Page 65

Rilee

The second our front door closes behind us, I sag against it with relief. “We survived.”

“Barely,” Hunter mutters, dropping our bags. “My grandmother gave me her therapist’s number.”

“She gave me a book,” Caleb says cheerfully. “Want to see the diagrams?”

“No,” we all say in unison.

Grayson moves toward me, cupping my face gently. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since we left.”

I lean into his touch. “Just processing. Your family was…”

“Invasive? Overwhelming? Surprisingly supportive?” Hunter supplies.

“All of the above.” I smile despite myself. “Though your grandma’s pretty amazing.”

“She texted me,” Caleb announces, then reads from his phone: “‘Tell Rilee she’s welcome anytime. P.S. - The antique bed in Hunter’s room has a reinforced frame. Just saying.’”

Hunter groans. “I’m changing my number.”

But there’s fondness in his voice, and when he looks at me, his expression softens. “Come here.”

I go willingly, letting him pull me against his chest. He’s solid and warm and smells like home.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair. “For putting up with all that. For being so patient with my family.”

“They love you,” I say softly. “They just want to understand.”

“What’s to understand?” Caleb asks, wrapping his arms around both of us from behind. “We’re happy. End of story.”

Grayson joins us, and suddenly I’m surrounded by warmth and the familiar scents of the three men who’ve become my whole world.

“I love you all,” I whisper. “Even when you’re chaos incarnate.”

“Especially then,” Caleb corrects, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I turn in their arms, looking up at each of them. “Take me to bed?”

Having to be quiet this morning and rush off to breakfast left all of us unsatisfied.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hunter says, already lifting me into his arms.

He carries me down the hall like I weigh nothing, his grip firm and possessive, one arm beneath my thighs, the other wrapped around my back.

“You know I can walk, right?” I tease, looping my arms around his neck.

“Too slow,” he mutters, like it’s a personal offense. “Need you horizontal. Now.”

“That was definitely in Grandma’s book,” Caleb calls behind us. “Chapter six: Positional enthusiasm.”

“Do not bring my grandmother’s sex manual into this bedroom,” Hunter growls as he kicks the door open.

He lays me on the bed with surprising gentleness, but the look in his eyes is anything but soft. It’s hunger. It’s heat. It’s a little unhinged.

“You okay?” he asks again, hands already sliding beneath my shirt like he’s forgotten how to breathe without skin contact.

“I’m perfect,” I whisper. “Now ruin me.”

“Fuck,” Caleb groans, tugging off his hoodie. “You can’t just say things like that unless you’re ready to be worshipped.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” I say, sitting up and dragging my top over my head.

Grayson’s already at the edge of the bed, silent but deliberate, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one, like he’s unwrapping a weapon.

“You sure?” he asks, voice a little hoarse. “You’ve been through a lot this week. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m positive,” I say, giving him a small smile. “I want you. All of you.”

That breaks something in him. His shirt hits the floor.

Hunter’s mouth finds my neck first—rough and needy. Caleb’s hands are on my waist, slipping beneath the waistband of my leggings like they offend him personally. And Grayson moves behind me, brushing my hair to the side and pressing a kiss just below my ear.

“Mine,” he murmurs. “All mine.”

“I thought we agreed to share,” Caleb says, voice breathless as he helps pull my leggings and panties down.

“She’s still mine,” Grayson says, dark and certain.

“And mine,” Caleb counters, his fingers slipping between my thighs, teasing, coaxing me open.

Hunter’s already shifting down the bed, spreading my legs with slow reverence and deadly intent.

“You looked so good at breakfast,” he murmurs, kissing up my inner thigh. “Sitting there with your messy hair and my hickey on your collarbone like you didn’t know you were the most dangerous thing in the room.”

“I spilled orange juice on myself.”

“Still hot. I almost had to drag you under the table,” Caleb says.

I laugh, but it quickly morphs into a moan as Hunter’s mouth finds me—hot and precise, all-consuming. Grayson steadies me with a hand at my back while Caleb trails kisses across my chest like I’m made of sugar.

I lose track of who’s touching what. Hands and mouths, heat and worship, teasing and claiming. Every inch of me is kissed or licked or praised, over and over, until I’m trembling and gasping and completely undone.

“You always fall apart for us so pretty,” Caleb says, brushing sweat-damp hair from my face.

“You’re not done with me,” I manage, clinging to Grayson as he shifts me into his lap.

“Never,” Grayson says, lifting my hips with careful strength. “Never done. Not even close.”

He slides into me slowly, and I shatter all over again. Caleb kisses me through it, murmuring sweet filth against my lips, while Hunter positions himself behind me, dragging his teeth down my spine.

