The Discipline

by Jade A. Waters

I touched my chest. “I love you too, Dean.”

  “Good night.”

  “Sweet dreams, when you get there,” I said.

  Once the phone clicked off, I set it on the counter and eyed my pork chops, trying to settle the buzz riding through me.

  We were maybe going to have a threesome.

  Wow.

  I needed to figure out what to make to round out my dinner.

  * * *

  Ansel says yes.

  The text had come in Wednesday night, stopping me midstep at the grocery store. I’d had to pause the push of my cart to contend with the rumble of my stomach, an instant heat filling my cheeks.

  Holy fuck.

  It was going to happen.

  I’d finished my shopping in a cloud, having to go back several times to grab things that my hazy fog had allowed me to forget.

  That same heat rode in me the rest of the week, tangling up with every other feeling I had about our forthcoming Saturday night adventure: excitement, lust, anticipation, nervousness. A touch of uncertainty, too.

  Was this a bad idea?

  Or a really amazing one?

  We’d both been into it months before, but since then, we’d been exploring strictly on our own. Would a third throw things off between us?

  And how would our dynamic work with someone else there?

  Did it not even matter at all?

  I checked in with Dean a few times by phone and text about it. He was slammed, what with the expo followed by the trip to L.A., but the overriding message I got from him on the occasions we did talk was that we’d approach it with open minds and see where it would lead.

  It made sense to me, and it was exactly the push I needed to balance the lob of emotions in my head.

  Because yes, I was bouncing off the walls. I was giddy, aroused and nervous. The fact that my unbelievably sexy boyfriend was open to a sidekick for one night, one who hit every attraction button I used to fall for?

  Yeah, that kept me up late a couple of nights, breeding many wild fantasies while I touched myself before bed.

  But there was no telling how it would go, which was what made me mildly anxious. Dean knowing Ansel was a comforting detail to contrast our last attempt. Other than our wonky experience, I’d never had a threesome, never mind with someone I loved. We were both about exploring—but would this be okay for us after spending all this time exclusive as we were?

  Let’s meet and see how it feels. We don’t have to if we’re not into it.

  They were Dean’s words, and I kept playing them in my head, just in case.

  Deep down, I hoped that wouldn’t be how it happened, though. I wanted it to work out.

  Saturday morning, I woke up revved. I needed to calm down, so I spent the day doing things to both dote on myself and ease the rampant curiosity flooding my thoughts. The sun was out as a pleasant counter to the chilly bite in the air, inspiring me to grab a long run first thing. I took care not to go too far lest I exhaust myself for whatever would come later, and after, I headed out for a mani-pedi, choosing a matching maroon shade for both my fingers and toes. Dean hadn’t ever paid much fuss to what I did to either, but the opportunity felt ripe for such things. I used this same excuse to take myself out for new heels, a strappy beige stiletto pair that glittered with rhinestones. Pairing the shoes with a slinky red dress that Dean had never seen me wear, I hoped the combination would blow both his and Ansel’s minds.

  So that in return, they could potentially blow mine.

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face after I dressed. I felt sensual and sexy, more than usual somehow, like opening up to this possibility allowed me to sauce it up more. Two men, twice the amp—I don’t know if that was it, but something was going on. I found reasons to futz with my hair a few minutes more, eventually getting around to a rare spritz of perfume and finalizing my makeup with a brush of mascara. But the buzz of my phone interrupted me with a new message from Dean.

  Pulling in. See you soon.

  I paused to type back. Almost done. Door unlocked. Come on in.

  Quickly, I finished combing the hair I’d straightened earlier and pitched over the counter to apply my mascara. I heard the opening of my front door a minute later, then Dean’s voice calling out, “Maya?”

  “Back here! Finishing up. Come in!”

  I straightened as he reached my bedroom doorway, because his reflection in my mirror arrested my heart. He wore a gray-blue tailored suit, and in it, he looked elegant, handsome, tall—everything that had drawn me to him the second I’d met him all those months ago. He’d smoothed his dark hair close to his head, and when he gazed at me, the potent look in his eyes intoxicated on its own.

