Epilogue
Meghan
In the lush, green expanse of Columbus Commons, the crisp morning air carried the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. All around me, people were rolling out their mats and stretching in preparation for the weekly Yoga in the Park session.
I took a deep, cleansing breath, the stresses of the week already melting away. There was something so grounding about practicing yoga outdoors, surrounded by nature’s beauty. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant trill of birdsong - it all combined to create an atmosphere of tranquil serenity.
“I can’t believe you roped me into this.”
The gruff complaint shattered the peaceful ambiance, and I shot Wick an exasperated look over my shoulder. He stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers, scowling like a petulant child.
“Come on, Wick, it’ll be fun!” I cajoled, patting the empty space beside me. “You need to get in touch with your inner zen master.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Inner zen master? Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what I’ll find during this torture session. ”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Marco’s voice drifted over from my other side as he settled gracefully onto his mat, his lean, athletic frame already poised in a cross-legged seated position. “Yoga is an ancient practice meant to bring harmony to the body and mind.”
“Yeah, well, my body and mind are just fine without having to twist myself into a goddamn pretzel, thanks.” Wick grumbled, but he relented and joined us, dropping onto his mat with a huff.
I bit back a grin. For all his posturing and bluster, I knew Wick was secretly enjoying himself—or at the very least, enjoying the way Marco and I had to work to coax him out of his comfort zone.
As the instructor called the class to order, I glanced at my two favorite men. Marco, ever the picture of poise and grace. He wore an expression of serene focus as he moved through the opening sun salutations with effortless fluidity. And Wick scowling in concentration, his movements stiff and halting as he struggled to mimic the poses.
It was utterly endearing, the way he tried so hard despite his obvious lack of flexibility and coordination. I couldn’t resist reaching out to adjust his stance, my fingers skimming over the hard planes of his abdomen as I guided his hips into proper alignment.
“Like this,” I murmured, my breath catching at the scorching heat of his skin beneath my touch.
Wick shot me a smoldering look from beneath his lashes, his lips curving into a wicked smirk. “Oh, I’m very good at taking direction, Meg. Especially from you.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. Beside us, Marco chuckled low in his throat, the sound rich and sinful. “Down, boy,” he drawled. “Save it for later.”
The instructor called out the next pose, and we shifted into Warrior I, legs spread wide, arms reaching toward the sky. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breath, on the steady rhythm of inhale and exhale. But it was impossible to fully clear my mind, not with Wick and Marco flanking me, their presence a constant, thrilling distraction.
By the time we reached the more advanced balancing poses, Wick was openly grumbling under his breath, his face flushed with exertion. “How the fuck are you two doing this?” he hissed as he wobbled precariously on one leg, his arms windmilling wildly in an attempt to stay upright.
Marco moved effortlessly in a deep backbend that showcased the rippling muscles of his abdomen. “Years of practice, cucciolo. Although I have to admit, the view from down here is pretty spectacular.”
Wick’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, his foot slipped and he went crashing to the ground in an ungainly heap. I bit my lip to stifle my laughter, but Marco had no such compunctions. He threw back his head and guffawed.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” I managed between giggles, dropping to my knees beside Wick’s prone form.
He glared up at me, his hair rumpled and his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. “I hate you both,” he groused, but there was no heat behind the words.
Marco, still chuckling, offered him a hand up. “Come on, tough guy. I think you’ve had enough yoga for one day.”
Wick batted his hand away, but he accepted my help in getting to his feet, his palm warm against mine. “You’re damn right I’ve had enough. I’m done with this torture.”
He stalked over to a nearby bench, dropping onto it with a sullen pout that was utterly at odds with his rugged, muscular frame. Marco and I exchanged an amused glance before turning our attention back to the instructor, determined to make the most of the remaining class time.
As we moved through the final cool-down sequence, I felt Marco’s eyes on me, his gaze like a physical caress. I met his stare head-on, holding it as I sank into a deep forward fold, my fingers grazing the grass beneath my toes.
“You’re staring,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the instructor’s soothing cadence.
Marco’s expression slid into that slow, wicked smile that never failed to set my pulse racing. “Can you blame me? You’re a work of art, gattina.”
“Flatterer.”
