Chapter 8
Maya
The Harley’s engine faded into the distance.
I lay in the sheets, staring at the ceiling.
My body was still humming, the echoes of my orgasm still rippling through me.
I could still feel the tension that had been building in my belly, pleasure winding tighter with every stroke.
The way Ivan had reached around, fingers finding my clit, and the dual sensation had pushed me over the edge.
I’d come with a cry muffled into the pillow, my whole body shaking, walls clenching around him.
I’d felt him pulse inside me, warmth spreading, his groan filling the room.
And Griffin had watched all of it.
I kept seeing his face in the doorway. The way he’d stood there, watching. The way he’d said Don’t stop. Like he meant it. Like he wanted it.
The bedroom door creaked open. Griffin stood in the doorway, still in his work clothes, tie loosened.
“Hey.” My voice was soft. “You okay?”
He didn't answer. His eyes moved over me, my tangled hair, my bare shoulders, the sheets pooled around my waist. His expression was unreadable, but his chest rose and fell too fast. His hands flexed at his sides.
Then he started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Griffin..."
"Don't." His voice was rough. Low. "Don't talk."
My pulse spiked. Griffin was always gentle. Always checked in. This was different.
He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. His belt came next, the leather hissing through the loops. His eyes never left mine.
"What are you..."
He was on me before I could finish. His mouth crushed against mine, his body pressing me back into the mattress. I gasped against his lips, tasting coffee and want, and his tongue swept inside, claiming. Taking.
He kissed my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. When his teeth grazed the spot where Ivan's mouth had been an hour ago, I shuddered.
"Griffin," I breathed.
His hand slid between my thighs, and I realized he already knew. Could feel that I was still wet. Still slick with Ivan's cum.
He made a sound in his throat, a growl, raw and hungry, and then his fingers were inside me, two at once, curling against that spot that made my back arch.
"You're full of him," he said against my neck. "I can feel it."
I should have been embarrassed. Should have apologized. Instead, heat settled low in my belly.
"Yes," I whispered.
He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between my thighs. I hadn't even noticed him getting his pants off. He was already hard, thick and flushed and leaking at the tip.
He notched himself at my entrance, and I held my breath.
"I watched you."
My eyes flew to his face. "What?"
"Earlier. I came home and heard you two." His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "I watched from the doorway. Watched him fuck you."
I whimpered.
"Griffin..."
He thrust into me in one hard stroke.
I cried out, my back arching off the mattress. He was big, stretching me, filling me, and I was so wet from Ivan that he slid in without resistance. The obscenity of it made my head spin. Griffin inside me, using another man's cum to ease his way.
He didn't give me time to adjust. His hips drew back and snapped forward, driving deep, and I grabbed his shoulders just to hold on.
This wasn't like him. Griffin was playful. Teasing. He liked to take his time, build me up slowly, make me beg.
This was claiming. Marking. Proving something.
"I couldn't stop watching," he said through gritted teeth, his pace brutal and steady. "Couldn't look away."
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Ivan's cum was leaking out of me with every thrust, soaking the sheets, and the wet sounds of our bodies were obscene.
"You're mine too," he growled. "You understand? His. Mine. Ours."
"Yes." I was barely coherent. "Yes, I understand."
He fucked me harder, his fingers digging into my hips. Each stroke hit the spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. The headboard was knocking against the wall, keeping time with his thrusts.
"You're so wet," he groaned. "So fucking wet for me. For both of us."
The pressure was winding tighter with every stroke. I was still sensitive from Ivan, still swollen and aching, and every stroke pushed me higher.
"I'm close," I gasped. "Griffin, I'm..."
"Come." His voice was raw. "Come with him still inside you."
That broke me. The orgasm crashed through me, my walls clamping down around him, my whole body shaking as I cried out his name. Griffin cursed, his rhythm faltering, and then he yanked out of me and wrapped his fist around himself, stroking hard and fast.
His cum splattered across my stomach, hot and thick, mixing with the sweat on my skin. He groaned through it, his body shuddering, and then collapsed beside me.
We lay there, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling.
"What was that about?" I finally asked.
He turned his head to look at me. "I couldn't hold back." His throat worked as he swallowed. "I was here earlier. While you two were together."
