Chapter 10: The First IOU Called
The silence after the bedroom door clicked shut was absolute. Aidan sat in the wreckage of his sheets, the imprint of their bodies already cooling around him. The word weekend echoed in his head, a bomb with a slow fuse.
He found them in the kitchen twenty minutes later, after a shower so cold it made his teeth ache. The normalcy was surreal. Catriona was scrambling eggs, wearing nothing but one of his old band t-shirts. Freya, in yoga pants and a tank top, was silently slicing strawberries. Jenny, already dressed for work in a sleek blouse and trousers, was scrolling through her phone, a travel mug of coffee beside her.
The air smelled of butter and grounds and implicit agreement.
“So,” Aidan said, his voice too loud. He went for the coffee pot. “Friday.”
“Friday,” Jenny confirmed, not looking up. “I’ve got the address. It’s remote. Like, no-cell-service remote.”
Catriona grinned over her shoulder. “Even better. No interruptions.”
Freya placed a neat pile of strawberries on a plate. Her movements were precise, calm. But when she glanced at Aidan, her eyes held a voltage that hadn’t been there before. “I packed my bag in my head already,” she said, almost to herself.
They moved around each other with a new, careful choreography. Avoiding casual contact that now meant something else. The brush of a hip against the counter, a hand reaching for the same spoon—each touch was loaded, examined.
Aidan was pouring coffee when Freya spoke again. Her voice was quiet but it cut through the kitchen noise like glass.
“Actually,” she said. She put the knife down and wiped her hands on a towel. She turned to face them, leaning back against the counter. Her expression was serious, her blonde hair a smooth fall over her shoulders. “I don’t want to wait.”
Jenny looked up from her phone. Catriona paused, spatula in hand.
“For what?” Aidan asked, though a part of him already knew. His pulse kicked against his ribs.
Freya’s gaze locked on his. “My IOU. The one you owe me.” She swallowed, a tiny movement in her throat. “I want to call it in. Now.”
Catriona’s mouth dropped open into a delighted ‘O’. Jenny slowly set her phone down on the table. The analytical look was back, assessing, dissecting.
“Here?” Aidan managed. The kitchen felt suddenly small, the morning light too exposing.
“No,” Freya said. She pushed off the counter. Her composure was a thin, thrilling veneer. “Back in your room. But…” She looked at Catriona, then at Jenny. “I want them to watch.”
A current of pure, undiluted heat shot down Aidan’s spine. The coffee in his mug sloshed. He saw Catriona’s eyes go wide, her freckles standing out against her sudden flush. Jenny’s lips parted, then curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. It was more possessive. Interested.
“Freya,” Jenny said, her tone neutral. “You’re sure?”
Freya nodded, once. “I’ve been thinking about it. Since last night. I don’t want it to be… private. Not this time.” She looked back at Aidan, and the quiet competitiveness he knew from their poker games was there, blazing in her blue eyes. “I want to see you. And I want to be seen. No game rules. Just this.”
Catriona turned off the burner. The eggs were forgotten. “Well,” she breathed, a laugh trembling in her voice. “My slow-burn yogi. You’re full of surprises.”
Freya didn’t smile. She just held Aidan’s look, a challenge and an invitation fused into one. It was the most daring thing she’d ever done.
Aidan’s mind went blank, then crystal clear. This was the precipice. He could say no. He could try to salvage some fragile version of their old dynamic. He looked at their faces: Catriona, vibrating with anticipation; Jenny, watching him like she was memorizing his decision; Freya, laying herself bare with a bravery that shook him.
He set his coffee mug down with a soft click.
“Okay,” he said.
The walk back to his bedroom was a silent procession. The air in the hallway felt thick. Aidan pushed the door open. The room was as they’d left it, the bed a tangled monument to what had already happened. The scent was still there, intimate and damning.
Freya entered first. She went to the side of the bed, her back to them for a moment. Then she turned. Without ceremony, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her yoga pants and underwear and pushed them down in one smooth motion, stepping out of the pile. Her tank top followed, lifted over her head and dropped silently to the floor.
She was perfect in the striped morning light, willowy and pale. She didn’t cover herself. She just knelt on the rumpled sheets, facing him, her hands resting on her thighs. Her expression was serene, but her chest rose and fell a little too fast.
