“In the living room?” Fighting a grin, I knock my shoulder into Tyler’s playfully. “Why not my bedroom? Or the dungeon?”

  “If it doesn’t work out, we don’t want bad memories in those places,” he reasons.

  Touché.

  Smart man.

  “Good point.” Rob nods, pivots on his heel, dick swaying, and marches to the living room like a man on a mission.

  “He’s not taking this seriously enough,” I sign to Tyler, not ready to join Rob just yet.

  My adorable artist faces me and arches a brow. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re taking it too seriously?”

  I scowl. “This isn’t a small thing. It is serious.”

  Tyler pecks my forehead. He’s trying to pacify me. I can tell. Men. “Maybe Rob doesn’t want to view it that way anymore. Maybe he wants to view me like he would any of the other whores he screws; like I’m nothing more than a hole that he gets release from. There’s no way he spends hours contemplating whether or not he’s gonna screw some random pussy. There’s a void that needs filled, so he fills it. Like an itch that needs scratched. You don’t think about that itch for ten hours. You scratch the damn thing.”

  I hate when they make more sense than I do. Admitting defeat stings.

  “Why are you two the calm ones and I’m the one freaking out on the inside, even though I find this stupidly hot?”

  “Because you love us and want what’s best for us. I’m comfortable in my desires and can see this for what it is at face value. I’m not in Rob’s mind to know for sure, but men don’t think like women do. We don’t overanalyze everything. We’re black and white. I saw a problem and offered a possible solution. Rob put up his defenses like he always does, then let them down long enough to weigh the pros and cons on a base level. We care about one another. We want this to work. The whores are an obstacle. As men, we see that. There are no gray areas. It’s cut and dry. You’re the only one seeing this in Technicolor, sweetheart. We’re using this as a means to an end.”

  Fine.

  They’re adults who can make their own choices. If this ends up blowing up in my face, I’m going to be the one picking up the gory pieces. They’d damn well better be on the same page, because I hate nothing more than preventable heartache. Why do you think I avoided relationships for the better part of my adult life? To escape the inevitable misery when it didn’t work out. That’s also why I’ve never lived with anyone. Not even a roommate. It’s also why I don’t have many close friends, aside from Kendra. It’s a form of self-preservation. I might’ve grown up with excellent parents, but kids are cruel when said parents are different. Adults are far worse when you tell them what your kinks are, and they don’t even attempt to understand. That’s why I don’t judge any of my kinksters. They can’t help what they get off on. Trust me, if I preferred vanilla sex I would’ve settled down ages ago.

  I’m deflecting again, aren’t I?

  Yup. I’m a pro at that.

  Closing my eyes, pushing every ounce of stress out of my mind, I clear my thoughts and prepare for the next step in becoming, or not becoming a polyamorous partnership. It could go one of two ways. How Rob handles tonight will be the judge of that.

  A final soothing breath and I’m ready to proceed.

  I reopen my eyes.

  “You okay?” Tyler hasn’t budged.

  “Let’s do this.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Are you sure? You’re the one crossing the line. Not me.”

  Pressing his lips together to prevent himself from smiling, Tyler bows his head in a single reassuring nod.

  Well then. What are we waiting for?

  Taking the lead, since I am their Mistress, I exit the kitchen ahead of Tyler. He’s hot on my heels as we enter the living room, where Rob’s pacing back and forth in front of the ottoman that moonlights as a coffee table. His dick sways with each sure step, pecs bounce like a pair of Christmas hams. Glutes contract and release, accentuating those muscular dimples on either side that I wanna bite, mark, bruise. Maybe later.

  Leaving Rob to his own devices, I take matters into my own hands. Since the Big Guy doesn’t kiss or share intimacy with his lady friends, I presume he doesn’t want that with Tyler either. Which means our artist needs to be prepped for penetration.

  Turning toward Tyler, I two-finger point to the leather square he’ll be lying on. “Whenever you’re ready, take off your clothes, and lie over the ottoman, ass up, chest flat on the top. Did you prep before you came?”

  “Don’t I always?” He winks all smiles and charm, not nervous in the least. If anything, I’d say he’s overcome with excitement.

  “Good. You thought ahead.”

