It sounds too good to be true.

  I squirm in my seat, hating myself for loving this as much as I do.

  “You have to be attracted to me to want me in there,” Rob contends.

  “Who says I don’t find you attractive?”

  “You’re a straight boy.”

  “So?” Tyler shrugs. “I find your body appealing even if I’m more attracted to you on a mental level. Honestly, I could care less what’s between your legs. Or your lack of feminine curves and breasts. Ronan has a dick too when she wants, and I love that. This is the best option for us. I want to live here with both of you. If that means I take it up the ass by someone other than Ronan, I’m fully on board with it.”

  “I don’t think I could do it. I don’t swing that way. I’m not attracted to men.” The fire in Rob’s eyes dies a slow death. Part of me wonders if he’s trying to convince himself this could work. I know the bond he and Tyler share. It’s different. There’s no denying that.

  “But you love me. You don’t have to say it for me to know it’s true.”

  “It’s not the same,” Rob half-snarls, upper lip curling.

  “Are you saying you can’t do it, or won’t?”

  The Big Guy sighs long and hard. “I’m sayin’ I’m not sexually attracted to you. I’ve never been interested in men before. Any of them. Now you’re askin’ me to cross that line.”

  “For your benefit,” Tyler simplifies.

  “I know. Fuck! I know.”

  Our kind-hearted artist reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “Ronan, you’re quiet. What do you think about this?”

  That’s a good question. I’m still trying to decide if this is batshit crazy or brilliant.

  Not wanting to interfere with their decision, I play Switzerland. “I think it’s your choice to make. I’ll support whatever you two decide.”

  “You’re okay with me fuckin’ him?” Rob asks in a way I can tell he wants me to insert my inner Domme into the mix, and make the choice for him. There are many cases where I could. This isn’t one of them.

  “If that’s what you want to do, I am.”

  “It’ll be under this roof. It’s not the same as the club whores. It’s gonna be right in your face.” I knew it. The Big Man is trying to dissuade me… pressure me into putting my foot down and calling this whole cockamamie idea off. When in reality, as crazy as it sounds, it could work if he wants it to.

  There’s no way I’m going to be his scapegoat. “Tyler isn’t a club girl. He’s our partner whether you have sex with him or not. It’s not the same.”

  “So, what you’re sayin’ is, hypothetically, you wouldn’t be hurt if you walked in on me fuckin’ him in our bedroom, if we all lived here.”

  Hell no. I’d love it. I can’t exactly say that out loud when it might upset him, or sway his decision in one direction or the other. I’m trying my best to be honest, yet, supportive.

  Poised, tone even-keeled, I reply, “As long as you sometimes let me watch, then I’m okay with it. There are a lot of rules that would need to be discussed before we agreed to a new living arrangement. Including having sex one on one without the other partner present—”

  Rob throws up a palm, halting what I was about to say. “Wait. Hold up. You would wanna watch us?”

  Is the sky blue?

  The grass green?

  Do bears shit in the woods?

  Lord have mercy, gay sex is some of the sexiest fucking on the planet. Who in their right mind wouldn’t wanna see that action up close and personal? Woo wee, that shit is panty-scorching hotttttt—with six t’s, not one. Can I get an a-two-dicks-are-better-then-one-men?

  Subduing my visceral thoughts before they go awry, I do my best to keep Rob’s jaw from hitting the floor any more than it already has. “I am a woman, who loves penis. So yes, watching two men go at it does have its appeal. Add in the fact that I love the two men in question, and I find it considerably more appealing.” Aka I could come watching you together.

  Rob throws his head back and drags both palms down his face. “Fuck!”

  “You wanted the truth.”

  He stares at the ceiling. “It’d really turn you on?”

  “Oh yeah.” To the nth degree.

  “E-even if I’m fuckin’ him, not you.” The poor guy is lost. He doesn’t understand or doesn’t want to. It’s time to lay all the cards on the table since I don’t think I’m getting my point across.

