CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SURRENDER
Grant
Not bad sounds. Not panic attack sounds or nightmare sounds or any of the things that would send me into full protective mode.
No, these are the kind of sounds that make my dick go from zero to painfully hard in about three seconds.
She’s pressed against me—in Jordie’s childhood bed, with his parents down the hall, Wyatt on the floor in a sleeping bag—and she’s shifting in her sleep, making these little breathy noises that are absolutely wrecking me.
I should move. Should put distance between us before I do something stupid like wake her up by grinding against her.
Instead I stay perfectly still and try to think about hockey stats. Coach’s new plays. Literally anything except the way she feels against me.
It doesn’t work.
Her hips shift back and I bite down on my bottom lip hard enough to taste copper.
“Grant?” Her voice is sleep-rough, barely a whisper.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Can’t.” She rolls over to face me and even in the dark I can see her eyes are dilated. “I had a dream.”
On the other side of her, Jordie shifts. “What kind of dream?” His voice is awake. Alert. He’s been listening.
“The kind I shouldn’t tell you about at two in the morning,” Elise whispers.
From the floor, Wyatt’s sleeping bag rustles. “We’re all awake now. Might as well tell us.”
“It was—” She stops. Starts again. “Grant was—we were—”
“Tell me.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
“You were touching me. Everywhere. Your hands, your mouth, and you kept saying—” Her breath catches. “You kept telling me I was yours.”
The possessive thing in my chest roars to life.
“You are mine.” The words come out rougher than I intend. More honest.
“Ours,” Jordie corrects softly. “She’s ours.”
I should argue. Should assert territory. But he’s right and we all know it.
“You are,” I amend. “Ours.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I shift closer, my hand finding her hip through the thin fabric of her sleep shorts. “Because sometimes I think you don’t get it. What it does to us.”
“All of us,” Wyatt adds from the floor. His voice is low, controlled, but I can hear the want in it.
Jordie’s hand finds her other hip. We’re bracketing her now, and I can feel her breathing pick up.
“We’re in your parents’ house,” Elise whispers, but she’s not pulling away. “They’re right down the hall.”
“Then you’ll have to be quiet,” Jordie says against her ear, and I feel her shiver.
“This is insane,” she whispers.
“Probably,” I agree. My hand slides under her shirt—one of Wyatt’s actually—and finds bare skin. “Tell us to stop.”
Silence.
“Elise.” Wyatt’s sitting up now, I can see his silhouette in the darkness. “Say the word and we stop.”
“Don’t stop.”
Two words. That’s all it takes.
I kiss her and it’s not gentle. Can’t be, not with Jordie’s hands on her too, not with Wyatt watching from three feet away.
She makes that sound again—the one from her dream—and I swallow it.
My hand slides higher, finds her breast, and she arches into my touch. Jordie’s kissing her neck now, his hand sliding down her stomach, and she’s making sounds she’s trying desperately to muffle.
“Shirt off,” I tell her. “Now.”
She sits up enough for us to pull it over her head and then she’s bare from the waist up and all three of us stop breathing.
The moonlight through Jordie’s window catches on her skin, turns her into something unreal. But she’s solid and warm and here and ours.
“Stop staring and touch me,” she whispers.
I lower my mouth to her breast while Jordie works the other. She’s biting her fist to keep quiet and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Wyatt’s moved closer, kneeling beside the bed now. His hand finds her ankle, slides up her calf.
His hand keeps moving. Up her thigh. Higher. And when his fingers hook into the waistband of her shorts, she lifts her hips to help him slide them down.
Now she’s completely bare between us and we’re all still mostly clothed and the power imbalance is doing things to me.
“You’re so perfect,” Jordie’s saying against her skin. “So beautiful.”
My hand slides between her legs and she’s already wet. Ready.
“All this from a dream?” I circle slowly, tease her. “Or from knowing all three of us want you?”
“Both,” she gasps. “Definitely both.”
Wyatt’s watching with dark, hungry eyes. “Can I—”
“Yes,” she cuts him off. “Whatever you’re asking, yes.”
He reaches up, runs his thumb over her bottom lip. She opens for him, takes his thumb in her mouth, and the three of us make identical sounds.
I’m working her with my fingers now, finding that rhythm she likes, and Jordie’s still sucking on her breast, and Wyatt’s exploring her mouth with his thumb while his other hand palms himself through his sweats.
“Grant.” Her voice is wrecked. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” I slip two fingers inside her and she has to bury her face in Jordie’s shoulder to muffle the sound she makes.
“That’s it,” Jordie’s whispering. “Take it. You’re doing so good.”
I work her with my fingers, my thumb finding her clit, and she’s rocking against my hand while trying desperately to stay quiet.
Wyatt’s moved his hand from her mouth to her throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, feeling her pulse race.
“Close,” she gasps. “I’m so close.”
“Then come,” I tell her. Order her. “Come for us.”
