He went still.
Ophelia lifted her head from my cock, her eyes meeting mine. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks flushed.
“Say it again,” Oliver demanded.
“I love you.” I reached for him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up my body. “I’ve never—I didn’t think I could—but I do.”
He kissed me—fierce and tender and tasting of salt. His tears or mine, I couldn’t tell.
He gasped. “God, Kiernan. I love you too.”
I reached for Ophelia and cupped her cheek. “I love you, Phee.” I used Oliver’s pet name for her, hoping she knew the significance of my doing so.
She made her way up my body, and we kissed just as passionately as Oliver and I had, but gentler. Sweeter.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” she said, pulling away to look between us. “More than I dreamed possible.”
As tender as this moment was, I couldn’t let it end here. We needed to keep going. To close the circle. To make us complete.
I pulled Oliver closer. “I need you to?—”
“Fuck you?” He laughed—a ragged, disbelieving sound. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes. Please. God. I need you inside me.”
He positioned himself between my thighs while Ophelia’s lips returned to mine. She swallowed my gasp as he pushed inside, then gripped my cock and stroked it in time with his thrusts.
“Look at me,” Oliver commanded.
His face was tight with restraint, and his body trembled with restraint.
“Last chance,” he said. “Tell me to stop, and I will. No questions.”
“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”
He smiled—that brilliant, devastating smile I’d do anything to see.
The stretch was—I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything except feel him filling me, inch by inch, impossibly big, impossibly deep. Ophelia’s hand on my cock was the only thing keeping me from flying apart.
“Okay?” His voice was strained. Wrecked.
“Yes.” I struggled to pull him deeper. “Move. Please, Oliver. Move.”
He thrust. Slowly at first. Long, deep strokes that dragged against the spot inside me and made me see stars. Ophelia matched his rhythm, her hands working in tandem with his thrusts, and I was surrounded by them—filled and held and claimed in every possible way.
“Faster,” I gasped. “Harder. I won’t break.”
“I know you won’t.” His hips snapped forward, driving deep, and I shouted. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. That’s why you can do this. That’s why you can let go.”
He fucked me harder. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by my moans and his grunts and the wet sounds of Ophelia’s mouth when she leaned in to lick my shaft. It was obscene. It was perfect. It was everything.
“This is what you needed,” Oliver growled.
“Yes—”
“You’re not weak for wanting this.” He grabbed my jaw and forced me to meet his eyes even as his hips kept driving into me. “You’re brave. You’re so fucking brave, Kiernan. Letting us see you like this. Letting us in.”
“I love you,” I said again—couldn’t stop saying it, couldn’t hold it back anymore. “God.” The word came out reverent, wrecked. I couldn’t find any others.
