Epilogue #2
There was a grainy photo published in some tabloid of her in a silk robe and enormous sunglasses at a rooftop bar in Phuket.
No one’s heard from her since. Jack swears she’s pulling strings behind the scenes, quietly rebuilding.
Gavin’s not so sure. Harrison says she’ll come back when it suits her. I try not to think about her at all.
Phil…is Phil.
He still keeps his downtown apartment, still insists he doesn’t want to be a “weird bachelor uncle living out back,” even though the guys offered him a cottage next to Mom’s more than once.
I think he’s still adjusting. Still figuring out what it means to be okay with all of this.
But he shows up. Brings birthday gifts. Lets Lyra paint his nails when she asks.
Gave Lucy a stuffed elephant the size of a beanbag and pretended not to cry when she giggled at it.
That’s enough for me. That’s more than I ever thought we’d get. And now, tonight, for the first time in a year, I have a house to myself.
With three gorgeous men.
No diapers. No spit-up. No bedtime tantrums. Just four adults, one enormous bed, and the promise of hours ahead without a single interruption.
I might cry from happiness.
I don’t realize how quiet the house really is until the lights dim and Jack cues the playlist we haven’t touched since Lucy was born. It starts low, slow—one of Gavin’s favorites, some moody jazz remix. I’m about to pour a glass of wine when I feel Harrison’s hand at the small of my back.
“You look like you’re already thinking about what’s going to happen next,” he says, voice pitched low, amused.
“I’ve been thinking about it since this morning,” I murmur.
That was when Jack changed a diaper one-handed while shirtless and sipping coffee, muttering about how he deserved a medal.
The man has three Celtic tattoos, two of them vaguely threatening, and somehow still managed to look like a dad pinup from a calendar no one’s brave enough to print. And he wasn’t even trying.
The guys don’t know it yet, but I’ve had plans.
Plans that involve the softest silk robe I own, the good body oil tucked away in the top drawer, and absolutely no thoughts of sleep. For once, this night isn’t going to be about navigating who’s on bottle duty or who’s folding the endless pile of baby laundry.
Tonight is for us.
Jack walks in carrying four glasses—neat bourbon for Harrison, red wine for Gavin and me, and a flute of something bubbly for himself, because of course he thinks champagne makes him the fun one. He hands me my wine with a grin, his thumb brushing the side of my palm.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.
“Better than okay.”
Gavin’s already seated on the sectional, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, one arm draped along the backrest like he’s waiting for someone to crawl into his lap and take what’s theirs.
That someone is me. But I want to make them work for it.
I let Harrison lead me toward the couch, but I don’t sit. I sip my wine slowly, turning so my robe slips just enough at the shoulder to show skin.
It’s been months since I had the chance to simply feel wanted. Not in passing. Not in sleepy half-murmurs during midnight feedings. I want to be craved. Touched. Worshiped. They all watch me now, tuned in to the same frequency, like I’ve flipped a switch in the room.
Gavin is the first to move. He sets his drink aside and rises with that confident elegance he always carries. His fingers reach for my waist, and when they land, I sigh into the warmth of them. “I missed you,” he says.
“I was here the whole time,” I tease.
“Not like this,” he murmurs, tilting my chin. “Not to ourselves.”
His kiss is soft, deliberate, and meant to light every nerve ending I’ve spent the last year suppressing. I melt into it, letting my arms slip around his neck as Harrison presses closer behind me, his palms anchoring at my hips.
Jack whistles from the couch. “If someone doesn’t take that robe off soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Be patient,” Gavin says over my shoulder.
“I’ve been patient,” Jack counters. “I’ve been patient for eight months. And a week. And four days.” He stands and closes the distance in three steps. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”
I let the robe slip. It hits the floor with a whisper, and I’m bare underneath—no lingerie, no pretense. Just me.
Gavin strokes a hand up my spine. Jack’s fingers trace the swell of my hip. Harrison steps around to cup my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones like I might break.
“You’re everything,” he murmurs, and I feel it in my bones.
