Chapter 63
Willow
The credits are still rolling when Carson clicks off the TV, plunging the room into a quiet kind of dark—the only light coming from the soft glow above the stove in the kitchen. No one says a word, but everything shifts.
The air thickens.
My pulse skitters.
Graham rises first, reaching a hand toward me. I take it without hesitation, letting him pull me gently to my feet. Carson follows, brushing his fingers along my lower back, guiding me with that same easy confidence he wears like a second skin.
They don’t take me to the bedroom.
Instead, Graham pulls me to the middle of the living room—next to our makeshift nest—and turns me to face him. His thumb brushes my jaw again, the same way it did when I told them I was ready—when I gave them the words they’ve been waiting to hear.
“I want you to feel everything,” he says, a soft promise. “Nothing rushed.”
Carson steps behind me, his body heat wrapping around me. “We are going to give you so much pleasure, peaches.”
I shiver as Carson’s mouth finds the curve of my shoulder, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just above where his claiming mark will go. My knees nearly buckle.
Graham tilts my chin up, holding my gaze. “Color?”
“Green,” I whisper. “So green.”
“Good girl.”
They undress me slowly.
Worshipfully.
Their hands never stop moving, soft touches trailing heat across every inch of bare skin. And when I’m standing there between them, flushed with a breathless need, Carson presses his lips to the hollow of my throat again.
“You sure?” he murmurs.
I nod once, giving them full permission.
Graham lowers me down onto the plush throw blankets and pillows laid out on the floor. My back hits softness, but the tension coiling inside me is anything but gentle. They follow me down.
Carson kisses my collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste, as his fingers trail over my bare stomach. “You want Graham first or me?”
I blink up at them, dazed. “I…both. All of you.” I find Hunter’s steady gaze from the couch, where he hasn’t moved. He’s watching us, his dark eyes taking it all in with satisfaction.
Graham’s mouth curves, slow and dark. “Eventually, sweetheart. But one at a time right now.”
He leans in and kisses me then—slow, possessive, curling my toes with every swipe of his tongue. I gasp into it, fisting his shirt. And when his lips drag down my throat to the tender spot at the junction of neck and shoulder, I know.
This is it.
He lingers there, letting his breath fan against my skin. Giving me a chance to tell him to stop. His hand snakes between us, finding my slick folds, thumbing over my clit until I’m arching off the blankets with a moan.
Then he bites.
The pain is sharp and hot and dizzying—but it melts into something that breaks me open. I moan louder, arching into him as his teeth sink into my skin, as his bond floods into me, snaking through my veins similar to lava flowing down a volcano.
Mine.
He’s mine.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are red, his breathing uneven. He looks wrecked, and so beautiful I almost cry. I don’t have long to recover.
Carson’s already moving, already pulling me into his lap, already pressing soft, coaxing kisses up the side of my face.
“You ready for me too, peaches?”
I nod, breathless. “Yes.”
He nuzzles the unmarked side of my neck. “You sure?”
I turn my head, baring my throat for him. “I want to be yours. Completely.”
His growl is pure hunger. But he only nips at my neck, a teasing bite.
His hands roaming over my breasts, tweaking my nipple between his fingers.
Then lower, over the swell of my stomach, and then between my legs.
He slips two fingers inside me, pumping them slowly, until he works a whimper from me. I need more. Now.
I reach up and thread my fingers through his hair, bringing his face back to my throat and arching into his mouth. He chuckles, a low and soft sound.
Then he bites.
It’s a different kind of fire—sweeter, but just as overwhelming. I cry out, clinging to him, feeling the heat of his bond collide with Graham’s inside me, both mixing with Hunter’s.
And I don’t break.
I expand.
Wrapped in their arms, their marks burning on my skin, I feel more like myself than I ever have before.
He runs his palms over my back as I adjust to the feeling of them inside my chest and head. The bond will be even stronger once I claim them, but for now, this is enough.
My stomach flips over, and a different sort of heat fills me. Carson’s hard and hot beneath me, his jeans still containing him, and I become very aware of the fact that I’m naked and none of them are.
“I’m going to need the three of you to bring me so many orgasms I forget my name.”
Carson chuckles, pressing kisses to the side of my face. “How many orgasms do you think it will take?”
“Ten…Fifteen…” I shrug, and he leans down and nips at my bare shoulder.
“Let’s make it twenty,” he says. “Just to be sure.”
Hunter drops to his knees next to us, and then I feel his hands join Carson’s, his mouth warm and hot against my back. He spreads his fingers over my lower back as his lips trail a hot, open-mouthed kiss along the curve of my spine.
“We’re already behind schedule,” Hunter murmurs.
Graham’s voice cuts in from my side. “Then we better pick up the pace.”
Their hands and mouths are everywhere at once—or at least it feels that way. The connection between us magnifies everything. Carson shifts beneath me, and even that little bit of friction draws a rush of his pleasure through the bond.
