Going Live — Bonus Chapter

An Exclusive Scene by Isla Wilde

🔥 Patron Tier

A bonus scene set after the epilogue — too hot for Amazon.

The stream ended at eleven, and the apartment still smelled like Thai food and victory.

Forty-one thousand concurrent viewers on the anniversary special. A record that would hold for months. Forty-one thousand people watching three gamers win a ranked match and say goodnight, and not one of them knew what happened after the camera cut, because some content doesn’t belong to an audience.

This content belonged to a couch, a record player, and three people who’d been eye-fucking each other for four hours of family-friendly broadcast while pretending to care about headshot percentages.

“That,” Dane said, loosening the button-down’s collar — our button-down, the one that had survived a year of proposals and breakdowns and Bakersfield Christmases — “was an unreasonable amount of restraint. I want a medal.”

“You touched my leg under the desk during round three.” I was already pulling him toward the bedroom by his belt. “That’s not restraint. That’s war crimes.”

“I touched your knee. A knee is PG. A knee is wholesome.”

“Your hand was on my inner thigh and climbing.”

“Anatomical proximity. Not actionable.”

“You were hard for the last hour of the stream.”

“I was enthusiastic about the gameplay.”

“Your gameplay was in my lap.”

“That metaphor got away from me,” Dane admitted, and I shut him up by shoving him against the hallway wall and kissing him the way I’d been fantasizing about since round one, when he’d leaned across the desk to adjust my monitor and his forearm had flexed six inches from my face and I’d lost a gunfight because my brain had left the building.

He groaned into my mouth and grabbed my hips and pulled me against him, and yes, he was hard. His hands slid down to my ass and squeezed and lifted, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me down the hall with my fingers in his hair and his mouth on my throat, and we would have made it to the bedroom if Nico hadn’t been standing in the doorway. Standing. Shirtless. Arms crossed. The locked drawer already open behind him.

“Took you long enough,” Nico said.

The bedroom was candlelit. On the nightstand, laid out with surgical precision: the leather cuffs. The silk blindfold. The vibrator that routinely ended up on the carpet. Silk ties in deep green. Warming oil. And one new item — a slim, curved toy in matte black.

“Anniversary present,” Nico said. “Remote-controlled. Two motors. One for you, one for whoever’s inside you at the time.”

“You bought us a triad toy. It has three settings. The engineer who designed it planned that, and I’m choosing to believe in fate.”

“Anniversary rules,” Nico said, looking up at both of us. “Or no rules?”

“No rules,” we said together.

Nico’s pupils blew. “Good. Come here. Both of you.”

Dane undressed me first. Standing, because it was his favorite way. He knew where every nerve ending lived. He ran one finger from my navel to my hip bone and I made the sound I couldn’t replicate on command.

“One year,” he said, kneeling, pulling my underwear down with his teeth. “One year and that sound still kills me.”

He pressed his mouth to my hip bone, then lower, breathing hot, not touching where I needed him. “I want to worship you tonight.”

“Start with your mouth,” Nico said from the bed, his hand moving over the front of his jeans. “I want to watch her face.”

Dane spread me with his thumbs and pressed his mouth against my cunt. His tongue was flat and warm and slow, dragging from entrance to clit in one long stroke. He curled his tongue around my clit and sucked, and I nearly went down.

Nico appeared behind me — chest against my back, arms around my waist, holding me upright. His hands cupped my breasts, thumbs rolling over my nipples. Dane’s mouth between my legs. Nico’s hands on my chest. The room tilted.

Dane pushed two fingers inside me and curled them forward, stroking in time with his tongue. I was climbing fast —

“Not yet,” Nico said. “Hold it.”

“I can’t —”

His hand slid down past Dane’s face, and I felt Nico’s fingers join Dane’s — two more, sliding in alongside, four fingers stretching me wide. The fullness made my vision white.

“Hold it,” Nico said again, and I did, trembling between them, the control I’d spent my life weaponizing being surrendered completely.

“Now.”

Dane sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked hard and Nico pressed deep and I came with a scream, my body seizing between them, Dane coaxing a second orgasm out of the tail of the first — timing his tongue to the aftershocks until they crested again.

They lowered me to the bed. I lay there panting and said, “I want the ties.”

“Tie Dane’s hands,” I said. “I want him to watch everything we do to him and know he can’t direct it or control it or perform it. He just has to receive.”

“Green,” Dane said. “The greenest. Tie me up.”

Nico bound him with the double-column tie — green silk around Dane’s wrists, secured to the headboard with a quick-release knot.

