Page 74 of Single Mom's Daddies
“Let go,” Nikolai murmurs into my ear. “Let us take care of you.”
And I do. I come with a cry that I try—and fail—to muffle against Victor’s neck. My body shakes with it, floods with it, gives in completely, as my groans grow from everything they’re doing. Roman’s tongue, his fingers. Victor’s mouth on my neck and chest. Nik’s fingers pinching, plucking at my nipples. I can’t hold it in, and a scream peals out of me. They hold me through it.
When I’m in my skin again, Victor kisses my temple. Roman slides up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then cups my face and kisses me like I haven’t just shattered.
But I want more. I tug him on top of me. Nikolai moves to the side, stroking my thigh while Victor keeps kissing my shoulder,my ribs, the side of my breast. Roman enters me with one slow, perfect stroke, and I gasp against his mouth.
He thrusts, and the others don’t stop touching me—Nikolai’s mouth on my neck, Victor’s fingers teasing my nipple. It’s too much. It’s perfect. Roman arches back, anchoring the head of his cock against that magic spot inside of me with every thrust. I lose myself again, coming on him.
Roman curses when I clench around him, thrusts harder, hips rocking against mine until he groans my name and spills inside me. He holds still. Pressed to me. Breathing hard, his breaths replacing my own. Then he pulls out and rolls to the side, letting Victor take his place.
They don’t speak. They don’t ask.
Victor looks at me like he’s waited years for this. He enters me in one slow push, and I swear I see stars. His rhythm is different—deeper. Less patient. His hands never stop moving until there’s one on my throat, the other holding mine. His body whips into me, our hips crashing.
He growls, “Mine.”
He’s right. I’m his. I’m all of theirs.
His cock is longer, not as girthy as Roman, but inches of him glide up and down that spot, and I was already lit up and left wet with Roman’s gift to me. Every stroke from Victor is on swollen, sensitive parts, and it’s seconds before I come again, helpless to his every whim and utterly wrecked. He follows with a growl, face buried in my neck.
When he rolls away, I’m boneless. Blissful.
But Nikolai isn’t done. He moves over me, kisses my knee, then my inner thigh, then up, up, up, until I’m arching again. He has my legs over his shoulders, spread wide until I’m on full display, their cum leaking out of me.
“I should clean?—”
“No. I want you like this.” He pushes inside, and I feel every inch of it—every stretch, every pause. That piercing of his at the base of his cock…that thing toys with my clit when he bottoms out inside of me. And then, he grinds up and down, knowing what he’s doing to me.
He goes slow. So slow.
My hands claw at his back. He kisses me like I’m the last thing on earth. Between gasping lips, I beg, “More. Faster. Please.”
He smirks and slows down to an aching pace. His thumb runs over my bottom lip. “I like hearing you beg, precious.”
“Please, please, please, please?—”
He laughs sharply and speeds up until I can’t keep up with him anymore. I’m coming, I’m going, I’m out of my mind. There’s no air in my lungs, no thoughts in my head. I cry out, and he groans, erupting inside of me with a roar. The world stops for just one perfect, burning moment.
Then he collapses beside me. And we breathe. All of us.
They wrap around me. Bodies tangled. Skin flushed. Breath slow. And for the first time since Ivy was readmitted, I don’t feel alone.
I feel safe. Held. And I fall asleep. Wrapped in warmth, wrapped in them. Wondering how I ever did this without them at all.
18
ROMAN
Saffron is asleep between us.
Victor’s arm is curled around her waist. Nikolai is breathing slow and deep, his knee resting against hers like he couldn’t bear to roll away. My own hand rests on her hip, thumb tracing the smooth slope of her skin under the blanket.
The air in the room is warm. Still heavy with sex and sweat and something bigger.
When I pull back the blanket and slip out of bed, she stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. I pull on my boxers, grab a tee off the floor, and step out into the main room of the cottage. I’m not cold, but I light the gas fireplace anyway.
A few seconds later, I hear footsteps. Saffron. She’s wrapped in a thin throw blanket, hair mussed, eyes half-lidded. She walks toward me like she’s always been mine. It’s not ownership exactly. More like a sense of belonging.
