Chapter 3

Meanwhile…

Max Perron stood in the shower behind Oriana, loving the dreamy look on his wife’s face as she gazed up into his eyes. That was all he needed to see to know tonight would go well. To be perfectly honest, he’d been nervous at first, but there was something erotic about setting up a scene that gave the two most important people in his life exactly what they needed.

He enjoyed watching the scenes between her and Sloan, but sometimes he was torn between his desire to watch and his need to participate in their pleasure. He hadn’t been sure he’d be of much use this time, but Sloan insisted that he make sure to get Oriana nice and clean while other preparations were made.

The intense focus in Sloan’s expression as he’d pulled out his knife kit was enough to make the hairs rise on the back of Max’s neck. And blood to pulse steadily into his cock as he considered how fucking hot the whole scenario would be.

He took a deep breath as he cupped his hand to fill his palm with the coconut- and vanilla-scented shampoo. The sweet aroma rose in the steam as he worked it through Oriana’s waist length, burnished gold hair. He massaged her scalp, loving how routine intimate moments like this had become over the years. Sex had never been an issue for them, but his biggest fear in their unconventional relationship had been that the little things he enjoyed doing with her would seem boring.

Instead, it was the little things that she craved when life got rough. Yes, she enjoyed a high level of pain when they played, and she found peace in submitting to him and Sloan. But cuddling on the couch, having her hair washed or brushed, soft kisses, and holding hands while walking down the street, were all she needed to make her smile and laugh when she was on the verge of tears.

Casual affection was a bit harder for Sloan, but he did his best. His efforts were appreciated, but Oriana had told Max once that so long as she had one of her men who showed tenderness easily, she’d never feel like their relationship was lacking.

Which made him happy. And yet…hell, he couldn’t even explain why it still bothered him that he had to step in after every edgy scene to ease Oriana back to level ground. Sloan was capable enough in providing aftercare, but there was a jarring disconnect in the way he tended to their girl. Almost as if he’d gone so far into himself that he had trouble coming back.

Max suspected Sloan could use some aftercare himself, even if it was just to snuggle and hear he wasn’t fucked up for wanting to hurt the woman he loved. Not when it satisfied them both and he was so goddamn careful with her.

“Max?” Oriana glanced over her shoulder, putting a hand over the one he’d rested on her shoulder while drifting away in thought. “Are you okay? I lost you there for a little bit.”

He smiled and grabbed the showerhead to rinse her hair. “I’m fine, love. Just thinking about the scene.”

She inhaled roughly, closing her eyes to keep the soap out of them. “In a good way? You’re not worried, are you?”

He wasn’t worried about the scene itself, but he took his time answering. Sloan had mentored with an experienced knife Top for almost a year. He’d renewed his first aid certificate. He’d done everything a responsible Dom could possibly do to make a potentially dangerous scene safe.

But preparing emotionally for a scene that could hit unexpected triggers for the Dom and the sub? There was no course for that. One could prepare for every imaginable outcome and still be blindsided.

Using a washcloth, he wiped away the suds on Oriana’s face so she could open her eyes. “I always worry, but it’s not a bad thing. Nothing pleases me more than you both exploring all your twisted kinks.”

“But?”

“But I never know if I’m doing enough. During the scene…and after.” He gave her a crooked smile and shrugged as he soaped up the sea sponge to wash her beautiful body. “I hope you’ll let me know if I’m not.”

“I will. But I don’t see it happening.” She squirmed as he washed her breasts, then giggled as he scrubbed over her ribs and the luscious swell of her belly and hips. A soft sound of pleasure left her as he moved in closer and pressed the sponge between her thighs. “You never miss anything, Max. Even when you’re not touching me, just feeling your eyes on me makes me feel…” She pressed her hand to his cheek and smiled at him. “I’ve seen the girls you were with in the past. They were skinny and perfect. I used to wonder why you’d even want me, but not anymore. I don’t see a chubby woman when I look in the mirror. I see the woman you can’t take your eyes off of.”

“Good. Because I’ll take the whip to you myself if you dare compare yourself to anyone.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her wet lips, putting his misgivings aside so he could lose himself in the moment.

