With me pinned between them, Quentin and Jeremy hit a steady rhythm. Jeremy slipped out of my mouth occasionally, but always found his way back, while Quentin slammed deep inside me, fast and hard.

  I slid into the attention of being trapped. Of being stuffed in the most literal and wonderful way. When Jeremy struck the back of my throat too hard, I had to swallow back a gag, but it didn’t matter. I was lost in the moment.

  Quentin let go of my hair and sought out my clit. When he pressed into the swollen nub, it was both too much and not enough. I tried to thrust into his hand. There was no way. I was stuck whimpering for more.

  I loved every bit of it.

  Quentin circled my clit, and another orgasm built inside me. My world shattered in ecstasy. I didn’t know where Jeremy stopped and Quentin started. All I knew was how incredible this felt.

  When Jeremy grunted, and a salty-warm spurt filled my mouth, it added to the moment. I licked hungrily.

  Quentin moved both hands to my hips, gripping so tightly he was going to leave marks. I swore I felt him spill inside me.

  I floated away on the feeling of a drawn-out climax, floating down again as the intensity in the room faded, but didn’t vanish.

  I was remembering this moment forever, in case I never got another like it again.

  Showers were normally my morning brainstorming time, when I thought through any plot issues I was having, in preparation for the workday. This morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened.

  Jeremy and Quentin really were perfect together. They seemed to read each other’s moves and desires. And Goddess, the way they made my body react… As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t get used to being a part of things, but I’d enjoy the sex while I was involved, and this arrangement would make my plan to nudge them together so much easier.

  Next steps were figuring out how to get Quentin into a new workshop and how to keep him from protesting the cost, and how to make sure Jeremy was at the helm of the entire thing.

  I’d figured out interactions on fifty-seven overlapping side-quests and storylines, to determine all of the possible outcomes and permeations of doing them in any order. I could puzzle through this simple thing. At the same time, I could appreciate how good it felt to be a part of it, because—wow—this morning was a lot of fun. My skin was buzzing from the experience.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Jeremy was waiting in the kitchen with Quentin. Neither of them was speaking. Jeremy was about the same height as Quentin but not as broad in the shoulders, so the borrowed clothes made him look thinner than he really was.

  Just like the cute, skinny guy in any great anime pairing.

  “Did I interrupt?” As in, had I walked into the middle of some light flirting that neither of them wanted me to see?

  Jeremy shook his head. “Nope. Just sipping the coffee and basking in post-coital bliss.”

  Comfortable silence wasn’t quite as good as flirting, but it was better than uncomfortable silence.

  While Quentin drove us to work, I scanned my email. The initial offer from RopeFlick was waiting in my inbox. This was really happening. Holy shit. I forwarded everything to Dominic.

  Quentin stopped his car between Jeremy’s and mine in the restaurant parking lot. “We’re all good? You won’t come home and be awkward tonight?” he asked.

  “I’m good. I’m really fucking good,” Jeremy said.

  I nodded. “Ditto that.”

  It was a short drive to the office, and I arrived at the same time as Jeremy. There wasn’t any chance for chatting, though. “I have to be in that nine-thirty.” I watched seconds tick by, as we rode the elevator up to our floor.

  “I’ll cover for you,” Jeremy said.

  We went our separate ways when we reached the offices.

  I stepped into the conference room at nine thirty-two, just in time for every other member of management to stare at me as I took my seat.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said softly. How long until everyone in the office knew I’d arrived at the same time as Jeremy, and started speculating?

  Not that it mattered. No one here cared who fucked whom, as long as it was consensual and everyone involved was having fun.

  “Everyone’s allowed one tardy in their career. Especially when they were celebrating amazing news the day before by getting very drunk.” Judith barely looked up from her laptop. “As long as we can get started now.”

  “Definitely. Yes.” I set up my machine.

  Judith ran through the basics of any Thursday-morning management meeting. “Upcoming changes to the employee handbook—you’re all responsible for making sure your teams acknowledge this change.”

  Her tone caught my attention, but not as much as the words did. We rarely changed company policies, and when we did, the changes tended to be little wording things that clarified what already existed.

  “We’re adding a no fraternization section.” Before Judith finished speaking, the room erupted in a chorus of, What? No.

  I kept my protest to myself, but my mental response was the same.

  Judith sighed. “I’ve held this off as long as I can, but we all knew this was coming. As we hire more people who didn’t come from our background, we have to be more careful about the legal nature of our company. It’s simple—existing relationships are exempt, of course, but no dating anyone you work with—”

  “So if we’re already fucking someone?” Elliot asked.

  Judith stared at him. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  Not technically. Most of the office knew that Elliot and Link were spending time outside of work in-game screwing an anonymous person’s avatar, and each other’s.

  Judith rolled her eyes. “Romantic relationships. You all know what it means, and this is not an invitation to look for loopholes. I trust you all to be adults and keep in mind that the in-game chat stores all conversations for legal purposes.”

