I felt Richard raise his head. The movement made me turn to him. He was on his elbows with the hem of the dress in his hands. He was smiling at me, but it was the kind of smile that a man gives you when he is certain of you, certain that there will be only yes, and not no. It had been months since I’d seen him, and that part of me that was always poking at things, demanding, complaining, thought, He hasn’t earned that look.

Jean-Claude was suddenly there, leaning around Asher’s legs, touching my hair, my face, so that I looked up at him. I gazed up into those midnight-blue eyes so dark that a few shades darker and the blue would have been lost to a black, but they were forever the blue of the sky just as the light begins to leave, but darkness is still a few breaths away. I stared up into those eyes and felt him whisper through my mind, as his hands cradled my face. “You can be right, or you can be happy. Look into my face and tell me you do not want him and I will stop this. We will find some other way to seal our triumvirate. But say you do not want him and it ends.”

He slid onto the bed, and my head was propped on the leather of his thigh as his other hand moved down my bare arm. He turned me so I could gaze down my body at Richard. He was still propped on his arms, the hem of my dress in his hands. He was watching me, and though his face was still eager, there was wariness around those true-brown eyes. We had taught each other caution of each other.

Richard began, very slowly, to unzip the double zipper at the bottom of the dress. He watched my face as he did it, as if waiting for me to protest. I thought about it, I really did. I wasn’t sure I wanted to rake this mess up again. My life worked without him in it.

Jean-Claude breathed through me again. “Do you want him to stop?”

The answer was yes, and no, and that had been Richard and me from the beginning almost. Yes, and no; no and yes, until we both almost went mad with it. Yes and no.

Richard spread the unzipped dress open and lowered his face toward me, his eyes still on my face, still waiting for me to say something. Jean-Claude’s hands continued to soothe down my bare arms. I realized they were both treating me as the one most likely to blow this. It was almost as if they’d discussed it, but Jean-Claude had been surprised tonight, too, hadn’t he? The moment I thought that, I tensed.

Richard kissed the edge of my thigh, still watching my face. Jean-Claude leaned over me and whispered, “I swear to you that I did not know he would come tonight, but I do want this, ma petite, I do want this more cooperative Richard. It is sex tonight, not a change in our living arrangements. It is sex and magic, nothing more.”

There was a time when that would have pissed me off, but that was before Micah and Nathaniel. Before we’d made some peace with Jean-Claude, before so much, and now his words made me relax a little.

Richard kissed up the inside of my thigh, still gazing at my face, still being cautious. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding, some tension went away, and when I relaxed so did he. He smiled at me, his hands sliding along my legs, so he could put his hands on the outside of them, his arms underneath my legs. He lowered his eyes as he kissed my thigh. He startled, his fingers digging in just a little, but not like he did it on purpose.

He looked up the line of my body at me. “You’re not wearing anything under the dress,” he said, voice a little strained.

The look on his face made me smile. I couldn’t help it. He looked so startled. I said, “No, I’m not.”

He finally smiled back at me and lowered his face, and he wasn’t trying to look at my eyes anymore. Jean-Claude relaxed against me, as if even he had been holding the breath that he didn’t always need to take.

“Were you really afraid I’d fuck this up?” I asked, sliding my head against his thigh so I could see his face. His face was unreadable and pleasant, but he said, “Yes.”

Richard licked the hollow of my thigh and didn’t stop until he licked between my legs. The sensation of it closed my eyes, caught my breath in my throat. He licked in long, slow strokes around the edges of me, coming over that one small spot at the end of every stroke. He made his strokes smaller, more circular, and my breathing changed, speeding up with my heartbeat.

Jean-Claude moved underneath my head. It made me open my eyes and look at him. He was smiling at me as he slid pillows underneath my head. “I cannot leave our Asher neglected.” He bent and kissed me as he slid off the bed. The movement pulled my gaze to the man bound to the side of the bed so close to us, but almost forgotten. I caught Asher’s look, and it was still that predatory look, but with more anger to it. I had forgotten him, and that was probably truer than was pretty to think of between us all.

Richard put his mouth around me and began to suck, and suddenly all my attention was staring down my body at the man between my legs. His brown eyes were turned up so that he was staring at my face as he sucked me. There was a darkness, a fierceness, a possessiveness in that look. It wasn’t possession of me by Richard, it was a man’s pleasure in I’m making her do that. I’m bringing her pleasure. She’s making those sounds because of me. It was all there in his eyes, as he licked and sucked me over that edge of pleasure that bowed my spine, threw my head backward into the pillows, my hands scrambling for something to hold on to, as the feel of his mouth brought me in wordless, ragged screams.

He sucked me until I lay limp against the bed, boneless with the pleasure of it. He licked one more time, and it made me cry out.

“I love that,” he said, voice deeper.

I forced myself to focus on his face, but the world was soft and edged with afterglow. I heard the soft slap of a flogger and knew that it had to be Jean-Claude working with Asher, but it was beyond me to turn my head enough to see. All my scrambling in the pillows during the orgasm had spilled me to one side of the mounded pillows so that they hid the other two men. I managed to say, “What?” My voice sounded thick.

“You just enjoy sex so much once you let yourself go. I love watching you.” His face glistened in the lights. His finger pressed into my thighs, and it was too much so soon; it threw me back against the pillows in a small aftershock. He laughed that dark, deep-edged laugh that men only have in those moments. It’s a good sound.

He dug his fingers in harder, spreading my legs a little wider. It made me cry out, and he gave that dark chuckle again. The sound of the flogger was harder, meatier, and there were small protesting sounds, and it wasn’t me.

Richard let go of my legs, his arms sliding out from under me. I felt the bed move and waited for him to move closer to me, but heard him say, “Jean-Claude, trade me.”

That made me open my eyes and look at him. He was kneeling between my legs, and the front of his body was long, thick, and more than ready. I reached a hand out, rising up off the bed, but he moved back out of reach, laughing. “You do that and I won’t do anything but you.”

“Do me,” I said voice languorous with afterglow.

He shook his head.

“Trade me in what manner, Richard?” Jean-Claude asked.

“I know how to use a flogger.”

“I have him in the headspace we need, mon ami. I would not lose ground, not even for so sweet an offer.”

That made me crawl out from between the pillows so I could see what was going on. Asher was still tied up, but his face was slack, lips half-parted, eyes unfocused. It was close to the look I was fighting off my own face. But his wasn’t orgasm because he was smooth, and erect, and as perfect as the rest of him. He would have argued that because one line of scar traced the edge of his testicles, but it was just something extra to run my tongue over, an added texture, not a blemish.