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“More,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I need more. I need—fuck, I can’t think.”
“It’s okay, we’ve got you,” Ford growls. “You don’t have to think of anything, Spitfire. Just feel. Just let go for us.” His tone shifts a little, and I can tell he’s talking to me and Gabriel as he adds, “Make our girl come.”
Gabriel shifts his hand in a way that makes me realize he’s curling his fingers inside her to hit her g-spot, and I suck hard on her clit, both of us working together to do just what Ford said. The combination finally pushes her over the edge. She comes with a cry that’s music to my ears, her body convulsing as her stomach clenches.
Her release hits her so hard that she squirts, her arousal drenching my mouth and chin as her pussy clenches and releases over and over. I lap at every drop, drunk on the taste of her, my cock so hard it’s almost painful.
When she finally stops shaking, she looks down at us with wide, embarrassed eyes, her cheeks flushed and her mouth hanging open a little.
“Oh, shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Fuck, that was hot,” I cut her off, my tongue darting out to lick my lips. Fuck, I don’t want to miss a single drop. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“So fucking hot,” Gabriel agrees, his fingers still buried inside her, moving gently as she comes down from her high. “I want to make you do that again. And again.”
I look up at Gabriel and Ford, all of us smirking as our gazes lock. The night is young, and we’re nowhere near done with her.
“I wonder what else our girl can do?” I ask, my voice rough with anticipation.
“We should find out,” Gabriel says with a wicked grin.
“Definitely,” Ford agrees, his hands already reaching for her, possessive and hungry.
I scoop her up and carry her to the bed, her body pliant in my arms as she floats in the heady aftermath of her climax. When we lay her down on the soft sheets, she immediately reaches for us with greedy hands, pulling us closer.
“More,” she begs, her voice soft and needy in a way that goes straight to my cock. “Please, I need more.”
I’m already shedding my clothes, my movements quick and efficient. Gabriel and Ford are doing the same, and within moments, we’re all naked and surrounding her on the massive bed.
The sight of her spread out for us, her red hair cascading across the pillow as her flushed breasts rise and fall with every breath, is something I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
I position myself between her thighs, the head of my cock nudging at her entrance. She’s so wet already, and when I slide into her, it feels like coming home after a lifetime of wandering.
“Fuck,” I breathe, going still once I’m fully seated inside her, letting her adjust to my size. “Perfect. So damn perfect.”
This is where I belong. Where we all belong. And from the way she’s looking at us, like she can’t imagine being anywhere else, I know she feels it too. The night is just beginning, and I plan to spend every moment of it showing her exactly how sorry we are.
And exactly how much we love her.
59
MAEVE
Two days later, I wake up sated and pleasantly sore in the gigantic California king that now dominates the largest guest bedroom. My muscles feel loose and relaxed in that particular way that comes from being thoroughly loved, and there’s a satisfied ache between my thighs that makes me smile despite myself.
We actually had to buy this mattress just yesterday, since not even a regular king was quite big enough for all four of us without someone ending up precariously close to the edge. The sales associate at the furniture store didn’t even blink when Ford explained we needed the largest bed they made delivered immediately. Money talks, apparently. But it’s ridiculously comfortable, with memory foam that seems to cradle all of us perfectly, and now that we’re no longer hiding our relationship, there’s no point in keeping up the charade of separate rooms. Taking turns between each guy’s bed would have been exhausting anyway, not to mention emotionally unsatisfying. This feels right—all of us together, limbs tangled, breathing synchronized in sleep.
I’m still amazed by how accepting Ford’s parents have been. I’d expected awkwardness, maybe some polite disapproval or requests for separate accommodations. Instead, I think it’s been a combination of finally seeing Liam for what he really is, refusing to turn a blind eye anymore, and Charles making a genuine effort to repair things with Ford. There’s been a shift in the household dynamics that’s palpable—less tension, more authentic conversation, even some laughter during meals that doesn’t feel forced.
Lydia has been incredible through all of this. I caught her yesterday in the library with Charles, giving him what looked like a full presentation about nontraditional relationships, complete with little diagrams on her phone and what appeared to be scholarly articles she’d printed out. Her determination to help her family understand is remarkable.
Things between Charles and Ford won’t magically fix themselves overnight. They’re both stubborn men who struggle to show vulnerability. There are decades of misunderstanding to work through, ingrained patterns of communication that will take time to change.
But they’re both trying, really trying, and that’s what matters. I’ve seen Charles make genuine attempts to ask Ford about his work, and Ford actually answering instead of giving those clipped, professional responses he usually defaults to.
For the first time, I have real hope that they’ll find their way back to each other.
I stretch lazily, feeling the pleasant pull of well-used muscles, and glance up at the ceiling. I can’t help but laugh softly when I spot the mistletoe still hanging there, tied with an elaborate blue velvet ribbon that definitely wasn’t part of the original Christmas decorations. Gabriel put it up last night with great ceremony, claiming it was a Christmas tradition that required thorough enforcement.
