Page 48

Rilee

The house is dark and quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes after way too many carbs, three Hallmark movies, and enough family energy to emotionally short-circuit a small country.

But I can’t sleep.

Not when I know they’re all downstairs.

So I slip out of Caleb’s childhood bed—where I was supposed to be sleeping alone—and tiptoe barefoot down the hall.

The family room is faintly lit by the soft twinkle of tree lights. Warm reds and golds shimmer over every surface, casting everything in cozy magic. The pullout couch is a rumpled mess of blankets and limbs.

Grayson and Caleb are sharing the mattress—Gray on his side like he’s been posed for a sleepwear ad, one arm flung over his head, mouth slightly parted. Caleb is on his back, shirt twisted, one hand tucked behind his head like he owns the damn couch.

And Hunter?

Hunter’s on the floor like a disgruntled cat. One arm over his eyes. One knee pulled up like it might throw hands at anyone who steps too close.

I bite back a smile and creep closer.

Caleb’s eyes flutter open the second I near.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice sleep-warm and gravelly. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

“I got lonely.”

He grins and lifts the blanket. “C’mere then.”

I slide in beside him, immediately cocooned in warmth and the scent of Christmas cookies and boy. His hand slips to my waist, thumb stroking bare skin just above my pajama bottoms.

“I missed you,” I murmur.

His mouth brushes my temple. “You were gone for like an hour, tops.”

“Still counts.”

He turns, pulling me closer. His nose nuzzles my cheek. Then lower. His mouth finds mine and I melt—soft and open, completely his. The kiss deepens, lazy and hot, his tongue teasing mine until I whimper into his mouth.

His hand drifts lower, tugging at the hem of my sleep shirt.

A soft growl rumbles behind us.

“You guys suck at sneaking,” Hunter mumbles from the floor.

“Go back to sleep,” Caleb mutters against my neck.

Hunter snorts. “Not a chance in hell.”

A second later, Grayson stirs behind me, pressing a sleepy kiss to my bare shoulder. “I told you she’d come down here.”

“You also said she’d bring cookies,” Caleb says.

I grin and reach behind me to stroke Grayson’s thigh under the blanket. “Sorry. Just me.”

Grayson hums, low and pleased. “I’ll survive.”

Hunter groans. “You’re all feral.”

I lift up on an elbow and glance down at him, half-smiling. “You want to be included or just keep heckling us from the carpet like the Ghost of Christmas Grump?”

His arm drops from his face and he gets up from the floor with an exhale.

And just like that, I’m surrounded—Caleb warm and solid at my front, Grayson curled behind me, Hunter begrudgingly dragging himself closer from the floor.

This is ridiculous.

This is perfect.

Hallmark would combust.

Grayson’s hand strokes lightly along my thigh under the blanket. Soft. Sweet. Like he’s asking before he ever speaks.

“Take your shorts off, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and right against the shell of my ear.

My breath catches. I nod.

That’s all it takes.

He shifts lower with slow, controlled precision—like he’s unwrapping a gift, not rushing a moment of this. His hands slide beneath the hem of my pajama shorts and underwear, thumbs brushing the sensitive dip where hip meets thigh. I can already feel my pulse there, drumming hard against his touch.

Caleb’s still in front of me, one hand cradling my cheek, his breath warm at my ear. “Let him take care of you, baby.”

Grayson doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

He settles between my thighs and gazes up at me with hooded eyes. The first brush of his mouth makes me gasp.

His tongue moves slowly—testing, tasting, his grip on my thighs tightening as I tremble under him.

Every kiss is patient, every stroke deliberate.

He’s not in a rush. He likes this. Likes making me squirm, likes hearing the way my breath stutters every time he hits that perfect spot again and again.

I bury my fingers in his hair, helpless.

Grayson hums like he’s proud of himself.

And I’m already unraveling, hips jerking against his mouth as I come.

Before I even have a chance to float down, I’m being moved—hauled into Hunter’s lap.

I kiss him—soft at first. Testing. But he’s not soft.

Not tonight.

He cups the back of my head and pulls me closer, kissing me like he needs it to survive. His mouth is hot and rough, all tongue and tension. His other hand skims down my back, gripping my waist like he can’t quite believe I’m real.

His breath hitches when my lips graze the dip just below his sternum. I press another kiss there, then another. I can feel him watching me, his body strung tight like a live wire.

When I glance up, his jaw is clenched, eyes dark.

“Rilee…” His voice is barely a whisper. More warning than question. But he doesn’t stop me.

