Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Callaway
When my eyes meet his, he reads it instantly. He always did.
“What do you need?” he asks, voice soft but commanding.
I open my mouth and close it again, throat tight with something I can’t name.
“You have to say it,” he says, stepping closer. “I’ll give it to you, baby. But you need to ask.”
Baby.
He hasn’t called me that in years. Not like this. Not with tenderness threaded into every syllable.
My heart stutters. My mouth dries. But I get the words out.
“Fuck me while I do her,” I say, almost pleading. “Would you? I want the three of us, together.”
Monty’s expression doesn’t change—but there’s a fracture in his eyes. Something vulnerable. Something breaking open.
“You sure?” he asks. “We haven’t—there’s a lot we have to work through.”
“We will. I trust you—us,” I say. “But I need this. I need to feel both of you. I need to be full. I want it to feel . . . complete.”
He nods, quiet and reverent. “Where?”
“The lube’s in the nightstand. Condoms too.”
He moves without hesitation. Opens the drawer. Tosses the bottle and a few condoms on the bed.
Then he turns to Vesper.
“Put the condom on him,” he says, voice low and firm. “Get his cock wet for me. Make him ready while I prep him.”
Vesper moves before I can think. She grabs a foil square and tears it open with a little shake in her hands—not fear, just need.
“You’re so big and ready,” she whispers, voice breathless and sure.
She holds my gaze as she takes the condom out, her fingers brushing over the tip of my cock—already wet, already leaking for her—and fuck if I don’t twitch under her touch.
Her fingers glide over the tip of my cock—slick from wanting her, wanting him—and I twitch, the tension unbearable. She smiles. Soft. Wicked.
“You’re still so hard,” she murmurs, voice full of awe and hunger. “You feel like sin in my hands.”
She grips me at the base, slow and steady, and rolls the condom down—inch by aching inch—like she wants me to feel every second of it.
Then she slides down my body, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, mouth parting as she lowers herself onto her elbows between my thighs. She looks up at me like I’m a god she wants to worship, and then—
Fucking hell.
Her tongue drags along the underside of my cock, slow and lush, and then she sucks me into her mouth like she’s been dying to do it. Her lips seal around me, cheeks hollowing, and the groan I let out sounds like it comes from another life.
And Monty?
Monty’s behind me, slick fingers spreading lube between my cheeks. The first touch is cold. Then warm. Then everything.
“You’re doing so good,” Vesper breathes around my cock.
“You’re gorgeous like this,” Monty says behind me, voice thick with hunger and awe. “Open for us. Let us take care of you.”
He circles my rim with one finger, then pushes in slowly—fuck—and my whole body jolts, overwhelmed by her mouth and his touch. He works me gently, slowly stretching me open, crooning praise with every inch.
“That’s it,” Monty whispers. “Relax. You can take me. You’re perfect like this. Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Vesper moans around my cock, the sound wet and needy as her lips glide down my length. Her tongue drags along the underside, slow and greedy, like she’s savoring every inch, and I swear I could cry.
And behind me, Monty’s fingers work deeper—slick, firm, patient. He knows exactly what I need.
“You’re doing so fucking well,” Monty murmurs, voice low and reverent. “Taking my fingers like you were made for this.”
I groan, my hips caught between her mouth and his hand, my whole body trembling under the push-pull of it.
“So tight,” he breathes. “So responsive. You open up for me like you’ve been waiting for it.”
I groan. Vesper hums against me, her eyes flicking up—wanting, desperate, loving every filthy second.
“Just like that,” Monty praises, slipping his fingers deeper, curling. “I’ve got you. Let me in. Let me make you feel good.”
Monty slips another finger in and I gasp, hips bucking helplessly into Vesper’s mouth. She moans around me, the vibration wrecking me completely, and I have to brace one hand on the mattress just to stay upright.
“Shhh,” Monty murmurs, lips brushing the back of my neck. He kisses there—slow, grounding. “Almost there, baby. You’re doing beautifully.”
I nod, breath shaking. I’m open. I’m stretched. I’m ready.
He pulls his fingers free slowly, leaving me empty and aching, and I feel him move behind me. I hear the foil tear. The quiet slide of latex.
“Get yourself ready, sweetheart,” Monty murmurs to Vesper, his fingers still slick behind me. “Lie down on the bed. Open your legs for him. He’s about to fill you.”
Vesper pulls back from my cock with a soft gasp, her lips slick, her eyes blown wide. She does it without hesitation—lying down, knees falling wide, pussy flushed and glistening, already ready for me. She looks up at me like she’s offering something sacred.
