassurance I had. Oh, there would be definite advantages to having two Doms.
He guided me into the machine room and stood behind me, running his hands down my arms to position them. They encountered the textured leather of the waist-high bench, and he gently pushed me down to bend over it. My feet stayed comfortably flat on the floor, so that my weight wouldn’t rest entirely on my chest against the bench.
Sir knelt beside me and took my ankle in his hand to steady my leg as he cuffed it. Eerie that I could tell it was him just from that incidental touch, one that I hadn’t realized I’d memorized.
As he secured my other ankle, I heard the click of an electrical cord striking the floor. A deep, ticklish feeling washed through my pelvis in anticipation.
“I can’t wait to see this,” Monsieur said. “I’ve imagined it, from things you’ve told me.”
A hot flush suffused my entire body. They’d talked about me? About sex things?
Sir bent close to my ear, his breath stirring the hair at my temples. “I do hope it’s all right that I’ve shared some of our secrets.
“I hope you spoke well of me, Sir,” I whispered as a cuff cinched around my wrist.
“He told me how beautiful you look,” Monsieur said, his soft fingertips trailing down my back over the lace of my gown. “How loudly you scream. How desperately you plead. He told me that, when you come, you gush all over the floor. And that he once made you lick it up.”
The shame and perversion of that encounter rushed through me all at once, magnified by the knowledge that Monsieur now shared the secret. He knew, then, about Sir holding my cheek against the floor with his foot on my head. That he’d made me clean up every drop and suck my wetness from the machine’s dildo as punishment for coming without his permission. That he’d whipped me with my favorite weighted leather flogger until my ass had glowed red and tears had washed my mascara down my face.
Not only had Monsieur heard about all of that, he’d one day participate in similar scenes. I imagined Sir pushing Monsieur’s head between my legs, forcing him to eat his own cum from my pussy in a similar punishment.
My cunt spasmed, and my clit throbbed; with a soft cry, I came without them even touching me.
“Oh, look,” Monsieur said with a cluck of his tongue. “I think she’s finished without us.”
“She’s not finished until I say she’s finished,” Sir corrected him. “Isn’t that right, Sophie?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered without hesitation.
“And are you allowed to come without permission?” he asked, his palm smoothing over my ass through the dress.
My knees tensed. Should I anticipate a strike? “No, Sir.”
His hand lifted, and I flinched. But it fell to the back of my head in a comforting touch. “But that wasn’t your fault, was it? Monsieur doesn’t realize the power his words hold over you.”
“I find it quite interesting, though,” Monsieur said with a cruel chuckle. “Imagine if I kept you restrained for hours and talked of such things, barely touching you. Teasing you with a feather, perhaps.”
“Or a paintbrush,” Sir suggested. “I know she enjoys those. I’ll have to show you the video, sometime.”
The video that I’d made with my occasional casual hook-up, Gena. She’d used paintbrushes dipped in dyes made from water-based lube to color my clit and labia then pressed paper against me to create a print I’d given Sir for his birthday. The touches had been maddening and light, and though it hadn’t taken very long, it had been torment. That had been part of his present, too.
“I look forward to it,” Monsieur said. “Now, shall we fuck her?”
“Of course. First, we need to decide if that’s the dildo we’ll use. Do you think we need something…”
“Bigger?”
“Or perhaps with more of a curve. Like…” I heard a drawer open. We kept the attachments and things we might need—like lube or extra restraints—that would be inconvenient if placed in another room in an antique sideboard. Scissors for rope and even bolt-cutters for chains were within easy distance, as well. But I knew what Sir was getting.
“In this position, if we slide it onto the machine just so…” he said, and my toes curled against the marble, “it will put more pressure on her G-spot. And that’s what makes her get so incredibly wet. Let me show you.”
My skirt pushed up, and the round head of a large curved dildo nudged my labia then slid right on past. Sir drove the toy into me without any other preparation, and the exaggerated, non-anatomically correct shape of the thing shocked me. I knew exactly which one he’d selected, just from the feel of it—sleek, smooth, and hot pink. He knew how much I loved the color.
