Page 68 of Carnival Mayhem

I find a steady rhythm that has her rocking back, meeting my every thrust.

The drag of the dildo against my dick feels good as it moves in her ass with the rhythm of my thrusts, the way her back arches to take more of me. All of it is perfect.

“Jesus, Flora.” Nash’s voice is wrecked, his fingers tightening in her hair. “Gonna come if you keep that up, little bird.”

She moans around him, sucking him deeper. I grip her hip tighter, my other hand sliding to her clit as I start to pound into her, driving us both toward the edge. “So fucking tight. Come for us, angel. Let us feel every wave of your pleasure.”

She whimpers, and Nash’s hand tightens in her hair as he pushes her down, his hips stuttering as he spills down her throat with a guttural groan. The sound sends Flora off the edge as she spasms around me. Her pussy so fucking tight with the dildo in her ass. I can only imagine how good it will feel with Nash beside me. One more thrust into her, and I come hard, my cock twitching as I mark her, claim her as mine.

We’re both spent, breathing heavily and slowly. I withdraw from her body, my cock still semi-hard. I trail the tips of my fingers along her ass cheek affectionately before withdrawing the dildo.

Nash slides his cock from her mouth, looking at her with a mix of awe and hunger. He pushes her hair back behind her ear, and she meets his gaze, her eyes clear and full of need.

“You’re incredible, Flora. Fucking beautiful.” Nash’s voice is raspy, and he kisses her forehead softly.

She’s smiling at him, her eyes half-lidded as she drops onto her back on the practice mat. I lie down beside her, and she turnsto me, her eyes bright and soft, and my chest aches. Her smile is warm as she reaches out, caressing my face softly.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Both of you.” A stray tear rolls down her cheek.

Nash mirrors my position on her other side. I glance at him, knowing he’s feeling the same mix of emotions that I am. It’s not just sex anymore; there’s an emotional bond that’s formed.

We lie there for a while, the three of us enjoying the afterglow. I run my fingers through Flora’s hair, brushing it back from her face, and she hums softly, nuzzling into my touch. I glance at Nash, seeing the same tenderness in his eyes that I feel, and I know we’re all exactly where we belong.

30

NASH

Iadjust Flora’s costume again, ensuring every strap is secure. The Christmas lights twinkle throughout the big top, creating a magical atmosphere for tonight’s show. My hands tremble slightly as I check her rigging—not because of the performance but what comes after.

“Your form is perfect, little bird,” I whisper, watching her stretch. Her grace in the air has become flawless over these past weeks of training. Even with Colt sidelined by his injury, we’ve created something beautiful.

The tent fills with excited chatter as the audience files in. I catch sight of Colt in the wings, his shoulder wrapped but healing well. He gives us both a subtle nod, signaling everything is in place.

Flora’s breath catches as she spots movement near the back entrance. I squeeze her hand, reminding her she’s safe. We’ve planned this carefully. Tommy and Jake won’t know what hit them when they try their ambush after the show.

“Focus on the performance,” I remind her, though my heart races. “Nothing else exists except you and me in the air.”

The music starts to swell as Tyson’s voice booms through the tent, introducing our act. Flora takes her position on theplatform, her sequined costume catching the spotlight. Despite everything weighing on us, her smile remains genuine as she gazes down at the crowd.

I climb up beside her, checking our rigging one last time. Years of experience tell me everything is secure, but tonight, I take no chances. Not with Flora’s safety on the line.

The familiar pre-show tension coils in my muscles, but it’s different tonight. Usually, I’m only thinking about nailing every move, every transition. My mind keeps drifting to what awaits us after the final bow.

Tyson finishes his introduction. The spotlight finds us. Flora’s hand finds mine as we prepare for our first synchronized drop. Whatever happens later, right now, we have a show to perform.

The music swells as Flora and I move through our first sequence. Her movements mirror mine perfectly—each twist and turn executed with a grace that makes my chest swell with pride at her accomplishment in such a short time with us, though somehow it still feels incomplete.

My eyes drift to Colt on the ground below. He’s watching us intently, his good arm crossed over his chest, the injured one held close to his body. This isn’t right. He should be up here with us, not relegated to spectator, and he will be as soon as he is fully healed.

Flora releases into a perfect split as I catch her wrists. The audience gasps, but I barely notice. I can only focus on how different this feels without Colt’s steady presence. We’ve worked out a beautiful routine, Flora and me, but it’s like performing with only two-thirds of my soul.

The three of us belong together—in the air, on the ground, everywhere. I see it in the way Colt’s free hand clenches by his side, fighting the urge to grab the ropes. I feel it in the slighthesitation before each of Flora’s releases, knowing Colt isn’t there to catch her.

I guide Flora through another sequence, but my mind keeps drifting to what comes after the show. They think they’re the hunters tonight, but Colt and I have prepared. We’ll turn their planned ambush into their worst nightmare. Tommy and Jake won’t know what hit them.

My muscles tense with anticipation as Flora executes another perfect split. Soon enough, those bastards will pay for every mark they left on her, every nightmare. Colt and I have discussed this for weeks, planning each detail. The tools are at the ready in the back of my truck.

Flora transitions into her next pose, trusting me completely. The irony isn’t lost on me—while she performs up here, her tormentors lurk below, thinking they’ll catch her vulnerable after the show.

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