Chapter 6: Reclamation
The hum of the city was a dull ache beyond the glass, a sound that usually soothed Pete. Now it just felt like static in his head. He stared at the rumpled bed, at the indentation where Stacy had been kneeling what felt like a lifetime ago. From the bathroom, the water beat a relentless rhythm against glass, and beneath it, he could just make out the low, approving murmur of Joey’s voice and Stacy’s soft, helpless sounds.
Every muscle in his body was a tightly coiled spring. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To see her unleashed. To watch the good girl forget herself. But he hadn’t accounted for the architect, for Joey who didn’t just open the cage but seemed intent on dismantling it entirely and keeping the pieces.
He couldn’t stand the doorway anymore, that passive observer’s post. It felt like a confession of weakness.
His feet carried him back across the cool hardwood, through the vapor cloud spilling from the bathroom. He didn’t pause at the threshold this time. He pushed the door open wider, the steam enveloping him in a warm, soap-scented blanket.
Joey had her braced against the wall, one hand flat beside her head, the other working between her legs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks, her body arching into his touch. She was close. Again.
“That’s it,” Joey was saying, his voice a rough whisper next to her ear. “Let it go. Nothing to think about now.”
Pete’s hand shot out, shoving the shower door open on its smooth track. The sound was sharp, violent. Water sprayed out, misting his shirt and face.
Joey didn’t startle. He just turned his head, slow, deliberate, a predator interrupted at a meal. His eyes, dark and knowing, locked onto Pete’s. A faint, challenging smile touched his lips. Stacy’s eyes flew open, wide with shock and a flicker of fear.
“My turn,” Pete heard himself say, the words gruff, foreign.
He stepped into the shower, his leather shoes squelching on the wet tile. He didn’t look at Joey. He focused on Stacy, on her water-blurred form, on the incredible blue of her eyes staring back at him now, full of confusion. He reached for her, his hands finding her slick shoulders, pushing Joey’s hand away from her body.
For a second, Joey resisted, his forearm tensing. A silent tug-of-war over her flesh. Then he yielded, pulling back with a soft, almost inaudible chuckle. He didn’t leave. He just moved back a step, giving Pete space but remaining inside the glass box with them, an audience of one.
Pete pressed Stacy against the tiles, the water cascading over them both, soaking his clothes, flattening his hair. He kissed her, not with the tender familiarity of their decades together, but with a desperate, claiming anger. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her hips, gripping her, trying to find the familiar geography of her body through the alien heat of the moment.
She was stiff for a heartbeat, then her mouth softened under his, her hands coming up to clutch at his wet shirt. A small, broken sound escaped her throat.
Then he felt Joey move closer behind him. Felt a hand, heavy and warm, land on his shoulder.
“Easy, Pete,” Joey’s voice was right by his ear, a low rumble that vibrated through him. “You’re all tension. You’re gonna scare her.”
Pete froze, his forehead resting against Stacy’s. Her breath was coming in quick, shallow pants against his cheek.
Joey’s other hand came around, not touching Stacy, but covering Pete’s own hand where it gripped Stacy’s hip. His fingers were strong, insistent.
“See?” Joey whispered, his mouth so close Pete could feel the heat of his breath. “Slow. Firm. She needs to feel you’re in control, not that you’re losing it.”
He guided Pete’s hand, a slow, deliberate circle on Stacy’s hip bone. Pete’s instinct was to shove him away, to break his jaw. But he was paralyzed, trapped between the woman in his arms and the friend at his back. Stacy’s eyes were locked on his, swimming with a mixture of fear and a dark, thrilling curiosity. She was watching him be schooled. And a part of her was responding to it.
Joey’s voice was a dark thread weaving through the steam. “She likes this. Look at her. She likes you learning how to really handle her.”
Pete’s hand moved under Joey’s guidance, tracing the dip of her waist, the swell of her hip. Stacy’s eyelids fluttered, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She leaned into the combined touch, her body yielding not just to Pete, but to the situation, to the two of them.
And in that moment, Pete understood the game had changed completely. He wasn’t reclaiming her. He was being taught how to keep her. The lesson was just beginning, and the price was a part of his soul he hadn’t known was for sale.