“You wouldn’t actually let him near you, would you?”
I laughed softly, a velvety, deep laugh that faded in the kitchen as I poured myself another glass of wine. The ruby-red liquid lapped gently against the crystal. “Of course not. It’s just a game. A fantasy.”
Tom, my husband, leaned casually against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze—that look I knew inside and out—rested on me. Curiosity mixed with an animal spark of possessiveness. “A fantasy that got me pretty hard last night when you told me about it.” His voice was rougher now, deeper.
I sipped my wine, letting it roll over my tongue. “That was the whole point.”
The party raged behind us. Our living room was a sea of laughter, chatter, and music. But my thoughts circled like a bird of prey around one person: Jannis. We’d met him two months ago on vacation, in a small beach café on Crete. He was traveling alone; we’d been three—Tom, me, and Jannis. The chemistry had crackled instantly, and after a few days, flirty small talk had turned into a secret, forbidden game. Tom and I had spent evenings in our hotel room imagining what it would be like if Jannis were between us. How he would touch me. How Tom would watch. How I would writhe under his hands.
And now Jannis was here, in the flesh, in our living room. A beer in his hand, he was chatting with Tom’s colleague Stefan. He looked stunning. Dark curls that coiled over his forehead, broad shoulders under the tight shirt, that slight five-o’clock shadow that made his jaw look like sandpaper. When he laughed, he revealed a small gap between his teeth, giving him something youthful, carefree—something that made my stomach tingle.
Tom stepped closer to me, so close I felt the warmth of his body. His lips almost brushed my ear as he lowered his voice. “He’s been watching you all night. Every time you turned around, his gaze was burning on your neck.”
A hot shiver ran down my spine, and I felt my nipples tighten under the fabric of my dress. “Maybe I’m imagining it.” My voice sounded brittle, even to my own ears.
“No,” Tom said, and his hand settled on my hip, pulling me gently toward him. “You’re not. And you know what? I think it’s fucking hot.”
I turned to face him. His face was close, his breath smelling of whisky and desire. “We were just playing,” I whispered, but my body was already betraying me. “That was fiction.”
His thumb traced over my hip bone. “Does it have to be?” he asked, and the question hung between us, heavy as lead and electric as lightning.
I swallowed. My heart hammered against my ribs. “What are you suggesting?”
He let his finger glide over my cheek, a touch that burned like fire on my skin. “Let him stay tonight. After the party. The three of us. Try out once what we’ve imagined so often in our minds. Feel once what it’s really like.”
My pulse raced, and the wetness between my legs became almost unbearable. “You’re serious?” I breathed.
“Yes,” Tom said, and his gaze was now completely clear. “But I want to be there. I want to watch him take you. I want to see your pleasure in his hands. That’s my game. My rules.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. The image he conjured in my mind was so vivid, so sharp, that my hands grew damp and my breath became shallow. “And if you don’t like it?” I asked. “If jealousy eats you alive?”
“Then we stop,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think that’ll happen. I trust you. And I want to see you with him. I want to see you give in.”
I opened my eyes and looked over at Jannis. He had broken away from Stefan and was walking slowly toward us, his gait casual, almost slinking. But in his eyes lay a certainty, a dark intention that made my breath catch.
“Well, you two so deep in conversation?” he asked as he reached us. His voice was like velvet over stone. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Tom said, and his hand moved from my hip to my neck, holding me gently. “We were just talking about you.”
Jannis raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips. “Only good things, I hope.”
“Depends on what you mean by good,” I said. My voice was hoarse with tension, and I took a deep gulp of wine. The alcohol spread a pleasant warmth in my chest that rose into my groin.
Jannis grinned, that disarming grin. “I like surprises.”
Tom put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tight against him as he fixed his gaze on Jannis. “Then maybe we have one for you. If you have time later.”
The next hour passed like a fever dream. I talked to guests, laughed, refilled drinks, but my senses were tuned only to two poles: Jannis and Tom. Every touch from Tom on my skin felt ten times more intense, every accidental contact burned. Every time Jannis came near me, I inhaled his scent—beer, aftershave, and something salty that instantly transported me back to the beach in Crete, to the heat that had crackled between us.
Around two in the morning, the last guests had left. The living room looked like a battlefield of glasses and plates, but I couldn’t care less. Tom had asked Jannis to stay—a brief, clear invitation. Now we stood, the three of us, in the hallway, the silence after the noise almost tangible, heavy with unspoken promises.
“So, are you ready for the surprise?” Tom asked. His voice was calm, controlled, but I felt his hand on my back trembling slightly. The tension stood between us like a wall of glass.
Jannis leaned against the wall, arms casually crossed. “Always.” His eyes rested on me, dark and probing.
Tom sat down on the bottom step of the stairs, one leg casually crossed over the other, and looked up at me. “Then show him what we talked about.” His voice was a command, soft but unmistakable.
I swallowed. The moment had come. I stepped in front of Jannis, so close I felt the warmth of his body, and placed my hands flat on his chest. The fabric of his shirt was soft, but underneath I felt hard muscle. “We imagined something on vacation—”
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