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villa with its open-air lounges and communal showers, but their private bungalow tucked behind a curtain of bougainvillea, where the walls were thin enough to hear the ocean but thick enough to muffle other sounds.
Nick allowed himself to be led, her fingers tangled in his belt loops like reins.
However, their quest was interrupted by Beki, his stable mistress. "Sir, I received a message interrupt from Lumi. I thought you would like to hear." She continued, refusing to let them derail her. "She wants you to know that the herd is happy in their summer pastures. Donner is healing well. Dasher is as horny as ever. And Rudolf has collected quite a small herd of vaadin of his own. It also appears that his nose glows when he is horny, and she says it is always glowing, even when he is asleep." Beki handed a small box to Maeve. "Lumi asked that I pass this small gift to you." Beki then turned to Nick, "and for you, she sent this." At that point, Beki, being quite short, even for her Mongol heritage, reached up on her toes, pulled Nick's head to her, and gave him a very passionate and lustful kiss on his lips.
"Thank you, Beki,' Nick replied. And please send our thanks to Lumi for the report and the gifts."
Nick and Maeve moved on. She opened her gift. "Oh My." In her hands, she held small statuettes of Freyr and Freyja. She told Nick, "These are the Norse gods of love and lust. They maycome in handy," Maeve laughed.
The path to the bungalow wound past Pete, who tipped his hat without pausing his story to Biraj about the time he wrestled an alligator ("—and that's why we don't serve grits at the luau, son"). Nuvua glanced up from her sketchbook, charcoal smudged on her cheek, and quickly looked away—though not before Nick caught the hitch in her breath as Maeve nipped his earlobe.
The bungalow door clicked shut but stayed unlocked—the weight of understanding that this space belonged to them alone was enough to maintain their privacy. Nick barely had time to register the mahogany four-poster before Maeve shoved him backward onto the mattress, her knee sliding between his thighs with practiced precision. "You're overdressed," she murmured, peeling his shirt open with a sound of tearing linen. Buttons pinged against the hardwood. Nick grinned; she'd done the same thing last year with his favorite Hawaiian shirt.
Somewhere beyond the screened windows, laughter spilled across the compound—Salma's throaty chuckle tangled with Sisa's lighter cadence. Nick inhaled sharply as Maeve's teeth grazed his collarbone. "They'll be waiting," he managed, though his hands were already working the sundress straps down her shoulders.
"Let them." Maeve's voice was molten honey against his chest. The dress pooled at her waist before she twisted free, revealing skin still faintly marked from last month's experiment with Japanese silk ropes. She straddled him, her thighs framing his hips like a vise. "Mandla knows better than to interrupt before cocktail hour."
Nick's groan was half-laugh as her nails raked down his sternum. The sound of distant drums pulsed through the compound—Biraj's doing, no doubt—but here, time narrowed to the scrape of Maeve's teeth along his ribs and the slick heat of her palm sliding beneath his waistband.
She didn't rush. Never did. Sixteen hundred years of marriage, and she still unraveled Nick like a pagan priestess peeling fruit for a sacrifice—slow, deliberate, savoring the juice on her fingers. When she finally freed him, her hum of approval vibrated against his thigh. "Still my favorite toy," she murmured, and the possessive growl in her voice made his hips jerk.
Beyond the bamboo blinds, the compound pulsed with life—Salma's throaty laugh, the clink of glasses, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin from some distant cabana. Nick barely registered it. Here, the world narrowed to the glide of Maeve's tongue along his length, the way her hair spilled crimson over his thighs like a Viking banner. Her druid tattoos, glowing like they always did when she was excited. She took him deep, then pulled back just to watch him twitch. "Greedy," she teased, pressing her thumb to the head in cruel circles.
The door creaked open without warning. Sea-ah leaned against the frame, a bottle of coconut oil dangling from her fingers. Her shorts were undone. "Got what you asked, madam," she purred, tossing the bottle onto the bed with a smirk.
Nick didn't miss a beat. "Lock the door," he murmured, though they all knew no one would dare enter uninvited. Sea-ah obeyed with a dancer's grace, her lithe body bending as she slid the latch home. Maeve sat back on her heels, her lips glistening, and patted the space between them. The Korean princess didn't hesitate, crawling onto the mattress like a panther stalking prey.
"Tell me," Maeve said, running a fingertip down Sea-ah's spine, "was it the hammock by the orchid grove? The one that sways just right?" Sea-ah's breath hitched as Maeve's hand slipped beneath her waistband. "Yes," she whispered, arching into the touch. Nick watched, transfixed, as his wife's fingers worked magic—slow, torturous circles that had Sea-ah biting her own wrist to stifle a moan.
