Chapter 37: The Price of Admission
The study held them in its stunned silence for a long minute after the door clicked shut. Aidan finally moved, helping a shaky Lucia to her feet. She winced, feeling the fresh ache between her legs, the new soreness in her jaw. He handed her her clothes, his fingers brushing hers—a touch that felt different now, sanctioned by a higher, terrifying authority.
“I don’t understand,” Lucia whispered, pulling her dress over her head. “She’s not… angry?”
“No,” Aidan said, the word heavy with its own confusion. “She’s not.”
They cleaned up in a wordless, efficient daze. He righted the glass, blotted the rug. She gathered her books, her hands trembling. The ordinary acts felt like rituals in a bizarre new religion. When they stepped into the hallway, the house felt different. The air was charged, every shadow holding potential.
Golden afternoon light streamed into the living room, painting the white rug a warm cream. Jenny was there, curled on the sofa with a medical textbook. She looked up, and her sharp eyes missed nothing: Lucia’s disheveled hair, Aidan’s shell-shocked expression, the unspoken energy crackling between them. She closed her book slowly.
“Where’s Catriona?” Jenny asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“She went upstairs,” Aidan said, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.
Lucia drifted to the sofa and sank down beside her sister. She stared at her own hands in her lap. Jenny watched her, then looked back at Aidan, a question forming.
Before it could be asked, Catriona descended the staircase. She had changed into linen trousers and a simple sleeveless top, her hair now neatly tied back. She carried a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and four glasses. The domestic normalcy of it was surreal.
“I thought we could all use a drink,” she said, her tone breezy, as if she’d just returned from the garden. She set the tray on the coffee table and began pouring. “Lucia, you look peaky. Sugar helps.”
Lucia took the offered glass with both hands, murmuring thanks.
Catriona sat in the armchair opposite the sofa, crossing her legs. She took a slow sip, her gaze travelling over the three of them. “So,” she began, putting her glass down. “We should talk. Clearly.”
Aidan remained standing, leaning against the doorframe. He felt like a specimen under glass.
“Jenny,” Catriona said, turning that calm, green-eyed attention on the older sister. “You’ve been very discreet. I appreciate that. But the discretion ends now. We’re all in this room. We all know.”
Jenny’s cheeks flushed, but she held Catriona’s gaze. “Know what, exactly?”
“That you’ve been sleeping with my husband. That you love when he finishes inside you. That you moved into our home, in part, for easier access.” Catriona listed the facts without malice, as if discussing a furniture delivery. “And now Lucia has joined the… rotation.”
Jenny flinched at the word ‘rotation’. Lucia stared into her iced tea.
“It’s not like that,” Aidan started, but Catriona held up a hand.
“It’s exactly like that, darling. And frankly, it’s more interesting than our monthly scheduled missionary.” She picked a piece of lint from her trousers. “I’m not blind. I’ve known for weeks.”
The admission landed like a physical blow. “Weeks?” Aidan echoed.
“The change in the household rhythm. The way Jenny’s cleaning shifted to focus on your study. The laundry.” She gave a small, elegant shrug. “I’m an interior designer. I notice when the… composition of a space changes.”
Jenny found her voice, a defensive edge to it. “So what now? Do I pack?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Catriona laughed, a light, genuine sound. “Why would I want to break up my favourite arrangement? You’re an excellent cleaner. You’re quiet. And you make my husband immensely happy.” She looked at Aidan. “You are, aren’t you? Happy?”
He swallowed. “Cat, this is…”
“Complicated? Unconventional?” she supplied. “Yes. But it’s also happening. And after walking in on you two earlier…” She paused, and for the first time, a crack of raw emotion showed—not anger, but a deep, thrilling heat. “I haven’t felt that alive in years.”
The silence deepened, thick with implication.
Catriona turned to Lucia, who seemed to be trying to vanish into the cushions. “Lucia, look at me.” Reluctantly, Lucia did. “You’re not in trouble. You’re not a home-wrecker. You’re a very clever, very beautiful young woman who saw something she wanted and took it.” A smile played on her lips. “I respect that. But if you’re going to be a part of this, you don’t just get to watch.”
Lucia’s dark eyes flickered to Jenny, then to Aidan.
“Jenny,” Catriona said, her voice dropping into that velvet purr from the study. “Show your sister how it’s done. Properly. Here.”
Jenny hesitated for only a second. A year of secret longing, of stolen afternoons, had been leading to this moment of bizarre, explicit permission. She put her glass down and slid off the sofa onto the soft white rug. She knelt before Aidan, her hands going to his belt with a practiced ease that made Lucia suck in a breath.
“Lu,” Jenny said softly, not looking back. “Come here.”
Catriona watched, her breathing shallowing, one hand resting lightly on her own thigh.
Aidan was still leaning against the doorframe, his mind a storm of disbelief and overwhelming arousal. Jenny freed him, her small hands already stroking his hardening length. The sunlight glowed against his skin.
Lucia, as if in a trance, left the sofa and settled on her knees beside her sister. The plush rug was soft under her. She watched, mesmerized, as Jenny leaned forward and took him into her mouth, her movements confident, deep.
“See?” Catriona whispered from her chair. “She knows what he likes. He’s too much for one person, really. He needs… shared attention.”
Jenny pulled back, a silver thread connecting her lips to him. She guided Lucia’s hand, placing it just below her own on his shaft. “Just touch him,” Jenny murmured. “Get used to the weight.”
Lucia’s fingers tightened tentatively. She stroked, up and down, following Jenny’s lead. The warmth of him, the sheer scale, was still a shock.
“Good,” Catriona breathed. “Now taste him, Lucia. Your sister’s done the hard work. Just taste.”
Lucia leaned in, her ponytail brushing Jenny’s arm. She extended her tongue, touching the slick, salty crown. The flavor was complex, layered with Jenny and with him. A low noise escaped her throat.
“Let her try,” Jenny said, pulling back completely, yielding her space. She sat back on her heels, watching her little sister with a mix of protectiveness and fierce pride.
Lucia, emboldened, opened her mouth and took him in. It was clumsier than Jenny’s expert ministrations, but it was fervent, hungry. Aidan’s head thumped back against the doorframe with a dull thud, a groan ripped from him.
“Yes,” Catriona said, her hand now gripping the arm of her chair. “Together now. Make it a competition. See who can make him lose his mind.”
Jenny moved close again, her mouth finding the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, her teeth grazing while Lucia worked above. Their heads were close, dark hair mingling. The room filled with the wet, soft sounds of their efforts, the rustle of fabric as Catriona shifted, the muffled, broken sounds from Aidan’s throat.
It was too much. The visual, the permission, the sheer taboo symphony of it shattered his control far quicker than he expected. His hand tightened in Lucia’s hair, not to guide, just to anchor himself as the wave broke.
“Jenny,” he gasped, a warning.
Jenny understood instantly. She pulled Lucia back gently just as Aidan’s release pulsed out, striping the sunlit rug between them. Lucia watched, wide-eyed, her lips parted and glistening.
For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. The citrus scent of the room was now utterly buried under the rich, spent smell of sex.
Catriona stood up. She walked over, her shadow falling over the sisters. She looked down at the evidence on the rug, then at her husband’s spent, stunned face. A slow, possessive smile spread across her features.
“Well,” she said, her voice husky with her own unmet need. “That settles the living room. We’ll have to christen the rest of the house properly, of course. Starting with the master bedroom tonight, I think.” She looked at Jenny, then Lucia. “Both of you. My turn to direct.”