Some might assume sharing his wife with another man would make him jealous, or bitter, but he found that it made him appreciate times like this in a way he might not if he had her all to himself. He could be wrong; he didn’t have much experience not sharing a woman. And yet, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

Helping Oriana step out of the shower, Max drew her close and claimed her lips again, not caring that they were both dripping water all over the floor. He’d take care of the mess later—or perhaps make Oriana do it since Sloan often accused him of being too easy on her. For now though, he simply wanted to drink in her excitement. And hold her one last time before she floated away in ecstasy.

She gave him a playful look as he grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist before opening the door that led into the master bedroom. “Speaking of whipping, I noticed you couldn’t take your eyes off Sebastian and Luke at the club. Even after Sebastian put the whip away.”

Max blinked, thinking back on their last visit to the club and wondering what she was getting at. She knew he got off watching people fuck. He wasn’t picky about who he watched, and she’d never complained before.

“Does it bother you?” If it did, he’d stop. He just hadn’t considered that giving in to his urges as a voyeur might become an issue.

Standing by the bed, Sloan snapped on a pair of sterile gloves from the large first aid kit on the nightstand and let out a soft chuckle. “I do believe she’s noticed you’re just as interested in watching the men being fucked as the women.”

“I…” Max frowned as he realized his focus had shifted. He’d never had a problem with who was getting off, but the soft body of a woman had always been more appealing. Lately there was a greater variety at the club, and he was drawn to the passion laid out before him.

“It’s not a big deal, my love.” Oriana came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I enjoy watching them too. Sometimes I wonder…”

Her voice trailed off and Max looked over his shoulder, eager to know what had her blushing and biting her lip. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

She ducked her head and pressed her cheek to his back. “Never mind.”

Max frowned. “Pet, you—”

“Does she need to spell it out, Max? She gets nice and wet seeing two guys together. Seems like her sister is living every woman’s fantasy.” Sloan rolled his eyes as Max’s brow furrowed. “She wants to be able to watch more often.”

All right, he didn’t see a problem with that. Max grinned as he pulled Oriana in front of him so he could go back to kissing her sweet lips. She wouldn’t be able to squirm once Sloan started playing with her, so Max would enjoy making her do so now.

And tease her a little with her kinky needs, which meshed well with his own. “The guys who go to the club don’t mind an audience. I’ll make sure you’ve got the perfect view next time we go. Carter might like it rough like you, but you should see how Zovko and Chicklet torment Vanek. It would amuse Chicklet to have your eyes on them while I toy with you.”

Sloan snorted as he lifted a dagger from the array of sharp implements he’d sterilized and lined up on a raised tray by the bed. “Probably, but Oriana would much prefer watching me fuck you.”

With an involuntary shudder, Max shot Sloan a dirty look. “You’re crazier than a shithouse mouse.”

“And sometimes you make White look like a rocket scientist. Not sure how many different ways you needed her dirty dream scenario explained to you.” Sloan tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully with the tip of the dagger, his lips slanting in a smirk. “From the expression on your face, you were willing to give her whatever her heart desired. Did that change, Romeo?”

What kind of question was that? Max stifled the urge to swallow, fully aware that Sloan was in the dark headspace where any discomfort he caused would satiate him. And Max refused to give the man the upper hand.

So he shrugged. “I don’t deny our beautiful wife very much.”

“Fuck off.” Sloan’s eyes narrowed at Max’s level gaze. “Are you serious?”

“If I am?”

It was Sloan who swallowed before quickly shaking his head. “I couldn’t… Hell, you’re like a brother to me. Cutting you when you wanted to see how it would feel was almost too much. I won’t judge you if you wanted to try—”

“So it wouldn’t bother you if I was with another man?” Max ran his fingers up the underside of Oriana’s arm, never taking his eyes off Sloan. “Reckon that would be good enough for our girl.”

The muscle in Sloan’s jaw ticked. “Guess that would be fine.”

Max kissed along Oriana’s throat. “We’ve both agreed she can only be shared between us, so she wouldn’t participate.”

Oriana let out an irritated sound. “She is right here.”

Sloan ignored her. “We agreed the three of us were committed to this relationship.”

Inclining his head, Max ran his teeth down the curve between Oriana’s neck and shoulder, grinning when she shivered. “True. But you wouldn’t object if it was what I needed?”