The coconut oil warmed between Nick's palms as he poured it over Maeve's shoulders, tracing the scars from last summer's knife-throwing mishap. She shuddered, pressing back against him, and he caught the scent of jasmine tangled in her hair. Sea-ah's fingers found Maeve's thighs, nails leaving faint crescents as she explored with the precision of someone who'd memorized every sensitive spot.
Nick nipped Maeve's earlobe. "Tell me what she showed you in the hammock," he murmured, twisting a lock of her hair around his fist. Sea-ah gasped as Maeve's fingers dipped lower, her answering grin sharp. "She straddled me," Maeve purred, "right where the ropes cross—perfect leverage." Sea-ah's breath hitched when Maeve demonstrated, pinning her wrists overhead with one hand while the other traced the princess's collarbone.
Down in the compound, the drums had shifted rhythm—Kalid's doing again, no doubt—but the sound dissolved into Sea-ah's keening moan as Nick slicked his fingers with oil and slid them between Maeve's thighs from behind. She arched into the touch, rolling her hips, and Sea-ah whimpered at the sight. "Patience," Maeve chided, catching the girl's chin. "Watch."
Nick curled his fingers just so, and Maeve's breath stuttered—a rare tell. Sea-ah's dark eyes widened as she obeyed, her own fingers twitching where they clutched the sheets. The air thickened with salt and jasmine and the heady musk of skin pressed too close for too long. Somewhere beyond the bungalow, Pete's drawl carried over the laughter—"Ain't no rush, son, island time's a real thing"—but here, time was Maeve's teeth sinking into Sea-ah's shoulder as Nick twisted his wrist.
The princess arched like a bowstring, her gasp sharp enough to cut glass. Maeve chuckled against her throat. "Feel that?" she murmured, guiding Sea-ah's hand lower. "How the ropes dig here—" Her fingers traced the inside of the girl's thigh, "—just before you tip over?" Sea-ah nodded frantically, her hips jerking when Nick added a third finger to Maeve's rhythm.
The coconut oil made everything glide—skin against skin, Maeve's back against Nick's chest, Sea-ah's desperate fingers tangling in the sheets. Nick watched his wife's pupils dilate as he crooked his fingers just right, the way her breath hitched before she regained control. "Show her," Nick growled, nipping Maeve's shoulder. "Like last year with the gondola."
Maeve's laugh was dark velvet as she twisted, pinning Sea-ah flat with a knee between her thighs. "You remember that?" She didn't wait for an answer, dragging the princess's wrists overhead and looping them through the bedpost's silk ties with a sailor's knot. Sea-ah gasped as the binds tightened—just enough to tease, not restrain.
Nick watched, fingers still buried deep in Maeve, as she leaned down to trace the shell of Sea-ah's ear with her tongue. "Gondolas rock," she murmured, "but hammocks..." Her free hand slid beneath the girl's shorts, fabric tearing with a sound like splitting sailcloth. Sea-ah's back arched off the mattress. "—they swing."
The princess whimpered as Maeve's thumb found her clit, circling in time with Nick's thrusts inside his wife. The oil made everything slick—Sea-ah's thighs clamping around Maeve's wrist, Nick's palm sliding down Maeve's spine to grip her hip, the way Maeve's muscles fluttered around his fingers when she came silently, her jaw clenched tight.
Nick didn't stop. He knew her tells—the hitch in her breath when she wanted more, the way her nails dug into Sea-ah's hips as she rode out the aftershocks. He added a fourth finger, stretching her slowly, watching the way her back bowed. Sea-ah's moans grew louder, her wrists straining against the silk ties. "Please," she gasped, but Maeve just smiled, her teeth glinting in the dappled sunlight.
"Patience," Maeve murmured, her thumb circling faster. Sea-ah's thighs trembled, her toes curling into the sheets. Nick watched, mesmerized, as his wife leaned down to capture the princess's lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing her cry as she came undone. The scent of salt and jasmine thickened, mingling with the coconut oil smeared across their skin.
Maeve pulled back, her breathing ragged, and glanced over her shoulder at Nick. Her pupils were blown wide, lips swollen. "Your turn," she whispered, shifting just enough to free his fingers from her body. Sea-ah whimpered at the loss, but Maeve silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips. "Watch."
Nick didn't hesitate. He flipped Maeve onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other traced the curve of her hip. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, slick with oil and exertion. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast—slow, deliberate, savoring the way her breath hitched when his teeth grazed her nipple.
Sea-ah shifted beside them, her dark eyes locked on Maeve's face. Nick caught the princess's wrist, guiding her hand to Maeve's thigh. "Touch her," he ordered, his voice rough. "Like she taught you." Sea-ah obeyed, her fingers tracing Maeve's skin with reverent precision. Maeve arched into the touch, her moan low and throaty.