  “I realize. I wrote the logging,” Elliot said.

  “This goes into effect next month. Get the fucking out of the way now, and you need to make sure all of your teams understand. Clear?” Judith asked.

  Everyone including me nodded our agreement.

  So much for no-strings fun with Jeremy. But there was no rule against his being with Quentin. Pretty sure that wasn’t even a loophole. Still, there was a hum of longing inside for more of what I’d had this morning. Best I cut things off now, so it didn’t hurt to do so later.

  We worked through the rest of the agenda, and I tried to keep my focus on the meeting. Every time I managed to shove aside an avalanche of thoughts, my phone would buzz.

  By the time I got out of the meeting, I was itching to talk to Jeremy, to listen to messages, to see if Dominic had replied to my email this morning…

  To do something other than sit in a meeting.

  When we finally wrapped up, School’s Out played in my head. I scanned the text transcripts of my voicemails as I walked back to my desk.

  This is Ada with MAXHobo. I’d like to discuss Beastly Tryst with you. Give me a call?

  Hi, Sonya. I’m Michael with Moonz I’m hoping you can make room in your schedule to chat today.

  I leaned against a nearby wall for support while my head spun with thoughts that refused to become words. Whose life was I living? I turned my attention to the last message.

  Sonya, it’s your mom. I saw all the attention your little book has been getting. Congratulations, hon. You and I both know this kind of popularity, especially for the kind of things you write, is a bright flash of a trend, and whatever comes along tomorrow will outshine it. But we want to work with you. With a few adjustments, you can turn now into long term and a long stream of movies through us.

  Here was reality. I was famous because the world had discovered something fandom circles had known for years—that kinky threesomes could be fun too—and that fascination wouldn’t last.

  How had I started to convince myself otherwise?

  11

  Jeremy

  When Sonya got back, her weak hey yanked my attention from my work.

  I rolled my chair to her desk in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Uh-huh. “Something bad happen?”

  She looked up, but it was more through me than at me. “New anti-fraternization rule for the company. Goes into effect next month.”

  “Oh. That sucks.” A lot. This morning was fun, and I was looking forward to doing more that ran in a similar vein. “That only applies to dating, right?”

  “You know better than that.” She definitely sounded off.

  Next month meant we still had almost two weeks to have fun. “What’s really going on?”

  Sonya finally smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Three more companies are interested in rights to my books.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Including my mom’s.” Her tone was even and devoid of emotion.

  “Oh. Wow.” I didn’t know much about her past with her mother. They rarely spoke, but every conversation they’d had since I met Sonya left her defeated and withdrawn. “How’d that go?”

  “I haven’t talked to her yet. She called while I was in the meeting.”

  I was all about family. The people in this company were family. My sisters were family. But the things that controlling parents could do to a person…

  Sonya’s relationship with her mother was a slow, brutal deconstruction, and Sonya shrank into herself after every conversation they had. I hated seeing it.

  She blinked a few times and shook her head. “Anyway. I should call them back, and you should get back to work.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I tried not to eavesdrop too much, but she stayed in the office while she called people back. The first two calls were brief, and Sonya sounded pleasant through both.

  The instant Sonya got her mother on the line, her tone shifted to dejected and submissive. The longer the call went on, the more defensive Sonya grew, hesitating with her answers and stammering when she finally got each one out. I caught phrases like but that’s central to the story and if you take that out, the plot changes significantly.

  “No, you have a good point,” Sonya sounded defeated. “Send it over, and I’ll forward it to my attorney… Not until he’s looked at it.”

  At least she was staying firm on that.

  She disconnected, and the clacking of her fingers on the keyboard filled the abrupt silence in the room.

  Sonya was quiet most of the time, the kind of person who raised her hand in a meeting if she had something to say, but she was intelligent and the best at what she did. She took a stand when she needed to, and she got shit done.

  Every time she talked to her mother, she withdrew into her shell after. How long depended on how intense the conversation was.

  “You’re not going to let anyone change your books, are you?” I tried to leave the question generic.

  “Only enough to make them fit the format. Books don’t translate to screen, word for word.”

  Good evasion. “That’s fair. I’ll phrase it differently—are you going to retain creative rights?”

  “I don’t think I have that kind of pull. Do you know how rare it is for a creator to retain that kind of input once they sell?”

  And how many times had her mother driven that and other points home to reinforce her opinion of Sonya’s work—her very wrong opinion?

  “You have four offers on the table. You have that kind of pull.” Inspiration struck. “What if you had a proposal of the things you’d like to see happen before you sat down at any negotiating table? That way, you’re not tossing out a generic this has to be my way and if they suggest things you’re not happy with, you’ve got the answers on hand.”

  “That does sound helpful.” Sonya’s silence stretched on for a second and then more. Was she done talking, or was she thinking? “Oh. You could help me with that. Would you?”

  “I’d love to.” Was I daydreaming just a little of a writer credit on her TV show or movie? Yes. I wouldn’t deny that. But this was more about making sure she didn’t get fucked in all the wrong ways.

