Or maybe I’m just drunk on them. Drunk on him kissing me while Ryker plays with my pussy.

  “I can feel you get wetter as he kisses you,” Ryker growls.

  As if on cue, I gush.

  “Yeah,” he grunts. “Just like that.”

  More kisses. More touches. Until Chase stops kissing me and just lets out a long, lingering sigh. Everything feels dreamy and sexy and buzzy.

  Then it feels dirty when Ryker pulls off my panties inch by inch and says, “We’re just getting started.”

  And I no longer have any more questions—existential or practical—about how I got in this bed and what will happen next.

  It feels like this is where I’m supposed to be.

  I’m shivering. Panting. Moaning.

  They’ve both already gone down on me. I don’t think I could be any wetter. And I seriously appreciate their commitment to the cause of lubrication.

  All types of lubrication.

  Because Chase removed the silver plug, then opened up my ass more with his lubricated fingers while he ate me out.

  Now?

  I’m ready and begging for them. Not only was the last hour foreplay. The entire evening has been, from the kisses in the car to the blow job in the dressing room. And to that moment on the street with Jasper. It’s been hours and hours of intensified excitement, and now I’m ready.

  I push up on my elbows, looking up at two sexy, powerful men with throbbing cocks and hungry eyes. Wanting me. Needing me. I can feel the ferocity of their desire. Their primal need. It’s intoxicating, the way they both stare at me like the need to fuck me is their oxygen.

  We haven’t talked about who’s claiming what part of me. Maybe that’s because I don’t feel like one is the first choice, the other the second. But facts are facts. Someone’s going to decide what dick goes in what hole and really, that someone should be me.

  I might as well flip a coin, but here goes. Feeling wicked and wonderful and like the best kind of hot mess there is, I sit up and lay out the game plan. “I’m going to ride your dick, Ryker,” I say, looking at the grumpy but gentle giant, then at Chase, my outgoing but introspective guy. “And Chase, as you fuck me, I want you to tell Ryker how my ass feels because it’s going to drive him crazy.”

  They both unleash feral moans, then Ryker slides up on the bed, stroking his cock.

  Power. I feel it radiate through me as I straddle him, then bring the head of his cock to my aching center, rubbing him against me.

  When I sink down on him, we both shudder.

  Then I tremble some more as Chase’s big hand slides down my spine, then his slick fingers press against my back entrance.

  “I’ve got this, baby,” Chase says, soothingly. “You keep riding that dick while I play.”

  “I will.” Slowly I rise up and down as Chase fingers me some more.

  But Ryker is unusually quiet as I ride his cock. He purses his lips, like he’s fighting something.

  It’s hard for me to focus on asking him what’s wrong though when Chase kneels on the bed. Moving behind me, he notches the head of his cock against my ass.

  He presses, barely sliding the tip in.

  I groan from the intrusion. It’s not entirely pleasant, but it’s not painful either.

  I’m sweating as I try to relax.

  And Chase was right—this is work. Especially since the man under me still seems coiled tight. I’m worried. “What’s wrong?”

  With a guttural groan, Ryker rasps out, “It’s just so fucking good. I’m trying to last with you.”

  Oh. Oh.

  That’s sexy in a way I never anticipated. I’m so used to these guys being able to do anything in bed. Being supermen. The idea that it’s hard for him to last because he’s so turned on sends a hot, fresh wave of bliss through me.

  And just like that, I’m relaxing. Chase pushes in a fraction of an inch more. But what if I hate it? What if it feels terrible?

  All at once, I tense and I lock up everywhere. Chase roams a gentle hand through my hair. “If it hurts, I’ll stop. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

  He’s so concerned, and that makes me loosen up. “You will?”

  “Of course I will. Anything for you.”

  “I want to like it,” I say, feeling terribly vulnerable. “But I’m afraid.”

  Ryker touches my face with his knuckles, a reverent gesture. “It’s okay if you don’t. There’s no pressure.”

  Chase drops a kiss to my shoulder. “You have nothing to prove.”

  I breathe in all these sensations and emotions. Their acceptance of me. Their desire for me. Most of all, I let my own wishes fill my cells.

  I can stop at any moment. But I don’t want to. I want two men.

  I want two men desperately.

  I want to feel them both inside my body. I’m climbing this double dick mountain and planting my badass babe flag at the top of Twin Cocks Peak.

  I push my ass a little bit against Chase, then crane my neck to look back at him. “Have me.”

  With a shuddery groan, he eases in inch by inch.

  I feel so full. So stretched. Like I can’t hold anything else in my body. I don’t know if I can last like this.

  My desire might not win. My body’s limits might prevail.

  Until Ryker maneuvers a hand between our slick torsos, down my stomach, and he tenderly strokes my clit. Then Chase presses kisses along my neck. I breathe again and again.

  And on the last big breath, I sink down once more on Ryker’s dick and back against Chase’s, and the pain ebbs away.

  In its place comes something all new.

  Something deep and powerful. An entirely new kind of pleasure I didn’t know was possible.

