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LOGAN

“That’s fine.” Kora Neville scrolls on her iPad. I caught her outside her office as she locked up to head home for the evening. “What about this special request for next Sunday?”

“The FMF threesome?” It seems so far off, and it’s hard to imagine I’ll be back to my normal routine by then. “Can I have ‘til tomorrow to decide whether to accept that one?”

“Of course.” Tucking her iPad in her bag, she holds out a hand as Sybil strolls up with her sex-rumpled curls and a smile.

Threading her fingers through her wife’s, Kora continues.

“Let me know by E.O.B. tomorrow if I should recommend another consort for that one. The guest won’t arrive until Friday, so we have a few days to make alternate arrangements. ”

Sybil kisses Kora’s cheek with a loud smack before turning to me. “Bailing on guests now, are we?”

I don’t miss the meaningful look she’s giving me. We both know it’s rare that I turn down any enchantments. “Just making some adjustments,” I tell her.

Sybil nods with a smirk. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the guest in 16 and that lethal-looking guy she smuggled into the resort?”

I open my mouth to respond but Kora beats me to it. “Logan is entitled to privacy.” She gives me a look that’s equal parts kind and professional. “He doesn’t owe us his personal information.”

“Nah,” Sybil says, “but it’s fun to worm it out of him.”

Rolling my eyes, I reach out and give her a firm smack on the ass. She shrieks and pretends to hide behind Kora.

“I know that look,” Sybil says, laughing as she dodges my next attempt. “It’s the same look I had one week into enchanting a guest who never quite left.”

“Very funny.” I glance at Kora, wondering if it’s weird to have their origin story tossed around like this. “Maybe I just need time off.

“Whatever you say, smitten boy.”

“Brat.” I’d swat her again, but she’s still behind Kora.

Grinning, Sybil ducks out of her hiding place and presents her backside with a playful wiggle.

“Want to follow us home and smack my ass some mor—Oh, hey there!” She’s waving at someone, and I look up to see Sara approaching.

Her hair floats loose around her shoulders and she’s holding her sandals by the straps.

The look on her face isn’t envy, exactly, but maybe a little bewildered. I start to explain, but as usual, Sybil gets there first.

“I’m Sybil,” she says as she sticks out her hand. “You must be Sara.”

“I—yes.” She glances at me with a bit more confusion.

“Camille asked me to look out for you,” Sybil supplies. “Not in a naked way, though I’m up for that if you are.”

Sara’s eyes widen as Kora looks pained by her wife’s brash greeting. I hold out an arm and Sara steps into my embrace. Her hair smells like marshmallow and I’m hit with a primitive urge to devour her on the spot.

“Welcome to my world.” I plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “Only in the Jilted Brides universe is it acceptable to smack your boss’s wife’s ass while discussing your work schedule.”

“Acceptable?” Sybil laughs. “Honey, it’s encouraged .”

“Hello again, Sara.” Always a polished professional, Kora greets our guest. “Please allow me to apologize for the fact that my staff can sometimes behave like wild animals.”

I can’t resist trumpeting like an elephant while Sybil flails her arms and makes monkey sounds. On a branch right behind her, the CEO’s parrot flaps his wings and squawks.

“ Fellatio! ” he shouts. “ Fellatio! ”

Sara looks up at the tree. “Is that McFly?”

“Yep,” I say. “Camille must’ve mentioned him?”

“She did.” Her gaze shifts to Sybil and she blushes. “And I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sybil smiles. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Oh, um—very good.” Her cheeks turn a little bit pink. “Sorry to interrupt. Were you guys in a meeting?”

“Nah, we’re just finishing up.” I could stand here all day with my arm around Sara. “Where’s Trent?”

“He’s teaching another S.C.U.B.A. lesson.” She looks at her watch, which gives me a chance to admire the delicate curve of her wrist. “He should be done soon. I told him to come find me on the beach.”

Kora lifts a hand. “We’ll let you go. Nice seeing you again, Ms. Chavez.”

Sara smiles. “You, too.”

“Logan—you’ll be in touch about the schedule?”

“Yep. Thanks for the flexibility.”

“I’m flexible, too.” Sybil wiggles her eyebrows at Sara before turning to me. “Let me know if you need any help juggling your schedule. I might not have all the same equipment, but I’ve got one helluva strap-on collection.”

“And on that note…” With another fond eye roll, Kora catches her wife’s hand again. “We’re heading home now. Have a lovely evening, you two. Enjoy your beach walk.”

“Thank you.” Sara watches them go, then studies my face. “Have you had sex with both of them, or just Sybil?”

