Chapter 46
ELLIE
SIX MONTHS AFTER THAT
Iwake up to laughter.
Not loud—soft, muffled, the kind that wraps around me before I’m even fully conscious. The scent of coffee and something sweet drifts down the hall, and before I can sit up, the bedroom door swings open.
“Happy birthday!” Landon sings far too cheerfully for the early hour.
I groan, dragging the pillow over my face, but I’m already smiling.
Beckett crosses the room and steals the pillow away. “No hiding. It’s your special day, and we intend to worship you like the goddess you are.” He freezes, his face draining of color, and whispers, “Too soon?”
I snort.
Dominic appears beside the bed with a tray. Pancakes stacked too high, whipped cream threatening to spill over the sides, strawberries arranged like someone tried very hard. Zane has frosting on his thumb, and Ryker—quiet as ever—sets a mug of coffee on the nightstand, exactly the way I like it.
“You remembered,” I murmur.
Ryker’s mouth tilts up. “Always.”
They crowd onto the bed with me, stealing bites of pancakes, feeding me strawberries, arguing about who messed up the batter. Zane swears it was Beckett. Beckett swears it was Dominic. Dominic swears he followed the recipe. Landon just laughs and kisses my shoulder.
By the time breakfast is over, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
The day unfolds like a surprise I never quite see coming. Gifts appear one by one—not rushed, not overwhelming.
Landon gives me a worn paperback, the kind with cracked pages and love pressed into every margin. “My favorite book,” he says softly. “I wanted you to have my copy.”
Beckett’s gift is bold—a dress he designed himself that instantly brings tears to my eyes.
It’s midnight blue, the kind that shifts depending on the light—almost black in shadow, glowing soft and luminous when the candles catch it.
The fabric is silk-smooth, cool beneath my fingers, heavy enough to drape perfectly but light enough to move when I breathe.
It’s sleeveless, with a fitted bodice that hugs me like it was measured directly from my skin—which, knowing Beckett, it was.
The neckline is my favorite part. A gentle sweetheart curve, elegant instead of flashy, framing my collarbones just right. The back dips lower than I expect, not scandalous, just daring enough to make my pulse jump. A thin ribbon ties there, hand-stitched, the ends finished with tiny silver beads.
“I love it,” I whisper, tears pricking my eyes.
Beckett kisses me tenderly. “Not as much as I love you.”
Dominic’s present is practical but thoughtful: a leather-bound journal, my initials embossed on the corner. “For your music,” he says, voice steady but eyes nervous.
I don’t compose often anymore—though I do work as a music teacher at the local elementary school—but Dominic must’ve remembered me telling him I would like to start again.
My heart swells with love, and I kiss him fiercely, putting all my feelings into the press of my lips against his.
Zane hands me a box filled with Polaroids—moments I didn’t even realize he’d captured. Me laughing. Me sleeping. Me loving. “I wanted you to see yourself the way we do.”
Ryker waits until last. His gift is simple—a bracelet, silver and solid, warm from his hand. “Something to remind you,” he murmurs, “that you’re never alone.”
I can’t stop crying after that.
The afternoon turns playful. Music fills the living room.
Beckett pulls me up to dance, spinning me until I’m dizzy.
Zane joins in, dramatic and ridiculous. Landon claps offbeat.
Dominic films it, shaking his head fondly.
Ryker watches from the doorway, eyes dark and full, and when I tug him forward, he dances with me like it’s something sacred.
Dinner is homemade and chaotic. Someone burns the garlic bread. Someone else forgets the salt. It doesn’t matter. There’s wine and laughter and crumbs on the counter.
Then the lights dim.
A cake appears—slightly crooked, candles glowing. Five flames. One wish.
I close my eyes.
I don’t wish for more.
After, when the night settles and the house grows quiet, Landon slips his fingers through mine. “There’s one more thing.”
They don’t rush me. They never do. They lead me down the hall, hands brushing, their presence warm and intentional. The bedroom glows—candles, clean sheets, the air humming with something unspoken.
My heart swells.
“This,” Beckett says, gesturing around, “is for you.”
“For us,” Dominic adds.
Ryker presses a kiss to my knuckles. Zane smiles like he already knows how the night will end.
Landon’s hands trail over every part of me he can reach. Even fully clothed, I can feel Landon’s touch like a brand.
Claiming. Possessive. Hungry.
