Taking a breath, he watched her face, seeking signs of understanding, of acceptance. His heart, quietly fierce in its affection for both of his dear friends, feared the potential loss that such truth-telling might bring. But it was a risk he was willing to take.
“Please understand that my concern stems from a desire to protect what is precious among us. We cannot continue to treat what we’ve recently enjoyed as if it’s a game.
You are not a prize—” He stopped, realizing what he’d said, and chuckled.
“Of course you are a prize. What you are not is a trinket to be passed about.”
Xenia’s brow creased, a shadow of hurt flickering across her delicate features before she caught herself. Her eyes darkened and her lips parted slightly, her breath catching. Then she offered a seductive smile that went straight to his cock. “And what if I enjoy being passed about?”
Another shot to his groin. “Don’t misunderstand me.
I’ve enjoyed every stolen moment, every shared glance, the laughter we’ve found in each other’s company.
But I fear what our being pitted against each other might do to our friendship.
And how those resulting emotions might reflect on how we feel about you. ”
Simon’s heart thrummed in his chest, a steady drumbeat urging him forward. He took a breath, steadying himself for the proposal he hoped would bind them closer rather than drive a wedge between their hearts.
“Consider this,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers, leaning forward and placing his hand on her knee. “A relationship between the three of us, one where neither you nor Owen nor I must hide the depth of our affections. Where jealousy has no quarter because we share in something far greater.”
Her eyes widened at the boldness of his suggestion, but no fear showed there—only curiosity and perhaps a flicker of hope.
“We’ve grown up together, entwined our lives in such a way that unraveling it now would leave each of us less than whole.
I don’t wish to force your hand, dear Xenia, nor ask you to choose between two halves of your heart.
” Simon’s gaze was unwavering. “Unless, of course, you’ve already formed a preference for one of us. ”
He let that statement hang in the room, noticing how Owen’s brows knitted together. If she preferred one over the other, the damage was unavoidable.
Xenia licked her lips and reached for her teacup as if just now noticing it. She sipped quietly, not meeting their gazes.
Simon took the lack of response with hope, and continued, trying to choose words that focused on what she gained, not the lascivious desires he and Owen shared.
“Let us three create a bond that honors all facets of our connection, that respects the friendship that is the very foundation of our... predilections.”
The silence that followed was thick with contemplation, the air charged with the potential of uncharted territories being mapped out in their midst. Simon could see the gears turning behind Xenia’s eyes as she considered what he said.
Owen’s brow still showed the lines of concern.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasping one another tightly.
“We can’t venture into this lightly, Simon.
There’s much at stake—our reputations, Xenia’s good name.
What of the rules that will govern us? How do we ensure that what we share with her doesn’t become a poison in our friendship?
I still see the possibility of jealousy if she spends more time with one of us.
Will she give us a schedule when we may lie with her?
Or will we only be allowed to pleasure her at the same time? What of her wishes?”
Simon drew back and nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of Owen’s words. “I have considered such things. I trust Xenia to guide us in setting boundaries that will safeguard all our hearts. She knows us both—knows our spirits—and will not steer us toward ruin.”
“Discretion is paramount,” Simon continued. “Our trysts must be cloaked in utmost secrecy, for if word were to spread, it would spell disaster not only for Xenia.”
His gaze shifted between Owen and Xenia, seeking affirmation. “It is a delicate balance we seek, but not an impossible one. We are three people aligned by affection and respect. With care and honesty, we can navigate this path without tarnishing the honor of any party.”
Simon drew a deep breath and waited, but neither of his companions spoke.
Had he gone too far in his desire to regulate their assignations?
He glanced at Xenia, her eyes bright with a curious blend of emotions, and then to Owen, who sat with a thoughtful, guarded expression, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Let us consider a more... private arrangement.” Simon’s belly warmed with the vision of Xenia spread au naturel on his blanket.
He would miss seeing her thus. “My residence is discreet enough for our meetings. No one would think anything odd if they saw either of you going there. I suggest we gather there on Sundays when we would normally be fishing.”
He watched Xenia’s expression carefully, noting the faintest flutter of her lashes, before turning his gaze to Owen. His chest was tight, making it hard to draw a breath. What if she turned him down? What if she wanted Owen alone?
“Sunday at your house?” Owen echoed, uncrossing his arms, his posture signaling his contemplation of the prospect. “That would be sensible, as much as I hate to limit our time together to once a week. It will soon be too cold for disrobing by the riverside, anyway.”
The corners of Simon’s mouth lifted slightly in relief. “It will provide us with the discretion we require and the comfort Xenia deserves.”
Xenia leaned back against the sturdy oak chair, her fingers playing with the edge of the ribbon adorning her gown, the black curls that had escaped her bun framing her face in a way that suggested innocence but belied the mischief in her eyes.
“You know, I never imagined our little adventures would lead us here, to this moment of... negotiating affections.”
“Neither did I,” Simon admitted. The surrounding air seemed charged now, not with tension, but with an anticipatory thrill.
“Shall we seal this new arrangement with a kiss, then?” Xenia proposed, her suggestion bold as it was flirtatious. She stood up, the fabric of her gown hugging her curves, the gesture pulling Simon’s gaze from her lips—full and inviting—to her round breasts.
He watched her as she stepped in front of him, her movements deliberate and unapologetically sensual. Her hand reached out, fingertips barely grazing his jaw before she turned her attention to Owen.
“Xenia,” Simon growled, reminding himself now wasn’t the time for lovemaking.
But Xenia’s intentions were clear. The playful glint in her eye transformed into something more fervent, a reflection of her own desires. “Why not express our... mutual fondness properly? It’s only fitting, given our decision.”
Her words, brazen and filled with intent, left no doubt what or whom she wanted in that moment. She was eager to have them both again.
He glanced at Owen, who watched the interaction with intensity, before speaking.
“Xenia, it would be remiss of us to indulge in such... pleasantries without considering our other obligations. Owen has his forge to attend to, and I,” he paused, fabricating urgency within his own schedule, “have matters of estate to oversee.”
Owen nodded his agreement, though his gaze lingered on Xenia with an unmistakable hint of regret.
Steeling his resolve while trying to mentally damper his cock, Simon continued, gently steering the conversation toward a more stable ground. “Though our hearts are aligned, we must also heed the call of our daily endeavors.”
Xenia’s lips curved into an acquiescing smile. She sighed and stepped back.
“Let’s meet on Sunday,” Owen proposed. “At Simon’s, where we may discuss the matter further... and in as much detail as possible. We might even review your preferences for certain acts.”
Simon nearly groaned as visions of certain acts he still looked forward to flashed vividly in his thoughts. For all his years of learning to control his demeanor, Xenia was a taxing challenge. “Sunday.”
“Sunday,” Xenia echoed, her voice laced with anticipation. “It shall be our day.”
The men stood, and Simon placed Xenia’s hand on his arm. “I’ll escort you home. We’ll leave Owen to his work.”
While his mind sighed with relief that the handling of this matter had ended in satisfaction all around, the rest of his body wished for a deeper satisfaction, the kind he only found buried fully inside Xenia’s warm, wet sheath. Three days. He only need wait three days.