I admire the bluntness of her question. It’s not judgey or jealous, just curious. I’m not sure the Sara I met last week would have asked it like that—or at all, for that matter.

“I’ve only had sex with Sybil,” I say. “And just in the context of FMF enchantments.”

“I see.” Sara brushes her hair from her face. “Camille said they do stuff as a couple with other partners.”

“That’s true, and some other consorts join them occasionally.” I shrug. “Not really my thing. Kora’s the boss, so I always felt kinda weird about it.”

“I think I might, too.” A soft gust whips some more hair in her eyes, and this time it’s me who brushes it back. “What about the strap-on?”

I watch as her cheeks turn a tiny bit pink. “Are you asking if Sybil’s ever pegged me, or how I feel in general about pegging?”

“I guess both.” Sara’s face goes from pink to bright crimson. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer. I’m just being nosy.”

“I don’t mind.” Catching her hand, I start toward the beach. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all.”

Holding her hand feels natural, but I want to make sure she’s okay with it. “Is this all right?” I ask, squeezing her fingers.

“Of course.” A light little laugh slips out of her. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Uh, thanks?” I make sure to throw her a smile so she knows I’m just teasing .

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She wiggles her fingers against mine. “Just that it feels so easy and normal, you know?”

“Yeah.” I definitely do.

As we pick our way across the pool deck, I circle back to her question. “I’ve done my fair share of pegging enchantments, with Sybil and others.” I shouldn’t assume she knows what that means. “That means I’ve been on the receiving end of a dildo attached to a harness.”

“I kinda figured.” A nervous giggle slips out of her. “Camille used the term pegging a while ago and I looked it up. I was just curious how you felt about butt stuff.”

“I’m highly in favor of butt stuff.” Swinging our linked hands between us, I lead us down the stairs to the sand. “And before you ask, I’m cool with being on the giving or receiving end, whether it’s a strap-on or a flesh-and-blood?—”

“Oh.” There’s a sharp intake of breath and I glance over to see that she’s blushing again. “It’s funny, I asked Trent about this the other day.”

“About butt stuff?”

“Yes.” It’s not physically possible for her face to get redder, but she forges ahead like a trooper. “It isn’t something he’s done before. I mean—he’s only been with that one other guy, but I guess they didn’t do that.”

Interesting. “Is he…opposed to the idea?”

“I don’t think so.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “He sounds kinda intrigued, but a little unsure.”

“Oh yeah?” I’m keeping my voice as even as possible, not letting on that I’m curious as hell. “What’s behind the hesitation?”

“Probably his dad.”

An electric jolt rattles my bones. If Trent was sexually abused by his father, that explains some of his hangups. “Did his father, uh?—”

“No! God, no. That’s not what I meant.” She nibbles her lip like she does when she’s nervous. “It’s just—that was his dad’s favorite slur, you know? If Mr. James wanted to insult somebody, he’d suggest they liked to—you know.” Blushing again, she shoots me a desperate look.

“Get fucked in the ass? Banged up the butt?” It feels like I’m playing a bad game of charades.

“Yes, and worse language than that.” She gnaws on her poor lip again.

“From the time Trent was little, that was the insult Mr. James would hurl at him. Didn’t make first string on the football team his freshman year?

Must be a fan of having his fudge packed.

” She blanches. “I’m sorry. That was crude.

I’m only repeating what he said because it’s so awful.

And I think it kinda stuck in Trent’s head. ”

This explains so much about Trent. I feel for the guy, I do. “It’s hard for me to wrap my head around a parent who’d intentionally insult their kid. That’s emotional abuse.”

“Oh, for sure. And it’s how Trent grew up.” Her small hand twitches in mine. “I shouldn’t talk about him when he’s not here. Maybe it’s not part of the Marshmallow Mandate, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“I hear ya.”

“Let’s change the subject, okay?”

“Sure, of course.” I’m not ready to ditch the subject of families completely. It’s fascinating stuff. “Your parents weren’t cruel like that, were they?”

“No, definitely not.” She sounds relieved to shift to happier topics. “My parents were strict but loving. Family first, always. That’s a big deal with us.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was. My sisters and I had a pretty idyllic childhood. I guess that’s why I’m so eager for a family of my own.” There’s that hand twitch again, like she’s thinking of something that makes her uncomfortable. “Do you want kids, Logan?”

“Hell yeah.”

She laughs like that surprises her. “Really? ”

“Of course.” That’s an easy one. “I want a whole damn army of rugrats spilling soup on the carpet and begging for piggyback rides. I’ll read the ever lovin’ fuck out of bedtime stories.”

She laughs as her fingers relax. “I think I saw that in a parenting manual.”