They glide over my hips, my outer thighs, and then my breasts, which feel unbearably heavy.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes in my ear, punctuating those words with a kiss to the shell of it.
My body turns into one giant goose bump as a tsunami of need blazes through me. The sensation isn’t icy, like water would be. No, it’s an inferno, and I become nothing but blistering heat that sizzles and burns.
A new pair of hands joins the first, and I stare into Dom’s arresting emerald eyes.
“Perfect,” he agrees, tapping my chin up and claiming my lips. His tongue tentatively pokes at the seam of my lips, and I don’t hesitate before opening for him, a moan rising, then catching in my throat.
Landon’s hands move to the hem of my shirt, and Dom breaks the kiss so they can pull it off of me. Before pesky self-consciousness can sink in—though there’s been less and less of that as of late—my bra comes next, leaving me bare.
Dom’s hands travel to my breasts, groping them, his thumbs teasing over my peaked nipples.
Landon, meanwhile, places a hand on my throat, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp, and turns my head toward his. He kisses me hungrily, each stroke of his tongue against mine declaring ownership.
“Fuck, this is hot,” Zane whispers. I peel my eyes open to see him watching us from the side of the room, his cock straining against his basketball shorts.
When his gaze collides with mine, liquid heat enters those dark depths, mingling with the mischief already present there.
He winks and then moves backward, never taking his eyes off me, until he can collapse in an armchair.
“So fucking hot.” He slides his dick out of his shorts and palms it at the base.
My pussy throbs.
Movement in my periphery draws my gaze away from Zane to see Beckett stepping forward.
His eyes seem especially bright tonight—one a deep forest green, like the trees outside doused in night, and the other a woodsy brown highlighted with flecks of gold.
His shirt is already off, and I greedily drink in his impressive abs and the trail of brown hair leading to the waistband of his jeans.
At some point, I must’ve stopped kissing Landon, or maybe he pulled away from me. Either way, when he chuckles, the noise vibrates through me, though his lips no longer touch my own. I whip my eyes to his molten silver ones.
“Go to him,” he instructs, the low growl reverberating through me.
I do almost mechanically, turning toward Beckett and tentatively tracing a finger down his chest. He shudders, his long lashes fluttering against my cheek, before forcing his eyes back open and spearing me with a look so full of adoration and love, I want to weep.
No one has ever loved me as much as these men.
No one ever will.
Without breaking eye contact, I tug at his jeans and boxer briefs—just enough for his long cock to spring free, whacking against his stomach. I grab him in my hand and give him a few exploratory strokes—relishing the velvety softness over hardened steel.
All of my guys are…well-endowed. At first, I thought I was being biased because of my feelings for them. And besides, it’s not like I’ve seen other cocks before.
But I looked it up once—call it morbid curiosity—and all my men are well above the average size. I also never knew cocks could appear so different. Beckett’s is paler than Zane’s or Ryker’s and slightly thinner. However, it’s one of the longest, with a mushroom tip and a tiny slit at the top.
It’s that slit I focus on as I pepper tiny, chaste kisses to it, still never breaking eye contact.
“Fuck, Ellie. Love.” He closes his eyes yet again, almost like he’s praying, as I lick the length of him, following an invisible line only I can see.
His breath releases in shuddered gasps.
Wrapping my hand around him once more, I turn toward my other guys. Dom and Landon have already stripped down and now stand before me, gloriously naked. Zane still has his shirt on but has lost his pants. He fists his cock with a wicked grin.
And Ryker…
Out of all of them, he’s the only one I wasn’t sure would participate with us today. He still struggles to share me physically with the others, though I know he has fully accepted this unconventional relationship between the six of us.
Yet, I find him watching me from the corner of the room opposite Zane, his ice-blue eyes ensnaring mine through the shadows of his hood.
He’s still fully dressed, but I can see the outline of his erection through his jeans.
His hands are fisted by his sides, as if he can’t decide whether he wants to join in or pull me away.
He doesn’t do either, though, simply watching.
That’s okay. I want him to go at his own pace. And if this proves to be too much for him, I won’t be upset if he leaves. I know it doesn’t mean he loves me any less.
I return my attention to Dominic, Landon, and Beckett, who all surround me. Their combined gazes send a jolt of lust through me. No self-consciousness this time. How could I be, when they stare at me as if I’m the only girl in the world?
It’s a heady, intoxicating sensation—and one that makes me a little nervous, if I’m being honest. I want to be worthy of the love I see in their eyes.