Page 219 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

“Bed,” I say, and they move.

Koa lies back first, reaching for me. I crawl over him, straddling his hips, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. His hands grip my waist, and I see the question in his eyes.

“Yes,” I answer before he can ask.

He lifts me slightly, positioning himself, and then I’m sinking down onto him. We both groan at the sensation—no barrier between us, just heat and connection and perfect friction.

“Fuck,” Koa breathes, head falling back.

I start to move but Atticus is there, his hand in my hair, guiding my mouth to his cock. I take him in, hollowing my cheeks, and his groan vibrates through my bones.

Revan’s hands are on me too—one between my legs finding my clit, the other cupping my breast. Three sets of hands, three different touches, and I’m completely surrounded by them.

Owned by them.

Owning them.

The rhythm builds gradually—me riding Koa while sucking Atticus, Revan’s fingers working magic between my legs. It’s overwhelming in the best way, sensation overload, and I feel my orgasm building faster than I expect.

“That’s it,” Revan murmurs in my ear. “Come for us, Lexi.”

I come hard, clenching around Koa, and the sensation triggers his own release. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me down as he spills inside me.

Atticus pulls out of my mouth carefully, and I’m barely recovered when Revan is turning me, positioning me on my hands and knees. Koa slides out reluctantly, moving to lie in front of me.

“My turn,” Revan says, and then he’s pushing inside from behind.

The angle is different, deeper, and I cry out. Koa’s hand comes to my face, thumb brushing my lips, and I open for him. Take him in my mouth while Revan fucks me from behind, and it’s perfect and overwhelming and exactly what I need.

They take turns—switching positions, trading places, learning my body together. Atticus’s fire when he finally gets his turn, brutal and passionate. Koa’s possessive dominance when he comes back for more. Revan’s movements that has me screaming into the sheets.

Hours blur together. The bed becomes a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. Somewhere outside, the world keeps turning—news programs probably showing highlights from the game, commentators analyzing the fight, the rivalry narrative growing bigger.

But in here, we’re making our own rules.

No rivalry. No competition.

Just four people who’ve been through hell and found something worth holding onto on the other side.

Later—much later—I’m lying in the center of the bed with all three of them surrounding me. Koa’s on my right, arm draped over my waist. Atticus is on my left, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip. Revan’s at my back, his chest pressed against me, his breath warm on my neck.

“This is insane,” Koa says into the darkness.

“Completely,” Revan agrees.

“Works though,” Atticus adds.

I smile against the pillow. “It works because we’re all equally insane.”

Silence settles, comfortable now instead of tense. I can feel their heartbeats—three different rhythms gradually syncing with mine.

“No more fighting,” I add.

“I’ll fight whoever I want,” Atticus interjects, and I feel him grin against my shoulder.

Revan laughs. “Yeah.”

Koa agrees with Atticus. “Now that I’m not dealing, somebody has to be my punching bag.”