Aidan was frozen in the doorway. Catriona slipped past him, perching on the edge of the dresser, her legs swinging. Jenny moved more slowly, choosing the worn armchair in the corner, crossing her legs, a spectator settling in for a performance.
“Well, debtor,” Catriona murmured, her voice husky. “The lady’s calling in her note.”
Aidan moved. He kicked the door shut. He didn’t look at the women watching as he stripped off his t-shirt and sweatpants. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy between his legs. He saw Freya’s eyes drop to it, her serene mask flickering with raw, unmistakable hunger.
He joined her on the bed, the springs groaning under their weight. For a second, they just knelt facing each other. He could hear the soft shift of fabric from Catriona on the dresser, the quiet, even sound of Jenny’s breath from the chair.
Freya reached out. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, then slid down his chest. Her touch was exploratory, not shy. “I wanted to remember this without the cards,” she whispered, so only he could hear. “I wanted it to be my choice.”
Then she leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, deeper than he expected. Her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer. Aidan’s hands found her waist, her skin warm and smooth under his palms. He broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down her throat, feeling her heartbeat flutter against his lips.
He guided her down onto her back. The sheets were cool and rumpled beneath her. He settled between her legs, propped on his elbows, caging her in. Her eyes were locked on his, blue and wide.
“Look at them,” she breathed, turning her head towards the dresser, towards the chair.
Aidan glanced over. Catriona was biting her knuckle, her gaze hot and fixed. Jenny sat perfectly still, but her eyes were black pools, absorbing every detail, one hand curled tightly in her lap.
When he entered her, Freya gasped—a sharp, sweet sound that tore through the quiet room. Her back arched, her nails digging into his shoulders. Aidan moved slowly, giving her time to adjust, feeling her body clasp him with a tight, shocking heat. This was different. This was a presentation. Every slide, every push, was under observation.
And Freya was watching the watchers. Her head was turned, her profile etched in the slanting light. A small, triumphant smile touched her lips as Catriona let out a muffled groan. Aidan drove deeper, changing his angle, and Freya’s eyes snapped shut, her mouth falling open. A low moan unraveled from her throat.
“Yeah,” Catriona whispered, a fervent echo. “Just like that.”
Jenny said nothing. But when Aidan chanced another look, she had uncrossed her legs. Her blouse seemed tighter across her chest with each of her measured breaths.
He focused on Freya. On the feel of her, the sight of her coming apart beneath him. He hooked an arm under her knee, lifting it, opening her further. The change made her cry out, a broken, beautiful sound. Her serenity was gone, shattered into pure sensation. Her hips rose to meet his thrusts, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs.
“Aidan,” she choked out. It wasn’t a whisper. It was a declaration in the silent room.
He was close. The tension, the audience, the sheer audacity of it all coiled tight in his gut. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and shampoo. “Freya,” he grunted against her.
Her body tightened around him, a swift, convulsive wave. She stifled a scream into his shoulder, her whole frame trembling violently. The clenching pull of her was the final trigger. He followed her over, his own release punching through him with a force that blurred his vision, spilling deep inside her with a hoarse groan he couldn’t suppress.
For a long minute, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing mixing in the air.
Aidan rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, staying connected. Freya’s eyes were closed, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. She looked spent, peaceful.
A soft clap broke the silence. One, two, three times. Slow and deliberate.
Aidan looked over. Jenny was standing now. She wasn’t smiling. Her expression was one of intense, focused satisfaction. Like she’d just solved a complex equation.
“Consider the debt paid in full,” she said, her voice cool and clear. She smoothed her blouse. “I’ll email you all the packing list. Remember—pack light.”
She turned and left, closing the door with the same soft, final click as before.
Catriona slid off the dresser. She walked to the bed, her expression unreadable. She leaned down and placed a quick, warm kiss on Freya’s damp forehead, then on Aidan’s mouth, tasting of salt and smoke.
“Game on,” she whispered, and then she was gone too.
Freya stirred in his arms. She opened her eyes, looking up at him. The quiet mischief was back, mingled with a deep, sated glow.
“See?” she murmured, nuzzling into his chest. “I told you I didn’t want to wait.”
Outside, a car started. Friday was still days away, but the weekend had already begun.