“No.” Sloan inhaled roughly. “I’m surprised—I thought you talked to me about everything, but—”

“That’s good to know, Sloan. It’s not an issue, but I appreciate your support.” Max drew away from Oriana and reached out to pat the bed, which had been stripped down and covered with a disposable, sterile sheet. “Are you ready, darlin’?”

Covering her mouth to muffle a giggle, Oriana hopped onto the bed. She schooled her features when Sloan frowned down at her.

The disgruntled look shifted to Max. “You were fucking with me, asshole?”

“Yes.” Max had to fight not to laugh as Sloan continued to stare at him. Then something occurred to him that made the situation not so funny anymore. “I done pulled you out of your headspace. Sorry about that.” He gently petted Oriana’s damp hair as she rolled to her side, facing Sloan. “Did I ruin the scene?”

Eyes dark, but expression relaxed, Sloan seemed more with them than he had before. He moved to rake his fingers through his black hair, stopping as though he’d suddenly remembered the gloves.

Then he chuckled. “No, but I will take credit for how good you’re getting at playing head games. I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Careful, Sloan.” Max casually drew his fingers down between Oriana’s breasts, deciding to tease her a little more now that he and Sloan were on the same page. “The idea of you rubbing anything on me might make me change my mind.”

Sloan held up the dagger, blade down, hands wrapped around the handle with the top one moving up and down slowly. “That so? How about this: you suck my dick and we’ll go from there.”

“I say we make a wager. I score tomorrow night; you suck my dick. I don’t, and—”

Oriana thumped her fist on the mattress. “You’re both horrible! We all know you’re never going to do anything together. Or with any other guy. Why do you have to torture me with the images of what will never be?”

Flipping the dagger in his hand, Sloan bent over Oriana, brushing the tip of the blade down her cheek. The dagger had no edge, so Sloan would have to press hard to even scratch her, but the subtle threat of metal against her flesh had the desired effect. Oriana went still, her lips parted and her eyes holding the delicious kind of fear she craved.

“Why do we torture you, pet?” Sloan’s slow smile was filled with danger. In scenes like this, he reminded Max of the onscreen killers women swooned over. Deadly and alluring all at once. Sloan was as skilled using fear as he was with every tool in his arsenal. He wielded words with the same careful edge as the lash of his whip. “Because you love it.”

A simple gesture from Sloan had Oriana rolling onto her back. He slapped her thigh and she jumped. Then bent her knees and spread her thighs. The scene was about to begin.

There would be opportunities for Max to touch Oriana, even if only to hold her still. Enough contact for Max to assure her, and himself, that it was just a twisted, erotic game. But for the most part, he would watch them in their balance of pain and pleasure, dancing along the edge. Always a sight to behold.

* * *

Oriana relaxed into the mattress, taking a moment to watch her infuriating, yet wonderful men prepare for the scene with the same harmony they’d once had on the ice. Sloan still held the dagger, but he acted almost as though he’d forgotten her as he observed Max lighting a few red candles—not for light, the room was bright enough and Sloan wouldn’t do a scene like this in the dark. They added some ambiance, but Max put one on the nightstand by the first aid kit, within Sloan’s reach, meaning blades wouldn’t be the only things on her flesh tonight.

While Max shifted his attention from the candles to the Beatbox on the dresser, putting on a playlist of haunting classical music, Sloan turned his dark gaze to Oriana. In black jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, his black hair mussed up and a slanted smile on his lips, he looked positively evil. His muscles seemed even bigger with him standing over her, and she couldn’t dismiss the knowledge that this man could hurt her badly if he chose to.

She wanted him to hurt her. And she craved the slice of fear that she experienced whenever they played like this. From the beginning, she’d thought she’d need more and more pain to reach the exquisite high she felt with every bite of the whip or thud of the paddle. Not many would consider what they did safe, but rarely were there any marks that left her more than a little sore for a few days. She loved each and every bruise. When the whip or the cane drew blood, she would admire the marks as Sloan or Max tended to them. They were beautiful reminders of scenes that satisfied her in every way.

But it ended up being fear that made an excess of pain unnecessary. During a scene, she would let herself believe that this time it might go too far. Her trust in Sloan made doing so feel safe. He’d never harm her in a way she couldn’t easily recover from. He was careful and he knew what he was doing.

Which included enough of a mindfuck to keep her guessing what he would do next. She always thought she was prepared for anything.

And she was always wrong.