I shift down between his legs, my fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers, slow and teasing. His hands fist in the blanket beside him, muscles flexing like he’s trying not to shake.

“You’re killing me,” he rasps.

“Let me,” I whisper, nuzzling him softly, pressing a kiss to the spot just above the V of his hips.

He groans, head tipping back.

And when I take him in hand—give him a slow stroke—his control unravels just a little more. My mouth follows, my movements unhurried but deliberate, savoring every reaction he gives me. Every ragged breath, every whispered curse, every time he murmurs my name like it’s the only word he remembers.

Caleb’s hand moves between my legs, one thick finger pushing inside my pussy, and I moan around Hunter’s cock.

Gray plants one hand on my shoulder as I move over Hunter, a look of adoration on his face. “So sexy, princess,” he murmurs.

One of Hunter’s hands finds my hair, not pushing—never pushing—just there, grounding him as he lets go.

It’s not about power. It’s not even about pleasure.

It’s about this. Us.

The quiet storm between us.

The way he’s completely undone… only for me.

“Wait,” he rasps, voice cracking as he guides my mouth from his cock. “Need to be inside you when I come.”

I move onto my hands and knees as he situates himself behind me, already pressing against my tight opening.

His hands grip my hips—possessive, reverent.

And when he pushes in, it’s slow, steady, deep .

My fingers curl into the blanket.

My brain? Scrambled. Gone. Every thought replaced with him .

His chest presses against my back, his lips ghosting along my shoulder as he pushes his way deeper.

“Go slow,” Caleb warns, stroking my cheek.

I’m not sure when he moved in front of me, but here he is, pants off, cock in hand.

He feeds it into my mouth, and I accept, licking and sucking him hard.

“Fuck, Ri,” he growls, petting my hair. “So good, baby. So pretty. Sucking on me and getting Hunter’s dick all wet. ”

He’s right, I realize. The sound of wet flesh, of skin sliding against skin, makes the filthiest noises, coupled with Hunter’s occasional sharp exhale.

He sets a rhythm that’s firm and unrelenting, each thrust like punctuation to the way he breathes my name. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, his mouth finding the back of my neck.

“God, you feel like everything,” he murmurs, voice shaking. “Everything I didn’t know I needed.”

I can’t answer.

Only feel.

Only want .

Only let him hold me together as I fall completely apart.

“Fuck, not gonna last, Ri,” Caleb pants, one hand on my cheek, the other circling my throat. He pumps his hips in and out of my mouth, watching his dick disappear in my mouth again, and again, and again. “Come with me, princess.”

And I do. Hunter hits something deep inside me, and I detonate, exploding around him, groaning with my mouth full of Caleb. Through it all, Grayson strokes my skin, murmurs praise, waits for his turn.

I’m still breathless, still trembling from Hunter’s touch, from the way Caleb held my face and filled me with his come.

But I’m not finished.

Not even close.

I lift my gaze—and find Grayson watching me. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes burn. His chest rises and falls like he’s been holding himself back. Waiting patiently.

“Gray,” I whisper. “I need you too.”

His breath shudders out of him.

And in the next second, he’s moving.

He doesn’t say a word. Just stands and scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing, one hand under my thighs, the other braced against my back. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, heart racing.

He kisses me like I’m air and he’s drowning—deep and desperate, all heat and hunger and need . The kind that’s been simmering for weeks and finally boils over.

And then—he’s inside me.

Still standing.

Still holding me like I’m not a burden, like I’m meant to be cradled and taken and ruined by his hands alone.

My head falls back as a cry rips from my throat, my body arching into his as he moves.

Powerful.

Measured.

His arms flex with every thrust, muscles bunching beneath his skin, holding me effortlessly. Each movement is devastatingly deep, controlled— perfect . Like he knows exactly how to build me up. How to hold me right at the edge.

My fingers claw at his shoulders, my lips brushing against his temple.

“Gray,” I sob, the word tumbling from me like a prayer. “It’s too much.”

But it’s not.

Because the way he’s looking at me?

It’s reverent.

Worshipful.

Like I’m not just the girl he wants—I’m the answer to something he didn’t know he was even asking.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Which means you’ll take all of me.”

And I do.

I let him work his massive cock inside me, again and again—right there, in the middle of the family room, under the glow of twinkle lights and the warmth of someone who sees every part of me and still wants more.

Warmth behind me steals my focus for a second. Hunter is standing behind me, I realize.

His lips are on the back of my neck, my shoulder, as I bounce on Gray’s cock. Hunter’s hot length bumps into the cleft of my ass cheeks.

“I need you, baby,” he groans.