He withdrew the toy and pushed it in, again, upside down so that the wide ball-shaped head pressed hard on my g-spot. He was right, it did get me wet. The sound of my pussy opening around the toy was unmistakable as he withdrew it.
The smooth surface tapped my lips, and Sir commanded, “Clean it up.”
I obediently dropped my jaw and let him fuck my mouth with the dildo, gagging and drooling as he pushed back too hard. I choked and sputtered but tried as best as I could to wind my tongue around the shaft of the toy. It withdrew, only to be replaced with the real thing; Sir’s cock rammed into my throat and blocked my shriek of surprise.
I heard the soft click of the machine’s motor as it took a few strokes. Then, it shut off. Still fucking my mouth, Sir instructed Monsieur, “She’ll need plenty of lube, from the friction alone. All right, line it up… Good. Put it in her then manually rotate the arm forward, until it’s at its deepest point.”
I rose on the balls of my feet and squealed around Sir’s cock as the dildo entered me. Monsieur pushed the arm slowly, until the dildo was seated as far as it could reach.
Sir pulled out of my mouth. “How is that, Sophie?”
“More,” I moaned, wriggling my hips back. The legs of the machine scraped the floor as Monsieur scooted it closer and readjusted the arm. This time, the toy just barely bumped my cervix. “There, Monsieur. Oh, yes, there.”
With my part of the proceedings seemingly over, Sir shoved back into my mouth and picked up where he’d left off. “The controls are quite simple. And Sophie remembers her signal?”
I opened and closed my hand three times.
“Then, shall we proceed?” he asked.
The machine chugged to a sluggish start, dragging the dildo lazily back and forth. I groaned in frustration at the initial slowness.
“Shall I turn it up?” Monsieur asked, and before I could answer, the machine’s speed kicked up higher.
“When should we let her come?” Sir asked, still thrusting into my mouth.
“Whenever the machine makes her come, I suppose,” Monsieur replied. “And you? Will you come in her mouth, her cunt, or her ass?”
“Oh, I think I’d rather pull out and come across her pretty face,” Sir said.
“Also a good choice.” Monsieur laughed softly. He walked one hand down my spine, to the very top of the cleft between my cheeks. “I think…her ass for me tonight.”
I moaned loudly around Sir’s cock.
“Well, let’s make sure her cunt is well tended, first,” Sir said with a dark laugh.
Penetrative orgasms had always been hit or miss for me. Until I’d met Neil, I’d thought it was a symptom that I was broken. But I’d also never been with a machine before; the simple fact of the matter was, no human could fuck as hard and fast, which was apparently enough to stimulate my clit from the inside. The rapid stroking of my G-spot helped, too, and if I hadn’t been so firmly strapped down, I wouldn’t have been able to hold still enough to keep me safe. Monsieur turned the dial up faster, and I was lost. My feet cramped, my knees locked, and my chained hands clawed. I only had enough presence of mind to stop myself from opening and closing them; I certainly didn’t want to stop. And I definitely didn’t want to clench my teeth, with Sir fucking my face. That wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us. All I could do was will myself totally limp in my bonds, until the relentless pounding finally brought me over the edge.
But the machine never stopped.
“There’s a very nice wand vibrator in the sideboard there,” Sir said, his voice a bit strained. He would come soon, I was certain.
Monsieur stepped away, and I heard the drawer open. When he returned, he reached beneath me to press the wide head of the wand directly on my clit. The combination of sensations was too much. Everything numbed, giving my overloaded nerves some relief for the moment. Sir drove harder into my throat then pulled swiftly out. Hot, heavy droplets landed across my cheek, nose, and mouth; at least some of it hit the blindfold.
Not being able to see or wipe my face heightened the helplessness I already felt. I knew what I would look like, shackled, my skirt hiked above my waist, cum smeared over my face. It was so dirty, so depraved, and it was all for them. All for Sir and Monsieur, only for them.
The flesh I’d thought numb to sensation woke suddenly. A violent climax seized my body, stretching on and on. My limbs trembled, my mouth hung open as I gasped for air, cum dripping from my chin. I tried to squirm away from the vibrator, but I couldn’t move, both from the shackles holding me and for my own safety as the machine pounded on.