She does. Her whole body tensing, her back arching, and she’s biting down on Jordie’s shoulder to keep from crying out. We feel it—all three of us—the way she pulses around my fingers, the way her breathing stutters, the way she goes boneless after.
“Good girl,” Wyatt murmurs, and she makes this small satisfied sound.
I’m so hard it hurts. Can feel Jordie is too from the way he’s grinding slightly against the mattress. And Wyatt’s got his hand in his sweats now, slowly stroking himself while he watches.
“We can’t—” Elise starts, still catching her breath. “Your parents are right there.”
“I know.” Jordie sounds pained. “But watching you come is worth blue balls.”
“Speak for yourself,” I mutter.
“Bathroom,” Wyatt says quietly. “Grant and I can—”
“No.” Elise sits up, and there’s something determined in her eyes. “I’m not leaving you guys like this.”
“Elise—”
“Lie back.” She’s pushing me onto my back. “All of you. This is happening.”
Jordie grins. “Yes ma’am.”
She straddles me first, still completely naked, and leans down to kiss me. “Condom?”
“Back pocket of my jeans. Floor.”
Wyatt grabs it, tosses it to her. She rolls it on me with practiced efficiency that makes my abs clench. Then she’s sinking down on me and I have to press my fist against my mouth to keep quiet.
She takes me slowly. Inch by inch. Until she’s fully seated and we’re both shaking with the effort of staying silent.
Then she starts to move.
Slow at first. Rolling her hips in a way that has me seeing stars. Jordie’s beside us, his hand wrapped around himself, watching with dark eyes. Wyatt’s on the other side, doing the same.
“Touch them,” I grit out. “While you ride me.”
She reaches for Jordie first, wrapping her hand around him, and he has to bite his pillow to muffle his groan. Her other hand finds Wyatt, and now she’s working both of them while moving on me and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Grant.” Her voice is breaking. “I need—faster—”
I grab her hips, help her move, and she has to lean down and kiss me to muffle the sounds she’s making.
Jordie’s close. I can tell by the way his breathing is getting ragged, the way his hips are moving into her hand.
“Come on my hand,” she tells him, and that’s all it takes. He’s biting down on his fist as he spills over her fingers, and she’s still working him through it.
Wyatt’s next. “Elise, I’m—”
“I know. Let go.”
He does, quiet except for this low sound in his throat that I’ve never heard before, and she’s whispering “good, so good” while he comes.
Then it’s just us. Me inside her, her moving faster now, chasing another orgasm.
“Touch yourself,” I order. “Want to feel you come again.”
Her hand slides between us, and within seconds she’s tensing, pulsing around me, and I follow her over the edge. My hand clamped over my own mouth, her face buried in my neck, both of us trying desperately to stay silent while we fall apart.
After, we’re all breathing hard. Elise collapses on my chest and I can feel her heart racing against mine.
Jordie’s already moving, grabbing tissues, cleaning us up with gentle hands. Wyatt brings water from the bathroom, makes her drink.
“That was—” Elise starts.
“Insane,” Wyatt finishes.
“Hot as hell,” Jordie adds.
“Both,” I say.
“Very eloquent, Captain.”
“Give me a minute. You just melted my brain.”
She laughs again and I feel it everywhere we’re connected.
We stay like that for a moment. Both breathing hard.
She’s lying on top of me still, boneless and satisfied. Jordie settles beside us, his arm draped over both of us. Wyatt’s back in his sleeping bag but closer now, his hand resting on her ankle.
“If your mom catches us—” Elise whispers.
“She already knows,” Jordie says. “Might as well be comfortable.”
“That’s terrible logic.”
“You love my terrible logic.”
She does. We all do.
I’m running my fingers through her hair, feeling her breathing even out, feeling the weight of her on me like an anchor.
“Grant?” Her voice is barely audible.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
The words hit me in the chest. Hard.
“I love you too.”
“All of us,” Jordie adds sleepily. “She loves all of us.”
“I do,” she confirms. “All three of you ridiculous idiots.”
“Ridiculous idiots who just made you come twice,” Wyatt points out.
“Fair point.”
I should say more. Should tell her what this means to me. How she’s changed everything. How I don’t dream about the accident anymore, just her.
But she’s already falling asleep, her breathing going deep and even, and Jordie’s out too, his arm still draped over us.
Only Wyatt’s still awake. I can tell by the way he’s watching us.
“You good?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah. You?”
“Better than good.”
“Good.” He’s quiet for a second. “She’s it, you know. For all of us.”
“I know.”
“Don’t screw it up, Captain.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
He makes this sound that might be a laugh. “Good. Because Jordie and I will kick your ass if you do.”
“Noted.”
I fall asleep with Elise on my chest, Jordie beside us, and Wyatt’s hand still resting on her ankle like he needs the contact to believe this is real.
And for the first time in two and a half years, I don’t dream about the accident.
I don’t dream at all.