Marisol shook her head, her voice calm and sure. “We’re not giving up anything. Because there’s nothing else we want.”
Sarah nodded. “Bharath is it for me. I don’t even see other guys anymore. Not in that way. They just exist as people now.”
“Seriously,” Marisol added with a smirk. “He ruined the entire male popution for me the moment he kissed me that first time. Now anytime even when the most good looking guy hits on me I don’t care at all.”
Mia opened her mouth to say something, but Sarah was already ughing.
“Seriously! I get hit on all the time,” she said breezily. “Like, I had a guy from my stats css write me a note on his TI-83 calcutor. You know what I did?”
“What?” Mia asked, grinning despite herself.
“I erased it and reprogrammed his calcutor to fsh ‘TOO LATE’ when it turned on.”
“That’s evil,” Mia said. “Evil genius. I respect it. Wait-was it the silver one with the clear buttons?”
“Of course.”
“Ugh. Hot guys should not be allowed to use cool calcutors. It’s too much power.”
Marisol burst out ughing. “Remember that guy who tried to pick me up at the bookstore by recommending The Art of Seduction?”
“He didn’t walk out with a number,” Sarah said.
“He walked out with a feminist zine and a receipt for Women Who Run With the Wolves,” Marisol said, smug.
Bharath groaned, rubbing his face. “Ugh! Can we not talk about other men propositioning you two? I’m already drowning in guilt here.”
Mia watched him carefully.
He wasn’t pretending to be annoyed. He was annoyed.
Or maybe something deeper-disturbed.
The idea clearly bothered him on a bone-deep level.
“I just… I don’t want anyone else to have even a fraction of you,” Bharath said quietly, dropping his hand.
Marisol leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “And no one does.”
Sarah followed, pressing her lips to his other cheek. “No one will.”
Mia frowned. “Okay, but that does sound… kinda possessive, no?”
Bharath opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Not in a bad way,” Mia said quickly. “Just-like, do you ever worry about controlling stuff without meaning to?”
But when he didn’t respond-when the guilt didn’t fully drain from his face-Sarah moved again.
This time, she kissed him on the mouth. Slow. Firm. Like an anchor in the storm.
Sarah said to both Mia and Bharath, “We wouldn’t want him any other way. We belong to him. He better be possessive of us.”
Marisol followed suit, straddling his thigh and cupping his jaw, pressing her lips against his with a deeper hunger feeling guilty about even teasing Bharath on this knowing how guilty he felt about them.
Mia sat frozen, heart thudding, watching their mouths move against his. The way his hands tangled in their hair. The way both girls kissed him like it wasn’t just affection-it was grounding. Reassurance. Ciming and being cimed.
The passion wasn’t performance.
And Mia… couldn’t breathe.
Her thighs squeezed together involuntarily. She wasn’t just watching a kiss. She was watching devotion.
When the kisses broke, Bharath was panting softly, eyes gzed, lips red and wet.
“You don’t need to feel guilty,” Marisol whispered, forehead against his. “You’re not taking too much. You’re just letting us give.”
Sarah added, “And you give us just as much back. Every single day.”
Bharath hugged them both close, his arms tight around their waists, pressing kisses to their temples. “I love you. I love you both so much.”
Mia watched the way they melted into him, the way their bodies curved toward his like compass needles pulled to magnetic north.
God, no wonder they shared him.
If she had that-if she had him-she wouldn’t want anyone else either.
Sarah leaned back and groaned pyfully. “Honestly, I think we have to share you. There’s no way one of us could keep up with you alone anymore.”
Marisol snorted. “Girl. Facts. You remember two nights back? You passed out early from having too many orgasms and I couldn’t walk yesterday after taking him on alone that night.”
Bharath flushed. “TMI girls! Mia’s here! Please don’t-”
“Don’t what?” Sarah grinned. “Tell Mia how you flipped me over the kitchen table and ravaged me before Marisol joined in to save me?”
Mia gasped, caught somewhere between embarrassment and arousal.
Marisol leaned over and grinned. “He’s a menace. A beautiful, thoughtful, respectful menace. I would’ve tapped out ages ago if Sarah wasn’t there to help soak up the storm.”
Bharath groaned. “You make me sound like some magical sex guru or something.”
“You kind of are,” Sarah said dryly.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Marisol added. “You still can’t fold undry.”
Sarah turned to Mia and winked. “Maybe we need more girls. Someone to tag in when we’re too blissed out to function.”
Mia’s jaw dropped, her cheeks flushing scarlet.
She ughed, but it came out breathy. Her legs shifted beneath the bnket.
She didn’t miss the way both Marisol and Sarah were watching her now.
Not pushing. Not pressuring.
But noticing.
And something in Mia clenched.
Would she be okay never being with another man again?
The logical part of her brain-the one that liked spreadsheets and school schedules-started to raise objections.
What about college? What about dating? What about freedom?
But the part of her that was watching Bharath-his eyes soft with love, his arms wrapped around the girls like they were treasure-shut all of that down.
She didn’t want freedom.
She wanted that.
She didn’t fully understand why. Not yet. Not completely.
But she could feel it.
The pull. The gravity. The heat.
She didn’t need to explore the world.
Because she was already looking at it.
Her thighs pressed tighter. Her fingers fidgeted in her p. She swallowed and blinked, trying to steady herself-but every nerve in her body was humming like a struck chord.
Just seeing him like this-with them-made her ache.
She wanted to be the one pressed against his chest. She wanted to be the one he kissed between the brows and whispered love into. She wanted to feel what they felt.
And that scared her.
But it also lit her up inside.
She wasn’t just imagining what it would be like.
She was yearning.
Sarah noticed first.
Then Marisol.
They exchanged a brief, knowing look.
Not smug.
Not superior.
But soft.
Understanding.
Sarah winked at Mia. “Maybe we need someone to help. You know, someone who gets us. Who wouldn’t just join, but belong.”
Mia’s breath caught. “Would that even be possible?”
Marisol smiled. “That’s not our question to answer.”
Sarah added, “The real question is-would you want it? Truly. Deeply. Every part of it. The surrender and the love?”
Sarah’s voice came light. “You okay, Mia?”
Mia nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Just warm?” Marisol asked, smile curling.
Mia ughed. “A little.”
Sarah nudged Bharath with her elbow. “Your heat’s contagious.”
Bharath raised an eyebrow. “Why am I being bmed again?”
“You’re the problem and the solution,” Marisol said, curling back into him. “Get used to it.”
They all ughed-but Mia’s ugh came quieter.
Because she was already imagining her pce between them.
Not just on the couch.
But in the bed.
In the home.
In the worship.
And suddenly, the idea of never touching another man didn’t feel like a sacrifice.
It felt like a promise.
One she hoped she’d get to make someday.
Marisol reached for the soda can on the table, only to catch Mia staring.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then Sarah said lightly, “Well, I think we have a pn. Phase one: Mia soft-unches the idea. Maybe brings up open retionships casually.”
Mia snorted. “That’s gonna be a stretch. She still thinks anything outside a telenove is a mortal sin.”
“That’s why you’re the secret weapon,” Marisol said.
Mia smiled.
And for the first time in hours, she let herself feel that smile.
Not just wear it.
Because beneath the plotting, and the ughter, and the soft light of the living room...
She realized something else:
They see me.
Not just as a sister. Not just as a helper.
But as something more.
Maybe not fully. Not yet.
But a door had opened.
And Mia Rivera had every intention of walking through it.