“Please, no more,” I begged, tasting the cum on my lips. “I can’t come, again.”
A slap stung my face. “You will,” Sir warned.
“Perhaps I should be merciful,” Monsieur mused. “Do you want to come, again?”
“No, Monsieur! No!” I sobbed, clutching the bench so tightly I was sure my nails would tear the leather cover.
He clucked his tongue in admonishment. “If only you had said please.”
“Please!” I screamed as another orgasm built deep in my pelvis. But there was no escape. Monsieur held me completely at his will, rolling the vibrator back and forth, cranking the speed of the thrusting arm high and higher until my moans and pleas were lost in the high, frantic whine of the machinery. I don’t know how long they tormented me, but I came, again, and again, my thighs wet and sticky, my throat raw from screaming for mercy, begging them to stop.
But I never said “red”.
The vibrator switched off, and the machine slowed to a halt. Sweat trickled through my hair, down the back of my neck. I was totally spent, and we were far from finished.
“Beg him to fuck your ass, Sophie,” Sir said, and I already heard Monsieur squirting lube into his palm.
My words rasped from my parched throat. “P-please, fuck my ass, Monsieur.”
“Louder!”
“Please, I want you to fuck my ass, Monsieur!” I gulped back a sob of humiliation.
Monsieur gave me no warning, no warm up. He forced himself past my body’s resistance, all the way to the very hilt. I reared up against my bonds, wailing in an agony so sublime my knees shook and my skin broke out all over with goose bumps.
Monsieur bent over my back to whisper, “Since you asked so nicely, I will fuck you. And when I’m finished, you’ll know you’ve been fucked.”
I cried out, again, at the next powerful thrust, but my tired throat could barely produce sound, anymore. My voice would be completely gone by the time he was finished with me.
“Will you beg me to stop?” he asked, grinding even deeper, taking my breath away.
I swallowed, gritting my teeth against the pain. “No, Monsieur!”
“No?” He laughed and withdrew nearly all the way, only to slam forward, again, so hard our bodies made a slapping noise. “Only a filthy slut would let a man take her this way.”
Another brutal thrust left me whimpering. I couldn’t even shout, anymore; the pain was my sole focus.
“You want this, don’t you?” he asked, grasping a handful of my hair and jerking my head back. “You want me to fuck you until you can’t stand up. You want me to come in your ass.”
“I do, Monsieur, yes!” I shouted, though my body still protested his welcomed violation. Hot tears seeped from behind the blindfold and down my face as he used my body cruelly, while the pain transformed to streaks of cold lightning assailing my spine and every internal part of my clitoris.
“Please, can I come?” I shouted in desperation, because it was bound to happen at any moment. My pussy contracted, and I found myself trying to move with Monsieur, to draw him deeper or fight against him. Any semblance of control I’d had vanished. I didn’t even hear Sir’s answer to my question, or Monsieur’s. I thrashed and moaned and heard Monsieur’s shout of release as I gave in to the torturous, pleasurable oblivion.
The back of my dress tore away, and nails raked down my back, deep gouges that made me scream in shock. I was familiar enough with impact play that I’d experienced a cane splitting my skin every, now and then, but intentionally tearing to cause pain was entirely new. The burn of the stinging stripes leached into the surrounding skin, and I fought against the shackles, twisting to escape.
I heard Neil’s sharp intake of breath from across the room, so I knew it was El-Mudad who’d done it. We’d talked about my love of pain, but it had never occurred to me to specify which type when I’d given him blanket permission to hurt me.
“Check in, Sophie,” Neil said. There was an urgency to the request that sparked panic in me. Fear, I liked. Panic, I did not.
“Yellow. I need… I need…” I opened and closed my hands helplessly.
El-Mudad withdrew from me carefully and quickly untied the blindfold. The calming effect was almost immediate. He walked around me, crouching down so he could look me in the eye. “Do you need to be unshackled?”
