26. Forever Three #2
I want to run into it, never stop.
Afterward, the garden empties the way a lake empties of swimmers: sudden, anticlimactic, the surface barely rippling with evidence of what just happened.
The cellist packs up, the glasses get cleared, the chairs are stacked and carted away by men in all-black.
There’s a moment in the hush where it almost feels like none of it was real, like I’ve stumbled into a dream where my mother sobbed through an entire wedding and my father hugged me so long afterwards I thought he might snap my spine.
And then it’s just us: me, Hunter, and Lachlan, slipping up the back staircase while the last of the guests are busy with their coats and rideshares, the three of us high on the scent of wax and wisteria and our own damn audacity.
The master suite is already prepared. There’s a chill from the open window, but the fire is going, flickering blue and orange behind its glass.
The bed is turned down, the navy silk duvet strewn with white rose petals, as if some overzealous romantic had decided to dump an entire wedding’s worth of cliché in a single room.
I love it. Marta, Hunter’s housekeeper, probably arranged it all, and she’s been a blessing since the moment Lachlan and I moved in.
The air inside is candle-warm and dense, the edges of the room fuzzed out by shadow. There’s a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the sideboard. Lachlan pops it, and the cork ricochets off the mantel. I laugh, almost feral, and Hunter pours us each a glass.
We toast. No words, just the clink and the burn.
I walk to the foot of the bed, every muscle vibrating, and turn to face them.
Hunter stands straight, hands behind his back, suit jacket open, eyes all over me.
Lachlan’s already lost the jacket, sleeves rolled and shirt half-unbuttoned, bare forearms crossed over his chest. Their eyes strip me before their hands do.
I don’t say anything. I reach behind my neck and find the clasp of my dress—the little hook that’s been itching me all night. It pops open, and the gown slides off my shoulders, catches for a second on my hips, then pools at my feet. I step out, totally nude save for my silver high heels.
Both men go silent. The air is thick, and I can feel their gaze like a force field, prickling every inch of my skin.
I move to the bed, lie back across it, and spread my legs.
There’s no ceremony to it—just pure invitation, blunt and honest. I lean up on my elbows and use both hands to part myself: one palm spreading the slick lips of my pussy, the other hand circling back to my asshole, which is already puckered, pink, and ready.
That’s when they see it.
The glint of metal, gold and wet, at the mouth of each hole.
I savor the moment, the twin looks of shock and hunger on their faces.
“The one in my pussy is the third ring you gave me,” I say, my voice half a dare. “But I had the fourth ring made just for tonight. One for each of you. Inside, the way you like it.”
Hunter’s jaw flexes, and he takes a step forward, but Lachlan beats him to it, dropping to his knees at the side of the bed.
“Holy shit,” Hunter says, voice gone ragged.
Lachlan just stares, then looks up at me, his blue eyes dark and nearly black in the candlelight. “When did you insert them—?”
“This morning,” I say. “Slipped them in before the dress. Felt them in my pussy and ass with every step down the aisle. It seemed like the most honest, most sensuous way to walk down the aisle with reminders of both of you inside my body.” I drop my head back and laugh, the sound rippling through my curves, and when I look again, both men are there, one on each side, hands already roaming over my thighs.
Hunter pushes my knees wider. “You’re such a fucking slut, Stella,” he says, reverent. “You love this. You love being marked by us.”
“I do,” I whisper. “I love being yours. Belonging to both of you.”
Hunter puts a hand on my belly, spreads his fingers, and leans in. Lachlan’s mouth goes straight to my breast, sucking hard, teeth grazing the tip until I yelp. I can feel his hand at my hip, holding me in place, while Hunter’s thumb circles my clit with slow, calculated pressure.
“Mmmm,” I moan. “Oh yes.”
I reach down and grab a fistful of Hunter’s hair, tug him up to my mouth, and kiss him, tongue inside, biting his bottom lip until I taste blood.
He growls, then pulls away, pinning my arms over my head in a single, practiced move.
Lachlan slides lower, mouth hot and wet, then pauses at the entrance of my pussy.
His tongue flicks the ring, the sensation metal and heat and wetness.
I buck, but Hunter holds me still, one hand tight around both wrists.