  “You have a habit of sticking something in me every time I see you. I’m a Boy Scout, I come prepared.” The smart-ass offers a two-finger solute, ice-blue eyes alight with humor.

  “I’m pretty sure anal douching isn’t offered as a troop patch.”

  “Maybe it should be. It’d be all the rage for the gay/bi boys.”

  I chuckle, trying hard to stay on track and failing. “You’re an idiot. Stop signing and get naked. I wanna see that cock. Is it hard for us?”

  “It hasn’t gone down since before you opened the front door.”

  I figured as much. It’s not like it’s easy to hide in a pair of skinny jeans.

  Giving Tyler the space he needs to undress, I take a quick trip to the laundry room’s supply cupboards to grab a fresh bottle of strawberry-flavored lube, a new dildo, both of my men’s collection of plugs, and a towel for easy cleanup. Returning to the living room, my naked men are standing, facing each other—observing. I pause my approach to give them time to appreciate the other’s body. Rob’s slack jawed staring at Tyler’s pierced prick. At least he’s still hard, so that’s a good sign. If he wasn’t this might not work. And I really hope it does, for all our sakes.

  “Do you like what you see?” I address the Big Man.

  Hands fisted at his sides, he shrugs a singular shoulder. “His dick’s bigger than I thought it’d be for his size.”

  “Because he’s thin?”

  “Yeah. He’s nicely hung.”

  “So are you,” I remind.

  The Big Guy grumbles the affirmative.

  He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?

  Seeking instruction, Tyler glances in my direction, cool, calm, and collected despite his rosy cheeks from Rob’s compliment.

  Shoving all the goodies I’m carrying into one arm, I do my best to sign without dropping anything. “Present your ass.”

  If Rob thinks Tyler’s cock is impressive, he’s in for a treat. Tyler has much more to admire.

  Being the perfect sub, our masochist turns around and there it is… that dark indigo bottom and wrecked back. The whip lines tell the beautiful tale of unconditional love that only his Mistress could create. The marks he bears leave me frozen in awe as a deep sense of adoration and pleasure bubbles in my chest. I did that. Those are from me. The hickies and bites on his neck are partially healed, but that posterior is the true art. The creamy notebook in which I write my sincerest love letters in a language that only Tyler and I can appreciate.

  My bruised man peeks over his shoulder, eyes only for me. I grin softly, soaking up the moment. “You’re stunning.”

  He takes my breath away.

  “I love you.” Tyler returns an equally tender smile that touches me in places nobody’s hand ever could.

  “Love you more. Now over the ottoman and spread your cheeks for me.”

  No words are spoken as he assumes the position, ready and willing.

  “Why don’t you sit and watch?” I gestured to the couch with the jut of my chin, hoping Rob will take a load off. He needs to experience this. See it all firsthand, so his brain doesn’t get a chance to lie to him. If he wants to cross the line of no return, there’s no reason to rush.

  Without argument, he takes the middle spot on the sofa that’s directly across from where Tyler’s splayed.

  Kneeling next to the ottoman, I dump the pile of good times on the floor beside me and grab Rob’s medium-sized plug first. If he’s going to penetrate our artist tonight and wants me to stay, he’s going to do it my way. I toss it and the strawberry lube into his lap, careful not to hit his package.

  “Go on. Put it in.”

  Rob blindly grips the end of the toy as he stares, transfixed on Tyler’s exposed hole. Stomach flat, cheek pressed against the cool leather, fingers prying those marred globes apart, Tyler’s dick points straight to the floor, a buffet waiting to be consumed.

  “You want me to wear a plug when I fuck him?”

  “I do.”

  Not wasting any time, Rob props one foot up on the couch for leverage, rises partway off the seat, and lubes the plug and his entrance before popping that bad boy in without missing a beat. I’m impressed. There’s no resistance. No twinge of worry. No anxious behavior. Only compliance that has me wanting to fuck that pretty hole until he’s ready to burst out of his skin.

  Satisfied with the Big Guy’s unwavering focus, I shoot out my upturned palm for him to return the lube. He does as he re-seats himself, legs spread, cock jutting toward the ceiling, balls resting on the couch. A small shudder works its way through his body as he watches me drizzle a fair amount of liquid down the crack of our sexy masochist’s ass.

