Page 105 of Triple Play
Grant’s collapsed beside me on the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest heaving. He looks wrecked in the best way—hair a mess, lips swollen, that perpetual tension finally smoothed from his shoulders.
“Give her a minute,” Wyatt says. He’s sitting in Grant’s desk chair, still fully clothed, watching us with dark eyes that make my stomach flip despite the fact that I just came so hard I saw stars.
“I’m fine.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Better than fine.”
Grant’s arm moves slightly. One ice-blue eye peeks out at me. “You sure?”
“Stop being so—” I search for the word. “Chivalrous. It’s weird.”
That gets a smile out of him. Small but real. “Can’t help it. Two and a half years of Catholic guilt doesn’t disappear just because I finally got inside you.”
“Catholic guilt?” Jordie’s already stripping off his shirt. “Is that what we’re calling blue balls now?”
“Shut up, Dickson.”
But there’s no heat in it. Grant’s hand finds mine, threading our fingers together, and the casual intimacy of it makes my chest tight.
Jordie’s down to his boxer briefs now, and the tent in them is—yeah. He’s been patient. More patient than I would’ve been watching Grant take me apart.
“Come here,” I tell him.
He’s on the bed in half a second, kissing me with that golden retriever enthusiasm that should be annoying but isn’t. A girl could fall in love with Jordie Dickson very easily.
His hands are everywhere—my waist, my hips, sliding up to cup my breast.
“How do you want me?” I ask against his mouth.
He pulls back, eyes dark. “On your hands and knees.” His voice drops lower. “Want to fuck you from behind—” He glances at Wyatt. “We good?”
Wyatt nods once. “Yeah.”
I shift onto all fours, very aware of how exposed I am like this. Grant’s still beside me on the bed, propped up on one elbow now, watching with possessive eyes.
Jordie’s behind me, hands smoothing over my ass, my hips. “You’re so—” He stops. Laughs. “I was gonna say beautiful but that feels inadequate right now.”
“Try perfect,” Grant offers. His hand finds my hair, smoothing it back from my face. “She’s perfect.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I’m not used to this—being praised like this, looked at like this.
Wyatt stands, starts unbuttoning his jeans with methodical fingers. “You okay with this?” he asks me.
“With what?”
“All of us. At once.” He’s down to boxer briefs now, and the outline of him is—yeah. I remember how thick he is. “It’s a lot.”
“I can handle a lot.”
His mouth quirks. Almost a smile. “I know you can.”
He moves to the head of the bed, settles in front of me. Close enough that I could lean forward and—
“Is this okay?” I ask. Because consent goes both ways and I need to know he wants this as much as I do.
“Elise.” His hand cups my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “I’ve been thinking about your mouth for weeks. So yeah. This is very okay.”
Behind me, Jordie’s rolling on a condom. The sound makes everything real, makes my heart rate kick up.
Grant’s still petting my hair, his other hand trailing down my spine. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you. All of us.”
