I nod, heart hammering, panting. “Of course.”
Emerson’s hand slides slowly down my arm, his touch a mix of heat and tenderness. When our fingers intertwine, he gently tugs me forward, guiding me toward the couch. His confidence never falters—quiet but commanding.
He lowers himself onto the oversized cushions, relaxed but buzzing with restrained energy. Ronan lingers nearby, observant, his eyes following every move with unmistakable hunger.
Emerson settles back onto the couch, legs spread in a slow, confident sprawl that leaves no question about what he wants. His hands move to his belt, unfastening it with practiced ease before slipping beneath the waistband. A moment later, he frees himself, and his hand wraps around his length, gliding smoothly—his movements confident, deliberate, and already slick with anticipation. When his eyes find mine, they burn—dark, intense, and molten enough to melt me where I stand.
“Straddle me,” he says simply.
My breath catches.
At the look in my eyes, he softens. “Not all the way,” he clarifies. “No penetration. Just you... rubbing against me. Getting off with me. Rowen will take care of the rest.”
I blink, heart pounding, heat blooming beneath my skin.
“You think you can handle both of us?” Emerson asks, voice low and teasing, his hands resting on his thighs like he’s barely keeping himself in check. “While we’re taking care of you?”
My knees go weak, barely holding me upright, while my entire body hums with anticipation. I’m so lost in the moment, I don’t even notice myself swaying—shifting from foot to foot—until Ronan lets out a low chuckle beside us, clearly enjoying the show.
“Come on, Berk,” Emerson urges, his smile both wicked and tender. “Climb on. Let me feel you.”
Practically panting, I move to straddle him, every inch of me buzzing with nerves and anticipation. As I sink down, my bare heat brushes against him—skin to skin—and we both groan at the contact. His eyes fall shut, hands gripping my hips like he’s anchoring himself.
I jerk my hips slightly, unable to stop the movement, and Emerson groans again, deeper this time. His fingers tightening at my waist.
“Easy,” he rasps. “You’re going to ruin me.”
Ronan chuckles again from the side. “Hold it together, man. Give her a chance to catch up.”
I smile—slow, wicked, and maybe a little smug—becausethisis power. Seeing Emerson wrecked. Feeling him shake beneath me.
Rowen steps up behind me, and I feel the heat of him before his hands make contact. He smooths one palm over the middle of my back, then presses lightly. “Lean forward for me,” he says.
I obey.
His other hand skims over my backside, lingering, exploring. Then he slides between my thighs, fingers dipping through the slick heat, collecting it with care.
“Damn, baby,” he breathes, voice thick. “You’re soaking wet for us.”
He spreads the wetness along my skin, coating the space between us. I feel him adjust his pants enough to free himself, the brush of his length hot and hard against my skin as he presses forward, fitting himself between the curve of my cheeks. His hands stay firm—one steadying me, the other guiding the slow, gliding motion of his body against mine.
I’m already so drenched that the slick sound of each movement fills the space between us, unmistakable and intoxicating.
Emerson groans under me, his jaw clenched tight. Rowen’s rhythm behind me is measured, deliberate. And I’m sandwiched between the two of them—flushed, panting, overwhelmed in the most glorious way.
Every brush of skin against skin, every ragged breath and quiet praise, sends me closer to the edge.
And I know—we’re just getting started.
“Brother,” Emerson grits out, his voice breaking as his fingers tighten on my hips, holding me in place. “You’d better move fast. Just the heat on me is enough to finish this.”
Laughter hums around me, low and knowing, but I can feel how close he is. How closeweall are. And I can’t help myself—I lean forward, burying my face into the curve of Emerson’s neck, letting him feel my breath, my need, as I roll my hips in a slow, devastating grind that lets both him and Rowen slide perfectly against me.
Their answering groans vibrate through me, deep and ragged, and I can’t help the slow, wicked smile that curves across my lips.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” Ronan murmurs as he tips my chin toward him, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unreadable. “Are you going to drive them over the edge, pretty girl? You going to let them fall apart for you?”
I nod, desperate, because yes—that’s exactly what I want.