  “Yes. If you haven’t gotten the memo, I love cock, and I’m not ashamed of that. Whether it’s having my own, or either of yours, I love them any which way I can get ’em. If that includes a little guy-on-guy action, then I’m totally on board. Only, if that’s what my two guys want. This isn’t about what I find hot. This is about what’s healthy for us collectively. Do I believe you having sex with Tyler could help? Possibly. I don’t know. It could make things worse. You could regress. It could cause a lot of problems. Or, it might be the answer for the club girl obstacle that’s never done us any good. We didn’t know you loved anal sex until we tested it out. But this is a bit different than that.”

  “If I agree to this, I’m not agreeing to let Tyler top me at some point. That’s reserved only for you.”

  “I wouldn’t expect that anyhow,” Tyler replies. “This is strictly a you top, me bottom, arrangement.”

  “You’re sure that wouldn’t be a problem?” Rob double-checks.

  A steady, mature nod. “I’m sure.”

  The Big Guy twists in his chair, giving our sexy masochist his full attention. “My dick is different than Mistress’s.”

  Tyler snorts his amusement, smirking, eyes alight. “I know. I have one of my own.”

  “I’ll be coming inside you, even with a condom, that’s different than with Ronan.”

  I can’t believe he just said that.

  Oh. My. Wow.

  Tyler cocks his head to the side, winking. “I know that, Dad. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

  “You’re two decades younger than me, boy. I need you to think this through. A man with a whole lotta fucked-up anger issues, who’s much older than you, will be pounding your backdoor. Hard. Not caring about your release or feelings.”

  “Believe it or not, old man, I understand. And we don’t need to worry about condoms. I’m also fine with bareback. We both know we’re clean.”

  Bareback… Cum… Creampie…

  Holy Aphrodite! Is it a bazillion degrees in here or is it just me?

  Trapping my hands between my thighs to keep them from doing whatever, I expel a shuddery breath, belly quivering.

  Rob adjusts the apparent bulge in his pants, trying to be discrete and failing. “Yeah. I…Fuck. I dunno if I can be raw inside you… I can’t believe we’re debating this in the first place. What the hell are we doing? Why is this up for discussion?”

  “This doesn’t have to be decided tonight,” I add, hoping I don’t sound as breathy as I think. “We-we’ve got time to map everything out.”

  “If we don’t talk this out now, I’m never going to have the courage to do it again.”

  I nod. “Fair enough.”

  “If, and that’s a huge if, I can stomach this, I’ll agree to moving in. My apartment is on a month-to-month lease anyway. If it doesn’t, I think you should both still move in together without me.”

  “It’ll work.” Tyler’s confident.

  “Don’t count on it.” Rob’s not.

  “Does that mean this is a go?” I test, unsure of pretty much anything at this point. I assumed Tyler would put his foot down about us moving in together. That’s the natural order of most relationships, even one as unique as ours. What I hadn’t considered was the bisexual aspect. If I had it my way, everyone would be open minded and not care one iota about sexuality when picking their partner or partners. They’d care more about who they are and what attracts them. Not penis vs. vagina. As I’ve said before, I grew up in a free-to-be-you-and-me household. Not only were my parents hippies, but they were also swingers who had me late in life. They both passed six years ago within two months of each other. Mom went first from cancer. Dad, I think died of a broken heart. I’m an only child with no grandparents or close relatives of any kind, but I don’t feel cheated by my lack of family. I was lucky to have parents who adored me and supported my profession. Heck, my mom’s the one who first introduced me to the femdom lifestyle. As icky as that may sound to some, that was a large piece of my parents’ relationship. Dad worshiped Mom in and out of their bedroom. Just like Tyler and Rob worship me.

  A pregnant silence descends upon us as Rob ruminates over his decision, which is his and his alone to make. Tyler may have opened the can of worms, but it’s the Big Guy who has to put the lid back on or set those worms free. Either way, I’m confident this will work out for the best.

  Not wanting to waste my time sitting idly by, I redd up the messy table and stow the leftovers in the fridge. Tyler joins in by rinsing the dishes in the sink and placing them in the dishwasher.

