85. Dex

Perhaps the sight of Darcy, naked and stretched out on this very same bed at Alchemy, should provoke some sort of déjà vu, but it doesn't, of course. Because, the room and the participants aside, nothing about tonight bears much resemblance to that fateful first evening here.

Max may be staring at me like he wants to fuck me all the way to Hell and back, but he's doing a far worse job of hiding it than he did last time. This time, I'll take anything he chooses to put in my mouth—tongue or fingers or thumb or dick—and I'll suck with the uncomplicated delight of a man who knows the pleasure it'll bring both of us.

Tonight, I'm not the interloper, the suspicious, judgemental guy who'll only admit to wanting one of them. I'm the conquering soldier returning from a front line rife with hatred and prejudice, and I'm damn well going to enjoy the spoils of the war I waged this evening.

Tonight, Darcy's not the only one getting fucked, and she's not the only one getting champagne sucked off her nipples, either. Nor will Max be left to get himself off with his fist. Because if I'm victorious, he's positively triumphant, and he isn't too shy to crow about it.

‘Every single thing I've done since you walked in here that first time has been leading up to this moment,' he tells me, unearthing a bottle of Krug from the same cabinet he hid that initial stash in and making quick work of its foil and the little wire cage around the cork. ‘So tonight I'm fucking celebrating.'

‘Krug?' Darcy says, stretching luxuriously on the bed. ‘Who smuggled that in for you?'

‘Jesus Christ,' I say, catching a glimpse of the label. Krug Clos D'Ambonnay—1995, no less. ‘That stuff must be three or four grand a bottle.'

‘Your sister,' he tells Darcy, ‘and the guys. This one is courtesy of your Alchemy family.'

He aims that last part at me, watching to see if it lands, and does it ever. That they've all been waiting in the wings for me to take this flying leap does something to my heart. The boys held space and compassion for me on the golf course the other day. I thought of their words all day, actually, while I was gearing up to talk to my parents.

Their incredibly generous gesture is a solid reminder that when your blood relations don't have it in them to love you in the way you need, there are friends standing in the wings, ready to accept you for who you are.

Max bestows a fleeting kiss to my lips before turning to Darcy and dribbling champagne all over her torso. She squeals and then lets out a volley of giggles, and this time I don't need him to spell out the invitation. I'm on that bed, catching the liquid with upward licks of her torso before taking as much of her breast in my mouth as I can.

‘Mmm,' I mutter against her skin. ‘So fucking delicious.'

‘God, this is hot,' she says on a sigh.

‘Good,' Max says. ‘Dex. Feed her some champagne.'

He holds out the bottle to me. I grab it by the neck and take a swig before bending and kissing Darcy, letting the cool nectar drip through from my lips to hers, slowly, so she doesn't choke on it. She moans a little as she swallows it, her lips cool and slick, her tongue moving against mine as the bubbles fizz and pop, and I rub my hand over the back of Max's neck as he sucks on her champagne-soaked skin.

It's so decadent, doing this. The three of us, sharing a four-figure bottle of champagne off Darcy's tits, the rest of the evening stretching ahead, promising languid exploration and slow, sensual fucking. Nothing off the table. Knowing that everything we do will be filthy as fuck and most definitely not a sin.

I've finally given myself permission to revel in the sheer debauchery of it all without judging it as anything other than three consenting adults loving the fuck out of each other's bodies.

Maybe they should have named this place Hedonism.

We play.We play a lot. Tonight feels less about a race to the finish line and more about enjoying every second of the journey. Easy for me to say, perhaps, given I've already shot my load once. But Max and Darcy seem on board too. There's no rush. There's only time, and skin, and mouths, and hands.

I've ended up with a woman more sparkling, more carefree, more devoted than I could possibly have envisaged, and a man who?—

What can I possibly say about Max? That I've ended up with a man at all still has the power to take my breath away. That I've ended up with the most intelligent, driven, domineering, passionate, generous man I've ever met is a gift I'll never again allow myself to jeopardise.

They're both one in a million. I can't begin to calculate the odds of being loved by both of them.

My eyes meet Max's over Darcy's naked body. We have our beautiful girlfriend on her hands and knees for us, and she's teasing my cock with her tongue as she takes Max in her pussy. It should be nice and wet—he just made her come with his tongue.

I've got her long hair, curlier than usual from her up-do, wound softly around one fist to keep it off her face and the other wrapped around my cock so I can feed it to her. I shudder in deep bliss as she licks around my crown, and Max laughs, sliding his hands lovingly over her hips and arse as those blue, relentless eyes stay fixed on my face.

‘Try not to do quite such a good job, sweetheart. He's already had one expert blowjob tonight. We want him to last.'

She giggles around my cock and dials her licking back a little, and I sigh.

‘It's hard to last when you're so fucking beautiful. And I want to kiss you, too.' This is the problem. I want everything—I want her sinful little mouth everywhere. On my dick. On my mouth. All over my skin.

‘Okay,' Max barks, releasing her hips and sliding out of her as she makes a disappointed little mmph around my dick. ‘New position. Dex is going in the middle. Darce, baby, get on your back.'