Chapter Twelve
Juliet
“I saw him again,” I say, sliding into Elliot’s lap like I own the place. Because I do. “Mall. Either he’s tailing me… or the man has a silicone-level addiction to retail therapy.”
“Eyes on you again?” Elliot’s fingers are already at my buttons, undoing them with that scary precision that makes my clit throb in Morse code.
“Please tell me you ran his plate,” he says.
“I haven’t even updated his notebook,” I admit, dragging his zipper down. “Vitaly’s been hogging my research hours.”
My hand wraps around velvet steel.
“But you pulled intel on bakery creep, right?” I ask, squeezing just to watch his eyes flutter.
“Yes,” he breathes, pushing my panties aside. His fingers slip in, confident and hungry. “Now tell me everything about your sexy little mall ghost.”
I roll my hips into his hand.
God.
I didn’t know how much I needed this.
“We locked eyes through a rack of overpriced sundresses.”
He groans against my throat, teeth scraping. “Keep talking. I want that pretty little mouth busy when you come.”
“Not much. He gave me this slow smile… then vanished.” I lick a stripe up his jaw, tasting salt and aftershave.
His thumb finds my clit like it’s magnetized. “Is he turning you on? Or is he giving you ‘Callum needs to break his kneecaps’ energy?”
“He’s got that quiet-danger thing,” I say. “Like he kills people politely. We don’t have one like that.”
He shifts under me, cock nudging my entrance, thumb still teasing.
Then he thrusts up into me in one slow, perfect stroke.
“He looked at me like he knew something. Or wanted something. Hard to tell. Delicious.”
Should scare me.
Doesn’t.
Should tell my men immediately.
Will.
After I come on Elliot’s cock.
“You’re drenched,” he groans. “Ride me.”
I sink down and move, greedy for every inch.
“The man?” I demand between thrusts.
“Later.” His hands clamp my waist. “Right now be a good girl and take every inch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yes.
Fine.
Later.
More.
He snaps his hips up, punishing, perfect.
Oh, God.
“He’s got a record. Dmitry Krestov,” Elliot says, breath ragged. “Small charges. Wrong man got caught every time. He’s muscle for Oksana. You cross her? He’s who shows up to take out the trash.”
I clench around him.
Not from fear.
From fury.
“And Vitaly?”
“Terrified of him,” Elliot confirms, thrusting deeper. “Rightfully.”
He punctuates it with a thrust.
Heat coils tight in my belly, sharp enough to make my vision blur.
“Good,” he growls. “Use me.”
I chase the high.
“Orion and Callum already have eyes on him,” he pants.
Callum’s knock is two sharp raps. “You two defiling furniture without me?”
“Get in here,” Elliot calls, smug and breathless.
Callum steps in, eyes going wide. “What the fuck. No group text? Rude bastards.”
“I’m not sending play-by-plays every time one of you tries to rearrange my spine,” I shoot back.
Elliot slides out and lifts me off his lap, voice dark. “Go on, Cal. Give her what she’s begging for.”
Oh.
Oh yes, sir.
Multiplayer mode unlocked.
God, I love them.
I drop to my hands and knees.
Callum is already behind me, hard, cursing under his breath.
Elliot kneels in front of me, holding my face possessively.
“Open,” he says. Then to Callum, “Don’t stop until her legs shake.”
Callum’s hands clamp around my hips as he pushes in, thick and steady, dragging a ragged moan out of me.
The kind that scrapes the bottom of my lungs.
Elliot kneels in front of me, cock slick from my pussy, and cups my jaw. “Open.”
I do.
He slides in slow, savoring it, thumb brushing my cheekbone like I’m something precious and profane at the same time.
Callum finds a rhythm that punches the air from my lungs. Every thrust shoves me deeper onto Elliot.
Fuck yes.
Everything melts.
I’m gone.
“Fuck, she’s tight,” Callum says, voice dropping into that low rumble that always makes my spine bend.
Elliot strokes my jaw. “Focus on me. Good girl. Just like that.”
My eyes water and I blink hard, the pressure of having both of them pulling a startled, greedy noise out of me.
They love that noise.
They chase it.
Callum pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in so hard my elbows buckle.
Elliot’s fingers tighten in my hair. “Eyes on me, baby doll. Don’t you dare drift.”
I don’t drift.
I float.
I burn.
Every nerve lights up.
Callum finds my rhythm, speeding up. Hips snapping. Breath breaking.
“Juliet,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re already shaking.”