  Once finished, he cuffs a hand around my upper arm and draws me close, face-to-face.

  “I hope I didn’t screw things up,” Tyler signs, worry etched in his brow.

  Smiling kindly to ease his concern, I lean a hip against the counter. “It was kind of you to offer, no matter what Rob decides. As long as you did it for the right reasons and you’re truly okay with it.”

  “I am.”

  “Have you thought about this before?”

  “Wanting him to use me for relief?”

  “All of it.”

  Tyler dips his head in acknowledgment. “Yes. I didn’t come here tonight with my head in the clouds. I know it’ll be hard work syncing our lives under one roof. But I can say for certain that I hate going home to an empty apartment every night for no good reason.”

  Amen to that.

  “I see your point and feel the same way. Being alone sucks when the two men you want to spend your time with live in the same town.”

  “Exactly. There’s enough space here for all of us to live together without feeling overcrowded. If Rob can get past his issues, I think I could help him in a way you can’t.”

  “I do, too. Maybe.” I shrug. Perhaps we’ll be lucky. Perhaps we won’t. Only time will tell. Where’s a magical crystal ball when you need one? The waiting game sucks.

  “What other choice is there? To let this go on for years with no resolution? When I’m here, willing and able. It’s not that far of a stretch if you think about it. People who know about our relationship already assume I’m bisexual. And considering people’s stereotypes, they view me as a bottom. ’Cause by society’s warped standards, Rob isn’t the type. As if there’s a type of man who’s into anal versus not.” Tyler rolls his adorable eyes, sporting a half-cocked smirk.

  “A ton of my fans assume I’m gay because I’m the deaf artist who paints erotic scenes. I accepted that years ago. I’m comfortable in my sexuality, whatever that might be. Labels are for soup cans. Not people… If I had a shitty childhood like Rob did, then I might feel differently. But I have a gay brother whose parents threw a coming-out party for, including a drag queen and go-go boys.”

  That would’ve been fun to attend. I love drag shows and go-go boys as much as the next woman. Can you say yum?

  “I love that you own who you are. That’s one of the million reasons I love you.”

  Stepping into Tyler’s bubble, I wrap my arms around his middle, and lay my cheek to his chest. The lub-lub of his steady heartbeat centers me in a way nothing else can. Returning the hug, warm and protective, he builds our own Tyler-Ronan cocoon where nothing can harm us. We don’t need to say anything when our minds are already a jumbled mess of what ifs.

  Time passes at a snail’s pace as Tyler’s unique scent of fresh laundry detergent, paint, body wash, and vanilla keeps my brain from overreacting. Rob hasn’t said anything yet. If we push, it’s unfair. Patience truly is a virtue. One I’m not the fondest of at times like this.

  A throat clears once.

  Then a second time.

  “Guys?” Rob’s tone is strangely calm as I peek around Tyler to see the Big Guy standing at the entrance to the kitchen, naked and fully aroused.

  Damn! That’s… Damn!

  Look at that cock.

  Those strong, muscular legs.

  Colorful tattoos.

  Cum gutters—the special V where his thighs and hips meet. You know the place.

  Flexing pecs.

  Abs.

  All of it.

  I’m…

  “Rob, w-what are you doing?” I croak before swallowing to dislodge the frog. Now it’s Tyler’s turn to swing his head around and whistle in approval at our brave man standing in the buff when we’re still fully dressed. He must’ve thought it through, and talked the demons into their respective cages without my help. I’m more than impressed. I’m in awe.

  Maintaining a safe distance from our Big Guy, not wanting to crowd him, I break out of the Tyler-Ronan bubble and give Rob the attention he’s earned. Tyler’s palm rests on the small of my back as he stands beside me, enjoying the super-hot view.

  Crimson blots Rob’s cheeks as he folds his hands together in front of him, anxiety surging off him in waves.

  “I’ve decided I want this to work in some way, if we can.” Staring at the floor, not at us, his toes curl under, the tendons in his feet drawing taut. I don’t know why I find that sexy, but I do. I guess that’s what happens when you’re in love with two incredibly attractive men.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, playing it cool.