  “Unbelievable,” he said. He sidled behind me, tracing his fingers over the series of narrow crisscrossing strands that made up the back of my dress, save for the one horizontal swatch over my bra strap. The near strings carried down to my waist, where the dress gathered and clung before flaring halfway down my thighs in a showy display that contrasted the modestly cut front. “Jesus. You went for the kill.”

  I whirled around in his arms and Dean took in the entirety of the dress with a sway of his head. “What do you think?”

  “I love it. You’re a temptress. A goddess.” He leaned in to kiss me, his lips thick, sexy. His tongue whirled with mine so deliciously that my eyelids fluttered. When he drew back, his lips parted.

  “You look incredible, too.” I snaked my arms around his waist and buried my nose in his neck to inhale the scent of him. I could breathe him in forever.

  Dean flattened his palms along my back, like he was testing it from top to bottom. Finally, he said, “You look so good, I almost want to keep you to myself.”

  “Wow. That good, huh?” I angled back to see his face. His expression didn’t reveal much, and I rubbed his side. “Hey. Are...we sure?”

  Dean gave a curt nod. “The drinks will be good. We can see how we feel. If we want to proceed.”

  “Right.”

  He slid his fingertips up to my chin, lifting it to stare into my eyes. The blue in his reflected the lights of my vanity.

  I smiled. I’m so fucking lucky.

  “Besides, it’s just sex.” Dean kissed me again, his lips fast to mine and his arms secure around my waist.

  I fell into him as he trapped me between his hips and the vanity, his tongue deep in my mouth. Just sex. Yes. The force of his kiss surprised me, and I sucked in air when he eased a hand up my thigh and under my dress. “Hey...” I pulled away to watch his face, his fingers sneaking up faster, tracing along the edge of my panties. He tucked them inside to graze my clit before I whispered, “Are you trying to mess up my outfit?”

  “I’m not.” His fingers teased, tantalized. “I can’t help but touch you, though. Remind you you’re mine...”

  I chuckled and laid a soft kiss on his lips. “There’s no question.” I caught his hand, dragging it out and up, then kissed the heel of his palm. “If you start that, I have a feeling we might not leave.”

  He didn’t say anything until I wrapped my arms around him and clutched him tight. He seemed to break from his spell when he took my hands, holding them behind his back. “If it happens, I want to control it. I want to be sure you’re safe.”

  “Okay.” His fingertips caressed and smoothed. He brushed my forehead with a kiss. “I love you.”

  “You too.”

  “Should we go?”

  “Probably,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. I only have to grab my coat.”

  “All right.”

  We left my room, and while I dug my coat out of the closet, Dean grabbed the small overnight bag I’d set by the door before we walked out to his car. It was dark out already, with a major chill in the air tonight. Once we were i
n the car and on our drive into the city, I watched the moon up in the sky, the mounting pressure bubbling in me, even through our casual conversation about our jobs and the fluctuation of the weather that week. The feeling hadn’t subdued when we checked in at the hotel to drop off our things. By the time we made our way to the glamorous restaurant on the top floor of the retro building and exited the elevator onto the gold-rugged walkway to the bar, the steady percussion of my heart was almost all I could hear.

  That, and Dean’s voice. “Coming?”

  I followed him to the central bar, taking in the star-painted dome ceiling, and the dining area shrouded in the light of dim, decorative candles topping the tables that surrounded the circular bar floor. The place was beautiful, but I was more captivated by Dean and the press of his body when he tugged me into his side. He wouldn’t take his eyes off me once we reached a high table and he fingered the top button of my coat.

  “May I?”

  “Yes.”

