Page 187 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I turn my head, breathless and wild, and look up at Rex, my hand sliding down his stomach to his cock, already hard, pulsing with need. His eyes flare, jaw tightening as I wrap my fingers around him.

"Fuck, June," he hisses, his head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut. "That's it, darlin’. Just like that."

I shift before taking him into my mouth, savoring the weight and heat, the taste of him as I suck him deep. Rex's hand fists in my hair with a low groan, guiding me, his breath ragged, hips flexing slightly as I work him over with my mouth.

The combination of pleasuring him while Fletcher's fingers thrust deep and Wayne's mouth teases and tortures my breasts is overwhelming. A dizzying swirl of sensations has me whimpering around Rex's cock, my body rocking between them, greedy for more.

"You're so fucking perfect like this," Fletcher moans, fingers curling inside me just right, his thumb circling my clit with devastating precision. "Taking care of Rex while we take care of you… you're unbelievable."

Wayne's mouth is everywhere, sucking, biting, licking, his hands kneading my thighs, my hips, holding me even as my body trembles, every nerve ending alive, every part of me aching with pleasure.

I moan around Rex, sucking him deeper, my hand stroking what I can’t fit in, the taste and texture of him making me even wetter, even needier. He’s breathing hard now, low curses falling from his lips as he watches me, his eyes dark and heavy with lust.

"You're gonna kill me, June. You feel so fucking good."

Fletcher's fingers thrust faster, deeper, his thumb relentless on my clit, and Wayne's teeth graze my nipple just as Rex's cock hits the back of my throat, and it’s too much, too good, my body tensing, tightening, the pleasure coiling hot and sharp and unstoppable.

I try to hold back, try to keep sucking Rex, but my body has other plans.

I fall apart again. Harder, wilder, my cry muffled around Rex's cock as the orgasm rips through me, making me shake and sob, my body convulsing with the force of it.

Fletcher and Wayne don’t stop, milking every last wave, every last shudder, until I’m gasping, tears of pleasure leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Rex pulls back, just as he loses control. Ropes of pleasure splatter over me, as I lie there, wrecked and trembling, completely undone by them.

These men just ruined me in the best possible way, and all I can think is that I never want to stop.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Rex

The road has always made sense to me.

More than people, most of the time.

People are messy. They say one thing and mean another. They ask for honesty and then flinch when you give it to them. They make promises in warm beds and break them in cold daylight. They want you close until closeness starts asking more of them, and then suddenly, they need space, time, distance, a different version of the truth.

The road doesn’t do that.

The road is exactly what it is.

You keep your hands steady on the wheel, your eyes open, your timing clean, and it’ll carry you where you need to go.

I’ve built a whole damn life around that reliability.

Mile markers. Fuel stops. Dispatch windows. Weather reports. Bad coffee and better sunsets. Sleeping in truck cabs and waking up with a different sky every morning. Collecting postcards from towns that blur together after a while, not because I need souvenirs, but because I like having proof I was there. Like maybe those places left something in me too.

Only now, somewhere in the middle of northern Florida with the cab humming under me and Bolt snoring in the passenger seat because he’s an old man with no responsibilities whatsoever, I can’t stop thinking that maybe passing through isn’t enough anymore.

Maybe it hasn’t been for a while.

Rain slicks the highway in long silver ribbons, making everything feel blurred around the edges. I keep one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping against my thigh in time with thoughts I can’t settle. Even after a good couple of months to adjust to the news, it’s still there, demanding attention from me.

June.

Pregnant.

Every time I turn it over in my head, it lands differently. Big enough to make the whole shape of my life look temporary in a way it never really has before.