“We should warn the neighbors,” Caleb says. “Or at least send a thank-you basket.”

“You’re gonna break me,” I gasp as Grayson thrusts harder, Caleb’s hand sliding between my thighs to stroke me in rhythm.

Hunter leans in, his voice low and wrecked. “That’s the point.”

Grayson groans into my neck, and I feel it in every inch of me. He’s close— we’re close—and when Caleb presses his thumb just right, everything inside me snaps.

I cry out, falling apart around Grayson as he follows with a raw, desperate sound, thrusting once more before he stills, breath ragged against my throat. He holds me through it, forehead pressed to mine, murmuring something soft and reverent I can’t even process.

My whole body is trembling.

“I love you,” he whispers against my skin. “So fucking much, Ri.”

I barely have time to breathe before I’m being moved—lifted, shifted—Grayson easing out while Hunter takes his place behind me.

“Still with us?” he asks, hands spreading my thighs like I might say no and he’ll still take me anyway.

“Barely,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says, pushing into me with one deep, claiming thrust that knocks the breath out of my lungs. “I want to ruin what’s left.”

I sob his name—half-plea, half-praise—and he fucks me like he means it. No teasing, no hesitation. Just possession, rhythm, and pure, unfiltered want. Caleb grips my hip, one rough palm just above my ass, while Hunter pounds into me from behind like he’s chasing something only I can give him.

“You feel like everything,” he grits out, hips stuttering. “You feel like home .”

Then softer— quieter , but with more weight than I can stand—he whispers against my neck.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this. And now I’d tear the sky down before I let it go.”

I shatter again, harder than before, sobbing through it as Hunter groans and comes inside me with a trembling curse. He stays pressed to my back, chest heaving, mouth buried in my shoulder like he can’t quite let go.

When he finally pulls out, I collapse into the pillows, spent and aching.

“I think I’m dead,” I mumble.

“You’re not,” Caleb says, voice deceptively gentle as he coaxes me onto my back. “Because I’m next.”

“Oh god,” I whisper, legs already trembling as he settles between them.

He pushes in with a low growl and a kiss to my temple. “I’ll go slow.”

He doesn’t.

Because he can’t. Because we’re past slow and deep into desperation. Caleb fucks me like he’s chasing the memory of every time I’ve ever looked at him like I needed him.

It’s too much.

His thick cock is coated in me, in all of us. And as he moves, it makes the most deliciously filthy wet slapping sound.

He lifts up slightly, brushing my hair back. “One more for me, princess?”

“I can’t ,” I whimper, even as my body arches toward him. “You’re insane.”

“One more,” he begs, rocking against me slowly. “Please?”

I hate him.

I love him.

I shake my head. “Can’t.”

“Can and will,” he corrects.

And just when I open my mouth to argue, Grayson brings his hand between us, rubbing my clit with expert precision.

“Come on Caleb’s dick, baby,” he whispers, voice a low, rough plea.

And then I feel it building inside me—somehow, impossibly—Caleb does too, groaning my name like a prayer.

I come again, sobbing into his neck, and he finishes with a strangled moan and a whispered that’s my good girl that makes my chest ache.

He drops over me, panting. “Holy shit.”

“I’m dying,” I murmur into his shoulder.

“You’re glowing,” he counters.

When we’re finally still, I’m a wreck—used and trembling and held together by nothing but their hands and their voices.

Caleb withdraws carefully.

Grayson is the first to pull the blanket over me. Caleb kisses my forehead. Hunter presses a cold water bottle to my palm and mutters something about electrolyte loss.

“Someone get me a priest,” I whisper. “Or a waffle.”

Hunter chuckles dropping beside me. “You okay, baby?”

“You need protein,” Grayson says, already grabbing his phone. “I’ll order breakfast.”

“I need an ice pack for her pussy,” Caleb says, rubbing circles into my thigh. “She’s going to be sore.”

“I am right here,” I mumble.

“You should’ve heard yourself,” Caleb says, smug. “It was art.”

“She needs arnica,” Grayson says.

“She needs me to go down on her again,” Hunter counters.

“I need a nap,” I groan.

“You need all of us,” Caleb says, wrapping his arms around me. “And lucky for you…”

“You’ve got us,” Grayson finishes.

Hunter kisses my shoulder, voice low and smug. “Forever.”

“I love you,” I whisper. “All of you. So much it’s terrifying.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Caleb murmurs, curling himself around my back.

“We’ve got you,” Grayson adds.

“Always,” Hunter says, pressing a final kiss to the base of my spine.

And then they wrap around me like armor, warm and safe and irrevocably mine.