  He unbuttoned me like he was unwrapping a present, his fingers slipping each button loose in deliberate slowness. The clamor of my thoughts drowned out the bustle of the bar, as did the look in his eyes—it was pensive, heavy. Dark and longing. Once I’d removed my coat and Dean pulled my stool out for me, I climbed on, noting his slight wince as I crossed one leg over the other and propped my cheek on my hand.

  “Are you going to sit?”

  “I am...” He raked his eyes over my legs, and a shiver passed through my torso. He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say, instead flashing me a smile and taking his seat when a server came over to take our drink order. The server wandered away after I asked for wine and Dean requested a scotch and soda, and Dean took out his phone. “I’ll see where he is.”

  “Okay.”

  He tapped out a message, then reached out for my hand. “How do you feel?”

  I wet my lips. “Excited. But nervous.”

  “Are you?”

  I nodded. “Are you?”

  Dean thought about this while he stroked the back of my hand. “It’s your fantasy and I want you happy, but we play it by ear. Nothing happens that you don’t want, okay?” He scooped both my hands into his, his gaze concentrated.

  “All right.”

  Our drinks arrived quickly, and we each took a sip, the graze of Dean’s fingers soothing the simmer of my veins. My nerves already felt alight, live wires whipping over the surface of my skin.

  “When you two did this in the past, did you ever come here?”

  “No. Nothing quite this fancy.”

  “Did you do it a lot?”

  Dean shrugged. “A few times.”

  I sipped my wine again. “I almost feel like I’m at a disadvantage, since you’ve done this with him before.”

  “You do?”

  “A little.”

  “It’s different, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my girlfriend.” This, he said in the gruff tone I craved. I leaned closer.

  “Did you two ever do it with a girlfriend?”

  Dean’s face was serious. “Once.”

  I considered this for a moment, wondering if it was Kendra before I recalled that he’d said she hadn’t been into his kinky interests. But I wanted to know more. “How did it—”

  His phone vibrated on the table. Dean grabbed it to read the incoming message. “He’s on his way up.”

  Goose bumps shocked my arms.

  This was happening.

  Dean lifted my hand and drew my fingers up. He pressed them to his lips, kissing the tips, and when he gingerly lowered them back down to the table surface, he said, “I want you happy.”

  I tilted my head. He’d said that already. Did he think I wasn’t? I’d proposed this idea, but maybe it was his way of checking in? “I am,” I said, curious.

  He said, “All right,” and we weren’t sitting there much longer before I sensed someone at my elbow by the scent of a strong, appealing cologne. When I looked up, there Ansel stood, grinning at the two of us.

  Jesus.

  I hadn’t been blind to how attractive he was when we’d met at Christmas, but under the circumstances, I noticed it more strongly. Because it’s sanctioned. I tried to keep my inhalation light. Like Dean, Ansel was toned and muscular, but bigger, broader, almost huskier, with thick arms that struggled to fit beneath his brown suit. I remembered one was covered in tats, something I’d forever been a sucker for, and the temptation of what might lay ahead made my heart thump. Ansel had these strong cheekbones and a small, round nose. When he smiled, his lips looked kissable and full. All this beneath a pair of bright green eyes lined with long eyelashes the color of his loose, dirty-blond hair...he could have graced the cover of a sexy surfer magazine. He was a completely different type of attractive than Dean, but he was hot.

  Real damn hot.

  “Hey, guys. Dean.” Ansel stuck out his hand. Dean took it before the two of them connected in a loose hold, and I had a second to muse over these two stunning men in their past close contacts.

  “Good to see you,” Dean said.

  Ansel reached his hand out for mine. “Maya. Nice to see you again. You look...” I slipped my hand into his, trying not to be as aware of the size of it as I was, or by the firm grip of his fingers around mine. “Beautiful. Dean is a lucky, lucky man.”

  My face flushed, but Ansel didn’t take his eyes off me; neither did Dean, as if he were taking stock of every little move before him. “Thank you,” I said in a near whisper. “It’s good to see you, too. You look nice.”