“Just calling it like I see it.”
We held the final resting pose in comfortable silence, letting the tranquility of the park wash over us. As the class came to a close and people began rolling up their mats, I caught sight of Wick watching us from the bench.
Marco followed my gaze. “You think he’s still pissed about the whole face-planting incident?”
I shook my head with a fond smile. “Nah, he’ll be fine. Wick just has a flair for the dramatic sometimes.”
Still, as Marco and I gathered our things and made our way over to where Wick sat, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe we had pushed him a little too far out of his comfort zone. But any lingering doubts evaporated the moment Wick looked up at us, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with barely concealed amusement.
“You two look thoroughly harmonious,” he said, taking in our flushed cheeks and sweat-damp hair. “Have fun getting all bendy?”
Marco grinned. “Oh, you have no idea, cucciolo. Although it would have been a hell of a lot more fun with you there to spot me.”
Wick’s eyes darkened at Marco’s suggestive words. My own breath caught in my throat as images flickered through my mind - Marco’s lean, toned body contorting into impossible positions, Wick’s big hands steadying him, guiding him deeper into each stretch...
I gave myself a mental shake, forcing the tantalizing thoughts away before they could take root. Now was definitely not the time to get all hot and bothered.
“So, what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” I asked as I slung my yoga mat over my shoulder. “I could go for brunch if you two are interested.”
Marco grimaced, shooting me an apologetic look. “As tempting as that sounds, I actually need to head back to my place for a bit. I’m out of clean clothes.”
I frowned. It wasn’t the first time Marco had made an offhand comment about needing to go back to his apartment, but it struck me as odd all the same. After all, he practically lived at my penthouse these days—why did he still bother keeping his own place?
“When does your lease run out again?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.
Marco blinked “Uh, next month, I think? Why?”
“Well, it seems kind of silly for you to keep paying rent when you’re barely ever there, doesn’t it? You should just move into the penthouse.” I held my breath. Moving in together was a big step, one we hadn’t really discussed before. But the more I thought about it, the more it just felt right.
Marco’s eyes widened fractionally, his gaze darting over to Wick. “What about Wick?” he asked carefully. “Did you, uh, run this by him first?”
I opened my mouth to respond, then paused. Truthfully, I hadn’t even considered running the idea by Wick beforehand. I’d just assumed he’d be on board. After everything we’d been through together, taking this next step seemed the natural progression of our relationship.
But as I studied the guarded look on Wick’s face, the subtle tightening around his eyes, doubt began to creep in. What if he wasn’t ready for that level of commitment? What if the idea of the three of us living together, day in and day out, was too much for him? My palms were suddenly damp with a fine sheen of nervous sweat. Had I overstepped, moved too fast without considering Wick’s feelings?
“You’re right,” I said, trying to pretend my heart hadn’t lodged itself in my throat. “That was silly of me. We should probably talk about it first, the three of us. Make sure we’re all on the same page.”
Marco’s expression softened “Hey, it’s not silly at all. I think it’s a great idea, gattina. I’d love nothing more than to wake up with you every morning.” He brushed his fingers over my cheek in a tender caress. “We’ll talk it over, okay? No pressure either way.”
I managed a small smile. Marco always had a way of grounding me, of soothing my anxieties with his easy affection. “Okay,” I murmured, my gaze drifting over to where Wick still sat, silent and watchful.
He held my stare for a beat. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet and crossed the distance between us in a few long strides. “Meg’s right,” he said, his hands finding my hips and pulling me flush against the hard line of his body. “We should talk about this. All of us, together.”
Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave. Wick wasn’t shutting the idea down, wasn’t running scared. He just wanted to make sure it was what we all wanted. I looped my arms around his neck, rising up on my tiptoes to press a soft, grateful kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” I breathed against his mouth, hoping he could hear everything I didn’t say—my gratitude, my love, my trust that he would never let me down.
His arms tightened around me, holding me close. When we parted, his eyes were dark, his voice a low, rough rasp. “Anything for you, Meg. You know that.”
Marco stepped up behind me. His chest was a solid wall of warmth against my back as he wrapped his arms around us both. “Well, this is all very touching,” he said, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below my ear. “But what do you say we take this little love fest somewhere a bit more private?”
Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck. Wick’s eyes flared, his hands flexing against my hips. “You read my mind.” The low, thrilling purr of his voice sent desire spiking through my veins. My earlier anxieties melted away, replaced by a different kind of need—one that burned low in my belly, that made my skin feel too tight and my pulse thunder in my ears.
Ten minutes later, the three of us were breathing heavily through the thick cloud of sexual tension as we raced up the stairs to Marco’s apartment. Marco fumbled with his keys, his normally deft fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as Wick crowded him from behind, his broad chest pressed flush against Marco’s back. I watched, entranced, as Wick’s hands skated down Marco’s sides to grip his hips, holding him in place as he ground his unmistakable arousal against the firm swell of Marco’s ass.
“Jesus, you two,” Marco panted. “At least let me get the damn door open first.”
“Then hurry up.” Wick nipped at Marco’s earlobe. “I’m done waiting.”
A moan rose in my throat. This was a side of Wick—the alpha male, all sinewy strength and smoldering dominance—that always made me weak in the knees.
Finally, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Marco barely had time to cross the threshold before Wick was on him again, spinning him around and slamming him back against the wall. Their mouths crashed together in a bruising kiss.
I stood frozen in the open doorway, transfixed by the erotic display unfolding before me. Wick’s hands were everywhere, roaming over Marco’s body with blatant possession as he pinned him in place with the solid weight of his hips. Marco arched into him, his fingers tangling in Wick’s dark hair, his head tipping back to expose the long, tempting line of his throat.
“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Marco rasped against Wick’s lips, his words slurring with pleasure. “All worked up.”
Wick snarled something low and filthy. Then he was reaching for me, his fingers closing around my wrist in an iron grip as he hauled me against the scorching line of his body. “You’re both mine,” he growled, the words a dark, thrilling promise. “Every gorgeous fucking inch of you.” His mouth crashed down on mine, swallowing my gasp of surprise. I melted into the kiss. Wick devoured me, his tongue sweeping past my lips to stake his claim, and I let him, surrendering to the intoxicating rush of being wanted, needed, claimed by this man I loved so fiercely.
Somewhere in the hazy recesses of my lust-fogged mind, I registered Marco’s hands on me, slipping the straps of my sports bra down my arms. He yanked it below my breasts and the cool air kissed my overheated skin and pebbled my nipples. Then Marco’s mouth was on me, planting kisses in the dip of my cleavage and across the flat plane of my stomach.
I whimpered my back arching as Marco sank to his knees before me. His hands skimmed up the backs of my thighs, my ass, grabbing the waistband of my yoga pants and gliding them down my legs until they were bunched around my ankles, restricting my movement. At the first hot gust of his breath against my aching center, already slick and throbbing, my knees threatened to buckle.
“Marco,” I panted, tearing my mouth from Wick’s in a desperate bid for air. “Oh god, please...”
“I’ve got you, gattina. Just let go.”
And then his mouth was on me, his tongue lashing hot and insistent over my aching pussy. I cried out as he lapped at me with broad, hungry strokes. Wick swallowed the sounds, his kiss growing more fevered, more demanding as Marco worked me over.
It was sensory overload, every nerve ending blazing with pleasure. I was surrounded by them, engulfed in their heat and scent. Wick’s hard planes and taut muscles pressed against me from behind, Marco’s wicked mouth devouring me from the front. I was drowning in them. Wick’s hands trailed down my sides to tangle in Marco’s hair. He guided Marco’s movements, angling his head just so, silently directing him to lavish attention on the spots that made me shudder and whine.
The first flutters of my orgasm began low in my belly, each swipe of Marco’s clever tongue ratcheting the tension higher. Wick seemed to sense it too, his free hand drifting between my thighs from behind to tease at my slick entrance. “You’re so wet for us, Meg,” he said against my lips. “So ready to come all over Marco’s gorgeous mouth.”
I keened softly, my hips rolling, desperate for more friction. Marco hummed his approval, the vibrations sparking electric jolts of pleasure that had me teetering on the edge. “Please.” The word tore from my throat. “I need?—”
“I know what you need, baby.” Wick crooked his fingers to stroke that spot inside me. “Come for us. Let go.”