  “It means, I agree to Tyler’s terms as a trial run.”

  I can’t believe what I’m about to say. “You want to fuck him?”

  “I wanna try and fuck him. Yes.” My insides spasm at the conviction lacing Rob’s words, and the slight nod he supplies.

  I think I might’ve had a mini orgasm.

  Keep it together, Ronan.

  I flex my own toes as a distraction.

  It doesn’t help much when Tyler has taken to tracing designs along the top of my ass and lower back. Sometimes the smallest of touches have the biggest impact, and those fingers are turning me on for no apparent reason.

  “Do you want me to give you the room to explore this? You can use the dungeon.” It’s a safe space for all of us. I think it would be the ideal spot for them to test the waters. If that’s what they really want.

  Rob looks up, locking eyes with mine. “I think it’d be best if you’re with us.”

  That’s impossible.

  “I can’t control the scene, or participate in it, Rob.”

  “You’re gonna need to do both.”

  Tucking arms across my breasts, I shake my head vehemently. “No way. I don’t control when you screw your club girls, nor am I ever there. This isn’t about me. This is about you getting what you need.”

  “Right. And I need both of you.” He’s way calmer than I am. And Tyler has yet to say a word.

  “At different times you do, but never at the same freaking time. Say I am part of it, how does that make it any different than if you used me instead of him? It doesn’t.” This is insane. What’s he thinking?

  “You’re my Mistress. You fuckin’ own me. You have the power. Our emotional connection is far too great for my brain to cope with using your body for personal gain. Power shifts fuck with my head, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be present. I don’t see how that’ll change anything if you are. You’re the top to my bottom. When we all sure as hell know I need a bottom to top as well. Havin’ both in the same place at the same time might be the key. Who the fuck knows unless we try?”

  I get what he’s saying… sorta. We’ve spent months and months figuring out a way to keep everything in their own distinct compartments, not mash them all together. Not once has he asked to, or have we considered him topping anyone during a scene, besides me, and we all know how that turned out.

  “How is me helping you top Tyler going to work? Your need to fuck and our relationship are separate. To you. To our dynamics. You have to do this on your own, without me. There’s a difference between true consent, and consent when you feel it’s your only choice to make someone happy. I’m not interested in the latter. Your consent must be for you. Not me. Not Tyler. This isn’t a cheesy porn script where you’re talked into bein’ a bi guy for your horny girlfriend to watch. I love you no matter what. This is real life, Big Man. Real consent, not the illusion of it.” Gaahh! I wanna throw my hands up and storm from the room. I want to tell him I can’t do this because I’m scared out of my mind—for him. He isn’t taking baby steps. He’s diving headfirst into shark-infested waters. We don’t do that. Heck, I don’t even do that with clients. Why would I want to try with my lovers? Babies walk before they run. You sink before you swim. It took us forever to make love, since we can’t actually fuck or he loses his mind. This isn’t a race. It’s a damn triathlon that he’s treating like a simple jog around the block.

  Rob massages his forehead, sighing. “This isn’t false consent, babe. It’s real. I thought about it. What this could mean. What this could fix. I’m a realist, and this is our best option. We’ll take it slow. But I’m gonna need you there to do it. You’re our Mistress. Your support is gonna make this transition a helluva lot easier. You keep me sane, as does Tyler. Without one, I dunno if I can fuck the other. Ya got me?”

  That’s not all that reassuring.

  “What’s goin’ on inside your head?” That’s what matters most. Not some false bravado, if that’s what it is. I can’t tell.

  He grins, warm and sweet, the mature lines that accentuate his eyes crinkling. “For once, it’s not screamin’ in sin. Much.”

  Well, I didn’t expect that.

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “It is. See, I know what I’m doin’, babe.”

  “If you’re sure…” I’m not. “How do you want to proceed?” This is crazy.

  “I think we should use the living room.” Tyler finally adds his two cents, adjusting the bulge in his jeans.