Everything

Dan’s breath hitched. The words were out before he could stop them. "Everything."

Bailey’s smirk deepened, her fingers swirling lazy circles around her own nipple. "Elaborate."

Dan exhaled sharply, the confession spilling out like a dam breaking. "Missionary. Every. Fucking. Time." His hands flexed at his sides, fingers twitching. "She’ll get on top—sometimes—but only if it’s our anniversary or my birthday. And even then...she complains I’m too thick. Says it hurts."

"And what do you want?" Bailey asked, voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me the filthiest thing in that pretty little head of yours. Lie to Jess, not to me."

"Threesomes," he admitted, the word tasting forbidden. "Not just two girls—though fuck, yeah—but another guy too. Watching, being watched. Masquerade parties where no one gives a shit who touches who." His heart hammering as Bailey’s fingers trailed lower, disappearing under the water. "Handcuffs. Blindfolds."

Bailey’s laugh was lustful. "Jess would explode." She lifted a dripping foot, pressing it against his thigh—leaving a wet imprint on his jeans. "Marc pretends he’s some alpha, but he comes in three strokes if I ride him hard." Her toes curled, scraping his cock through his jeans. "Bet you’d last longer."

Dan knew he could last longer—but he didn’t want to seem cocky. His breath hitched as her foot slid higher, toes catching on his belt buckle. He had a secret, one Bailey didn’t know, one even Jess had never uncovered: he could control when he’d cum. No matter how great the pleasure, no matter how hard his cock was sucked—his orgasm was a conscious choice.

Bailey arched a brow, foot pressing down—but she misread the twitch in his jeans. She thought he was already fully erect. What she didn’t realize was that he was still only half-hard. His smirk matched hers.

Dan knew exactly how this played out in his fantasies—but this wasn’t fantasy. Bailey expected hesitation from Dan. Expected guilt. Instead, Dan stepped forward.

Bailey’s smirk faltered as he grabbed her ankle—not roughly, but firmly—and guided her foot higher, pressing her sole against his hardening cock. Her lips parted, surprised by the boldness. "Oh," she breathed. "You are full of surprises."

This was a side of Dan Bailey had never seen—the way his fingers tightened just enough to make her gasp, the way his hips rolled forward into her touch with quiet confidence. He wasn’t blushing anymore. The nervous twitch in his jaw was gone. She’d expected hesitation, stammering apologies, maybe a frantic retreat. Instead, he held her gaze.

Dan let go of her ankle slowly, fingers trailing up her calf like he was memorizing the shape of her. Then, without breaking eye contact, he undid his belt—one-handed. His jeans fell, revealing the outline of his cock pressing against his boxers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down.

Bailey’s breath hitched. Not what she’d expected.

"Fuck," Bailey breathed, eyes locked on him.

Dan's cock twitched under her stare—still not fully hard, but already thicker than Marc at his best. She'd seen him in boxers before, but never like this—never erect.

Bailey swallowed. "So," she murmured, fingertips skimming the water's surface, "how does Jess usually take it?"