“I don’t worry about that,” El-Mudad said with a wave of his hand. “When there was a chance I would endanger the two of you, or endanger my other partners, of course I didn’t care to engage in unprotected play. But, while I am not seeing anyone else…”
“And you’ll tell us, of course, should you get a new partner?” Neil said, though it was a foregone conclusion.
“Oh, of course,” Emir agreed.
There’d been a time in my life when I wouldn’t have been able to discuss my sexuality so frankly. And safe sex talk? Had seemed about as sexy as macaroni and cheese.
My stomach rumbled. Okay, macaroni and cheese actually seemed pretty damn sexy, considering the fact I hadn’t eaten since lunch time.
But the point was, since I’d met Neil, I’d learned so much about myself, and about what I wanted from a relationship. I never would have been able to share my husband with another partner; I would have been too insecure and jealous. Neil’s commitment to me and mine to him wasn’t a restriction, but an opportunity.
The microwave peeped, and Neil served us up the coq au vin. For billionaires, we sure were fancy. I laughed at the thought. People probably assumed that, because of Neil’s wealth, we had a full-time chef we could rouse from bed for late night snacks, and a household staff who would indulge our every whim. The truth was, our normalcy startled even me, at times. And I lived here every day.
As we ate, El-Mudad told us stories about his daughters, who were fourteen and eleven. In the past, he’d rarely shared anything about them. That part of his life hadn’t exactly been off-limits, but he’d definitely guarded it. It seemed like his divorce had freed him up in that way, too; he was more comfortable telling us details about his life we wouldn’t have learned before.
In return, we told him all about Olivia, Neil’s granddaughter. She was almost eight months old, and officially the cutest butterball anyone had ever seen. Neil was as utterly in love with her as he was with his daughter, Emma, and it showed every time he talked about them.
I felt a little like the odd duck out in the conversation. Neil and Emir were both fathers. I had no idea what it was like to be a parent. I loved Olivia an unreasonable amount, but I would never feel what it was like to be responsible for another human life. That was fine with me, don’t get me wrong. I’d known my entire life that I didn’t want to have kids, and Neil had made it clear at the beginning of our relationship that he was finished raising them, himself. But not wanting kids didn’t make me feel any less out of place around two people I loved who both had them and could share that experience.
Neil seemed to know what I was feeling, because he reached across the table and took my hand, giving it a brief squeeze before he went back to his food.
“Well, I do hate to eat and run,” El-Mudad said with a sigh. “But the helicopter is waiting.”
“Your pilot has been waiting for you this whole time?” I asked, my eyes boggling.
“He’s being paid to, I assure you.” El-Mudad frowned, and I got the sense that I was, yet again, billionairing wrong.
“I’ll drive you out to the helipad,” Neil offered, and I volunteered to stay behind and wash up the dishes.
There was something between the two of them that ran deeper than the bond between all three of us. It didn’t threaten my marriage, so I didn’t mind giving them the time alone, but when Neil returned, he would almost certainly report all the details to me, just to keep everything transparent.
There was no sense running the dishwasher, so I did the few dishes we’d dirtied by hand, then stumbled to the bedroom. The clock on the microwave had read three in the morning, and my entire body ached. I stripped off my pajamas as I walked. Guilt would make me take care of those before Julia, our housekeeper, arrived in the morning.
I pulled back the covers and climbed onto the cool, clean sheets, nuzzling my head into my pillow. Still, the bed wouldn’t feel quite right until Neil was in it beside me. I left the bedside light on and played with my phone while I waited for Neil to return.
When he came in, he grinned at me. “How’s your bum?”
“Sore as hell.” I laughed. “I am going to be sitting down carefully, for a while.”
He sat beside me on the bed and took my hand, pulling it to his lips. “You know that I love you, don’t you?”
It was such a weird question I had to push myself up to answer him. “I hope you do. We’re married.”
“I know.” He looked a little sheepish. “I worry sometimes, when… I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“You’ve been doing this a lot lately,” I said softly. “You’re, like, weirdly guilty after we play. If it’s bothering you—”
“No, no—” he began, and I cut him off.
“We’re doing that thing where we try to be polite when we should be honest.” I squeezed his hand. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
He sighed he
avily. “I’m concerned lately, because I’ve been thinking more about my experience. You know that I never want to do anything without your express consent. But I worry that I’m pressuring you, somehow. That you may be doing some of this to please me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, all those orgasms. Gross.”
“No, don’t joke,” he said, and the softness of his voice caught me off guard. Neil always sounded so sure of himself. It wasn’t something I figured he could drop by accident; in my short acquaintance with the fabulously wealthy of New York, I’d learned that people shed a lot of insecurity when their bank accounts swelled. That proved true outwardly, at least.