In a swift motion, Sloan raked his fingers through her hair, tipping her head back as he laid the flat of the dagger against her throat. She hissed in a shocked breath and her eyes went wide. A surge of adrenaline had her shivering though she tried to stay very, very still. Heat pooled in her core even as she whimpered at the pain in her scalp.

“So pretty.” Sloan tugged harder at her hair and bent down to lay a gentle kiss on her lips. “I shouldn’t want to hurt you as much as I do. I should let you go, shouldn’t I?”

She wanted to shake her head, but moving with a blade at her throat and his firm grip on her hair was impossible. So she wet her lips and whispered, “Yes.”

A movement behind Sloan caught her attention. Max had shifted closer, and for a second, she was afraid he might have changed his mind about the scene. He’d been in the lifestyle long enough to understand using safe words to stop play rather than “No” or “Don’t” or any other words that might be spoken to spice things up. He trusted Sloan as much as she did, but…there had been times in the past when he’d needed more reassurance that she was really all right.

His lips quirked and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. And she let out a sigh of relief. This wasn’t one of those times. If she’d read him right, he was enjoying the show.

“Were you expecting him to help you? Let me tell you something about him.” Sloan bent down to whisper in her ear. “He’ll take whatever’s left of you. He’s a very patient man.”

“Please…” Oriana wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, but she needed more. Sensing Max so close, feeling Sloan’s restraint as he slowly laid the groundwork for their erotic role-play, made her want to struggle to push it to the next level. But she wouldn’t risk any sudden movements with the blade at her throat. Not even when she knew the blade was dull.

Sloan cocked his head, pulling the dagger away and releasing her hair. “Please? Do you think I’ll let you go if you beg?”

Holding her breath and giving no warning, Oriana lurched to the other side of the bed. She screamed as Sloan dragged her back by her hair while Max latched on to her ankles. Her eyes teared, but she almost laughed with nervous excitement as they pinned her down.

Dropping the dagger as she swung at him, Sloan caught her wrists in one hand and pulled them up over her head. “Silly girl. Now I’m going to have to hurt you.”

Yes! Oriana twisted as Sloan pulled out the cuffs permanently attached to the bed frame, but Max moved up the bed, straddling her and pressing his hands to her shoulders to hold her down. She tried to bite him and he lightly slapped her cheek.

Not hard enough to even sting, but it shocked her. He didn’t usually participate in the edgier aspects of their games, and slapping her face was something even Sloan rarely did. Caught off guard, she stared at him as Sloan secured her wrists with the cuffs. It took a moment to sort out her thoughts, but when she did, she realized she loved that he’d gotten into his role enough to do something unexpected. She wet her lips, hoping he’d take that as a sign that she was fine with what he’d done.

But, as he’d say, bless his heart. He’d caught himself off guard too, and his brow furrowed with concern. “I—”

“Just made her very happy. Don’t spoil it, buddy.” Sloan patted Max’s shoulder as he studied Oriana’s face, inclining his head when she gave him a quick, reassuring smile. “This slut is probably dripping wet. Are you wet, girl?”

She shook her head, heat spreading over her cheeks as she felt the sheet under her ass grow damp with her arousal. Sloan didn’t miss a beat. He put his hand on her throat and smirked. “Why don’t you check, Max?”

As Sloan’s grip on her throat tightened, her thighs were spread even farther apart. Max thrust two fingers into her, letting out a soft groan as he lowered his head to flick her clit with his tongue.

Her hips bucked and she gasped. “Oh God!”

Sloan chuckled, running his hand down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach, then back up so he could squeeze her breast. “He’s not gonna save you either, little girl. The only thing that will save you is if you make me happy. And I’m not easy to please.”

The candles on the nightstand flickered as Sloan reached out, taking one and tilting it to let a few drops fall on the back of his own hand. He shifted to hold it over her chest, upending it to drizzle the hot wax across her breasts, using a circular motion to draw wax spirals from the base of one breast all the way to her nipple.

A slight burning sensation hit her with each droplet, and she moaned as the sweet haze clouded her mind. Her skin felt tight under the wax and sensitive where her flesh waited for the bite of pain. Looking down her body, she watched the red cover her pale golden flesh, meeting Max’s eyes when he lifted his head and pulled his fingers from her body to slip them into his mouth. Her cunt clenched against the emptiness, more juices spilling at the erotic visual. Combined with the fresh sting of heat, the sensation brought her to the verge of either floating away in ecstasy or being thrown into a fierce orgasm.

