Page 70 of Breakaway Daddies

The question hangs in the air, charged with an unspoken promise.

The popcorn bowl, once the centerpiece of the casual evening, is now forgotten, its contents scattered across the coffee table. Her expression flickers, caught somewhere between annoyance and an emotion she can’t quite place.

“I’m not some girl in a music video, Bruno,” she retorts, her voice firm.

“No,” he murmurs softly, his gaze steady and unwavering, “you’re better.”

His words are a gentle caress, and then he kisses her. It’s not showy or over-the-top, but like he’s savoring every second of the moment. I watch her stiffen initially, her body tense, but then she softens, her fingers curling lightly in the sleeve of his shirt, anchoring her there.

The room goes still, the world outside fading away.

Thomas and I exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between us.

There’s something in the air now—warmer than the dim light cast by the flickering television, thicker than the soundtrack credits still rolling. It hums beneath my skin like an electric current.

I lean in, brushing my shoulder against Jinx’s, the contact sending a ripple of warmth through me. When she glances at me, her eyes wide and searching, I kiss her, too—just a light brush at first, tentative and gentle, then firmer as she leans into it.

When I pull back, a soft smile plays on my lips, and Thomas grins beside me, his eyes alight with understanding. He leans in as well, and she welcomes him with the same quiet intensity, her eyes fluttering closed.

My hands explore her body, feeling the swell in her lower belly and the suppleness of her full tits. She gasps against his mouth, her back arching slightly into my touch.

Bruno’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, dark and filled with something unspoken but understood. His hand slides over mine, our fingers intertwining against the curve of her hip.

“Is this okay?” Thomas whispers against her neck, his voice hoarse with restraint.

Jinx nods, breathless. “More than okay.”

We move together like we’ve practiced this dance a hundred times before.

Bruno gently pulls her onto his lap while I kneel behind her, my chest against her back, lips tracing the constellation of freckles across her shoulders. Thomas slides to the floor, his hands caressing her thighs.

“I’ve thought about this,” she confesses, her voice barely audible over our collective breathing. “I miss you, I miss feeling you all at once like before…”

“We can do that again, if you want,” I sigh against her neck. The smile across her lips tells me all I need to know.

My hands grip her tits, pulling them out from her shirt so I can lick and suck them. I watch Bruno kiss her hard again, her cheeks reddening from our touch. Thomas’s hand trails down below her belly, underneath her jeans, and I feel her arch.

Her body reacts with a shudder, a soft moan escaping her lips as Thomas’s fingers work their magic. I can feel her heartbeat racing against my chest, the rhythm of it matching my own.

“We’ve missed you,” Bruno murmurs against her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair. “All of us.”

The lamplight catches the silver of her nose ring as she turns to look at each of us in turn, her eyes half-lidded and wanting. There’s a vulnerability there I’ve rarely seen, a surrender that feels like trust.

Thomas eases her jeans down her hips, his movements deliberate and gentle. “Tell us if you want to stop,” he says, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

“Don’t you dare,” she breathes, her fingers finding my wrist, guiding my hand lower.

We move to her bedroom, Thomas lifting her up in his arms as we all follow the sound of Jinx’s giggles. He lays her down on the bed like she’s precious, fragile.

She’s anything but, with her wild hair splayed across the pillows and that defiant glint still in her eyes, even as her body surrenders to our touch.

We take our time undressing each other, hands everywhere, learning curves and angles anew. The room fills with sighs and whispers, skin against skin.

Bruno’s mouth leaves a trail of kisses down her stomach, pausing at the curve where her body has changed, growing with our child inside her. His reverence makes her blush, and she pulls him up for a fierce kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything.

We form a circle around her, our hands mapping territories both familiar and new. Her body responds to each touch like she’s been waiting for us, for this moment.

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