Page 122 of The Retreat

“Come, while you look at those pictures. See what you do to me.”

Flicking my eyes back to the images, I come over his hand a split second later, making a mess of our clothes.

“Good boy,” he growls into my ear.

“The pictures are staying,” I pant.

“What’s it worth? I’ll gladly compromise to put them in the bedroom.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.”

He smiles, knowing I’ll cave, eventually. There’s a knock at the door, and Owen freezes. “Who the fuck is that?”

I start laughing, cackling, and have to hold my stomach. “Oliver and Isaac.”

“What did you fucking do?” Owen races from the room while I’m trying to breathe. My stomach hurts from laughing, and there are tears leaking down my face.

I keep laughing, not giving a single fuck.

“You’re the worst!” he yells from the bedroom.

I pull my shirt off and ball it up, then get myself put away before opening the door, flushed and still crying from laughter.

“Just a second,” I barely get out.

Oliver lifts an eyebrow, but Isaac strolls in.

“What is that smell?” Isaac looks toward the kitchen.

“If he’s going to try to feed us cum for dinner, I’m leaving,” Oliver deadpans.

I race for the bedroom to get changed and find a flustered Owen pulling on clean clothes.

“This is going to be fun.”

“For you maybe.” He side-eyes me as I get a clean shirt. “You’re lucky I love you.” Owen grabs my chin and kisses me, then waits by the door. When I lift an eyebrow at him, he says, “I’m not going out there alone.”

Sliding my hand into his, we enter the living room together to find a blushing Isaac and an unamused Oliver.

“I see you found the new art I had installed today,” I say cheerfully.

Oliver glares at me. “I hate it here.”