She fought both, needing this to last as long as possible. Sloan had promised to do things to her that he’d never done before. The role-playing, the wax, and the knife were all old favorites, but Sloan had spent the last year training to fulfill one of her edgiest fantasies. There was no way she’d give in to the shallow desires of her body and miss the ultimate experience.

“Where are we, my love?” Sloan’s tone was soft, letting her know he was checking on her before he went any further. He usually avoided pulling her out of her headspace, but when they tried something new, he always made sure she was in a good place first.

Inhaling slowly, careful to keep her tone level, she smiled at him. “I feel amazing, Sir. Are we role-playing for the rest of this?”

Sloan’s expression grew thoughtful. Then he nodded. “Yes. You’re not as far gone as I’d let you get during a milder scene. This won’t be…pleasant if it becomes too clinical.”

“Then please don’t worry. I’ll tell you the same thing I did when we planned this.” She held his gaze, happy to see he was taking in her every word. “I know what I’m asking for.”

“I know you do. If I doubted it, we wouldn’t be here.” He inhaled and pressed his eyes shut. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Sloan.” She used his name to bring him back to her. They’d talked enough for her to know he was second-guessing his desires more than hers. And as much as she wanted him to use his new skills on her, she wouldn’t push him past his limits if he really wasn’t comfortable. “I’m not the only one who can stop this, you know.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Sloan inhaled roughly, then glanced over at Max. Max shrugged one shoulder, then reached out to brush his fingers over the faint scars on Sloan’s right forearm. There were four long lines, the first a bit thicker than the others, months old, while the thinnest one had been made a few weeks back.

Max had two thin scars on the same spot on his arm. That he’d been willing to let his best friend cut him—especially when any serious injury could take him out of the game, which was unacceptable during the playoffs—showed there was no limit to his trust. Not that he’d needed to let Sloan cut him to prove anything, but he wasn’t standing back and simply watching anymore. This was a scene that could potentially bring them all closer. She wanted the sensation, and the marks to remember it by.

“There might not be a scar at all, Oriana.” Sloan grinned as he picked up one of his long, razor-sharp knives. “But I’ll try to leave something for us all to admire for days to come.”

Without being asked, Max secured her ankles, both with the cuffs permanently fixed to the end of the bed—which they’d discussed ahead of time so she wouldn’t make any sudden movements—and his own hands as she’d asked so she’d feel him close. Sloan had a good idea of how she moved with different sensations, so it was unlikely that he’d cut her without meaning to even if she jerked with a prick of the blade. Either way, he seemed to have prepared for any possible outcome.

He started with the wax on her breasts, prying off little pieces, letting the sharp tip of the knife shallowly pierce her flesh. A sting on the side of her breast. Liquid heat. The skin freed from the wax felt cool in contrast.

Another tiny sting, more heat, she closed her eyes to soak in the sensation. Whips and canes could leave bruises, even break the flesh, but it wasn’t the same as the delicate kiss of the knife. She was aware of the pain, only, not the way she would be with a paper cut or a burn. The perception was entirely different because Sloan hurting her was so closely linked to pleasure.

When her breasts were free of the wax, she opened her eyes and watched Sloan set down the knife. He pulled off his gloves and put on a pair of fresh ones. Then he used a cotton pad with clear liquid to clean her upper thigh.

“You’ve impressed me, pretty girl.” The tone of the evil kidnapper had returned, but Sloan was softening it with the endearment. The game was a careful balance, one that worked because they’d all been together long enough that not much was needed beyond basic negotiations before a scene. He was still playing the bad guy, but enough of his real self came through for her to feel safe. “I’ve never found a bitch I wanted to keep, but you’re fun to play with. Will you cry if I cut you?”

“No, I’ll be quiet.” She’d read some amazing books where captives fell in love with their captors. She was already in love with Sloan, but to play her part, she could toy with the idea of doing anything to survive and beginning to…feel something more for the man who might spare her if she pleased him. “I want you to keep me. I won’t fight you, I promise.”

“Hmm.” Sloan pressed his hand to her thigh before picking up a scalpel, the only tool he’d laid out that he hadn’t used yet. “Are you sure about that?”