Nick slid down her body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, her hips, the inside of her thighs. Maeve's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. He smirked against her skin before burying his tongue inside her, savoring the taste of her arousal. Maeve gasped, her hips bucking against his mouth. Sea-ah's breath hitched, her fingers tightening on Maeve's thigh.
The princess leaned down, her lips brushing Maeve's ear. "Can I—?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Maeve nodded, her grip on Nick's hair tightening as Sea-ah's fingers joined his, exploring, teasing. Nick groaned against Maeve's skin, the vibrations drawing another sharp gasp from her lips.
Outside, the drums had reached a fever pitch, the rhythm echoing the pounding of Nick's pulse. But here, in the dim light of their bungalow, time seemed to slow—each touch, each breath, each whispered plea stretching into eternity. Maeve's body tensed beneath them, her thighs trembling, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
Nick glanced up, meeting her gaze. Her lips parted in a silent command. He obeyed, his tongue flicking over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. Sea-ah's fingers matched his rhythm, her touch growing bolder as Maeve's breathing grew erratic.
And then—release. Body shattered, her cry muffled against the pillow as she came undone between them. The tell-tale rainbow emitting from Maeve. Nick held her through it, his lips pressed to her trembling thighs, his fingers intertwined with Sea-ah's. The princess watched, her dark eyes wide with awe, as Maeve's muscles went lax, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
Nick kissed his way back up her body, his lips brushing hers in a searing kiss. Maeve smiled against his mouth, her fingers trailing down his chest. "Now," she murmured, her voice rough with satisfaction, "where were we?"
Sea-ah shifted beside them, her wrists still loosely bound. Her skin glistened with sweat, her dark eyes fixed on Nick with a mix of hunger and hesitation. Maeve caught her chin, turning her face to press a slow, filthy kiss to her lips. "Untie her," she ordered, glancing at Nick.
He reached for the silk ties, but Maeve batted his hand away. "With your teeth."
Nick grinned, obliging as he leaned in, his teeth catching the knot. Sea-ah gasped as the silk loosened, her wrists falling free. She didn't hesitate—her hands immediately went to Nick's waistband, nails scraping his hips as she tugged. Maeve laughed low in her throat, stretching like a satisfied cat as she watched them.
"Eager," she mused, running a fingertip along Sea-ah's spine. The princess shivered but didn't stop, her fingers deftly unfastening Nick's shorts.
Nick caught her wrist, pulling her up for a searing kiss. She melted against him, her body pliant, her breath hot against his lips. When he pulled back, Maeve was already sitting up, her fingers tangling in Sea-ah's hair as she guided her down. "Show him," she purred, "what you learned in Kyoto."
Sea-ah's lips curled into a smirk before she obeyed, her mouth closing around Nick with a skill that made his hips jerk. Maeve watched, her own fingers tracing lazy circles over her still-sensitive flesh, her breath hitching when Nick's hand found hers, threading their fingers together.
Outside, the compound buzzed with laughter and the distant splash of bodies in the pool, but inside the bungalow, the world narrowed to the slick heat of Sea-ah's mouth, the press of Maeve's thigh against his, and the promise of more—so much more—before the night was through.
Nick tipped his head back, groaning as Maeve leaned in, her teeth grazing his earlobe. "Patience," she whispered—her favorite lie—just as Sea-ah hollowed her cheeks and pushed him over the edge.
The taste of salt and hibiscus clung to his tongue when Maeve kissed him afterward, her fingers still tangled in Sea-ah's hair. The princess knelt between them, panting, her lips swollen. Nick thumbed a stray droplet from her chin. "Kyoto," he rasped. "I approve."
Beyond the blinds, the drums had faded into the murmur of waves. Maeve stretched, the oil on her skin catching the fading light like gilded armor. "Salma's hosting the luau at sunset," she murmured, tracing the arc of Sea-ah's collarbone. "We should—"
A sharp knock cut her off—Mandla's voice, tight with amusement: "Perimeter's secure. Also, Sisa's rigged the tiki torches to dispense tequila. Thought you'd want to know before Aitor dismantles them."
Nick sighed, grabbing a towel. Maeve's laughter was unrepentant as she tossed Sea-ah's torn shorts at the door. "Tell him to stand down. We'll be there in twenty."
"Ten," Mandla corrected, and the smirk in his voice was audible. "I do not know how, but Malike taught Nuvua fire dancing. She is getting ready. If you miss it, you'll shatter what little confidence she has built."
The door clicked shut. Sea-ah was already on her feet, stealing Maeve's sundress with a pirouette that showed off the bite marks on her inner thighs. Nick caught her wrist, spinning her into his chest. "Later," he promised against her mouth, "you're demonstrating that hammock trick."
Maeve slapped his ass hard enough to sting. "Move, old man." She tossed him fresh linen pants—his favorite, the ones that clung to his hips just right. "We've got a reputation to uphold."
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