Page 37 of Conceal

“Do you have any rules, princess?” I ask, enjoying how her eyes narrow in response.

She thinks for a moment before responding. “If this is temporary, I want it all. I want to experience everything. I want to try on kinks and see if I like them. I want to go into a marriage knowing what I like and learning how to ask for it.”

Her mention of a future marriage causes something to burn low in my gut, even as I feel proud of her for speaking up and demanding what she wants. But I nod, walking over to the junk drawer in the kitchen and retrieve a notepad and marker I noticed earlier.

Walking back into the living room, the sun has risen enough that I can see my writing.

“Alright. Let’s make a list. We can check them off when you feel ready.”

She smiles eagerly. “Well, I’ve given my first blow job...”

“A+, by the way,” I tease, but this teasing feels good - like a good kind of teasing.

Her cheeks pinken as a beautifully shy smile creeps across her lips.

“I’ve read plenty...” she admits, even though it looks like she’s struggling to come up with ideas.

“Free use?” I ask helpfully.

Her smile turns wicked. “Yes. Submission? Daddy? Anal? Spanking? Being tied up?”

God, it’s like she’s listing out a menu of Christmas fucking morning for me. To be fair, there’s not much I wouldn’t do with her.

“I doubt we’ll find a tentacle dildo...” she says, looking around as if that’s the most normal sentence she’s ever said. Mik smiles into her shoulder while Roman chokes on a groan.

“Is that what you’ve been reading this whole time? Tentacle porn?” I tease and I realize, that this is what we do. We push each other and tease each other, and that’s not all bad. This teasing without the underlying anger I usually carry with me actually feels really good.

She sticks her tongue out at me. “I am an equal-opportunity porn reader, Lev. Don’t yuck my yum.”

I smile.

Without our phones, or television, or her school, boredom sets in quickly. I want to give her time to recover, and with Mik glued to her side, I guess that means I’m in charge of breakfast.

I toss out the Pop-Tarts I bought, thinking that they’re good cold, too.

Tati giggles as she opens hers, and it lights my chest that I could do something as stupid and simple as make her happy. Is this why people get into relationships? Because making the other person happy feels good? I can see how addictive that might become. Especially with someone as sweet as she is.

Which is a dangerous fucking thought, so naturally I shove it into a mental closet and kick a chair in front of it.

Tati breaks a corner off her first Pop-Tart and Mik leans over her shoulder and takes a bite, even though his remains on his lap, unopened.

I narrow my eyes at him for stealing food from her, but she acts like it was the most natural thing in the world and he replies with a shit-eating grin.

I hate myself for this, but I know it needs to be discussed before we can explore whatever this is.

“I think we need rules, too. Not just a kinky checklist.”

Tatiana sits up a little straighter, face serious. But it’s Roman who starts, and I love him for picking up what I’m too afraid to articulate.

“You say stop, we stop. You ask for space, you get space. You want one of us and not the others; that is your choice. You don’t owe us anything.”

Tati nods.

“Not just in bed,” he says. “Anywhere. Anything. If one of us is crowding you, pushing, asking too much, acting like an asshole—” He narrows his eyes at me, and I feign offense.

“Me? Never,” I tease, tossing my hand across my chest.

I hadn’t thought about that part. Not clearly. I’d been thinking about jealousy from our end, about Mik and me and Roman not turning into territorial idiots. But Roman’s right. She’s the one who could get trapped trying to make everything fair.