All the trust in the world couldn’t dim how frightening the scalpel looked in his practiced hold. She reasoned that this wasn’t his first time wielding the exquisitely sharp tool. The blade was taped to control how deep it could cut, and the result would be more like the shallow cuts he’d made on Max’s arms than the deeper ones he’d made on his own. She braced for the pain as he touched the knife to her thigh, his stroke as light as it would be if he were painting with a brush. She could feel the blood well up. Then the cool dampness of an alcohol swab gliding over the cut.

Pain, acute and intense; almost like the alcohol had been lit on her flesh and flames seeped under her skin. She tossed her head, fighting to bite back a moan. Her core clenched and her eyes teared, not with pain, but with pure ecstasy. The blade returned, followed by the alcohol, and she lost herself to the fiery bliss. Most wouldn’t understand why she’d want this, but she’d given up caring about any who would judge. She was exposed to her men, taking all they could give her, knowing they, at least, accepted her needs.

Max had tightened his grip on her ankles. Sloan gently covered the cuts on her thigh with a sterile gauze bandage and compressed the hot spill. The scalpel hit the tray with a clang. He pulled off the gloves with his teeth, keeping one hand on the bandage as he rose over her and undid his jeans. He drove into her in one smooth thrust, making her back arch as the sensation of being filled mixed with the painful pressure on her thigh. Her lips parted and her gasps came with every slap of his flesh against hers.

Pleasure was violent, but Sloan had clearly lost the flow of their game as he leaned back, gentling his motions as he looked down at their joining. He licked his lips as he watched his dick slide into her. The slow motion was torture, but the expression on his face made the delayed gratification more than worth it. He caught her gaze and smiled, his eyes filled with love.

Then he glanced over at Max, who’d been quiet for too long. His tone thick with lust, Sloan closed his eyes and pulled free of her, dipping back in over and over. “Look at our woman, Max. So warm and wet. Do you want her?”

Shifting to the top of the bed, Max trailed his fingers down Oriana’s cheek. He bent down to lay a soft kiss on her lips. “Yes, but don’t stop what you’re doing. I’ll take her mouth while you take her body. Seeing her taking you in like that is fucking hot.”

Sloan grinned and tightened his grip on her thigh, rocking his hips even as Max dropped his towel and pressed into her mouth. She let her saliva slick his length, not trying to control anything as he held the back of her head and eased in deeper. He tasted fresh from their shower, with the slightly salty tang of precum as he pulled out almost all the way and she circled the head of his dick with her tongue. His groan coming almost in time with Sloan’s brought a warm satisfaction deep into her core. They found a rough rhythm, losing themselves to the pleasure her body could give them.

Knowing she could do this to them, that she could fulfill their every desire while they gave her the world was all the sweetness she needed when they fucked her like this. She felt deliciously used, no need to ask for anything she wanted because they already knew and gave her it all with their whispered words, with their gruff noises that told her how much she pleased them. Her focus was so keyed to what they were taking from her that the pleasure she received became almost secondary.

Until Sloan noticed her watching him and went still. An evil glint in his eyes, he lifted her, changing his grip on her bandaged thigh so the pain came fresh and sharp, slamming into her so she felt every inch of him, the angle stimulating the spot inside her that stole her from her pleasant plateau and tossed her to the summit. The bruising ache, the spike of pleasure, held her high on the razor’s edge of climax, and he knew her body well enough to keep her there until she was screaming for release.

He gave it to her, driving in hard and grinding his pelvis against her to stimulate her clit. The coiling tightness within splintered like scalding glass dropped in icy liquid. Her eyes teared as her back bowed, lips parted to gulp in air. Her throat felt raw and the strength left her as she rode the last erotic wave, shuddering as Sloan jerked against her one last time.

That he’d come with her was a relief, because she was so sensitive she wasn’t sure she could take any more. But she wasn’t done. She had to force her heavy head up to see Max, needing to make sure he wasn’t left out.

His hand on his dick, he met her eyes, stroking hard as he came on her breasts. She’d have preferred if she could have gotten him off, but he didn’t seem to mind at all as he braced his hands on the edge of the bed and let out a tired laugh.

“Give me a minute and I’ll clean that up. Bathroom is too far right now.” He smiled as he leaned down to kiss her.