I shook my head. “No. No, I’m…”
“Yes, you do,” Neil said, reaching down and popping the closures. Sometimes, it was best for him to decide what I needed; when I got lost in subspace, I could always count on him to find me. He unstrapped my ankles while El-Mudad kissed my back, cautiously avoiding the painful stripes he’d left.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Oh, my love, I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. He freed one of my wrists and brought my palm to his mouth to kiss it. When both were loose, I leaned up on my elbows on the bench and pushed my sweaty hair from my face. “I’ll try anything once. And once was enough for that.”
“I’ll get you some ointment,” Neil said, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“No. I want to keep going.”
He looked at me doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve just had an incredible amount of pain—”
“No pain, then?”
“Sophie…” El-Mudad said gently. “I am uncomfortable going on, now.”
“Oh.” I’d never considered the possibility that a Dom would be the one to tap out. I knew that it was just as much their right as mine, but it seemed so bizarre.
My legs couldn’t hold me up. I leaned heavily against El-Mudad’s side, and he helped me shuffle to the shower. Neil went to the comfort room to get the supplies we would need for aftercare.
“I am so sorry,” El-Mudad said, again, his big brown eyes searching mine earnestly as he helped me undress. “I should have made sure… I should have checked—”
“You got caught up in the heat of the moment,” I said with a shrug, kicking the wilted, destroyed dress aside. “It happens. I still trust you.”
“But this is the first time we…” He looked down. “I feel like I’ve failed you.”
I laughed. Loudly. “Failed me? Do you realize how many times Neil and I have done something that accidentally hurt me or he did something I didn’t like without knowing it would bother me? It’s a part of this kind of relationship. You communicate and don’t repeat the same mistakes, and that bond gets stronger. You know that. You’ve done this before.”
“I have. But I’ve never come into an already established relationship like this. I don’t want to disappoint you.” He turned on the taps and waited a moment, only signaling me to step under the water when it was a comfortable temperature.
I took his hand and let him lead me under the rainfall showerhead. The water stung my back. I looked straight up and scrubbed my face with my hands; dried semen feels weird on skin, and I wanted it gone. Wiping the water from my eyes, I faced El-Mudad, again. “You’re not disappointing me. You did something in the heat of the moment. And now, you know that I don’t like it. You didn’t cause any permanent damage, and I was willing to go on. So, nobody had a bad time here.”
Though my legs were wobbly as Jell-o, I rose on the balls of my feet to kiss his cheek.
“I hope Neil feels the same way,” El-Mudad said, unable to meet my eyes. “If you had seen his face…I thought perhaps he hated me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. At all.” Maybe in that split-second, in his role as my Dom, seeing his sub in real trouble, he might have. But not as Neil Elwood, the man who loved El-Mudad. “You know what Neil has been through. Stuff can trigger strong reactions from him. But now that he knows I’m fine, he should be okay.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” his voice called from the door, startling us both.
“We were talking about you.” I didn’t know how much he’d heard.
“Yes, I know.” He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off then kicked his shoes aside. “Though, I’m not as worried about myself as I am about you, Sophie.”
I caught El-Mudad’s eye before he could look away. The pain and shame in him were far more than any they’d put me through tonight. I’d welcomed mine, though.
“I’m fine. I think El-Mudad is more shaken up than I am,” I said gently, silently imploring Neil not to be angry.
But I shouldn’t ever make assumptions about my husband. Disrobed the rest of the way, he stepped into the water with us and took El-Mudad in his arms. Holding El-Mudad’s chin with one hand, so he couldn’t look away, Neil said, “I could never hate you. I love you far too much to hold something like this against you.”
El-Mudad nodded, dropping his head as Neil crushed him close. I covered my mouth and nose with my hands, blinking back tears at the sight. It was only when I sniffled back my happy crying that Neil looked up.
“We need to get her back tended to,” he said, giving El-Mudad a manly slap on the back, made louder by their wet skin.
“Then, I want to go back to the house,” I said, before anyone could lure me into the comfy bed in the other room.
El-Mudad tilted his head in question.
“I want to spend our last night together at home. Our home,” I stated firmly.
We might not be able to live together all the time, but from now on, wherever we were together, we were home.
****
The morning came far too soon, and with it El-Mudad’s ride to the airport. It seemed unfair that the day should be as beautiful and sunny as when he’d arrived. It wasn’t that I wanted our parting to be sad and gray and dismal. I just wanted it to be different. We were different.