  “You’re the best. Thank you.” She sounded better than she had since she got back from her morning meeting.

  Silence settled into the Writers’ room again, but this time it felt natural. This was the atmosphere we usually worked in.

  “So I have this idea for a new quest.” Sonya’s statement came out of nowhere.

  I liked ideas. Especially if they were tied into the one we had on our trip. “An add-on to the not-Mardi-Gras stuff?” Something sexy and possibly filthy? Talking dirty had been a part of our job for years, but after our road trip, after this morning… I wanted even more than normal to hear Sonya’s ideas about sex in game.

  “No. Something totally different,” she said.

  Weird. “We don’t have something totally different on the schedule.” Not that I had a problem talking about any idea, but ignoring deadlines wasn’t like her.

  “We can fit something in.”

  That’s what she said. Though I was surprised to hear her say that. “That’s not how this works. You’re the one who reminds me all the time that we don’t just fit things in.”

  “I’m the boss, and I say we can.”

  What? She’d never pulled that card before, and the slice of her tone put me on edge. “Fine, boss. What are we fitting in?” I didn’t mean for the question to come out harshly.

  “Forget it. You’re right. It’s a stupid idea, anyway.”

  What the actual fuck? Was this because of the conversation with her mother? Was it something else? Whatever was going on with Sonya, it wasn’t normal. I rolled my chair to her cubicle so I could look her in the eye for this conversation. “What are you doing?”

  “Working. On story ideas. Some of which are apparently super bad.” She stared at her screen, but her hands were tucked into her lap as she fiddled with her fingers.

  My frustration surged. I didn’t care for the self-effacing tone, and while I was used to Sonya doubting herself, this was different. “Stop.” I tried to find that line between forceful and kind, and I wasn’t sure I managed. “You haven’t told me the idea, and we don’t have bad ideas, remember? We have ideas that start out amazing, and ideas that become amazing once we polish them.” The words came from her, not me. It was a philosophy she brought to the team when she started at Rinslet. “If you feel we can fit this in the writing schedule, I trust you.”

  “But Dev will push back. And Art. And Music.”

  “Probably. That doesn’t mean we can’t flesh the idea out now and slot it in for later.”

  She finally looked at me, her expression clear and her smile almost genuine. “It really is okay. I was thinking it might be fun to do a quest where the player has to help an NPC blacksmith rebuild his shop.”

  “And the reward is a huge weapon upgrade?” I loved the idea.

  She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. “I was thinking it would unlock player marriage and housing.”

  Wow, I was really missing something. “Okay…?”

  “I’m not explaining this well.”

  “Help me understand it. Those are two quests we have on the schedule. If this is the best way to get there, let’s do it.”

  She shook her head. “I need to think it through more first, and this whole TV rights-slash-book fame thing is screwing with my head.”

  “I’m here when you’re ready.” And a bit frustrated and perplexed in the meantime.

  I suspected what was really screwing with her head was the phone call with her mother, but the entire conversation I just had with Sonya was off, and I was missing something bigger than what was on the surface.

  12

  Quentin

  I didn’t need to listen to the voicemail again. I’d heard it three times, and it didn’t contain any useful information.

  So why was I standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at my phone like it could offer me any answers for why my ex-husband had called out of the blue and said, I need to talk to you. Please. Call me back.

  I should delete the message. Or use the phone number to see if it led to an address—not for me, but for a lawyer to send a letter, trying to collect the hundreds of thousands of dollars that Mick had stolen from me. Not that I could afford a lawyer for anything.

  “Is the sex a sticking point?” Jeremy’s voice drifted toward me from the living room.

  He arrived before ten this morning, and he and Sonya had been working a rough script for her book for the last hour or so. They were talking about the steamier parts of her story, and it sounded like my kind of distraction. Especially since I had specific opinions about those.

  “I’d rather those things didn’t get cut, but if they have to…” Sonya sounded reluctant.

  I strode into the room. “It’s central to the heroine’s arc. If you tame or take out the sex, it diminishes the way she heals and her reconciliation.”

  Jeremy pointed at me. “What he said.”

  “My mom said the shock value of the sex won’t appeal to the market once the thrill dies down.” Sonya sank into the couch and crossed her arms. “That people like it now because a lot of them never read it before, but once it becomes old news, they’ll realize it’s over the top and”—she frowned—“repulsive.” Her voice grew quiet.

  Jeremy’s growl matched the one in my head. “Her words?” he asked.

  Sonya shrugged.

  “Your mother produces movies that all follow the same seven beats and imply that no one ever has sex and that people don’t even kiss until they’re in love.” I’d spent a lot of time listening to Sonya discuss story structure, and it fascinated me. “To each their own, honestly.” I’d been sucked into my fair share of holiday romances. “But people like your books because they’re good books that let them admit that thinking dirty thoughts doesn’t make them deviants.”

  Sonya’s scowl deepened. “She’s got a lot of experience.”