Sloan grunted, dragging himself up the bed on her other side. The sound of the nightstand drawer sliding open, then closed, had both her and Max looking over at him. He grinned and held up a container of wet wipes. “No need to go anywhere.”

Max took the wipes and tidied up his mess, grinning when she squirmed as he spent more time than necessary rubbing her nipples with the cool cloth. He tossed the wipes in the small trash can on his side of the bed, then stretched out beside her and undid her cuffs, holding her as Sloan tended to her leg, cleaning the cuts with sterile saline water and spreading an antibiotic cream before covering it again. Oriana watched Sloan, bent over her leg, his jaw hard and his hands shaking just a little.

He was either questioning what he’d done or so wound up from his own high that he was slow to come down. Maybe a little of both. She wanted to reassure him, but her body felt heavy and it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. She touched Max’s hand, happy to see he was watching Sloan as well.

He cleared his throat. “Didn’t want to ruin the scene by mentioning it, but I like what you did there, tracing out S&M. And your knifemanship is exquisite.”

“Thanks.” Sloan rubbed his lips with his fist, then took a deep breath. “I need a minute.”

He was off the bed and out of the room before either she or Max could react. Max sighed, lying down and wrapping his arm around her, preventing her from getting up. He kissed her shoulder, nuzzling her neck as he whispered to her. “How you feeling, sugar?”

Physically, she felt amazing, but her chest ached as she thought of Sloan, so torn between what they all wanted and his inability to share the aftermath with them. They’d talked about it in the past—even he wasn’t sure why he needed to be alone when a scene ended. He’d tried forcing himself to stay, but that seemed to make it harder for him to recover. And Oriana hated seeing his strained smile, his touch always too careful, almost hesitant.

Sloan taking a bit of time to himself didn’t bother her, so long as he wasn’t beating himself up over something that she’d enjoyed. He promised her he didn’t, but she knew his conscience was more of a sadist than he was.

“Oriana?” Max laced his fingers with hers, rising up on his elbow to study her face. He relaxed when she smiled at him. “You’re worried about him.”

She nodded, wishing she could make Max go check on him, but knowing he wouldn’t leave her. “I guess I hoped this time would be different. We’ve been planning and negotiating for a year. Everything went perfectly, but he still…”

“I don’t think he regrets the scene, if that helps any.” Max’s hand left hers as he lifted it to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Honestly, I think he feels vulnerable, and as much as he loves us, he doesn’t like showing weakness.”

“That’s never going to change, is it?”

Max frowned and dropped his gaze to the bed. “Hard to say. Do you want me to check on him?”

“Yes.” She giggled when his frown deepened as though he hadn’t expected the answer. He usually wouldn’t leave her side for hours after a scene, but they weren’t at the club. There was no reason for him to worry. About her anyway. “He’ll probably be all grumpy, but he needs to be reminded that he’s part of us. Even if he tells you to go away, at least he’ll know we care.”

“He knows that.” Max rolled his eyes as she shoved his shoulder. “Fine, my pushy little sub. I’ll go make sure our big bad sadist is all right.”

“Good boy.” She jumped when he playfully swatted her butt. As he slipped out of the room, a hazy sensation of tranquility settled over her. Even after years with both men, she still couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She had more than any woman could ever ask for. Two men who loved her and she could be completely honest with. Who were willing to explore her darkest desires and never made her wonder if she was messed up for what she needed or wanted.

The house was quiet, so Sloan couldn’t be that upset about Max checking on him. She’d hear them otherwise. Content, she closed her eyes, but the urge to pee had her sitting up and untangling herself from the sheets to hurry to the bathroom.

* * *

With the curtains drawn in the living room, Sloan had to feel his way to the couch through the darkness. He sat slowly, fisting his hands against his knees to stop them from shaking. Eyes closed, he still saw the blood trailing down Oriana’s thigh. Blood he’d drawn.

The blood itself didn’t do much for him, except for the fact that the stark red on her golden flesh was beautiful. Her soft whimpers, her struggle to be still as he hurt her, was nothing short of exquisite. His hand had been steady as he’d cut her, knowing just how deep he could go without doing serious damage, but it was how he felt when it was over that he couldn’t deal with. He’d tried to explain it to Max and Oriana, and yet, he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

They thought he was slammed with regrets after a scene, but it wasn’t that at all. He just didn’t know how to relax into the high. He felt…too good. The control he held during a scene escaped him once it was over. It reminded him of the one time he’d smoked a joint with friends as a teen. Fun until the drug took over and his brain was fuzzy and he couldn’t trust his own thoughts. He’d never touched drugs after that. Or anything else that could affect his judgment. Control of himself wasn’t something he cared to jeopardize.