My fingers move to the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly. He catches my wrists gently, easing my hands away before popping the button himself. His zipper slides down under the pressure of his cock, straining against the fabric.
I slip my hand into his boxers, wrapping my fingers around the smooth, hot length of him. I stroke him slowly, deliberately, until his head falls back with a groan.
“Shit, peaches, this is supposed to be about you.”
“It is,” I gasp, as his pleasure rolls through me, crashing against my own.
Behind me, I hear the quiet rustle of clothing being discarded—Hunter, then Graham. I don’t need to look to know. I feel them.
Graham lifts me gently off Carson’s lap, guiding me into his own. His bare skin burns against the curve of my ass, his cock already leaking against me. I feel the slick gather between my legs in answer, my body more than ready.
His fingers dip into the wetness and trail back, circling the tight ring of muscle on my ass. I tense, instinctively holding my breath as he presses gently, preparing me to take him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice rough, steady. “Just breathe.”
I relax in his arms, and he slides into me. His pace is slow, deliberate, each stroke pulling a gasp from my lips. One of his palms is hot against my stomach, holding me upright, grounding me. His other hand dips between my legs, working my clit with practiced precision.
My head drops back onto his shoulder, my fingers tightening around Carson’s length as pleasure builds, cresting higher with every motion.
Carson groans, shifting closer. He moves onto his knees, his mouth finding my neck. He kisses a line up to my jaw, then down again, his hands cupping my breasts. A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest—a sound so raw and possessive, it sinks straight into my bones and sets every nerve on fire.
It’s the most possessive sound I think I’ve ever heard from Carson.
And it speaks to my soul.
“What are you waiting for, Carson?” Graham says, his voice a growl of its own. He pauses his movements for just a second, his fingers wrapping around Carson’s length, joining mine. “There’s enough room for both of us.”
If Graham wasn’t holding me up, I’d be a puddle on the floor.
Graham’s hands are steady as they frame my waist, his breath a slow exhale against my shoulder. He anchors me in the moment, even as my whole body trembles from the need building under my skin.
Carson’s gaze is fixed on me, dark with want, his lips parted on a breath he’s forgotten to take. My hand still wraps around him, and he’s twitching beneath my touch, barely holding back.
“Come here,” I murmur.
He leans in without hesitation, one of his hands bracing beside mine, the other cupping my cheek. His thumb strokes across my bottom lip. The tension in his face eases.
“Both of us?” he whispers.
I nod, heart thundering. “You said you’d give me twenty. I’m holding you to it.”
A crooked grin flashes across his face, but there’s love behind it.
He presses his forehead to mine for a breath before shifting closer.
Graham adjusts his grip on me, guiding our rhythm, making space without losing contact, his hand brushing Carson’s as they work together—centering me between them like I’m the only thing that matters.
Graham leans back, spreading my legs wide for Carson, my back resting against Graham’s chest. The moment stretches, electric.
Carson’s fingers graze my thigh as he lines himself up, slow and careful, eyes on mine the entire time. When he finally presses forward, my mouth falls open on a gasp—and Graham’s arm tightens around my middle as though he felt it too.
I close my eyes, overwhelmed in the best way, by them, by this, by the quiet groans that echo off the walls and the synchronized breaths, the way they’re both holding me like I’m the center of gravity.
“You feel so damn good,” Carson breathes, and it sends a fresh wave of heat spiraling through me.
Then Hunter tilts my head toward his, capturing my next moan with his lips. It’s exactly what I need to fall to pieces. I clench around them as my first orgasm crashes over me, stealing my breath and scattering every thought.
Carson groans, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deeper, chasing the tension coiling tight in his core. Graham grips my waist harder, his rhythm growing more demanding beneath me, and I feel the shift—the way his control starts to fray, his pace driving deeper.
"You're squeezing me so fucking good," Graham rasps, his breath hot against my back. "I can feel every part of you. You’re such a good fucking girl, taking us like this."
I whimper in response, my body trembling, muscles fluttering around them as another orgasm threatens to overtake me the second the first ebbs. Carson drops his forehead to my shoulder, his breath ragged. "Fuck, peaches—I'm gonna—"
His knot swells at the base of his cock, pressing against my entrance as my body clenches around him. I cry out, pleasure turning molten as he stretches me, locking us together.
Hunter's mouth is at my neck again, his lips tracing the mark he left days ago. “That’s two,” he murmurs with satisfaction.
Graham doesn’t slow. His grip tightens as he shifts my weight, his own knot beginning to swell inside me. My vision goes hazy with sensation, pressure building to a blinding peak as he knots deep and firm, his groan low and raw.
I arch between them, stretched and full and utterly theirs.
Every breath is a tremor. Every heartbeat feels like the start of something I’ll never come back from. And I don’t want to.
Not now.
Not ever.