Page 232 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“I love you, Fletcher,” I say, louder this time, because the words are right there on the tip of my tongue. “I have for a long time now. I just… I didn’t know how to say it in a way that wouldn’t ruin everything.”

He exhales slowly, and he looks like he might laugh, or cry, or do both at once.

“June,” he murmurs, “you’ve already ruined everything… and fixed it at the same time. I love you.”

Then my eyes go to Rex, who’s been grinning at me that way he always does when he’s trying to hide something he can’t. He’s the one who’s made me feel safe in ways I didn’t even know I needed, who’s been wild and tender in equal measure, who’s been the anchor in the storm I didn’t want to weather alone.

“Of course, I love you too,” I tell him. “But you already know that.”

Rex’s grin breaks into a laugh that fills the space around us. He steps forward, captures my hand, and pulls me gently into his chest. His lips brush mine, urgent and tender, sending a tremor down my spine.

Wayne and Fletcher move closer at the same instant. Wayne’s thumb strokes the back of my hand; Fletcher’s arms slide around my waist. Their proximity buzzes against my skin, igniting a fierce hunger I haven’t felt in days.

My pulse races. The atmosphere between us thickens with desire: three different kinds of warmth, all converging. Fletcher’s fingertips trail down my side, sending fine sparks along my nerves. Wayne brushes a kiss behind my ear, low and possessive. Rex molds me against him, breath hot on my neck.

I swallow. My knees go weak. I can’t resist.

I can never resist these men.

Rex’s hand finds my chin, tilting my face upward so I’m staring into his dark eyes.

There’s no question in his voice when he says, “You want this?”

My throat constricts. I can only nod.

Wayne’s fingers slip beneath the hem of my hoodie, skimming smooth skin at my waist. Fletcher’s other hand drifts lower, brushing the curve of my hip.

“Say it,” Rex prompts.

A tremor runs through me. “I want all of you. Always.”

As if released, all three of them move at once. Wayne peels the hoodie off over my head; Fletcher’s hands press firmly to my hips, anchoring me; Rex’s mouth finds mine, demanding yet tender. The hoodie hits the floor, leaving me in a thin camisole and underwear. My pulse thunders in my ears as six hands and three mouths worship my skin.

Wayne’s lips follow my collarbone down to the swell of my breast. His breath hitches in a low groan when he cups me, thumb brushing my nipple through lace. Fletcher’s other hand slides beneath my camisole, fingertips teasing along my ribs. Rex’s mouth captures my bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and tugging ever so gently as he watches our bodies press together.

My back arches. I gasp. The world narrows to the slick glide of heat pooling between my thighs and the firm, relentless pressure of their touch.

Fletcher’s fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear and tug them down in one swift motion. They slip off, and the cool air kisses my bare skin. I shiver as they bend forward, Fletcher’s lips nipping at the inside of my thigh while Wayne’s fingers brush a path up my stomach. Rex’s hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me onto the couch cushions.

The couch groans under us. Wayne settles between my legs, eyes dark as he parts them gently. The first lick of his tongue against my clit makes my hands fist in the cushion. Fletcher’s warm breath hovers at my neck, his fingertips teasing across my hipbone. Rex’s grip in my hair steadies my head as Wayne’s tongue circles lower, each flick sending silver jolts through me.

I buck against him, a helpless moan slipping free. Flick by flick, Wayne works his tongue, slow and devouring, while Fletcher’s fingers slip inside me, curling against my front wall with precise, agonizing pressure. My body clenches around him.

Rex leans down, lips brushing my ear.

“Look at me,” he breathes. His hand tightens just enough to remind me who’s leading this dance.

I lift my gaze, meeting his dark intensity while the other two continue their sweet assault. Fletcher’s mouth finds my nipple, tugging gently as he hums against it. I’m undone, trembling beneath their combined weight, riding wave upon wave of pleasure that builds and crashes.

When they sense I’m teetering on the edge, they shift seamlessly. Wayne’s tongue plunges deeper, Fletcher’s fingers move faster, and Rex abandons my hair to trace down my spine in soft, demanding strokes. His touch grounds me.

The climax shreds me apart, a cry exploding from my throat as every nerve ending cries out in release.

They don’t stop. They cradle me through the aftershocks, nuzzling and murmuring encouragement, their hands gentle now, covering me with warmth.

After a moment, Rex commands: “On your knees.”

I obey, sliding from the couch onto the rug. Wayne’s hand in my hair guides my head toward him; Fletcher stands behind me, fingertips grazing my shoulders. My fingers brush the button of Wayne’s jeans and pop it open. He shivers as I slide the zipper down, exposing him. He’s already slick and hard.