“Oh, I’m more than all right, but thanks for asking,” I pant out as I reach our shared bedroom, dashing for the attached bathroom. “Jamie?”
“Yes?”
“Standby!” I shout just as Oliver catches up, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the floor, making me squeal with laughter.
“Gotcha,” he says triumphantly, holding me tight as I kick the air in front of me, my laughter echoing through the room.
His arms are strong around my waist, and I squirm playfully, trying to get free even though I love being in his hold.
When Oliver turns me, I catch sight of Grey and Misha right behind us before his lips meet mine, and a spark ignites within me, setting my skin ablaze. The others close in on me, too, their hands starting to roam my body, the curve of my waist, my hips, pushing my hair behind my shoulder to kiss my neck. Then, someone starts to undo my pants.
“Wait,” I breathe out, breaking away from Oliver’s intoxicating kiss. I look into his forest-green eyes, then turn to Grey and Misha, who are already looking at me like predators closing in on their prey. “I want to see all of you first.”
There’s a beat of silence and some shared glances before they step back and start to move at once, their hands working quickly to undress. Buttons pop, zippers slide down, and fabric pools at their feet in a flurry of motion. It’s almost comical, the way they strip so eagerly.
Oliver reveals his muscular frame, which I’ve come to know so well. His skin is warm under my fingertips as I reach out for him, and I can’t resist the urge to trace the contours of his chest.He sucks in a sharp breath at my touch, and a thrill runs through me at the knowledge that I can still affect him so strongly.
Grey steps up to us, his gaze intense as he watches Oliver and me. Wordlessly, he reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss before guiding it to the hem of his shirt. I pull it off without hesitation, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
Misha turns me toward him next—already naked and still with his hair full of daisies and kisses me deeply, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer. I feel the heat of his body against me, the urgency in his kiss.
Once he breaks it, they’re all standing before me, naked and unashamed, and I take a moment to appreciate the sight. Grey, with his tall, lean frame and permanent scowl softened by desire. Misha, with his unruly black curls and dark eyes filled with mischief. And Oliver, with his round glasses, sculpted cheekbones, and a shyness that belies the fire burning within him.
The men who hold my heart.
Since they started to watch me all those years ago.
An idea strikes me, and I walk over to the dresser beside the bed and pull out three of my silk scarves, each a different color—one for each of them. As I approach, they watch intently, their eyes tracking my every movement, taking in the sight of me fully clothed while they stand there, completely exposed.
“I want you all blindfolded,” I say, holding up the scarves. “Each one of you.” Grey opens his mouth, likely ready to protest, but I cut him off with a firm shake of my head. “For once, I want you to do the opposite of watching.”
Understanding dawns on Grey’s face, and a slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he acquiesces to my request. One by one, they lean down so I can tie the silk scarves around their eyes, carefully knotting the fabric to take away their sight.
When Misha stands up straight again, he wobbles and reaches out blindly to steady himself, gripping a butt that isn’t mine.
Oliver’s amused voice rumbles through the room. “You know that’s me, right?”
Misha freezes, then huffs out a laugh, quickly retracting his hand. “Was wondering why Amelia was so hairy!”
Grey chuckles, and I do, too. Then, with deliberate slowness, I begin to strip.
“I’m slipping off my shirt now,” I say, slowly peeling the fabric from my skin. I watch as their breaths hitch, their heads tilting as if they can almost see me through the darkness.
“Now, I’m unbuttoning my jeans… sliding them down and off,” I say, my movements slow and deliberate as I let the denim fall to the floor with a soft whisper. I take a moment to admire the effect on them—bodies tense, chests rising and falling with increasingly ragged breaths, their cocks hard and straining toward me. “I’m wearing a thong,” I whisper. “Just a small piece of fabric, barely covering what belongs to you.”
“Shit, Bug,” Misha nearly whimpers, his fists clenching, the tension radiating off him.
Good. Let the anticipation burn.
“I’m stroking my thighs… higher… higher… now tracing the edges of the lace,” I murmur, my fingers mimicking the path I describe, watching their bodies respond—breaths becoming even more ragged, their chests heaving with the effort to hold back, waiting for me to take the lead.
“Amelia,” Grey growls out, the need visibly rippling through him.
“So impatient,” I tease, stepping closer, close enough for them to feel the heat of my body but still not touching them.
“Do you want to drive us mad?”
“Maybe,” I reply, amusement mixing with the heat between us. “Now, imagine what it will feel like when I finally let you touch me.”