With his command ringing in my ears, I shattered. White-hot rapture exploded behind my eyelids as my climax crashed over me in endless waves. I convulsed between them, incoherent cries spilling from my lips as Marco drank down every drop of my release.
When the last tremors had faded, I sagged against Wick’s solid frame, gasping for breath. He held me close, his lips caressing my sweat-damp hairline. “So beautiful when you come.” His murmured words vibrated against my skin.
Marco rose to his feet, his mouth slick and swollen. His lips quirked into a grin as he caught my eye. “My turn?”
The sound that escaped me was somewhere between a whimper and a moan. I wanted nothing more than to return the favor, to taste the sharp, musky tang of his arousal on my tongue. But Wick had other ideas. He reached out and snagged Marco by the front of his tank top, hauling him in for another demanding kiss.
“Shower,” Wick said when they finally broke apart, his voice rough and wrecked. “Now.” He didn’t wait for a response, just turned on his heel and strode towards the bathroom, leaving Marco and I hurrying to follow in his wake.
The bathroom was cramped, the kind of space that was clearly designed with only one occupant in mind. But that didn’t faze Wick in the slightest. He shed his clothes with brisk, economical movements, as he turned on the water and his eyes devoured every inch of newly exposed skin as Marco and I undressed.
As we made the most of the space, my small body pressed between their two larger ones, frustration mounted. There simply wasn’t enough room to touch and lick and suck in the ways we wanted. So instead, we shampooed, soaped, and rinsed our sweat-slick bodies efficiently until Wick had simply had enough.
He slapped wildly at the faucet handle until the water ceased, then he claimed my mouth and gripped the backs of my thighs just beneath my ass. I wrapped my legs around his waist relishing the feel of our chests pressing together. Marco closed in on us, and his heat along my back replaced the chills that had descended in the absence of the scalding water. That heat only intensified when he reached beneath my butt, gripping both his and Wick’s cocks in a fist, stroking them as one while he placed open-mouthed kisses along my spine.
With a groan, Wick broke away from Marco’s grip and prowled towards the bedroom where he tossed me on the bed. His massive cock jutted out obscenely as he stared down at me. Marco was hot on his heels, his own impressive erection straining towards me. My mouth went dry at the sight of them, my body thrumming with desperate, aching need. I wanted their hands on me, in me. I needed to be filled, stretched, claimed until I couldn’t tell where I ended and they began.
Wick reached the bed first, his hands clamping around my ankles and dragging me to the edge of the mattress. I let out a startled yelp that melted into a throaty moan as he dropped to his knees and buried his face between my thighs. His tongue delved into my pussy, lapping up the slick evidence of my arousal. I cried out, my fingers threading into his damp hair, holding him right where I needed him most.
Marco sank to the floor behind him, and I angled my upper body so I could see his hands gripping Wick’s firm ass and spreading him wide. He leaned in, and I could tell he was tracing the tip of his tongue along the crease of Wick’s crack before swirling it around the tight furl of his hole. Marco knew exactly how to set him off. Wick groaned into my pussy. I watched, spellbound, as Marco teased him, licking and sucking at Wick’s most intimate place until he was panting and writhing between my legs.
With a guttural snarl, Wick surged up onto the bed, flipping me onto my hands and knees. He gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my soft flesh as he positioned himself against my entrance. I barely had time to draw breath before he was slamming into me, burying himself to the hilt. A scream tore from my throat, my body stretching deliciously around his girth. He set a punishing rhythm, pounding into my dripping cunt with enough force to rock the bed. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by our harsh pants and grunts of pleasure.
Marco climbed onto the bed in front of me, fisting his rigid shaft. I opened my mouth eagerly, my tongue darting out to swirl around the swollen head, savoring the salty-sweet tang of his arousal. He groaned, his free hand tangling in my hair as he guided himself past my lips. I relaxed my throat, taking him deep, moaning around his thickness as Wick continued to rail me from behind. It was pure bliss, being filled at both ends, used for their pleasure as much as my own.
Wick’s strokes grew erratic, and he tightened his grip on my hips. He was close. I could feel him thickening inside me, stretching me impossibly wide. But just as I was sure he would explode, he suddenly pulled out, leaving me clutching around nothing. I whined around Marco’s cock, but Wick was already moving. He flipped Marco onto his back as easily as he had me, grabbing the lube from the nightstand and slicking himself with quick, efficient strokes.
