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I can feel Wicker’s hungry energy beside us, this strange crackle I’m used to grazing the edge of my nerves. I’m not even surprised when he swoops in, taking Verity’s mouth in a long, indulgent kiss.

He’d never admit it, but nothing makes him hornier than high emotions.

I wonder if she tastes me in his mouth, the way we mingle and settle, and the thought shudders through me like a quake. Maybe that’s my own touch of madness, this inability to feel part of someone unless I’ve left a piece of me inside them.

Pulling back, Verity rakes her teeth over her plush lower lip. “Now him,” she says, hooded eyes shifting to me.

I don’t get a chance to enjoy the spark of excitement in her eyes because Wicker instantly turns, dragging me into a hard, slick kiss. It’s a dichotomy that becomes more of a buzz than the rum had given me, the contrast of her soft curves and Wicker’s sharp angles.

My dick could cut glass.

“Which one of us, you think?” I rumble, both our gazes falling on Verity. She likes it. Likes watching us. It’s clear as day in the glaze of her eyes, the flush that’s running down her neck. If she only knew some of the shit we’ve gotten up to together…

“‘One fuck per day’ rule,” I remind him.

Wicker makes a low, rough sound, reaching out to sweep her long locks of red hair over a shoulder, exposing her pulse point.He sees it, too. “For her, maybe. But me?” He glances at me, eyebrow ticking up. “I can have as many as I want.”

There’s a question in his eyes, cocky but somehow still careful, like he doesn't want to spook me with the suggestion.

In front of us, Verity stammers, “Oh, y-y-you mean…” She gestures between the two of us, eyelids growing heavier. “Oh,” she says, and then, “Oh,god, yes.”

Wicker’s on her instantly, pushing her onto the couch. “You like the thought of that, don’t you?” he asks, nudging in between her legs. “Pace inside of me while I’m inside of you?” Wicker’s never been shy about carnal things, and he’s not shy about this—the thought of me fucking him.

Her chest heaves with want, fingers scrabbling to bring him closer. “Please,” she begs.

For the first time, I really regret not having a bed, although it doesn’t worsen the view much. Wicker and Verity are a fucking sight. His long limbs and her blushing skin. His muscles and her curves. The way Wicker’s slender fingers look as they push down the shoulder of her nightgown, stretching it over a soft, swollen tit. His rough groan as he palms her, and her musical moan as she arches into it.

They’re the picture of creation.

I’m so drunk on the thought that I don’t even see who takes off Wicker’s shirt. I just know that he’s suddenly miles of warm, bare flesh, and impatiently tearing off her gown. “Pace,” he’s panting, mouthing at one of her peaked, rosy nipples. “You’ve got about ten seconds to make a choice before I’m balls-deep here.”

That’s all I need to kick my body into gear, shucking off my shirt as I approach them.

I don’t know who to go for first or where I even fit in. This thing where Wicker and I reach out to each other for pleasure or connection… it’s something we’ve done as horny teens androwdy frat boys. We’re men now, whether we like it or not. Princes. Fathers.

Things changed today when Maddox revealed the truth.

If I’m the empty, watching eyes, then my fingers are lost, wondering where they belong. In the end, it’s her hand that finds mine, dragging me onto the couch beside them. The moment Wick releases the peak of a full tit, I swoop in to taste her, licking down the elegant column of her neck to follow the vivid flush downward.

She squirms when I latch onto her nipple, her finger threading through my twists, and I can feel where Wick is touching her, getting her pussy ready for him with these low, soft moans.

I have to brace a knee against the cushions to get to Wicker’s neck, burying a teeth-heavy kiss into the curve of his shoulder.

He emits a deep, impatient sound, thrusting against Verity, but just as soon as they make contact, he’s fumbling between their bodies and undoing his fly. In a show of determined skill, Wicker manages to be the first one actually naked, flashing me a wicked smirk as he kicks his jeans across the floor.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have lube in your bottom drawer.”

Shrugging, I say, “Who’s pretending?” and tear myself away from her clutching hands to find it.

As I’m rummaging around in there, I hear Wicker enter her, Verity’s breaths escalating into rapid gasps. When I turn, he’s got her spread wide in the middle of the couch, his hands braced on the back.

“Fuck,” I breathe, reaching down to squeeze myself through my jeans. There’s something about her spread like this, her belly big and round. I don’t know what I want to do first, kiss her stomach, or her pussy, touch his hair, or every inch of his skin. She’s gorgeous, laid out just for the two of us.He’sgorgeous, like he’s always been.

The light hits the contours of Wick’s back, highlighting the sinewy muscles that ripple as he seats himself inside her. His sculpted frame is a testament to disciplined power, each subtle shift revealing the harmony between muscle and bone. The parentheses of her slender, creamy thighs invite him inside, and it's gotta be true what they say about pregnancy because she's glowing.Radiant. Her glittering fingernails dig into the flesh of his back. The sight is a blend of raw masculinity and refined beauty as she throws her head back into the cushion, mouth gaping on a sweet, pleading cry.

“Come closer.”

Maybe it’s meant for me, maybe it’s not. Either way, it’s like some part of myself is completely incapable of not going to her, my fingers working my pants open and shoving them down my legs. She beckons me to her, and takes my length in her hands, stroking up and down.