“I don’t suppose we could persuade you to stay?” Neil asked, only half-joking as we exited the car at the helipad.
El-Mudad smiled sadly. “There will be a time, one day, I hope, that I won’t ever have to leave you.”
“I look forward to that,” Neil said, and put his arms around El-Mudad. They kissed, ending only reluctantly when I cleared my throat. They put out their arms as I rounded the front of the car.
“I love you,” El-Mudad told us, with another kiss for me. “I’ll call when I arrive in Paris.”
“Please do,” Neil told him, and went to the trunk to retrieve El-Mudad’s scant luggage.
My heart lurched as El-Mudad took the bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. He looked like someone who was really leaving. I hated that.
“Maybe we could come visit you,” I blurted impulsively. “Around the holidays.”
Neil looked surprised by my outburst, but not as though he disagreed with it. “It’s certainly something we could look into. If Sophie’s schedule permits.”
It would permit. I would make it permit.
He glanced between the two of us. “And perhaps, then, if it’s not too forward of me to suggest it…we might talk about a more permanent living arrangement?”
“I’d like that,” I answered, hopefully for both of us.
“This was a change that I don’t think any of us anticipated,” Neil said, and he actually blushed while he spoke. “But I’m glad it did.”
El-Mudad’s phone dinged, and he grimaced. “I must go. We will talk, again, soon.”
“Skype sex!” I suggested enthusiastically, and he laughed. Then, with a brief hug and hastily exchanged pecks on cheeks, he turned and headed off to his ride.
We waited on the top of the slope and watched from our safe distance, waving as the helicopter rose into the air. We shielded our eyes to follow its path as far as we could see, but the sun was too bright.
“Well…kind of boring, now, huh?” I said with a shrug.
“Don’t flatter me,” Neil said dryly, but I knew that he understood my meaning.
Back at the house, we shuffled listlessly inside.
“Snooker?” Neil asked, his heart audibly missing from the request.
I didn’t like snooker, anyway. I wasn’t any good at it, and Neil kicked my ass every time. I put up my usual argument. “I don’t see what’s wrong with good old-fashioned, trouble with a capital T, American pool.”
“Well, we do have a pool. Fancy some laps?” he suggested wanly. “Or we could go for a drive. I could pick up some crab and—”
I put my hands on his shoulders. “Neil. Stop putting off missing him. You already do.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, long and slow, and a bit sad now that it was us on our own, again. When it ended, he kept his forehead pressed against mine. “You might be the only reason I can survive a long-distance relationship.”
I rubbed my nose against his. “We have a blissful eight hours before my mom gets home with all her souvenirs. Twenty-four before Olivia is back. If we’re going to go swimming, it’s going to be skinny dipping.”
“No pool sex, please,” Neil made me promise as we headed for the stairs that would take us down to the lower level.
“No sex at all,” I revised. “I am very sore.”
I shed my top as we headed down the stairs. At the bottom, I pushed down my pants.
Neil whistled low. “How are you even able to lie down?”
I tried to look over my shoulder at my back, but there was no chance of getting a glimpse of what he’d seen. “Is it bad? It hurts like hell.”
“Yes. Very bad.” He frowned and held me still with his hands on my waist. “I should have stepped in.”
“Stepped in, how? You weren’t standing there,” I reminded him. “Plus, it was so fast you probably wouldn’t have thought about it until it was over.”
“I feel as though I didn’t protect you.” He ran a hand over his hair.
“Seriously, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Probably not the best choice of words. “I don’t feel like either of you crossed a line or let me down. I don’t feel violated. We’ll just be more careful, next time, all right?”
“Yes, we certainly will.” Neil’s past experience haunted him, still, despite the enormous strides he’d made in the past years. His fear of becoming like the man who’d raped him was something he still couldn’t shake.
I hopped up on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Come on.”
Neil raced me to the patio doors, and we emerged from them fully naked, our clothes like a trail behind us. I delicately dipped my toes in on the first step, but Neil ran straight to the deep end and jumped. He pulled up his legs to do a cannonball that broke the surface with a tremendous splash.