Dane tested the bonds. Grinned. “Do your worst.”

I kissed him deep, tasting myself on his lips. While I kissed him, Nico took his cock into his mouth without preamble. Dane broke the kiss to gasp, hips bucking, wrists pulling against the silk.

“Nico — fuck —”

I moved down Dane’s body. Bit the join of his shoulder and neck. Circled his nipple with my tongue while Nico’s head moved between his thighs. I reached for the warming oil, slicked my hand around his cock, stroking in the firm rhythm I’d calibrated over a year. Then Nico’s mouth. Then my mouth — taking Dane deep into my throat, his cock thick and twitching against my tongue. No pattern, no warning, so he never knew which sensation was coming, which person.

Three edges. Three pullbacks. Three moments of Dane writhing against the silk: please, don’t stop, no don’t stop stopping, I’m dying —

“You’re not dying. You’re being loved.”

“Being loved is killing me —”

On the fourth climb: the glance. I untied his right, Nico untied his left, and Dane’s hands were everywhere — grabbing my hips, hauling Nico up to kiss him with the desperate greed of a man who’d spent twenty minutes unable to touch.

“Both of you,” I said, straddling his hips, feeling him hard against me. “At the same time. And I want the new toy.”

Dane on his back. Me astride him, sinking down in one slow descent. His hands on my hips, mouth falling open.

“Every time,” he breathed. “Every single time, you feel like the first time.”

Behind me, Nico’s fingers worked me open — one, then two, then three, stretching gently, his other hand on the base of my spine. Dane held still, buried deep, whispering — you’re so good, take your time, I love you.

“Ready?”

“If you don’t fuck me in the next ten seconds I’m going to lose my mind.”

Nico pushed in by agonizing degrees. I breathed and opened and took him until he was fully seated and the world narrowed to a single sensation: full. Both of them, stretched and held and connected at every possible point.

“Move. Both of you. Move.“

Alternating thrusts — one pushing in as the other pulled back, a seesaw of sensation that never let me empty. Then Nico slid the new toy between our bodies. One vibrating end against my clit, the other buzzing against the base of Dane’s cock.

He turned it on. Both of us shouted.

“Dual vibration confirmed,” Nico said, with absolutely no inflection.

“I’m going to kill you,” Dane choked. “I’m going to come in thirty seconds —”

“Don’t hold it.” Nico thrust harder, deeper. The vibration was relentless. Dane’s hips snapping up. I was caught between three kinds of pleasure too overwhelming to differentiate.

“Together. All three —”

Nico increased the vibrator. Highest setting.

I came first — the orgasm detonated, a full-body seizure that clenched every muscle. The clenching dragged Dane with me, his hips slamming up, my name breaking apart in his mouth — A-va, A-va, A-va — as he came inside me. Nico lasted ten seconds longer — always last, always making sure — and came with the word home against my skin.

He turned off the vibrator. The silence was enormous.

We collapsed into the candlelit wreckage. The silk ties hung from the headboard like green flags of surrender. The vibrator was on the floor again — its natural habitat.

“Holy shit,” Dane said to the ceiling.

“The toy. The dual vibration. Nico. You are a genius and a menace and I can’t feel my legs.”

“Temporary. Blood flow will normalize in approximately four minutes.”

“He timed it. He already knows the recovery window.”

“I’ve timed everything. It’s a flaw and a superpower.”

“Patron tier,” Dane said, after a while. “The tier above every tier. The content that doesn’t exist. The session that never gets uploaded.”

“The session that belongs to us,” Nico corrected.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” I whispered.

“Happy anniversary,” Nico murmured.

On the nightstand, Dane’s phone glowed: ELENA MORENO: Happy anniversary, mijos. The matching sweaters are in the mail. I made them bigger this year. You all eat too much of my tamales. This is a compliment. Come at Christmas. Bring the jade plant. ❤️

The candles burned out one by one. Three people held each other in the earned, irreplaceable warmth, and stayed. They always stayed now.

“Hey, Ava?” Dane said, drowsy.

“Mm.”

“The duet clip. One year ago. ‘That flank in round three was the sexiest thing I’ve watched all month.’ I was so wrong. This is. Every month. Every night. You two. The sexiest thing I’ve ever watched, the sexiest thing I’ve ever touched, the sexiest thing I’ve ever been allowed to keep.”

“Sap,” Nico murmured.

“Your sap. Permanently. With brackets.”

“With brackets,” Nico confirmed.

And in the morning there would be pancakes, and arguments about soap, and a life that none of them had planned for and all of them had chosen. It was always enough.

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