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When she stares up at us, her eyes are soft. Loving.

When Jack strokes her hair, it’s as though she’s a beautiful rose, not a slutty plaything.

Two loads of cum spurt into her sweet mouth, and she doesn’t swallow before she’s back on her feet with another round of kisses. Delicious.

Now it’s her turn to be on the receiving end of the climax.

Jack and I lift her between us and pin her to the marble tiles, spreading her legs as her arms wrap around our shoulders.

We work her clit with soft fingers, circling in a duo until she’s a panting wreck, and she’s smiling at us when she comes. Smiling from the heart. From the soul.

The words are right there on my tongue. Words for him as well as her as we hold each other close in the aftermath.

I love you.

I love you, Alice. And I love you, Jack, too.

I love us, being us. Three bizarre pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fit together so perfectly, it’s insane.

“That coffee is going to be stone fucking cold by now,” Jack says and turns off the shower. “Time to get another round on the go.”

I don’t call him back as he leaves us and wraps himself up in a towel. I don’t pull Alice back in for another embrace as she follows him, and grabs his robe from the back of the door. Instead, I stand there, letting the truth of the matter sink in for a minute before I can bring myself to step back into reality.

Mr Rational.

Eight days.

EIGHT. FUCKING. DAYS.

It makes me want to wither up and break down on the floor.

We gather around Jack’s kitchen island with a round of fresh coffees. No one wants food.

Alice claims she’s saving herself for lunch, Jack announces that chewing requires an unreasonable amount of energy, and I can barely imagine swallowing anything without being sick.

We play happy families instead.

Jack is back to himself, flashing his most polished playboy grin. He teases Alice about filling his entire place up with shoes, and she laughs and tells him she’ll bring a whole sack full back later if he doesn’t shut his mouth.

I ask practical questions.

Has Camilla come back to her?

Not yet.

Will she be back here after lunch?

Of course.

What will she be eating for lunch?

Beef, most likely. How delicious.

We all know what we’re doing.

Pretending.

The laughter is too quick. The smiles last too long. Jack touches Alice whenever she passes him, as though affection becomes meaningless if he administers it casually enough. I keep checking her expression, searching for reassurance she can’t possibly give me, since it doesn’t exist.