Page 30 of Awakening
But every time I come back to the states, I would make my way to Maverick, and he would make his way to me, and we would find each other every time. One text, one glance, and suddenly, no time had passed. He still kisses me like I’m the only man he’s ever loved, and honestly? Maybe I am.
Maybe I always will be.
Sexually Maverick and I always created fireworks. The way we learned each other’s bodies, then each other’s wants, and eventually, our boundaries. Or lack of them.
We were twenty-three the first time it happened. Her name was Tasha. She was fine as hell with a smart mouth, curves for days, and eyes that burned through bullshit. I met her first. I wanted to explore her, taste her, but I refused to betray Maverick, so I told him what I was feeling, and I laid my wants on the table.
Mav and I had already been together 5 years by then. Our love was solid, magnetic, but we always played with the idea of polyamory. We were never quite sure how to define the terms, me being bi and him being gay. I remember the night I tossed out Tasha’s name, him raising an eyebrow, and then that night, everything just aligned.
I remember leaning over to him at the bar and whispering, “If I asked her to come home with us… would you be down?”
He didn’t even blink, just sipped his drink and said, “You’re already asking.”
There was something about the way he was invested in pleasing me, creating space for me to explore and satisfy both sides of my sexual self, because I wanted it and deserved to be fulfilled. That night was the first time I realized love didn’t have to mean limits.
It was never about filling a gap, and we weren’t looking for what we lacked. At other times, it was spontaneous, where I’d lock eyes with a woman who stirred something in me, and Mav would catch the shift in my energy before I even spoke. We were so in tune that he always knew, always listened when I needed room to breathe inside my fluidity.
There were others after Tasha, some of whose names I remember, and some I don’t. The experiences were never just about sex; they were about exploring, unlearningshame, letting desire take up space without apology. Mav never showed any indicator that he was sexually attracted to women outside of threesomes; instead, he showed signs of attraction to erotic experiences that didn’t live within the confines of society’s box of norms.
Maverick never flinched; he never made me choose between who I was, who I loved, and what I desired. He didn’t just tolerate my bisexuality, he embraced it, encouraged it. He never made it a phase or a threat to what we shared, and the more we leaned into that freedom, the more natural it felt. We had long planted the seed for polyamory, but we never fully nurtured it, so it never blossomed into the beauty it could be. The space to say yes to more, to evolve without breaking, had always been present.
People think loving more than one person at a time means you’re not loving deeply enough, but that’s a lie born from fear. I love Maverick with everything in me, and because of that, I planned to love the new life we could choose.
The openness, the honesty, the heat.
Santorini Nights
The hum of the engines settled into a steady rhythm as Maverick and I sank into the plush leather seats of first class. The champagne flute in my hand trembled slightly, though not from turbulence, no, this was pure adrenaline. We were on our way to Santorini to meet Knox, and if I was honest with myself, someone I was deeply curious about. The idea of our polycule growing felt both thrilling and terrifying. Maverick reached over and laced his fingers through mine, his touch providing a sense of calm and comfort as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on my skin, sending a delicious warmth straight to my core.
“You good, gorgeous?”
I smiled, leaning my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath me, "Just excited and nervous as hell.”
As his lips brushed against my temple, lingering there just long enough to make my body hum, he offered me loving assurance, "We're gonna have a great time," he whispered, his voice low, deep, and buttery. If I were honest with myself, the way he said it made my mind wander with possibilities of the nights I might share in Santorini under the moonlit skies with Knox and Maverick.
I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the warm anticipation pooling low in my pussy. Still, when I opened them again, it appeared the devil was busy as I looked intothe eyes of a past that I prayed to stay distant and far the hell away from me.
“Ajaih?”
A voice I once loved with every fiber of my being now sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Colson Hawke. The man who’d shattered my heart into a million pieces and detonated our relationship with one reckless act of betrayal after another.
“Colson,” I replied, the curtness in my voice evident. I had no desire to play calm or cordial; it was always and forever fuck him.
I felt gross as his eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch like he had the right. “Wow, you look amazing. I almost didn’t recognize you, but those freckles are hard to forget,” he said casually as if we were long-lost friends.
“Yet here you are,” I replied sharply.
After sitting quietly and observing the scene in front of him, it registered that this was someone I did not fuck with, and Maverick sat up straighter, his body language radiating protective mode. His hand slid intentionally to my thigh and squeezed to let me know I could relax because I was well protected.
“People are trying to get to their seats. You may want to do the same,” Maverick said, looking in Colson’s direction.
Still not catching the hint that his presence wasn’t wanted, Colson extended his hand to Maverick, preparing to introduce himself, but Maverick turned away, facing me, his eyes locked on mine, protective and sharp.
"We used to date,” tumbled from my lips, my face contorted as if I’d just tasted sour milk.
Colson gave a half-smile. "Used to? Damn, that feels like a lifetime ago. Look, Ja—“ I cut him off, correcting him.