Lachlan starts working the ring, tongue swirling and pushing until it starts to slip, then pulls it between his teeth, grinning up at me, his mouth glossy, before pulling it out.
He holds the ring up, and I reach for it, pressing it into my palm. “That’s yours,” he says, voice guttural. “Always was.”
Hunter’s turn. He flips me over, ass in the air, and pulls my cheeks apart. He moans, staring at my tiny pucker.
“Goddamn,” is his rough growl. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy, star girl.”
Of course, the second ring is there, winking at him from just inside my anus. He doesn’t hesitate: his tongue is rough, insistent, and the sensation is electric, every nerve alive. He works the ring, tongue and teeth, until it pops out and lands with a slick noise in his palm.
He presses it against my lips, and I open my mouth, sucking it clean before he sets it on the nightstand next to the other.
“I love the taste,” I moan. “Mmm.”
Hunter chuckles. “I always knew our little slut loved the taste of ass. Especially her own,” he adds before tweaking my clit with his fingers.
I moan, long and loud, and they both groan in response. Hunter gets in back of me so that I’m in his lap, facing away, and lines up his cock with my asshole, the tip hard and already dripping.
“You ready?” he asks, breath hot in my ear.
“Always,” I say. “Do it. I want to feel both of you at once. I want you to ruin me.”
Lachlan’s already got his cock in hand, stroking slow, the head dark and angry. He lines up with my pussy, and they both push in at the same time.
“Ooooh!” I scream as I’m penetrated in both holes. “Unnnh!”
The stretch is obscene, more than I remember, but I love it. I arch, push back into both of them, and the sensation is fire, pleasure so raw it’s almost pain. They move together, one in my pussy, one in my ass, the rhythm perfect.
“Fuck,” Hunter grunts.
“Oh shit,” chokes out Lachlan.
Dirty talk flows, relentless. Hunter tells me I’m his naughty little whore, his trophy slut, that my holes belong to him, that he’s going to come so deep in my ass that I’ll taste his come in my throat.
Lachlan tells me I’m sacred and filthy at the same time, that he’d burn down the world for me, that he’s never wanted anything as much as he wants my vag right now.
I lose track of everything except the feeling of both of them inside me, the stretch and the fullness and the way every thrust makes my whole body shake.
“Oooh,” I grunt. “Yes, fuck me, fuck me, it feels so good!”
They obey, fucking me slow at first, then faster, the sound of skin on skin mixing with their breathing and my own sobbing moans.
I come, hard, around Lachlan’s cock, my cunt gripping him so tight he almost loses it.
Hunter’s hand is on my clit, working it until I see white.
I scream, I really do, and don’t care if the neighbors hear.
“Oh god!” I shriek. “Mmmph!”
They keep going, relentless, fucking me through the aftershocks until I’m shaking, barely able to speak.
Hunter grunts, voice raw: “You’re going to take every drop. Understand?”
I nod, drool on my chin.
“Good girl,” he says, and slams in one last time. I feel the hot rush of his cum flooding my ass, and I clench around him, milking it out with the walls of my ass.
“Fuuuuuck,” he moans. “Oh shit!”
Lachlan pulls out, strokes his cock over my pelvis, and comes in thick, hot ropes across my pussy, watching as my clit’s covered in his semen.
“Goddamn,” he pants. “Shit shit shit.”
We collapse in a sweaty heap, the sheets a tangle, the rose petals stuck to our bodies and each other. There’s sperm all over, exactly the way I like.
They bracket me, one on either side, and Hunter pulls the duvet up, wraps all three of us in it. Lachlan’s hand is on my thigh, slow and soothing, and Hunter kisses my neck, soft this time.
I look at the nightstand, at the two rings gleaming in the low light, and smile.
“Happy?” Hunter asks, voice lazy, sated.
I nod, too tired for words.
Lachlan kisses my cheek. “You were incredible, star girl.”
I drift, their bodies heavy against mine, the scent of sex and candle wax and flowers all around.
Because if this is what forever feels like, I never want to wake up.
“I love you,” I murmur, dropping off to sleep. And as my lashes close, I hear the words that mean so much to me.
“We love you, Stella. Always.”
With that, the promise of our future together begins.