  I’m filled from head to toe, from top to bottom. Before I even know what’s happening, I’m moving. It’s not easy because I’m sandwiched between them, but I manage as Chase grips my hips and sensually, deliciously drives his cock into my body.

  With a possessive growl, then a low rumble, he says to his friend, “You’re going to lose your mind when you fuck her like this. She’s so fucking tight.”

  “Yeah?” Ryker sounds desperate. “Her pussy’s never been wetter.”

  “Her ass is so hot. Just looking at her ass taking me is driving me wild,” he says.

  I tremble and moan.

  “I can feel her gushing on my cock,” Ryker tells Chase, and I cry out.

  Soon, I’m just made of sensations. I’m letting go in a whole new way. I’m giving myself to my two guys as they fuck me and take me and make me theirs.

  Words like tight and hot and perfect and ours become my whole existence.

  And then it’s just the slap of bodies.

  The slick of sweat.

  The pull of pleasure.

  And then it’s me calling out their names. Begging for release. A deep thrust from under me, another from over me, and I lose my mind to the most intense moment of my life, tipping over into pleasure, nothing but pleasure, as I shatter between them.

  I don’t know who comes next. I only know my head and my heart are filled with their groans and their grunts and their need for me too.

  A little later, I’m sore and exhausted but still floaty. Ryker cleans me up in the shower, washing me under the hot stream and the dim lights.

  When I get out, he wraps a towel around me as Chase runs a bath then drops in a bath bomb.

  Strawberry. They must have bought it for me.

  “I haven’t had a bath in ages,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  “Relax, baby,” Chase says, then takes the towel as I step into the hot, bubbly water.

  I sink down, then turn to look at Ryker. He’s wearing sweats; Chase is in shorts.

  “Stay with me,” I say.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Ryker answers.

  “We’re right here,” Chase adds.

  One man kneels at the end of the tub, the other sits on the floor by the top, and I am their queen.

  33

  HOW DO YOU DO

  Trina

  The pine scent of the forest twists around the smell of the ocean breeze as I adjust Chase’s sage-green tie on Sunday afternoon, knotting it nice and snug at the collar of his dark blue shirt. We’re in the living room, getting ready to leave with Nacho watching from the couch, head cocked.

  “Don’t ever stop wearing suits. They definitely hooked me the first night I met you,” I say, feeling kind of fizzy for them, like I have been all day.

  “And I thought it was my charming personality,” Ryker deadpans as he finishes looping a knot in the burgundy tie he’s wearing. I swat away his hands, taking over.

  “I was pretty sure Chase was just a cocky playboy,” I continue, reminiscing.

  Chase scoffs. “Yeah, not quite.”

  “More like you’re married to hockey,” I add, tossing him a hopeful glance.

  He says nothing—just gives me a smile that’s full of longing.

  Maybe he’s letting go of some of that all-or-nothing mentality? Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.

  When I finish Ryker’s tie, I set a hand on his strong chest, remembering the first time I did it, when I explored the scar and his ink, then I place my other hand on Chase’s shirt, picturing his scratches and cuts.

  My two men, with their big bodies they push to the limits to provide for their families. And their bigger hearts.

  Everything about this moment just feels so right. Me doing the finishing touches for their outfits. Me enjoying the scent of both of them.

  Us getting ready to leave as one.

  All day long, I’ve been borderline sad, thinking about tomorrow and the end of the most unexpected and wonderful week of my life.

  Thinking that it’s ending like any vacation inevitably does.

  Now, with me in the teal dress they bought, with us looking like we belong together, new thoughts—fragile thoughts—circle my mind.

  What if this could be my life?

  It’s a wild thought, but it’s taken hold of me as we leave together for the wedding.

  “You must be Trina.”

  The woman with the piercing blue eyes and bold style—her bright paisley-print dress is eye-catching—can only be Ryker’s sister.

  “And you must be Ivy,” I say, then I gesture to my dress, the one that she helped to pick out, for all intents and purposes. “Thank you so much for that recommendation.” Then I quickly add, “I’m so glad you told Ryker, who told Chase.”

  And shoot. Did it just sound like I was covering something up?

  Ivy just smiles, kind of slyly. We’re at a gorgeous hotel in the Presidio, in a classy ballroom teeming with white roses, and offering a stunning view overlooking the Pacific. Ivy shifts her gaze from me to Ryker to Chase. The guys are saying hello to Chase’s teammate Ledger.

  My cheeks flush. And in a heartbeat, it’s clear that Ivy knows something.

  It took all of two seconds, and I’m positive Ryker’s sister knows this isn’t a fake date with her brother’s best friend.

  But before I can figure out what to say next, her brother turns away from the other guys and brings Ivy in for a hug. “How’s it going, troublemaker?”

  “Fabulous,” she says brightly.

  Like a hawk, I watch her every move as she chuckles then whispers something in his ear. With a light laugh, he lets go. He says nothing, but there’s a smirk on his face.

  And I still don’t know what to do with this moment except wriggle away from the awkward. “And I hear you write all about fashion,” I say to Ivy.

  “I’m kind of obsessed with it,” she answers. “I wish I had the skills to design, but I guess I’ll have to do the second-best thing.”

