His fingers find my clit, pinching and rubbing fast and firm until the orgasm rips through me like lightning. I cry out around Jackson’s cock as I come hard, body shaking violently. Jackson groans deep, hips jerking as he spills down my throat, thick and hot. Zach comes a moment later over my hand and wrist, warm pulses coating my skin.
Elijah thrusts deep one last time and comes with a guttural groan, flooding me with thick, hot spurts that I can feel leaking down my thighs.
For a long moment we stay locked together, breathing hard, bodies slick and trembling, the room heavy with the scent of sex and sweat.
Then they shift, gentle now, reverent.
Zach grabs a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom and wipes me clean between my legs with careful strokes. Jackson lifts me carefully into his arms, carrying me to the center of the big bed while Elijah pulls the covers back. They settle me between them, surrounding me completely, Zach on one side, Jackson on theother, Elijah beneath me, his hand resting protectively over my stomach.
Zach presses a soft kiss to my temple. “You did so well, baby. We’ve got you.”
Jackson nuzzles my neck, voice warm. “So perfect for us, sweetheart. We love you.”
Elijah’s voice is quiet against my hair. “You’re safe. You’re ours. Always.”
They tuck the blankets around me, hands stroking my skin in slow, soothing passes, murmuring soft words of love and praise until my eyes grow heavy. I’m surrounded, warm, safe, completely held.
For the first time in days, I fall asleep feeling nothing but love.
fifty-five
Liana
The silk slides over my skin like it remembers me. Cool at first. Then warm. Then something else entirely.
I stand in front of the mirror a little longer than I should, fingertips trailing down the line of the emerald fabric as it curves over my waist, my hips, the soft swell of my stomach that still barely shows but feels different to me now. Everything feels different. My body feels… alive in a way that’s almost overwhelming.
The dress clings in all the right places. It shouldn’t feel this intimate. But it does. Because I remember this dress. Not just trying it on. Not just the way it looked.
The dressing room.
The mirror.
Jackson’s hands.
The way he’d followed me inside before I could even think, the way the door had barely clicked shut before his mouth was on mine, before his hands were everywhere, before the silk hadbecome something else entirely, something that slid against my skin while he held me up against the wall like he couldn’t not touch me.
My breath stutters slightly.
Heat curls low in my stomach, slow and familiar, my thighs pressing together instinctively.
God.
Even now.
Even just thinking about it.
My fingers curl lightly into the fabric at my hips as I exhale, steadying myself, but it doesn’t quite work. The memory lingers, warm and insistent, threading through me in a way that makes me feel a little unsteady.
A little hungry.
“Not the time,” I whisper to myself, even though my lips curve faintly.
My body doesn’t listen. It hasn’t been listening lately.
I smooth my hands down the dress one last time, adjusting the neckline slightly, checking the fall of it, the way it catches the light, and then I turn toward the door.
The second I step out, everything stops. All three of them are already there, waiting, and for a moment, I forget how to move.