  Tyler emits a feather-light moan, goosebumps sprouting across his backside. I spank one bruised cheek then the other, to show Rob firsthand our guy isn’t fragile. Upon impact I get my desired outcome—Tyler cries out, his fingers sinking deeper into marred flesh. I maintain my position at his side, not wanting to obscure Rob’s view as I plant a nice juicy bite into the meat of his ass. Warm skin caves under pressure as a flood of endorphins intoxicate me. Yes. This is what I needed. Eyes sliding closed in pure ecstasy; I bask in his clean taste, the broken wails of bliss, and excited shivers that overtake him. How could Rob never want this? How could anyone not? Tyler’s the embodiment of perfection. Any Mistress’s ideal submissive.

  Teeth sawing, nibbling, marking, I draw a finger down our man’s crease, spreading the lube where it needs to be. Around and around I circle that hungry little bud before poking my digit into the center, breaching the outer ring to delve inside. Our artist’s asshole hugs me tight as I glide in and out of his slick heat. From the couch, Rob rumbles like a caged animal waiting to break free. Watching, his expression intense, he chews his bottom lip and wraps a fist around his steel pole. Stroking it roughly, a bubble of pre-cum pools at the slit. With his thumb he spreads it around, using the silky wetness as his own personal lube.

  This is insanely hot, and we’ve barely started. I pray this goes as planned. That he can handle it. A freak-out midfuck would be a disaster. But I don’t want to baby him either. If he’s made up his mind, then I’m not going to press any further.

  Hole loosening, body going pliant under my direction, I unlatch my teeth and make eye contact with Tyler. Whose face is a thing of ecstasy-infused beauty—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyelids heavy, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

  “You doing okay?” I double-check to be sure.

  “Yes,” he croaks.

  “Are you ready?”

  A small nod and shuddery exhale.

  Perfect.

  Adding a second finger, I watch my man’s expressions contort from sharp, desired pain to bone-melting pleasure. That’s exactly what I want to see. Tyler’s body submitting to this moment. To the change in our relationship. I think it’s time.

  Slipping from his slack entrance, I back away from the scene to let Rob take the reins. There’s nothing more I can do here. This is on them. I’ve done my duty.

  Taking a seat on a wingback chair that flanks the sofa, I wait for our Big Man to take the initiative. I don’t have to wait long. Cupping his knees, Rob scoots forward on the couch, inching closer to the hole that awaits him.

  The naughty part of me wants to sit here with my legs crossed, clit throbbing, while I spout filthy things to encourage Rob. Just to turn the heat up to the next level. My heart’s already on the verge of beating out of my chest, high on anticipation. Tyler’s pleading eyes don’t make this any easier for me. I’m used to stepping in and controlling the show, but this isn’t my show to run. It’s the Big Man’s.

  A minute passes before Rob slips closer. Another soon follows with no progression. By the time we reach the five-minute mark, I’m wondering if he’s too caught up in his head to proceed. By six, I’m questioning my motives and if I should be doing more, even though in my gut, I know what I’m doing is the right thing. At seven, Rob expels an emotional breath and kneels behind Tyler. My pulse skyrockets at the marvelous sight. I can’t believe this is going to happen.

  Rob sets a single palm on Tyler’s bottom, and I shake my head at our artist to keep him quiet. We don’t want his moans to scare the Big Guy away. A tiny nod is Tyler’s silent compliance.

  Another palm joins in… barely touching.

  A low, primal growl vibrates in our Big Man’s chest.

  Tyler’s eyes tip back into his skull, nostrils flaring.

  Testing the waters, Rob’s fingers press into the bruised skin where he watches the colors change beneath his fingertips. Loving this too much, Tyler smashes his lips together to stifle a moan as a fresh batch of goosebumps sprout down his frame. I squirm in my seat, anxious to see what they do next. The only sound to be heard is Rob’s harsh breaths as he traps his tongue between his front teeth, concentrating on the hole that beckons him, to come play, as it clenches and unclenches in time with Tyler’s respirations.