I am. My thighs flutter.
Heat flashes up my spine, fast and sharp as a match strike.
“She’s close,” Elliot warns, thumb sliding across my lower lip. “Don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” Callum answers, voice fraying.
My orgasm hits like someone cut my strings.
A jolt. A shudder that steals the air right out of my lungs.
Elliot curses softly.
Callum swears louder.
I cry out around Elliot’s cock, choking on the sound, and that’s it for him.
His fingers dig into my hair and he spills into my mouth with a guttural sigh, hips twitching against my lips.
Callum follows, driving deep one last time before he comes hard, pulse after pulse, his grip on my hips bruising, his breath broken against my shoulder.
For a minute, the only sound is breathing.
Staggered.
Shared.
Warm.
They ease away without letting me fall.
Callum pulls out slowly, careful, hands steadying me when my knees threaten to give out.
Elliot helps me sit back, wipes my mouth gently with his thumb, then kisses my forehead.
“You okay?” Callum asks, brushing my hair out of my face with the gentlest touch he possesses.
“Never better.” I stretch, wince, and grin.
“That was… more intense than advertised,” Elliot admits, buttoning me back up with the same clinical focus he used to strip me.
“You started talking about sexy Russians,” I say. “My vagina filed a complaint that it wasn’t invited sooner.”
“Of course it did.” Callum kisses the top of my spine. “Get some water.”
Elliot hands me the bottle he always keeps on his desk.
Callum wraps me in one of the throw blankets from the couch.
He pretends it’s for me, but I know he likes swaddling me like a feral pet.
They flank me as I sip.
Warm.
Capable.
Mine.
“Now,” Elliot says, voice fully back in Analyst Mode. “When you catch your breath… we need to talk about Vitaly. Your date. Bringing him home.”
I lick a drop of water from my lip.
“Good. That turns me on too.”
Callum groans into his hands.
Elliot just laughs softly and kisses my temple.
The three of us are still catching our breath when the front door opens.
Heavy boots.
Keys hitting the bowl too hard.
A muttered curse.
Orion.
Callum and Elliot both smile in perfect sync.
“Oh no,” I whisper, wicked. “He’s going to be so dramatic.”
A second set of footsteps follows.
Lighter, quicker.
Noah.
Oh this is going to be delicious.
The door swings open without ceremony.
Orion freezes in the doorway.
Noah crashes into his back like an overexcited spaniel and bounces off.
“What the?” Orion starts.
Then he sees us.
Me wrapped in a blanket that’s clearly post-sex.
Callum relaxed in a way that only comes post sex.
Elliot looking irritatingly composed, like he didn’t just repaint my throat with his DNA.
Noah’s eyes go cartoon-wide. “Wait. Waitwaitwait. You guys had sex? Without a group text?!”
Orion throws his hands up. “Unbelievable. You couldn’t stall five minutes? Five. Minutes.”
I sip my water.
Innocent.
Serene.
The Virgin Mary of Bad Decisions.
“You two were out,” I say sweetly. “I didn’t know you were getting home early.”
“You always know,” Orion snaps. “You’ve got six tracking apps on all of us!”
Callum coughs. “Seven.”
“Whatever,” Orion snarls.
Noah sulks dramatically, arms folding across his chest.
Elliot sighs. “We’ll reenact it later.”
Noah brightens instantly. “Really?”
“No,” Callum says flatly.
I grin at both of them. “Boys… you’re acting like you missed the last donut in the box.”
“You are the last donut in the box,” Orion says. “And someone else took the first bite.”
“Technically,” Callum says, “Elliot took the first bite. I just finished frosting her.”
Noah chokes. “He’s right. We were robbed.”
I cackle.
Even Elliot breaks, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
I lean back against Elliot, smug as a cat in a sunbeam.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t leave your donut unattended.”
Orion crossed to me like a storm cloud wearing combat boots, scoops me right off the bed, blanket and all.
“You’re making it up to us after your date,” he declares.
“Schedule it,” Elliot says, already reaching for his laptop.
I kiss Orion’s jaw.
“Boys… next time? Maybe we have Vitaly.”
Orion’s grip tightens. Possessive but considering.
Noah grins. “He’s going to love this.”
“Think he can handle this?” Callum snorts. “He’s giving me good boy vibes.”
Elliot hums. Thoughtful. Approving.
“That’s not a bad thing. Let’s bring him home first,” he says. “Then we’ll see what he can handle.”
I smile.
Because I already know.
He can handle everything.
And so can they.