There’s no rush. No awkward choreography. Just hands, mouths, skin, breath. They take their time undressing, and by the time Gavin lifts me into his arms, I’m already shaking with need.
He carries me to the bedroom. Jack and Harrison follow close behind, and somewhere between the laughter and the kissing and the slow unraveling of months of restraint, I realize I’m crying.
From the impossible, overwhelming sense that this moment—this night—this family—is everything I never dared to dream for.
Gavin lays me back on the bed, his hands framing my face, his body stretched over mine.
He takes his time relearning every inch of me like it’s been too long—because it has.
Every kiss from him is laced with something quiet and consuming.
Ownership in the most sacred, consensual way.
I feel every beat of his heart echoing in my skin.
Jack kisses me from the side, tracing his mouth down my neck, over the curve of my shoulder, teeth grazing where he knows I’m sensitive. His eyes are so dark with hunger it sends a rush of heat straight through me.
Harrison holds my thigh as he leans down, his lips brushing my hip bone, the edge of my stomach, my navel.
His strength has always been a comfort, but tonight it’s an ache.
He worships with his body, slow and strong and patient.
When I reach for him, his fingers link with mine, anchoring me like I’m a thing worth protecting. Like I always have been.
Jack bites my earlobe. Licks it, making me shiver. “I’m starving, sweetheart.”
I giggle. “Are you asking for a snack? Now?”
I feel him grin against my cheek. “Yeah. I am.” He leans up. “Excuse us, boys.” Then he pulls me onto his chest, straddling him.
“What are you doing, you crazy man?”
“Told you. I’m starving.” He wriggles and wedges, and there’s nothing smooth about this until he has my knees on either side of his head. “Sit.”
“It’s very weird taking orders from someone I’m on top of. And?—”
“Sit on his face, pet,” Gavin says from behind me. His hands guide my hips until I’m nestled onto Jack’s face. His dark voice murmurs in my ear, “Good girl.”
Jack’s arms latch over my thighs to keep me in place as he takes his first lick and I shudder. From there, it’s a blur of sensation—I can’t tell where his tongue will end up next. Heat pools like water behind a dam.
“Ride him, pet.”
“I’ll drown him!”
Harrison laughs. “If he dies, he dies.”
“Everyone should die doing someone they love,” Gavin adds.
“You two are impossible?—”
But then Jack shifts, his tongue swirls, and I lose my ability to speak. Only moan.
Harrison joins us, standing on the bed right in front of me. “Open that pretty mouth of yours for me.”
Mindlessly, I do, and he thrusts forward, making me taste every inch of him.
Gavin’s hands and mouth are everywhere the other two aren’t.
When he pinches my nipple, my orgasm starts up.
Just the edge of it. I’m almost there, when he spanks my ass with his other hand.
That sharp pain mixing with the sheer pleasure takes me somewhere else.
My mind floats on a sea of bliss.
Gavin tips me forward ever so slightly. Just enough to access my ass.
First his fingers, then his tongue, and I’m gone.
I lose it right then, coming so hard I might choke on Harrison and pass out.
He pulls me down his length, forcing me to take him in my throat.
The lack of oxygen extends my orgasm into something hotter, brighter.
When I come back to my body, they’re on the move.
Shifting, tangled limbs. Kisses passed between hands, mouths, skin.
Gavin inside me first, his piercing hitting the mark on each stroke, while Jack murmurs dirty praise into my ear and Harrison plucks my nipples until I’m gasping.
Gavin fills me up, his cock erupting deep inside.
Then Jack replaces him, and he’s wild and teasing. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re taking my cock so good. Mm, fuck, look at that. Look at us.” When he leans back, I do. Watching them shuttle in and out of me turns me on in some primal way I don’t understand and can’t look away from.
Until someone blindfolds me.
Then, everything is sensation. Someone’s fingers on my collarbone. Jack, gliding in and out at an unpredictable pace. Someone else’s lips are on my shoulder, my mouth, my chest—his mouth never stops moving.