Though not a drop could have possibly reached me, I recoiled when he came up and admonished, “You’re so childish.”
“And you’re a scaredy cat. It’s eighty-five degrees out here. Get into the damn pool,” he ordered.
I rolled my eyes and walked down the steps. After the initial sting from the saltwater against my wounded back faded, the pool was perfectly lovely without us having to turn on the heaters. I swam over to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
“So,” I began, locking my legs around his waist beneath the water. “What do you think about all of this?”
I didn’t have to specify the “this”. He responded, “I’m a bit thrown. On the one hand, I’ve never been in love with two people at the same time on purpose.”
“But you’ve been in love with two people at the same time before?” I leaned back to float, still using him as my anchor.
“I have. It never worked out well.” He reached under my back and pulled me upright, again. “I’m worried that I will love him a much as I love you. And I’m worried that if I don’t, this won’t work.”
“But I want you to love him as much as you love me,” I said, before I realized that I’d also implied the inverse. “I don’t think you’ll love him in exactly the same way you love me. But I want you to feel about him the way I feel about you.”
“And how is that?” Neil teased. I wasn’t the kind of person who kept my affection under wraps.
But if he was giving me an invitation to share my feelings, I wouldn’t let it pass me by. “Like you’re a part of my soul. That you make me something more than whole.”
He looked taken aback.
“Do you think you could ever feel that way about El-Mudad?” I asked, tilting my head to study Neil.
His stunned expression didn’t change. “I…think I could. Yes. The way I feel, right now… Do you remember when you first came with me to England? And we had Christmas at Langhurst Court?”
“I’ll never forget it.” For good memories and bad; Michael had proposed to Emma, but we’d also been celebrating what could have been Neil’s last Christmas.
“That’s how I feel, now. Minus the cancer, of course,” he corrected himself. “But that feeling of promise, that you and I had cemented our relationship, somehow…that it was safe to let myself love you entirely… That’s what I feel, right now.”
“That sounds like a great feeling.” It had been so easy to have El-Mudad here with us, and so natural. “I’m a bit more…comfortable? Settled? I really want this. But I don’t want it if you don’t.”
“No, I do. I very much do,” Neil insisted. “Perhaps we should stop trying to convince ourselves otherwise.”
“Then, it’s going to happen? We’re going to move in together?” My heart did giddy flips. We would have to get a bigger bed. Oh, and figure out a way to explain why he was always around.
And explain things to Olivia.
No sooner than reality had crashed into my head, Neil echoed my concerns aloud. “I’m not sure we could ever be open about that arrangement. Imagine trying to explain to your mother, or to Valerie, or Olivia—”
“In other words, we’d have to keep this a secret forever.” Everything in me deflated. The week had been a beautiful fairytale. But my mom couldn’t be in Vegas forever. Olivia lived with us. And Valerie already criticized our parenting enough.
“And there’s no guarantee he’ll want to live here,” Neil reminded me.
My conversation with Deja swam into my brain. “I’ve actually thought of that. It might not be safe here in the future.”
“It’s not entirely safe, now,” Neil said grimly, his jaw tightening.
I didn’t want to let go of the fantasy, though. Not when it was hard enough that he’d left. “Let’s not think about that, now.” The most brilliant idea struck my brain. “Oh, my gosh. You said you’re feeling like you felt at Langhurst Court?” When he nodded, I went on, “We should have Christmas there this year.”
“What about Christmas with Valerie and Laurence, for Olivia?” Neil disentangled my legs from his waist and swam to a shallower spot.
“Let’s bring them!” I suggested, getting more excited the more I thought of the possibilities. “Let’s invite everyone. Your siblings, my family. And El-Mudad.”
“Sophie…”
“No, hear me out. Let’s introduce him as our friend. And just see how everyone likes him. We don’t have to make any big announcements.”
“I don’t know,” Neil tried, but the idea was too good, damn it. He relented with a sigh. “All right. I’ll ring in the morning and have the house closed for the week after Christmas.”
“Closed? Don’t we need it—” Then, I remembered that he meant closed to paying visitors. “Jesus, our life is so weird.”
Neil grinned. “Darling, you were never going to be conventional.”