No past.
No future.
No fear.
Just me—held between the two men I wasn’t supposed to love like this.The two men who feel like home and danger all at once.
And I know we should stop.
I know we should talk.
But right now?
All I can feel is wanted.
All I can feel is chosen.
All I can feel is craved.
And for this moment, that’s enough.
I’m still floating,shattered like a supernova, my body pulsing with the last waves of it.Monty’s fingers are deep inside me when I finally come undone, my breath breaking apart as everything crashes at once.
He stays with me through it.Doesn’t rush.Doesn’t pull away.
When my body begins to soften, when the tremors fade into something gentler, he eases his hand out slowly, inch by inch, like he knows exactly how sensitive I still am.His fingers trail along me as they withdraw, slick and warm, then his palm settles between my thighs, not touching where I’m too tender—just holding me there, grounding me.
He leans in close, mouth brushing my ear.
“Fuck, Ves,” he murmurs, voice low and full.“You were incredible.So open.So beautiful for us.”
The words sink into me deeper than his fingers ever did.
His hand keeps moving—up my thigh, over my hip, along my stomach—slow strokes meant to soothe, to remind me I’m not falling alone.His thumb traces lazy lines over my skin, never asking for more, just offering presence.
They’re still touching me.Soft now.Slow.Like they’re writing something into my skin with each pass of their fingers.Something that says you’re here, you’re safe, you were perfect.
And somehow, I believe it.
Monty’s in front, holding me close, breath slowing against my collarbones.His arms wrap around my waist, hands broad and warm, still a little slick from where he’d touched me so deeply it felt like prayer.
Callaway’s behind me, bent over slightly, mouth brushing my shoulder one last time like he doesn’t want to leave me.His lips part to taste, just one more flick of tongue, one more quiet kiss that makes me shiver even though the orgasm has already passed.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs against me.“You should’ve seen yourself, sunshine.You came so fucking hard for us.”
I let out a shaky laugh that turns into something else.Something deeper.I blink fast, but one tear escapes anyway.
Monty’s thumb catches it.“Hey,” he whispers.“You okay?”
I nod.My throat is too full to speak.
I don’t know how to explain this feeling—this ache, this warmth, this small but growing thing in my chest that says maybe you can have this.Maybe this time it doesn’t have to break.
“I don’t want to move,” I mumble into Monty’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to.Not yet.”Cally lifts my chin and kisses me—soft, lingering.“You did so good for us, baby.We’ll take care of you.”
He stands and stretches, muscles flexing in a way that makes me want to touch him again.Then he walks out of the living room with nothing but a wink over his shoulder and a mutter of, “I’m getting the bath ready.Monty’s bathroom.The big tub.”