"You said you watched."
"From the hallway. The door was open." He propped himself on one elbow, his blue eyes searching my face. "It was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
"Why didn't you come in?"
"I didn't want to interrupt. Didn't want to give you any reason to stop."
"We wouldn't have."
A smile crossed his face, then faded. "There's something else."
I reached up to touch his cheek. "Tell me."
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "When I was watching you two... my eyes kept drifting to him."
My heart stuttered. "To Ivan?"
"I told myself I was watching you. Making sure you were okay. But that wasn't..." He exhaled sharply. "I wasn't watching you. Not the whole time. I was watching him. The way his body moved. His back, his shoulders, his..."
"His what?"
"Everything." His voice dipped. "I wanted him to fuck me the way he was fucking you."
A long silence passed between us.
I knew Griffin was bi. He'd told me early on, matter-of-factly, the way you mention any relevant detail about yourself. He'd been with men before. It had never bothered me.
But Ivan?
"I know it's crazy," Griffin said quickly. "And I don't want you to be mad. I just, we said no secrets. I want us to be transparent. About everything."
I nodded slowly, my thoughts rearranging themselves. Griffin wanted Ivan. My boyfriend wanted my other boyfriend.
"I'm not mad," I said. And I wasn't. What surprised me was the other feeling rising in my chest, not jealousy, but curiosity. What would it look like? The three of us, together. Not me in the middle with them on either side, but a triangle. A closed circuit.
"You're not?"
"No."
"And?"
"It's hot," I admitted. "I just don't know if Ivan would..."
"I know. And it's fine either way. I'm not going to push. If it happens naturally, great. If it doesn't, that's okay too." He traced his thumb along my jaw. "Let's just take things one step at a time."
"Okay."
He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. "As for Ivan moving in, I'm completely on board."
"Really?"
"Really."
I tackled him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my face into his shoulder. "I love you so much."
He laughed, holding me close. "I love you too. Even covered in two men's cum."
I pulled back, grinning. "That's disgusting."
"You love it."
I did. God help me, I did.
But there was still something I hadn't said. Something that had been eating at me since last night.
"Griffin." I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself. "I have to tell you something too."
His smile faded. "What is it?"
I couldn't meet his eyes. "Last night, when I was with Ivan... my mind kept drifting."
"Drifting?"
"To you." The confession scraped out of me. "He was inside me, and I was thinking about your hands. Your mouth. The way you..." I pressed my palms to my eyes. "What's wrong with me? He was right there, giving me everything, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."
Silence. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
Then I felt his hand on my knee.
"Maya." His voice was gentle. "Look at me."
I lowered my hands. He was watching me, but the softness I expected wasn't there. His jaw had tightened. His eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my stomach drop.
"You were with him," he said slowly, "and thinking about me?"
"Yes."
"Or were you with me at some point and thinking about him?"
The question landed hard. "Does it matter?"
"Yeah." His voice was quiet. "It matters."
I flinched. "Griffin..."
"I need to know." He pulled his hand back from my knee, and the loss of contact felt like a door closing. "When you're with me, are you with me? Or are you running comparisons in your head? Wondering if he'd do it differently?"
"That's not..."
"Because I've been there before, Maya. Being the guy someone settled for. The safe choice while they pined for someone else." He swallowed hard. "I can't do that again. I won't."
The words hit me in the chest. Griffin never talked about Claire, not the details, not how it had actually felt to be the last one to know. But I could see it now, written in the tension of his shoulders. The wound was still there, barely scarred over.
"You're not a safe choice," I said. "You're not a backup. I wasn't thinking about Ivan because you weren't enough..."
"Then why?"
I pressed my palms against my eyes again. "I don't know. My brain just, it wouldn't stop. I kept splitting myself. Comparing. And I hate it. I hate that I can't just be present with one person without the other one bleeding through."
The bed shifted. When I lowered my hands, Griffin had moved closer, but he wasn't touching me. His blue eyes held mine, and underneath the hurt, I saw him trying to understand.
"I need to be enough for you," he said. "Not half of something. Not a comparison point. When you're with me, I need to know you're actually here."
"I am." My voice cracked. "You are enough. You're..."
"Then show me."
Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine.