Page 31 of Always Alchemy

I want other things, too.

‘There we go,’ he says finally, tugging at the tie and training that intense blue stare back on my face. He pauses. ‘You’re a fucking vision.’

We stand there, drinking each other in.

‘I want to show you,’ I mutter brokenly, reaching between us to cup him between his legs. ‘I want to taste your cum in my mouth when I’m saying my vows.’

Really, I want to feel the painful shadows of his dick in my ass and his scratches down my back and his bites on myneck, my shoulders, but we both promised Darcy faithfully that we’d keep the battle scars forafterthe most important event of our lives.

I’ve said it before, but Max and I are animals together. We cannot leave each other the fuck alone. I asked Darcy once if it bothered her, if she felt jealous, and she screamed with laughter. ‘Jesus Christ, no,’ she said. ‘You’re doing me a favour. Knock yourselves out. You honestly think I could keep the two of you satisfied at that level by myself? I’d be crippled and incontinent, probably. Having fifty percent of each of you is just about all I can manage.’

I’d say she takes us both beautifully, but I get it. If Max and I use each other to fuck out our respective insatiability and keep the best bits for Darcy, then I can live with myself and the dynamics of this relationship.

Max hardens, predictable as clockwork, under my hand. ‘Is that right, you pretty, perfect thing?’

‘You know it is. And I know you wouldn’t have it any other way, either.’ I grin cheekily, closing the rest of the gap between us and whispering in his ear as I massage his thickening cock. ‘So you don’t like it when a man touches you, eh?’

They’re the words he said to me that day in my former office as he hauled me up against the wall and palmedmycock.

His hand comes around my neck, quick as a flash. ‘I only like it whenyoutouch me. Get on your knees like the shameless little slut you are and get my dick out. Quick. Darcy?Darce.We need you.’

‘Coming!’ she cries from the bathroom, where she’s applying her makeup. A professional stylist has been in to do her hair this morning—now back to the glossy auburn colour it was when we met—but she insisted on doing herown makeup. Not that she needs much, in my opinion, with that perfect skin and golden tan, the light dusting of freckles that so captivated me that first time at Alchemy adorning her nose and cheekbones.

As I get to my knees like my new husband’s good little slut, I glance at the vision approaching us. Our fiancée’s hair is loose and artfully curled to look natural. Small white flowers—gardenias, I believe, based on the portions of floral discussions from which I managed not to zone out—adorn her hair like little stars. She’s barefoot and in her wedding gown, and Christ alive.

She is positively celestial. At the very least, she looks like the most ethereal member of fae royalty.

I pause with my fingers on Max’s flies as we both gape at our bride.

‘Fucking hell, sweetheart,’ he mutters.

She halts a few feet away. I think our intense stares have made her suddenly self-conscious. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it?’ I go to rise, but Max holds me where I am with an imperious hand on my shoulder. ‘You look like an angel. You look—otherworldly. Doesn’t she, Max?’

‘You’ve always been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but today you’re like nothing else on earth,’ he says, his voice strangled.

It’s true. I’ve seen her gown—it’s been hanging in the giant closet in this suite all week. There’s nothing conventional about this relationship, so we haven’t bothered with traditions such as sequestering the wedding dress—or the blushing bride, for that matter—away from the grooms.

The dress is a gorgeous, gauzy thing, but seeing it on our fiancée’s insane, dance-honed body is another experience entirely. It’s only now I realise that, while the bottom half may be long and ethereal, the top half is pretty fucking tiny.It’s completely backless, and the front swoops far below her breasts.

Max holds out a hand, and I watch from my low vantage point as she steps forward to take it.

‘Look at you guys,’ she says, a dreamy smile creeping over her face as her gaze darts between the two of us. ‘God. I can’t believe I’m getting youboth. This is crazy, right?’

She slides a hand around my neck as she squeezes Max’s hand. He releases it and hooks her towards him with an arm around her waist.

‘Dex is going to suck me off, but I need your cunt,’ he orders her, and Jesus Christ how I love this, how Ilivefor Max orchestrating these filthy little moments between the three of us, playing us like a puppet master.

I slide a hand up the silken skin of Darcy’s leg, bunching the gauzy fabric as I do. When I reach the top, I cup her glorious arse before feeling between her cheeks. ‘She’s bare,’ I inform Max like the good little soldier I am. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Darcy is definitelynotthe virginal underwear type of bride, nor is she the sexy underwear type. Our girl is the happy-go-lucky, easy access type.

‘Good,’ he barks. ‘Take me out.’

I wait until he’s secured the handful of frothy fabric from me before unzipping and unbuckling him. He’s straining at his boxer briefs—as am I, believe me. When I tug the elasticated waistband down, he springs out, hard and hot and ready for my mouth.

A glance upwards shows me that Darcy’s draping the fabric of her skirt over one arm, holding it high enough that her smooth pussy is accessible to both of us and widening her stance. I hum my approval before wrapping my fingers around my husband’s cock and sticking my tongue out to lick through his slit.

He bucks. Curses ripely. And once again, the glory of havingthiseffect onthisman floors me.

---