Marco spread his legs in wanton invitation, his eyes dark and his cheeks flushed. Wick positioned himself between his thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently at Marco’s entrance. With a flex of his hips, he breached the tight ring of muscle, sinking into Marco’s heat inch by delicious inch. Marco threw his head back with a hoarse cry, his hands scrabbling at Wick’s shoulders, his heels digging into the mattress. Wick bottomed out with a low groan, his hips flush against Marco’s ass.
My pussy clenched with sympathetic pleasure. The sight of Wick dominating Marco, claiming him so thoroughly, sent fresh waves of desire crashing through me. Unable to contain myself any longer, I moved to straddle Marco’s face, lowering my dripping cunt to his eager mouth. He latched on immediately, his clever tongue delving between my folds to lap at my aching clit.
I braced my hands on his chest, my fingers digging into the hard planes of his pecs as I rode his face. Above us, Wick thrust his hips, driving into Marco with deep, powerful strokes. Marco moaned into my pussy, the vibrations sparking through me like lightning. His hands gripped my ass, holding me in place as he worked me over with lips and tongue and teeth.
The wet, obscene sounds of Wick’s cock driving into Marco’s hole and the slick slide of Marco’s mouth against my cunt, filled the room. We moved together, all sweat-slicked limbs and straining muscles, lost to the primal rhythm of give and take and take and take.
I could feel my orgasm building. Marco seemed to sense it too, redoubling his efforts. He sealed his lips around my clit and sucked, hard, pushing me over the edge. I shattered with a strangled cry, my body convulsing, my pussy spasming around his tongue.
Marco let out a choked moan as he found his own release. I opened my eyes to watch his cock twitch and jerk, shooting ropes of come across his stomach as he bucked and shuddered. Wick fucked him through it, his strokes growing shorter, sharper, until he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, following us over the edge with a guttural roar.
I lifted myself off Marco’s face on wobbly legs, collapsing next to Wick with a sated groan. Marco turned his head to look at us, his lips quirked in a lazy, satisfied grin, his face glistening with the evidence of my pleasure. “Holy fuck,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from his earlier shouts.
“Indeed,” I said.
Wick flopped back on the bed and grinned smugly. “You’re welcome. ”
I swatted at his chest, too boneless to put any real force behind it. “Cocky bastard.”
He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my palm. “You love it.”
I did. I loved everything about him, about them. The way they could take me apart with hands and mouths and cocks, only to put me back together with soft touches and tender words. The way we fit together like puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place.
In the haze of post-coital bliss, I stretched languidly between my two lovers, basking in the warmth of their strong bodies pressed against mine. Wick’s fingertips drew lazy spirals my hip as Marco nuzzled into the crook of my neck.
I could have dozed off right then, but Wick’s deep voice cut through my drowsy reverie. “So, it’s settled then. Marco, you’re not renewing your lease. I’m putting my condo on the market. And we’re both moving into Meghan’s place. Immediately.”
My eyes flicked open in surprise. I tilted my head to look at him, noting the resolute set of his jaw, the unwavering certainty in his eyes. This was no spur-of-the-moment suggestion—he’d clearly given it serious thought.
Marco lifted his head and met Wick’s gaze over my shoulder. “Just like that? No discussion?”
“What’s there to discuss?” Wick shrugged, the motion jostling me slightly. “We practically live together, anyway. Our shit is just spread across three different places. It’s inefficient.”
Marco hummed thoughtfully. “You make a compelling argument. Consolidating our stuff under one roof would definitely streamline things. Plus, have you seen the size of Meg’s closet?”
I smacked at his chest. “Shut up! You are not moving in for my closet . You are moving in for me. Because I am the best and you simply cannot live without me.”
“Damn straight, gattina.” Marco kissed my temple and nuzzled in closer.
“So we’re doing this? We’re really moving in together?” Wick’s voice was steady, but I could detect the undercurrent of vulnerability.
In answer, I twisted and pressed my mouth to his. “Yep,” I whispered against his lips. “We’re doing this.”