Chapter 6 Reece
Reece
The more we have sex, the more I want it. It’s becoming a problem, but fuck it. It’s my thirtieth birthday. Might as well make it memorable, right?
I prep our girl, thrusting two fingers in and out of her ass while she writhes between Jackson and me. My cock aches painfully from listening to the three of them fuck. I doubt I’ve ever been this hard. I’m leaking precum all over my stomach. I need to be inside her.
Removing my fingers, I position myself behind her. “You want us both?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
She arches her back. “Yes.”
Jackson stills. I guide my slick cock into her, but that tight ring of muscle resists.
“Breathe for me, angel. Relax.”
She exhales, and her body yields, letting the tip slide in. She whimpers, and my balls draw up.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Her ass squeezes me while Jackson’s dick throbs through the thin wall separating us. The intimacy of sharing her with another man, the taboo nature of feeling his arousal…it’s almost too much to bear, and I grit my teeth, fighting for control.
“You okay?” I manage, my voice as rough as gravel.
“God, yes.” She pushes back and drives me deeper. “Don’t stop.”
I ease in until I bottom out, my hips flush with hers, and pause.
“Holy fucking shit.” Jax thrusts, and his cock glides along mine. “I can feel your piercings.”
I don’t dare move. If I do, I won’t last long.
Ethan mumbles something I can’t hear, and Jackson jolts inside Aurora.
“So full.” She grinds against me. “Reece, please.”
Reece, please. I love the sound of my name when she begs, and I give in.
I pull out halfway, then sink into her again. Pleasure, as I’ve never felt before, sets my veins on fire—my life on fire. “God—fuck.”
Jackson wasn’t wrong. The tight friction is mind-blowing. I feel every twitch, every pulse of his dick. Every inch of him.
I wait for the shame and wrongness to hit, but it doesn’t. There’s only euphoria, contentment, a possessive urge satisfied.
We establish a steady rhythm, a dance of give and take. Jackson thrusts forward; I retreat. I drive in; he withdraws. Lust takes hold, and the synchrony becomes effortless.
Aurora’s moans echo through the room, occasionally muffled by Jackson’s mouth.
My balls hug my shaft. Sweat beads on my temples. Holding back is torture, but I’m determined to make this last. I never want it to end.
Her breathless cries grow louder with each stroke. “Oh God. Oh God.” Her nails dig into my hip. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”
“You like being stuffed full of cock?” Jackson picks up the pace. “You like being filled with our cum?”
Ecstasy crackles along my skin. We drive into her relentlessly, the room a melody of desperate groans and moans and the slamming of the headboard. We’re all racing toward the edge together.
Ethan growls something behind Jax.
“Inside me, come inside me,” he answers. “Fuck, I’m close.” His rhythm falters. “Aurora, baby…”
“I’m gonna—” Her trembling words dissolve into a scream, and she clamps down around us.
Her release triggers mine. I grip her hip and jackhammer into her ass while he pounds her pussy.
Stars burst behind my eyelids, and my orgasm tears through me with brutal intensity. “Jesus fucking Christ, Aurora.”
“She’s soaking my cock, dripping down my balls. Fuck…baby…so damn good.”
Jax and I pulse in unison, filling her from both ends while Ethan’s low groan signals he’s emptying inside Jackson.
Nobody moves. We’re suspended in pure bliss. Four bodies, one pleasure.
I kiss the back of Aurora’s neck, breathing in her vanilla scent mixed with sex. “You’re by far the best birthday present, princess.”
Jax lets out a heavy sigh. “Best. Christmas. Ever.”
I snort. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.” His tone carries a shit-eating grin. “You know you loved it.”
He’s not lying. I loved every fucking second.
I feel intoxicated. Aftershocks ripple through my muscles. I cling to Aurora, half-hard inside her, reluctant to pull out.
For once, my head isn’t full of what-ifs. I’m pondering frivolous things like sex—so much sex—and how I want this to last forever. If only we’d left LA earlier, the four of us might’ve connected sooner.
I remind myself it can always be this way—free of shame, without judgment or anxiety, just pure pleasure—if I’d let go and accept myself, accept this foursome.
The windows are gray. It’s not quite dawn, but the world feels different.
We feel different. Settled. At peace. As if we’ve finally found our center of gravity.
For me, it’ll always be the woman between us, half asleep, kissing Jackson.
For the four of us, though, a new dynamic exists.
We’ve opened Pandora’s box, and I’m not even freaked out about it. I’m surprisingly relaxed.
We’re sweaty—at least I am—but no one moves. Jax shifts, and his leg accidentally brushes mine as he releases a blissed-out, satisfied hum. I don’t feel awkward or horrified. I can’t even be annoyed with him. My head is too light, my body floating.
It’s surreal. I’m not used to having this much. Not only sex, not just Aurora, but Jackson and Ethan’s support. My sister and Danny, Lucas. The Rossis.
An entire family.
I doze with that thought in mind, awakening to the sound of tiny feet racing on the hardwood. Ethan is halfway up, glaring at the door, daring anyone to enter and disturb our sanctuary. It’ll be interesting to see how he responds when it’s his kid waking us at all hours of the night.
“I got him,” I rumble, voice thick with sleep.