I’m ready to explode. And I do. Then Jack does with a curse, smacking his body into mine as he does.
I’m so wet inside. So full. So loved.
Then it’s Harrison’s turn, and he pulls the blindfold off and kisses me like I’m his beginning and end, moving inside me with a strength that unravels everything I’ve been holding in for months. He rolls us over, so I’m on top, and all of that slickness pours out between us, messing the sheets.
His big hands cup my ass as I ride him, but he takes over, pushing and pulling me up and down his cock as he thrusts up too. This is all him now. My job is to take it. Every brush of him against my G-spot makes me tremble and gasp for more. It’s coming fast?—
“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs as he slows down.
I beg, “Please, don’t stop.”
He smiles, slow and lazy and purely male. He runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “Who said anything about stopping?”
“I—”
He slams into me, harder and faster than before. I can’t keep this pace, so I let him take over completely once more. Another thrust, and I’m right there again. One more, and it’s like sitting at the top of the roller coaster. And then, I drop.
The orgasm comes on a wave, drawn out by all three of them as they converge on me—hands on my body, mouths on my skin, whispered words in my ear that melt the last of my brain.
I cry out, shake, and feel Jack’s grip tighten on my wrist, Gavin’s mouth press to my throat, Harrison’s voice low and rough, cursing the gods for making only one of me.
“You’re ours,” Jack declares in my ear, his fingers on my clit.
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Forever,” Gavin says.
“Yes!” I cry out as I come again.
When Harrison releases, he drives his hips up into me, lifting me into the stratosphere. No words from him. Just something animal that pours from his soul.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the middle of the bed, bodies slick with sweat and other fluids, hearts still pounding.
Gavin is curled behind me, his fingers tracing the line of my collarbone.
Jack is draped across my legs like a blanket made of muscle.
Harrison strokes the inside of my wrist, his thumb moving in the exact rhythm of my pulse.
I don’t speak for a long time. I don’t need to. And it’s a good thing, because I can’t.
The room is quiet except for our breathing and the soft roll of waves outside. The scent of sex and sea salt lingers in the air, warm and heavy.
Eventually, Jack lifts his head, hair tousled and mouth swollen from kissing me. “So…that’s happening again.”
I laugh, throat hoarse. “Obviously.”
“Five minute break, or do you need more time?”
I laugh again, sharply. “More time. Sheesh.”
Harrison grins and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “We’ll take turns planning the next one.”
“Do I get a vote?” I ask, breathless.
“No,” Gavin murmurs into my neck. “You get to be adored. We’ll handle the logistics.”
“I love you all,” I whisper, and the weight of it makes my chest ache—in the best way.
Jack kisses my knee. “You’d better.”
Later, much later, when they’re all asleep around me—Jack snoring into my calf, Gavin curled at my back, Harrison draped across my arm—I slide out of bed.
I slip into my robe and walk barefoot onto the balcony.
The horizon is already lightening, the sky softening from midnight blue into a watercolor wash of pink and gold. The ocean below is calm, waves lapping gently at the shore, as if even the sea is catching its breath before the day begins.
I breathe it in.
This life. This moment. Not long ago, I was a single mom with secrets. A woman who’d done everything alone and wasn’t sure she’d ever stop holding her breath. Now, I’m everything I never thought I could be.
Partner. Lover. Mother. Executive. Founder. Muse.
The screen door slides open behind me, and I don’t have to turn to know who it is. Harrison’s arms wrap around my waist, warm and strong. He smells like soap and bourbon and sweat.
“You okay?” he murmurs against my temple.
I nod. “Better than okay.”
“You always get quiet after,” he says. “I used to think it meant you were overwhelmed.”
“I am,” I whisper. “But in a good way.”
He kisses the crown of my head and pulls me tighter. Behind us, I hear Jack groan, muttering something about “hogging her,” and Gavin’s low chuckle follows.
I smile and lean back into Harrison’s chest. The moon rises over the water, casting light over everything we’ve built. And I know, deep in my bones, that we’re just getting started.
The End