  Ansel hadn’t released my hand. He leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I got a stronger whiff of him—a mix of vanilla and citrus with a woodsy, earthy smell beneath it. The scent was contradictory to Dean’s, yet intriguing in its own right.

  “You two been here long?” Ansel took the third stool at the table. He gestured around. “Killer bar.”

  “Not long,” Dean said, before sipping at his drink. I took a sip from my own, startled by the lodge of my tongue in the back of my throat. This had been my idea, but now that it was happening, I couldn’t help get tripped up on the prospect. My skin felt on fire, my pussy wet. Already wet.

  Because these two? Together?

  I smiled at Ansel right as the waiter circled over from a table he’d been at not too far away, and Ansel ordered a gin and tonic. When he folded his hands on the table, the shoulders of his suit jacket creased in a strain against his shape, a testament to a body better suited in casual wear.

  Or naked.

  I lowered my drink. I needed to cool it. “So, Dean tells me you’re in construction. Is that right?”

  “Pretty much. I’m a sheet metal contractor. It’s straightforward.”

  “But necessary,” Dean said.

  “Not as exciting as what Dean here does.” Ansel leaned onto his forearms, and his nearness alongside Dean’s with the small diameter of the table lured me in. The hair at the back of my neck stood at high alert. I uncrossed my legs and recrossed them, staying attentive while Ansel kept talking. “Basically, I spend the day cutting, fabricating, measuring, installing, blah, blah, blah. It pays the bills. I’m more into my off time.” His drink arrived, and he thanked the waiter before he disappeared, then toasted us both. “You’re in social work, right? How’s that?”

  “I am. I love it.” I told him about the job. Once I finished my summary, I peered at Dean. I’d seen him pensive, but this—this was intense. He kept his cards close to his chest. I wondered how much of that was normal when these two had shared what they had in the past, versus how much was because of me.

  Us.

  “Did you two work together, or...?” I thumbed the side of my glass. “How’d you meet?”

  “Evan,” Ansel said. Dean nodded. “Evan and I knew each
other from a poker group.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Dean and I had some shared job sites, then we kept running in the same circles since me and Evan used to kick it.”

  “And we sailed together a few times,” Dean said.

  “Yeah. I sailed back then. Not much anymore. Evan took me out with him a lot. He got all those rentals working for the school.”

  “I see.” What I wanted to say was, And how, exactly, did you and Dean start fucking women together? But I couldn’t figure out how to work that in. Ansel continued and I almost got a hint.

  “Those were the days, huh, Dean? You and Niko, man.” He jutted his chin in Dean’s direction but turned back to me. “Has he told you about him and Niko? The condo the two of them kept here in San Francisco? Every night was a party.”

  “Lots of ladies?” I teased.

  At this, Dean chuckled. “Lots of everything—drinking, stupidity.”

  “But definitely women. Their house was the place to be. Niko was the shit.”

  “I’m not surprised. I met him New Year’s Eve. He’s got a gift, it’s clear.”

  Ansel lowered his drink. “You met Niko? Wow. Dean is into you.” He met Dean’s eyes. “I didn’t realize you two were that serious.” The halt in the conversation loomed loud against the chatter wafting through the restaurant. It almost looked like Ansel smirked.

  Dean jumped in. “Weren’t you dating... Melody, was it? For a while there?”

  I relaxed, since Dean had gotten so quiet it’d almost thrown me off.

  Ansel shook his head and took a swig of his drink, crunching on an ice cube before he began. “Dude. That was a disaster.” He widened his shocking green eyes. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression here, Maya—I’m a nice guy. Melody and I dated for over two years, even moved in together. I almost proposed. I loved that woman, but she was a train wreck.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Daddy issues, money issues.” He glanced at Dean. “Drug issues.”

  “Seriously?” Dean said.

  “Yes.” Ansel took a big swig of his drink before setting the half empty glass down. “I’m all for a little experimentation, but it turned out she was snorting on the side.”