Page 29 of Carnival Mayhem

We’re three broken pieces that somehow make something whole together. The darkness that’s always lived inside me,which makes me keep everyone at arm’s length, retreats a little when I’m with them.

I’ve never believed in fate or destiny, but this feels different. Flora’s trust in us and her perfect understanding of our dynamic without words can’t be a coincidence. Yesterday, she was a stranger. Today, I can’t imagine our lives without her.

I leave the trailer, my mind in turmoil, but my body knows what it wants. It’s time to face the truth and explore the depths of our desires.

15

COLT

One week.

Seven days that bled together in a blur of pleasure.

Flora is a fucking angel. Eager to please and responsive to every touch.

We have fallen into a comfortable routine. Wake, fuck, repeat. Training in the day, then returning to our shared space to cook dinner, only to lose ourselves in each other’s bodies all night. Flora’s body was like a canvas; we painted it with our desire, leaving our marks all over her; hickeys and bruises. We need to calm it down before the Christmas show.

But there’s still an itch I can’t scratch. It’s the fantasy that Flora and I discussed. Neither of us can bring it up with Nash, and Flora did mention that I had to do it, not her. I agree, as Nash might do it to please her rather than wanting it for himself.

The thought lingers as I watch Flora and Nash practice their trapeze routine. Nash guides Flora through another aerial sequence, and his muscles ripple as he catches her.

My cock hardens at the sight of them together—the way Nash’s hands grip Flora’s waist, how she arches into his touch without hesitation now.

What a difference from that first day, when she’d jump at sudden movements. Now, she melts into Nash’s hold, trusting him completely. Whatever darkness haunts her past, we’re helping her overcome it one touch at a time.

Nash lifts Flora higher, their bodies pressed close. My mind wanders to forbidden territory—imagining myself behind Nash while he takes Flora. The image of my cock buried deep in his ass while he fucks into her makes my breath catch.

Flora catches my eye and gives me a knowing look. We’ve talked about it—my hidden desires for Nash. She understands and encourages it; she says we should explore it together. But bringing it up with Nash... that’s different.

What if it changes everything?

Nash calls out instructions to Flora, his voice deep and commanding. She responds instantly to his direction, her body moving fluidly through the air. There is no trace of that scared girl who first came to us in these moments. Here, suspended above the ground, she’s found her freedom.

I adjust myself discreetly, unable to tear my eyes away from them. The way they move together, the trust between them—it’s intoxicating. And knowing that later, we’ll take that connection to an even deeper level in our bed...

My cock throbs painfully against my zipper. Watching them is pure torture but the sweetest kind.

I watch as Nash helps Flora down from the rigging, his hands lingering on her waist longer than necessary. My mouth goes dry at their casual intimacy.

“Great work today,” Nash says, ruffling Flora’s hair. “You’re picking this up faster than anyone I’ve seen.”

“Lunch?” I suggest rolling my shoulder to work out the stiffness. “I’m starving after watching you two.”

Nash’s expression shifts, a flash of regret crossing his features. “Can’t. Ty needs help with some business.” He grabshis bag from the corner. “But I’ll meet you both back here before tonight’s show.”

Flora’s face falls slightly at the news, but she brightens as she turns to me. “We could grab lunch together?” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a habit I’ve come to find endearing.

“Yeah, angel. I’d like that.” I grab my own bag, slinging it over my good shoulder.

Nash heads for the exit, pausing briefly to squeeze my uninjured shoulder. “Don’t forget to ice that before the show tonight. Can’t have you dropping me in front of the crowd.”

“When have I ever dropped you?” I call after him, but he’s already gone, leaving me alone with Flora.

“Ready?” I ask her.

She nods, stepping beside me as we head for the tent’s exit. Crisp and clean winter air hits us, a stark contrast to the warmth of the training space.

I guide Flora to my truck, noting how her shoulders tense as we drive into town. Her fingers twist in her lap, a nervous habit I’ve picked up on this past week.

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