  “I feel the same way about books. I can’t write them but I sure know how to read them.”

  “I’ll have to get some book recs from you,” she says.

  Whew. This is much safer ground. “And you’re going to have to tell me what all the trends are in clothes. And then basically how to get knockoff versions at Target,” I say as other guests shuffle in, big guys who are clearly from the Sea Dogs and the Avengers.

  As the goalie from Ryker’s team walks in, Ryker slides past me. “Give me a sec. I need to chat with Dev.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, and now I wonder if that came out awkwardly too. If Ivy or anyone else can read into everything I say to the two childhood best friends.

  But what exactly is she reading into it? Does she know I have feelings for her brother and his friend? Does she think I’m some kind of trollop?

  My stomach churns. Then it loops when Ivy moves into the aisle and pats the seat next to her. What the hell do I say if she asks me what’s up?

  I sit, hoping she won’t ask prying questions. I gesture to the ocean crashing against the sand in the distance, hoping small talk can save the day. “This is such a gorgeous view, isn’t it?”

  “I heard you met my grandma.”

  Well, that small talk didn’t last long at all. “I did,” I say evenly since I don’t know where she’s going with this line of conversation.

  Ivy leans closer to me, her voice low. “She likes you.”

  “Well, I liked her too,” I say, wishing I knew what Ivy was getting at. Is she friend or foe? Is she as protective as her brother? Is she going to give me the third degree for being Chase’s date but making eyes at the guy who looks out for her?

  “I think she sent me here on a matchmaking mission,” Ivy says, and whew.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. That makes so much more sense. She’s Dorothy’s soldier rather than my jailer, but still, I don’t know what she thinks of unconventional arrangements.

  “I do really like her,” I say again, and that’s completely honest.

  “She’s convinced that my brother really likes you too.”

  All I can do is smile. If I speak, she’ll hear the emotion in my voice.

  Mercifully, the guys rejoin us, scooting into the aisle. I’m dying to ask Ryker what on earth is going on, but then he turns around and says, “Hi, Mom.”

  My heart climbs into my throat. What the heck do I say to the woman who raised him? I turn, too, as he gives her a big, adoring hug.

  I melt into a puddle.

  Then, I go even squishier when Chase embraces his mother with a “Hey, Mom.”

  And my head fills with confusing thoughts as I fall even harder for both men.

  My mind is a train depot at rush hour, racing with ideas I never expected to entertain. I barely pay attention to the ceremony, but when Erik pledges to love Lisette for the rest of his life, my throat tightens. Tears prick my eyes.

  Can’t help it. I don’t even know them and I’m overwhelmed with emotions and with hope.

  Maybe I am a big old traditional romantic like my parents. Or maybe I’m a romantic in a whole new way. Here I am with a heart that’s being stretched between two men.

  With a hope that’s making me think everything is possible.

  When the officiant asks the all-important question, the bride gives a joyful, “I do.”

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Erik cups her cheeks and kisses her, and my mind races way too far ahead.

  How can three people even be together? How do you get married? How do you do Thanksgiving? How do you have kids? How do you do life? What do you say to others? These are my boyfriends, and this is our girlfriend? What will everyone think?

  These thoughts dog me as the wedding ends and we make our way to the reception, where the photographer snaps pictures of all the guests. Chase and I stop and smile for the camera. Then Ryker and his sister, and so on.

  Finally, before we can head into the glittery room, I pull the guys into an alcove and I whisper to Ryker, “I think your sister knows,” as a warning.

  He winces, like he feels bad, but he nods, resolute. “I think so too.”

  “What do you think she knows?” I ask, my nerves high and kicking through me.

  “That you’re not my girl,” Chase cuts in. “That you’re our girl.”

  God, that word—our.

  It makes me crave a brave new future so badly. And in a way, it’s a relief that Ryker’s sister isn’t cringing or saying get the hell away from me with your polyamory.

  But on the other hand—the more important hand—I’m not their girl for much longer.

  Only one more night.

  Sure, Chase means what he says in this moment. But could he ever mean it beyond tonight? Beyond tomorrow?

  I won’t know unless I put myself out there, and now isn’t the time to do it. Maybe later though. I can’t wait much longer. I feel like I’ll go mad if I don’t ask them if they want to be together with me.

  For the moment, I focus on brass tacks. “Do you think she cares?”

  “No, I don’t,” Ryker says, giving a simple answer to a complex question.

  He’s so lucky to have a sister like that. I can’t even imagine.

  “She told me what she thought was going on when I first saw her before the ceremony,” Ryker adds.

  Ah, when he laughed and smirked after that hug. I’m so relieved, I can’t even be mad that he didn’t save me from the what if questions in my head.

  Then, a throat clears, and I turn around and it’s Chase’s mom, all sun-kissed brown hair and a simple yellow dress. I blink, then automatically smooth a hand over my dress even though it’s not messed up.

  We step out from the alcove, adopting, I’m sure, overly innocent expressions. “Hi there,” I say, my voice uncertain. Will she hate me for liking another man too?

  “You’re the girl with the cute little dog,” she says, and that’s a promising start.

  “I am.”