I take a quick shower and yank on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. I slip out, closing the door softly behind me.
Danny bounces in the hallway in his dinosaur pajamas. “King!” He jumps up and down, his arms extended, reaching for me. “Santa came!”
I scoop him up, his little body warm and cozy in my arms. “No way. Santa? Are you sure?” I tease.
We step into the living room, where snow falls outside the windows. Presents are piled beneath the tree, and twinkling lights cast a gentle glow. It’s a picture-perfect Christmas morning.
“See?” He points to a three-foot-tall plush dinosaur with a massive red bow around its neck, no doubt from Jackson. “Big T-Rex!”
How many stuffed animals does one kid need? Between Rocco and us, Danny is going to be spoiled. Where will we put all his toys? At this rate, assuming Harper stays in New York, which I hope she does, he’ll need his own room.
“Wow, buddy. Santa knew exactly what you wanted, huh?”
He wriggles free, and I set him down. He bolts for the dinosaur, tackling it with a squeal.
While he babbles to his new friend, I brew a pot of coffee strong enough to rouse the dead. Leaning against the counter, I watch my nephew. He hasn’t been with us long, but I dread the thought of him leaving—both Danny and Harper. I enjoy having them close.
The holidays haven’t hit the same since my sister Sadie believed in Santa two decades ago, but seeing Danny’s wide-eyed wonder stirs something in me. I’m thirty today. Maybe it comes with age, but I crave this—a child, a family, opening gifts on Christmas morning.
My sister shuffles into the kitchen, her blonde hair in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and leggings. We have yet to venture out and buy winter clothes.
“Morning.” She gives me a quick side hug, neither of us overly affectionate. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Merry Christmas. Coffee’s almost ready.”
“Mama!” Danny calls out. “Look!” He stands next to the stuffed animal with his arm around its neck. It’s as tall as he is.
“Wow, baby!” She gasps with playful shock. “Did Santa bring that?”
“Uh-huh!” He nods vigorously. “For me!”
I pour two mugs of coffee, hand one to Harper, and take a seat on the couch. “There’s creamer in the fridge.”
She accepts the mug with a grateful smile. It’s nice to see her happy. She deserves better than the shit she’s been dealt by our parents and her husband. I should’ve paid more attention to her life, but I wasn’t capable until now. I was lost in my own darkness.
“Thanks.” She sits on the other end of the couch and scans the room. “This is…a lot. Y’all didn’t have to do this.”
“It wasn’t just us.” I blow steam from my mug and give her a pointed stare.
Her cheeks flush. “What?”
“You know what. What’s your plan with Rocco? He was here pretty late.”
Danny drags the dinosaur to the coffee table and sits with it while he plays with his Legos.
“We were only talking.” She sips her coffee, her gaze fixed straight ahead. “He asked me to work for him.”
My brows shoot up. “Doing what?”
“Nothing extreme. Filing at his law firm.”
“Filing? That’s it?” I don’t believe that for a second. Rossi men are persistent, willing to go to any extent to achieve their goals.
“I need a job. Danny and I can’t live here.”
“You can stay as long as you need. You know that.”
“I know, but…” She sets her mug on the table, and picks at a loose thread at the hem of her shirt. “He offered to take care of the divorce, an apartment downstairs, a well-paying job, insurance, childcare—a new beginning.”
Rocco’s offer sounds outlandish, but I know it’s not.
This is the same man who bought a building for Aurora because he suspected she’d love the studio—and want to stay in New York.
The same man who arranged for Ethan and Jackson to join the Stars organization—moving them to New York. Rocco doesn’t fuck around.
Unsure how to respond, I mull it over, alternating between drinking my coffee and tugging at the piercing in my lip. Jackson and Ethan trust Rocco. The Rossis have been good to us, and I love having Harper and Danny here.
But Rocco isn’t offering a job with benefits out of the kindness of his heart. He wants Harper.
“These men aren’t Daniel, Harp. They’re powerful and possessive. Rocco will give you the world, he’ll be good to you and Danny, but he won’t let you walk away easily—if at all.”
She meets my gaze with unexpected defiance, her shoulders squared. “I’m not na?ve. I know what he wants.”
“And you’re okay with it? Do you even like him?”
My protective instincts are screaming. Does she feel pressured to spend time with Rocco because he’s helping her? Is she lonely? On the rebound? She might be separated from her husband, but they’re not divorced. Does it even matter?
Danny crashes his dinosaur into the tower he built, giggling as blocks scatter across the floor.
Does Rocco want more kids? Can he handle a rambunctious four-year-old? He’s twenty years older than Harper. What could they possibly have in common?
Regardless of my concerns, she’s a grown woman who’s been through hell, and I’m not exactly in a traditional relationship. Who am I to dictate her life?
A sly smile plays on her lips, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m okay with it.”
My stomach lurches. “Please don’t…” I circle my hand in front of her. “Whatever you’re doing with your face—stop.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I’m not jumping into bed with him…yet. Jesus, Reece.”
I gag. “Never say those words again. I don’t want that visual. Gross.”
“Seriously?” She raises her brows. “You want to explain the noises coming from your room this—”
“Nope. You’re right. You need to move out.”