Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Sloane
The kitchen is a disaster zone, the aftermath of our chaotic Christmas dinner.
Dishes are piled high, and the smell of overcooked turkey still hangs around. But it was fun. Easily the best Christmas I’ve ever had.
It’s the first one that’s really given me that family feel in years. I love it.
“I think we should leave the kitchen until tomorrow,” Roman declares seriously. “I think it’s time to rest.”
“Rest?” I cock a brow. “Really?”
I can already tell by the glint in his eyes that he has something much naughtier in mind.
Roman’s grin deepens, and he steps closer, his presence filling the space.
“Oh yeah,” he says with a slow drawl. “A little rest, maybe… but I’m thinking something a little more intense.”
I narrow my eyes, already half-knowing where this is headed, but I can’t resist playing along. “Intense? And just what exactly do you mean by that?”
He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “I mean, we’ve got the whole place to ourselves… and there’s a bed in my room that looks awfully inviting.”
The heat in his words sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel my pulse quicken. Roman’s always had this way of turning even the simplest moments into something electric, and right now, I’m more than ready for whatever he has in mind.
Before I can answer, Creed cuts through the tension, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Oh, come on, don’t keep us all in suspense, Roman. What exactly are you planning?”
Roman pulls back just enough to flash Creed a look, then turns his attention back to me, his gaze burning. “I think Sloane deserves a proper Christmas present. And I’m thinking… a little private time might be the best way to wrap up this evening.”
Ezra raises an eyebrow from the doorway. “Hmm, that actually might be a good idea for a Christmas gift.”
Roman reaches for my hand, his grip firm yet gentle as he tugs me toward him. “Then let’s go unwrap it, shall we?”
I can barely catch my breath before he’s leading me down the hall, the soft click of the door shutting behind us marking the end of the evening’s tension and the beginning of something even more electric.
Within moments, Roman’s bedroom contracts around me: the plush sheets of his bed pressing into my back, three bodies closing in.
Ezra’s palm crawls up my inner thigh, fingertips ghosting along damp fabric, teasing every nerve ending.
At the same moment, Roman tilts my head back, lips hovering just millimeters from mine, soft as a breath, sharp as a challenge.
And Creed exhales low and rough, the rasp of his voice vibrating through my cheek as he steps forward, eyes gleaming with that same fierce control that sends a flurry of butterflies skittering through my stomach.
My heart hammers so hard I can hear the pulse at my temples. Each inhale comes faster than the last, filling me with a dizzy hunger.
Three men, three magnetic pulls. Each tugging me deeper into their orbit. Resistance feels impossible.
Silence is Creed’s weapon. He lifts a hand, curls his fingers beneath my chin, and tips my head until our gazes lock. I try to steady my breathing, but the clammy heat pooling at my core makes me clench the pillows.
“You want this,” he declares.
Roman’s fingers tighten around mine, his grip firm but unyielding, as if claiming me, marking me in some way. Every brush of skin against skin sends a jolt of heat straight to my core.
My breath hitches as I feel the subtle pressure of his body against mine, urging me forward into something deeper, dangerous.
Ezra’s hand creeps higher, his fingertips brushing the edge of my waistband before dipping lower, making me shiver. He doesn’t rush, but there’s a knowing in the way he moves, every touch intense, building the tension like the winding of a spring ready to snap.
His lips curl into a smirk, and he leans in, his mouth just a whisper from my ear.
“You’re not gonna make this easy on us, are you, Sloane?” he teases, his breath hot and just shy of a command. “I like a challenge.”
Creed’s eyes burn into mine, his stare holding me captive, dark and full of intent. His hand drops from my chin to trace the line of my jaw.
“You’re gonna let us have you tonight,” he states, laced with an almost predatory hunger. “Aren’t you, Sloane?”
I don’t answer, but the way my body reacts, the way my hips instinctively roll toward him, speaks louder than any words. The heat between us crackles, sparking with every touch, every glance, every inch of space they close between us.
Roman leans in again, but this time, he’s rougher, more demanding.
His lips crash against mine, hungry and desperate.
His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion, leaving me exposed.
His mouth moves lower, grazing over my collarbone, his teeth scraping gently against the sensitive skin, making me gasp.
Ezra’s hand finally slips beneath my waistband, fingers skimming over the damp fabric, testing my resolve.
“You’re already soaked,” he murmurs, almost as if it’s a prize, a victory. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”
I can’t help the way my body reacts, the way my breath hitches as he teases, dragging his fingers just enough to make me ache for more. But it’s Creed’s voice that steals my attention.
“Look at me,” he commands, his fingers curling around my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You belong to all of us tonight. Don’t forget that.”
It’s not a question. It’s a verdict.
I swallow past the tight knot in my throat. “I…”
Roman brushes a thumb under my jaw, cutting me off. His other hand grazes my ribs, sending a spark of awareness straight to my spine. “Say it, Sloane.”
Ezra’s breath fans my ear, warm and husky. “Let us take care of you.”
A soft whimper escapes me, a sound halfway between a plea and a promise. Creed’s grip on my chin grows firmer, grounding me.
Roman’s hand trails lower, skating over the curve of my hip before hooking into the waistband of my sweatpants and tugging them down.
“Say it,” Creed repeats, each syllable grinding against me like velvet.
My breath trembles. “I want this.”
Roman groans as he leans in, lips brushing the newly bared slope of my waist. Fingertips trace the hollow beneath my breasts, thumbs brushing over the lace cup before slipping inside, kneading.
“You’re so damn perfect,” he murmurs against my skin.
The bed groans under Ezra’s weight as he kneels in front of me, lips finding the tender spot just beneath my ear. He sucks in a breath, warm, wet heat scouring down my neck, and I shiver, arching back.
Creed’s hand shoots up to my face again, thumb brushing my lower lip until it parts. He slips the pad of his thumb inside my mouth, rocking it against my tongue. The possessive intensity in his stare sends a jolt through my core, all sharp edges and raw need.
When he replaces his thumb with his mouth, the kiss is bruising and scorching all at once, stealing my breath and any last fragment of hesitation.
Meanwhile, Roman’s hands are on my breasts now, thumbs pinching, squeezing, making me gasp into Creed’s kiss.
Ezra’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of my underwear, hooking the elastic and dragging them down over my hips in one smooth tug.
All three of them pause at the sight of my bare skin, breathing in sharply.
Roman leans back, grabbing a handful of my thigh and spreading my legs wider. Ezra’s mouth replaces his exploratory finger. The first slow glide of his tongue across my slit ignites a bolt of pleasure so fierce I cry out. My fingers dig into the mattress, my back arching as the heat spirals deeper.
Roman groans, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh before he nips and sucks, leaving a sharp, blooming bruise. “Fuck, you sound so fucking good.”
Ezra’s tongue works me with powerful, calculated strokes, flat, then pointed, then broad, each one making me lose my grip on reality.
His fingers press into my thighs, forcing me to stay spread wide as he devours me.
Every flick, every slide drives me closer to the edge, making it impossible to think of anything but him.
Creed watches me unravel, his gaze dark, simmering with satisfaction. He shifts his hand from my jaw down to the side of my neck, fingers curling in a firm, possessive grip. “Not a sound.”
I can’t obey. When Roman’s tongue flicks hard at my clit, sucking and pressing in a teasing rhythm, I shatter, rocketing over an edge so high I think I’ll never come back.
My cry echoes off the walls, and their names spill from my lips in a frantic litany as my muscles clench and tremble, aching and raw. The pleasure crashes through me, sharp and overwhelming, and in that moment, I know I belong to them entirely.
Creed’s fingers tighten around my throat, just enough to make my breath hitch, my pulse pounding under his touch. Ezra and Roman shift, closing in on me, each of them a force of nature in their own right.
Creed leans in, his breath soft and dangerous against my lips. “On your knees.”
A jolt of excitement shoots through me, and my body obeys before my mind can even process it. I slide off the bed, the plush carpet pressing against my knees as I settle between them, feeling the weight of their eyes on me. Dark, hungry, feral, like they’re waiting for me to break.
Roman groans, a hand tangling in my hair, pulling me up with a firm grip at the nape of my neck, his voice a low growl. “Fuck, Sloane. You’re fucking perfect.”
I run my hands up their thighs, feeling the tense muscles beneath their skin, ready to snap. My fingers find the buttons of Roman’s jeans, and he lets out a shaky breath as I free him, his cock hard, thick, and straining in my hand.
“Yes,” Roman groans as I stroke him, my thumb teasing the slit, spreading the bead of moisture that gathers there. His grip in my hair tightens, tilting my head back so I’m forced to look up at him. “Let’s see how that pretty mouth of yours feels.”