I groan and crawl over her, holding myself up on my hands.
“Perfect,” she whispers once I’m between her thighs, reaching out and giving me a single stroke, just enough to make my vision blur. “Now fuck me, Callaway. Please.”
I lower myself down, guiding myself to her entrance, and when I push in, fuck—she clenches around me, tight and welcoming, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
Her breath catches. Mine disappears entirely.
She wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me deeper, and the sound she makes—soft, broken—goes straight through me.
I move slowly, feeling every inch of her, the heat, the way she squeezes like she doesn’t want to let go.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper to her, forehead pressed to hers. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
Behind me, Monty’s hands slide over my hips.
“You ready?” he asks quietly.
I swallow hard.
“I’m ready,” I say. Then, “I want you so fucking bad.”
He presses the head of his cock against me, and when he starts to push in—slow, patient, claiming—I gasp, my whole body lighting up like I’ve been waiting years for this. The stretch burns just enough to make my spine arch, to remind me exactly how big he is. Thick. Unforgiving. Monty.
He pauses when the head slips past the tight ring of muscle, just long enough for me to adjust, to breathe.
Then—with one slow exhale, he pushes deeper.
Fuck.
I groan—loud and broken—as he fills me inch by inch, every second a drag of pressure and want and memory. My arms tremble where I brace them on either side of Vesper, and she moans beneath me like she feels it too.
He bottoms out with a low sound in his throat, hips flush against my ass, his fingers sinking into my waist.
“You’ve got me,” he says, voice rough. “I’m here.”
I nod, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes deeper, every inch of him pressing me into the center of us—inside her, wrapped in him, like this is where I’ve always been meant to stay.
I reach back, gripping his wrist.
“This time,” I say, voice shaking but steady, “don’t regret us, don’t break what can be the perfect love.”
He leans down, mouth at my ear.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Not tonight—hopefully never.”
And then he moves.
Slow. Deep. Perfect.
Fucking us both.
And I let myself believe him.
Monty moves inside me—slow at first, dragging every inch across that spot that makes me tremble. I rock into Vesper as he rocks into me, and it’s like I’m suspended in heat, in rhythm, in them.
Inside her.
Filled by him.
Our bodies, our breath, our hearts—syncing.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, feel her fingers comb through my hair. She’s open under me, wet and hot and clenching around me like she needs to come but is waiting for permission. Like she wants this to last as long as it can.
“Stay with me,” I whisper against her skin. “Don’t come yet. Let me give you everything.”
“I’m trying,” she breathes. “But I feel—”
“You feel perfect,” I murmur. “You feel like home.”
Behind me, Monty slows too, hands wrapped around my waist, fingertips firm and grounding. He presses a kiss between my shoulder blades. Then another. And when he leans down, voice rasping in my ear, I feel it in my spine.
“I missed this,” he says. “You. Us. All of it.”
“I’m right here,” I whisper back, choked on the truth. “We’re here.”
I start to move again, setting the rhythm—deep, slow thrusts into her that match the way Monty fucks me. We’re stacked in heat and pressure, each stroke drawing out a moan, a gasp, a cry.
Vesper’s nails dig into my arms. Her eyes roll back. Her mouth opens in a breathless please.
Monty grunts behind me, hips snapping forward harder.
And then we find it—the rhythm that turns bodies into instruments. That shatters time. That makes it impossible to tell where one of us ends and the other begins.
Vesper trembles beneath me.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Please don’t stop. I’m—oh my God—Cally—”
“I’ve got you,” I gasp. “Come for me. Show us.”
Her back arches off the bed. Her thighs shake. Her pussy squeezes around my cock so fucking tight, I nearly lose it right there.
She screams our names. Not just mine. Not just his.
Ours.
And that’s it.
My orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, all fire and light and sobbing breath. My vision goes white. My heart cracks open.
And then . . . Everything explodes.
Not just come. Not just pleasure.
It’s as if my soul has been shattered into light. Like the broken, jagged pieces of me that I’ve carried for years—grief, guilt, love too long silenced—burst into the air, glittering and bright.
And then I see it.
I see the pieces come back together.
Not the way they were.
Not the way they used to be.
But new. Reformed. Rebuilt with the three of us.
Vesper’s breathless body. Monty’s weight behind me. My heart, open, thudding in their hands.
Monty groans behind me—deep and guttural—fucking into me one last time before he comes with a curse and my name, spilling into the condom as his chest slams against my back.
And for a moment, we’re just breath and heat and love.
No pain.
No fear.
Just us.
Us.
Together.