But there were times his iron grip on himself faltered, and being alone was the only way he knew how to regain clarity. Whether it was after a game, with a win or a loss, adrenaline agitating him to the point that he might lash out, or at the end of a scene when he couldn’t trust himself to say or do anything right.

His only regret was that people thought he was angry when he took off. Max and Oriana understood him better than most, but he was sure they still wondered sometimes if they’d done something wrong. He’d offer reassurance once he felt normal again. Until then, at least they had each other.

The hall light came on and Sloan sighed as he saw Max standing in the doorway. He should have expected the man to come, either on his own or because Oriana wanted him to make sure Sloan was okay. He cracked his knuckles, happy at least that his hands had stopped shaking. And he didn’t want to punch Max as his best friend crossed the room. All good things.

“I know what you’re gonna ask.” Sloan slouched back into the sofa, giving Max a crooked smile as he sat beside him. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I left like that, I just—”

“When I’m not around, you don’t take off.” Max braced his hands on his thighs, not looking at Sloan. “And yeah, you don’t do edge-play without me, but it’s hard to know what’s going on in your head when you shut down like this. If you just need a minute, I’ll give it to you. Wish you’d stay with us though—even if that means you can’t play big, tough Dom all the time.”

“I’m not trying to be tough. I just don’t want to…” Sloan rubbed the tense spot between his eyes, getting that they had to be able to discuss any issues, but not sure he could be any clearer. “I never know how I’ll react when I’m leaving that headspace. I could hurt you or her without meaning to.”

Max nodded slowly, finally meeting his eyes. “I don’t think you would. But what I think doesn’t matter. You don’t believe it, and no one’s gonna convince you otherwise.”

Sloan closed his eyes and shook his head. If Max were a sub, he could probably just order him to back off. Then again, that wouldn’t work with Oriana if she decided there was a problem. But Max saw more than either of them, and he was the reason they’d made it this far. Sloan hadn’t been sure if he had what it took to be in a stable relationship, but Max had forced him to see all the little things that made them strong together. A lot of negotiation. More talking than Sloan would have ever considered necessary. But it was worth it because Sloan didn’t want to know what a life without Oriana and Max would look like.

“I promised I’d try harder. And I haven’t. I didn’t mean to do this again.” He sighed, pushing away from the sofa to stand. “Is Oriana okay? She knows this has nothing to do with her, right? I’m just…fucked up.”

“You’re not fucked up, you’re just a slow learner.” Max slapped his shoulder, a broad smile on his lips. “You’d never be as indulgent with a sub as we’ve been with you. Rather than worrying if you’ll share too much when you’re feeling all exposed, how about you consider that maybe you need to share that part of yourself with us?”

Realizing he was clenching his jaw to the point of pain, Sloan forced himself to relax. And scratched the scruff on his jaw. “I left before I could tell you both how much I love you. It felt…sappy. And I don’t do—”

“Fuck, man.” Max threw his arm over Sloan’s shoulder and pressed a noisy kiss to his cheek. “I love you too. And next time, I’m cuffing you to the bed frame and forcing you to be sappy and vulnerable and all the rest. No more hiding from us.”

Not fucking happening. Sloan scowled, but he felt the tension ease from his muscles. Seriously, what was the worst that could happen if he stayed after a scene? The two most precious people in his life had seen him at his lowest. And Max would never let him hurt Oriana in a bad way.

A smile crept across his lips as he started up the stairs. He was glad Max had come to tell him he was being stupid. He wanted to hold Oriana as she slept. See that she was feeling good after the scene he’d spent months planning.

He just hoped he hadn’t spoiled everything for her by being a distant asshole.

As they reached the top of the steps, he heard a loud thump. A cry. Then silence.

His eyes went wide as Max went still beside him. They moved together, rushing into the bedroom to find the bed empty. Sloan tripped over a pile of clothes on the floor, his knees hitting the carpet as Max strode past him and threw the bathroom door open.

Oriana was there. And there was blood. Not beautiful, but frightening.

And she wasn’t moving.