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The door opens before I get the sentence out, and Verity and Lex emerge from a cloud of steam. Their skin is pink from the shower, and they’re dressed for bed, Lex in a pair of gray boxers and Verity wrapped in a white robe. While the tight line that normally creases Lex’s forehead is smoothed, Verity waddles out with short, tense steps.

Wicker props his hands on each hip, accusing, “You fucked.”

“Not her pussy,” Lex replies, snaking his arm around her waist.

“Her ass?” I ask, aware of Rosi’s tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Lex ignores us, pressing a kiss to Verity’s temple, and Wicker glares. “Her tits? You fucked her tits! Jesus Christ, why the hell didn’t you let me watch?”

“Because it wasn’t about you,” Lex says, rolling his eyes. “But I did save her for you.” He squeezes her side. “Didn’t I?”

Verity swings a glassy gaze on me. “He didn’t let me come.”

The dilated eyes. The pink cheeks. Her clenched legs.

Approaching her, I don’t think twice about grabbing the tie of her robe and tugging it free. It parts slowly, revealing her belly first, and then her tits, and I exhale shakily at the sight of her. I’ve watched this amazing body of hers grow throughout the whole pregnancy, but it still doesn’t fail to fascinate me. Her areolas are darker than they used to be—almost as brown as my own skin. Her belly is rounded, the skin taut and smooth, and although I’m getting impatient to meet the baby inside of it, I won’t deny a part of me will miss my slow, quiet morning ritual of rubbing a special cream for stretch marks onto it.

“But you want to,” I wager, parting the robe to see her bush. The hair there is thin and delicate and soft. She still doesn’t shave for me and when I push my fingers into it, venturing into her folds, I find her slicker than ever. She whimpers, face dropping to Lex’s shoulder, and my cock leaps eagerly.

Lex gestures behind me. “Pull out the compartment at the foot of the bed.”

Wick and I glance at one another, both aware of the function of that particular feature. Moving quickly, each of us grabs a handle and pulls the drawer out.

It’s a purple velvet kneeler.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Verity says, taking it in. It’s mostly a bench with the cushion hitting just below her knees.

“The bed was designed for all parts of creation. Sleep, safety, and comfort.” Lex guides her over. “You’re welcome to get in bed and find the position that works best for you, but the Princeswho had this built knew what they were doing. Using the end of the bed will take some of the weight off, and by leaning forward…” He trails off, eyes dark.

“We can get to you,” I say, cock thickening. “All of us.”

The roundness of her body, although fucking glorious, is rapidly growing a bit problematic for more than one of us to navigate at a time. If we were more patient men, we’d wait until she’s had the baby to try anything adventurous.

We’re not patient men.

“You mean…” She bites her lip, shooting a smoldering glance between me and Wick. “Like, both of you? At the same time?” Then, she looks over her shoulder at Lex. “We can do that?”

He kisses her temple, watching as her eyes flutter shut. “If you want them to.” He doesn’t tell her that we talked about it last week, Lex deciding that her risk factors this close to the birth are so much slimmer than in her second trimester. He doesn’t tell her thathe’sthe one who brought the idea to me and Wick. And he definitely doesn’t tell her about the one-hour argument between us over who gets her ass first.

Verity shudders. “We can try it.” Her eagerness is on full display as she shrugs off the robe, letting it fall to the floor. For a brief moment, time stands still. I told her earlier tonight she looked like a goddess in that dress, but here? Naked? Fuck me. She’s so ripe and swollen, full with life—creation—and the urge to sink into her isn’t just a want.

It’s a primal need.

Wick’s towel drops to the ground and he already has his erect cock fisted in his hand. If anyone knows how to take command of a moment like this it’s Whitaker Ashby.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, crossing the distance between them. He places his mouth on hers just as his hand finds her full tit, massaging the supple flesh with his palm. Whenhe pulls away, lips red from the kiss, he tilts his head at Lex. “Did he drink from you?”

Verity chases his mouth, eyes dazed. “Not yet.”

“He will tonight.” To Lex, he commands, “Get on the bed.”

Our brother obeys, climbing up and kneeling at the foot while Wicker hops up on the bench, his cock pointing upward like an arrow poised to fire. He pinches the base, then strokes up. “You’re gonna straddle me like a good girl, and then I’m going to lick your pussy just how you like it.” His eyes meet mine. “She need some lube?”

“For you, no. She’s ready.” I lick my bottom lip. “But for me?” I jerk my chin at Lex. “Toss me a bottle.”

While Lex rummages inside the bedside table, I take her hand and guide her over to Wick, trying to sense any nerves. “I’ll go slow,” I assure her, taking the opportunity to stroke the side of her breast as she swings a leg over Wick’s lap. “Just relax and let us do the work.”

It’s a little cumbersome, and nothing like the rough manhandling we’re used to, but their safety comes first. She places her hands on each of Wick’s shoulders, and with his help, we get a knee on each side of him. Her belly is in his face, and I can’t help but notice how much he touches her there now. He spoke the words earlier tonight, declaring himself Justice’s father, but saying and believing are two different things.