Ronan’s hand slides around my waist, his fingers finding my clit with cruel precision. The touch obliterates whatever control I had left. My breath breaks, a sharp cry ripping out of me as pleasure slams through my body so violently my vision blurs at the edges.
Rowan groans at the same moment I seize around him, his head dropping back, his hands bruising my hips as he thrusts up one last time. Ronan’s rhythm falters with mine, a strangled curse falling from his lips as he shudders behind me.
The three of us fall apart in the same breath. Rowan’s hips jerk beneath me. Ronan’s chest presses tight to my back as he twitches with me, lost to the same explosion.
We stay fused together for a long moment, breathing in the dark, letting the tremors fade from our limbs. My muscles twitch around Rowan and Ronan, overstimulated and glowing,until Ronan finally pulls out. He withdraws slowly, carefully, a low grunt rumbling from his chest when my body clenches in protest. Rowan follows beneath me, the movement making both of us gasp as he slips free. Before he lets go completely, he drags my mouth to his and steals one more kiss—slow, deep, warm enough to make my toes curl again.
The bed dips behind me. Emerson has been waiting—patient in a way that only sharpens the hunger in his gaze. The twins vanish into the bathroom, the rush of water fading beneath the pound of my heartbeat as Emerson’s hands slide up my arms, steadying me.
He pulls me closer, lifting me until we’re both on our knees. His palm cradles my cheek, thumb brushing my lower lip before he kisses me. It’s slow at first, reverent in a way that cracks open my chest. But there’s heat underneath—pressure building, demanding release. I can feel their combined release slipping down my thighs, warm and slick, and it sends a sharp bolt of need through me that makes me lean into Emerson harder.
When he pulls back, his breath ghosts against my lips. “Which hole do you want me in, Berk?” He asks, voice roughened by restraint. “Since both of them finished together, you get to choose.”
I smile into his mouth, a sweet lie of innocence that has never once fooled any of them. “Fuck me in my pussy, but from behind,” I demand. “Pull my hair. I want it hard, Em.”
His growl is instant, vibrating through my bones. His cock twitches against my stomach like it’s been waiting for my command. “You got it, baby.”
The shift in him is electric. Before I can inhale, he flips me forward with one strong shove, pressing me face-first into the mattress. His hand clamps onto my hip and drags me up, arching me open, presenting me like a feast he’s starved for. Theair leaves me in a gasp just as he slams into me with no warning, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal, claiming thrust.
My cry catches in the sheets. Emerson answers with a hiss through his teeth and a string of curses.
His grip tangles in my hair, yanking my head back so my spine curves beautifully for him. My neck stretched tight, exposing my throat to the cool air. His other hand digs into my hip, fingers pressing bruises into my skin as he pounds into me with a rhythm that rattles the headboard.
“Perfect,” he growls through clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking perfect; so tight.”
His pace is relentless, too much and not enough all at once, each thrust pushing a cry from my lungs. My body is already sensitive, still fluttering from the twins, and every time he drives forward, I clamp down around him involuntarily. It pulls a broken sound from his chest, somewhere between pleasure and frustration.
“I’m not—fuck—I’m not lasting long with you gripping me like that.”
He drags me upright, chest pressing into my back, his fist still wound tight in my hair. His free hand slips between my thighs and finds my clit, circling with ruthless precision. My entire body jerks. The pressure builds again—fast, overwhelming.
He leans down, lips brushing the underside of my jaw. “Come for me,” he orders.
Before I can obey, his teeth sink into the side of my neck, hard enough to sting, hard enough to brand. The pain sparks white-hot pleasure. My scream tears through the room as my orgasm detonates, ripping me apart so fiercely I nearly collapse.
My walls clamp down around him in rapid pulses. Emerson curses loud and viciously, thrusting once, twice morebefore he breaks with a shuddering groan, spilling into me as he buries his face in my shoulder.
His grip on my hair eases, the edge of dominance softening into care. His arms slide around my waist, locking me against his chest as we ride out the last aftershocks together. My legs give out immediately, but he’s already there—holding me upright without hesitation, breathing against my skin until my pulse finally slows.
We collapse together in a tangle of limbs and heat; the world fading away until nothing exists except the sound of our breathing and the steady thrum of his heart pressed to my chest.
I must drift out for a second—maybe longer—because when my eyes crack open again, the room feels softer, quieter, like the edge of a dream. Emerson isn’t beneath me anymore, and my muscles protest the shift when I move. Warmth brushes my inner thigh, and then I feel it, slow and careful.
Ronan.
He’s crouched between my legs, the low light casting shadows over the sharp cut of his jaw as he finishes wiping me down with a warm rag. His scent of clean cotton and something sharp and masculine that belongs only to him. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, a stark contrast to the way he fucked me earlier.
When he sees me stir, his mouth pulls into that wicked, satisfied grin that tells me he enjoyed every second of what we just did.
“All clean, baby,” he says, voice rich and smug in a way that makes heat curl low in my belly again. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh, right where my pulse kicks beneath his lips. “Go on back to sleep.”
My limbs feel pleasantly heavy, boneless from pleasure, as my mind drifts in and out of a fog. Ronan stands and moves toward the bathroom, the damp cloth dangling from hisfingers. I hear water run for a moment, the sound distant and comforting.
The mattress shifts behind me. Then another dip near my calves. The room smells like sweat and skin and the faintest hint of lilac from my shampoo. Hands—familiar ones—begin adjusting me with practiced ease. They don’t speak at first, just move around me, each touch soft but sure.
Rowan’s calloused fingers trace my side as he pulls the blanket up over my hip. Emerson’s hand slides under my cheek and lifts gently, guiding me toward him, silently adjusting me where he wants me. Ronan returns from the bathroom and climbs into bed on my other side, the warmth of his body rolling toward me in a slow, enveloping wave.
They shift me together, like they’re building a shield around me. I don’t fight it. I melt into it.