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“It’s usually easiest to just give Rhett what he wants,” I say to Ryker.

Rhett gives my ass a light smack in response.

“Don’t I fucking know it.” Ryker’s grin is wide and genuine. “I’ll teach you how to stand up to him.”

I can’t help it. I grin back. I already like him. Not in the obsessive, intoxicating way that I feel for Rhett, but in a way that’s more friendly.

Rhett nods to the staff member who peeks in, and moments later, plates appear. I’m still on his lap, which means I’m eating dinner perched on my future father-in-law’s hardening dick while my future husband sits three feet away and watches. Somehow it doesn’t feel as fucked up as I thought it might.

Ryker tells stories about London while we eat. A property deal that went sideways. A club he got thrown out of for breaking a man’s jaw. He has a way of saying the most fucked-up things with a grin that makes you feel like you’re in on the joke.

Rhett’s hand stays on my thigh the entire meal. His thumb traces circles on my skin while he listens to his son, and every time I shift on his lap, I can feel his cock pressing against my ass. I’m having my first real conversation with the man who is supposed to be the father of my children while sitting on his father’s hard dick. This is my life now, and I’m not even going to pretend I hate it.

“So you really want all of this?” Ryker leans back in his chair and studies me. “The big wedding, marriage to me . . . children?” He glances at his father on the last word.

“I’ve always wanted children.” I hold his stare. “And I will do whatever is expected of me.”

I feel Rhett’s thigh tense and his hand still on my skin. I’ve seen this reaction before. Every time children come up, he reacts. I don’t push it because I already know he won’t let me in.

Ryker lifts his glass. “You’ve been able to manage my father, so at least that means you have some fight in you.”

I laugh to myself. No one fucking manages Rhett Bradley, but he’s right that I do have fight in me. And I’m going to fight for what I fucking want. And I know that Rhett wants it too.

The whiskey is going down easy, and the hot-tub jets are working the tension out of muscles I didn’t know I had. Ryker is across from me, his arms stretched along the edge, his tattooed chest on full display above the water. Rhett is beside me, his hand resting on my thigh under the surface the way it has been all night. Even sitting next to his twenty-four-year-old son who looks like the perfect younger replica, Rhett is the one who makes my thighs press together.

“So how many women have you two shared?” I don’t bother being delicate about it. If I’m going to fuck both of them, I want to know.

Ryker takes a drink. “Some.”

“I want to know where I rank.” The alcohol is making me even more bold, and I don’t have control of my mouth.

“It’s not a competition, baby.” Rhett’s voice is low from beside me.

Ryker laughs. A real one that shows his teeth. “I like her.” He points his glass at his father. “She’s wedged herself right under your skin too.”

Rhett’s hand slides higher on my thigh under the water. “It’s her brat mouth. You know how I like it when they break.”

Ryker settles back. “If you’re worried I’ll make you stop fucking my dad, I won’t, beautiful.”

I look at Rhett because I can’t stop myself.

He holds my stare. His fingers tighten on my thigh.

Then Ryker slides closer so he’s on the other side of me. “But I’m prepared to do what’s expected of me too. Your ‘Daddy’ there has made that clear to both of us.”

Ryker’s leg presses against mine under the water. Rhett’s hand slides higher, his fingers tracing the edge of my bikini bottom. I can feel both of them, and I look at Rhett because I need him to tell me this is okay.

He nods. One small, barely visible nod.

My hand moves to Rhett first. Because it’s always going to be Rhett first. My fingers find his cock through his swim trunks, and he’s already hard. I know the shape of him, the barbell through the head, the weight and the heat and the way he flexes when I squeeze. My other hand finds Ryker while I keep watching Rhett.

Ryker’s hard too, and the difference is immediate. I can feel multiple piercings through the fabric. They’re not the same as Rhett’s.

Ryker pulls his trunks down and guides my hand onto his dick. It’s thick and I grip tighter just to feel each piercing under my fingers. Metal studs run down the shaft in a row, pressing against my palm as I stroke him.

I’m stroking both of their dicks, while Rhett plays with my pussy. If we weren’t in a hot tub, I know I would be soaked. “Such a good girl,” he whispers in my ear, then kisses along my neck and catches my lips. I pick up speed for both of them, gripping them each tighter.

Ryker’s head drops back against the concrete edge while Rhett and I make out. “Fuck, that feels good.”