  “Damn,” he husks, gripping his erection and aiming it at its desired destination. He shifts closer, knees digging into the plush rug. A subtle tilt of his hips and that pre-cum-drenched head kisses Tyler’s entrance. A pleased sound emanates in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing on impact.

  Lord Almighty, I don’t think I’ve seen anything this hot in my entire life.

  I slip a hand under the hem of my dress to stroke a finger up and down my smooth pussy lips.

  Rob looks over, watching, waiting. To give him a better view, I tug my dress up, exposing myself from the waist down. Spreading my thick thighs, I draw a foot up to rest on the seat, relax my head against the chair back, and blow him a mischievous kiss. That’s right, babe, I’m turned on, too. Go on. Put that cock in our man’s ass. Light his channel up. Make him cry out your name.

  Somehow reading my dirty thoughts, Rob secures Tyler’s slender waist in one hand as he uses the other to glide inside our artist in a single flawless motion.

  “Fuck!” he roars, throwing his head back, balls deep in that glorious tight heat.

  Holy mother!

  He did it!

  I push two fingers into my cunt, wanting to join in on the action any way I can.

  Tyler releases his cheeks to grip the top of the ottoman.

  “Mistress,” he mouths, a tear leaking out of the corner of his eye.

  I know what he seeks.

  “Go ahead.” I nod in concession. There’s no need for him to hold back any longer. Not when they’re connected in the most intimate way possible.

  Now free to make as much noise as he desires, Tyler sets loose a string of guttural moans as Rob digs his fingers into either side of our man’s hips, the ink in his forearms shifting under strain. For half a second his forehead creases, deep in thought, before he unleashes the sexiest growl known to mankind and begins to fuck Tyler like a beast. There’s no preamble. No more testing the waters. No making sure his partner’s ready. Rob goes for it, raw, brash, and hot as Hades.

  On violent repeat, he slams into that willing hole, the filthy clap of skin coming together echoing off the walls. Reading our masochist like a book, he spanks him hard, setting off another round of ecstasy-laden wails.

  That’s it, baby. Keep it up. Make him squeal.

  My pussy clamps around my plunging fingers. If they keep this up, I’m gonna come a dozen times before they finish.

  Another crack on Tyler’s ass, more forceful than the last, leaves my poor submissive clawing at the leather, head thrashing back in forth—completely wrecked and desperate for more.

  “That’s right, boy.” Rob drags his blunt nails down that perfectly marred back, amping both of their pleasure. Just as those punishing fingers reach the seam of Tyler’s ass, his eyes burst wide searching for me, ready to combust.

  I shake my head, refusing to give permission.

  Not yet.

  Worry steals across his sweaty face, as he emits a shuddery cry of defeat. I grin at his discomfort even if I shouldn’t. My artist has more staying power than he gives himself credit for. He can endure. Rob has stamina that would make most men jealous. He should enjoy the ride while it lasts. And what a ride it is.

  Rubbing my clit in time with the Big Guy’s thrusts, I chew the inside of my cheek, trying hard not to get there too fast. It’s not exactly fair if I climax so quickly when I forbid Tyler from doing the same.

  Getting into it more than I thought possible, Rob pulls out, stands up, shoves our man’s feet together using his own, and repositions himself so that he’s straddling them. Lowering into position, one foot flat on the ground, the other perched on the ottoman, he forces his dick back inside from a pile-driving angle. Pressing a hand to Tyler’s left shoulder, he grips a fistful of our masochist’s hair with the second.

  Yanking his head back, forcing my submissive to look him in the eye, Rob hammers into that tight, hungry rim. “Such a good slut, takin’ my dick up your tight pussy.”

  “Yes.” Redness rims our stunning man’s eyes.

  “You like it when I fuck your boy cunt?”

  “Y-yes.” Tears leak down his cheeks, his slightly parted lips, puffy from self-abuse.

  “Tell me.”

  God, yes, tell him. Tell him! I’m gonna come. They’re gonna make me explode. Dipping fingers into my wetness, I spread it around my clit and rub it fast, so turned on I’m going crazy.

  “I… I love it when you… I… Rob!”

  “You don’t get to come, boy.”

  “I…” Tyler trembles from head to toe, trying hard to obey.