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Luke curls up beside me, with Finlay following on my other side. We’re at the end of the bed, splayed at a diagonal. Finlay trails butterfly kisses across my neck while Luke watches me with something like adoration on his face.
My hips arch off the bed, and I’m burningly aware of all eyes watching me, as I sink into the mattress and the sparks of pleasure slowly ease.
“You came without touching yourself,” Luke marvels, his fingers ghosting across my cheeks, neatly organizing my wild strands of hair behind my ear. “I had no inkling such things were possible.”
“Neither did I.” My breath is exultation. Joy storms my body, as I lie between my two heart-lightened chiefs.
I want to frame this moment forever. The peace and gentle curiosity in Luke’s gaze. The possessive grip of Finlay’s arm around my middle. The three of us, warm and tangled in limbs and hearts.
The bed dips momentarily, and I open my drooping eyes to see Danny crawling beside Luke. He gives me an indulgent smile, and I note that the bulge of his erection hasn’t faded in the least.
A shadow falls over all of us. I twist my head to see Rory peering down at us, like some kind of judging angel in black jeans from on high.
“O captain, my captain,” Finlay murmurs sleepily beside me, curling his arm even tighter around my waist.
Rory ignores him, focusing solely on me. “That littleact,” he says, sounding disapproving and strangely agitated as he gazes down at me. One glance at the swell of his jeans tells me all I need to know.
“What little act?” I ask innocently, though it’s clear he means my touch-less orgasm.
He blows out a long breath and shakes his dark blond head. And then he bows down, leaning against the bed, and somehow our roles have been flipped and I’m the angel from above. Rory kisses me like he’s indulging a craving, and in the comfort of our shared bed he tastes the truth of Luke, the gospel of him, on my lips and tongue.
