The tension ebbed slowly, like the tide pulling back from the shore after a storm.
They sprawled across the bed, tangled in each other—bare skin, warm breath, and the lingering sheen of what they’d just done. Lucy lay between them, head resting on Ray’s chest, one of Grant’s hands still brushing lazy strokes down her thigh. The sheets were wrinkled, the room dimly lit by the soft hotel lamp that cast everything in gold and shadow.
She let out a breathless laugh, covering her face for a second. “I… cannot believe we just did that.”
Ray chuckled beside her, deep and low. “Believe it, sweetheart. We’re not done either.”
Grant smirked, his voice lighter now, but still with that teasing pull. “You really think you’re the first girl we’ve shared?”
Lucy looked up, eyebrows raised, caught between curiosity and amusement. “Wait—what?”
Ray just grinned and tipped his head back against the headboard, arms folded behind it. “College was wild.”
“We had a… phase,” Grant added, eyes glinting. “Let’s just say we didn’t mind the same type of girl.”
Lucy blinked, laughing again. “I don’t know if that makes this better or worse.”
“Better,” Ray said smoothly.
“Definitely better,” Grant agreed, eyes raking over her like he hadn’t just had her moments ago. “We’ve got practice.”
She looked at them then—really looked.
Both of them stretched out on either side of her, shadows cutting across their faces, skin still damp from sweat, satisfaction humming in every breath. Grant’s messy brown hair flopped over his forehead, a little too long, streaked at the temples with silver. His green eyes glowed in the low light, his beard touched with grey, his frame still solid and sharp. Ray looked older—broader, darker, all salt and pepper and that perfect, strong jaw. His full lips still wore that smug, dangerous smile, the kind that made her ache without moving.
Together, they were devastating.
No wonder she couldn’t stop herself.
“I swear,” she said quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything the way I want you two right now.”
Grant leaned in slowly, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of her face, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek.
“You know,” he said, voice just above a whisper, “since the first day Eric brought you home… I’ve thought about doing this.”
Lucy’s breath caught. Her eyes widened just a little.
“Thought about how soft you looked,” he continued, brushing his fingers down to her jaw. “How good your mouth would feel. How sweet you’d sound begging.”
Ray’s eyes darkened beside her, clearly enjoying every word of it.
Grant leaned in a little closer, his lips brushing her temple.
“I wanted you, Lucy. Bad. And now?” His voice dropped, almost reverent. “Now I need more.”
Lucy’s heart thudded in her chest, her body responding before she could even find words. All she could do was stare between them, breathless and wrecked and ready for whatever came next.
Lucy’s lips curled into a slow, teasing grin as she turned her head on the pillow to look at Grant.
“Oh yeah?” she murmured, eyes glinting with mischief. “What exactly did you want to do to me back then?”
Grant’s smile deepened, something darker behind it now—heat rekindling beneath the surface of his calm. His fingers slipped through her long blonde hair, slow and thoughtful, like he was savoring the feel of it.
“Everything,” he said simply, his voice low and rough. “I wanted to pin you against the wall of the kitchen when no one was looking. Get my hands under that sweet little dress you wore and feel how soaked you already were for me.”
Lucy swallowed, her grin faltering slightly as heat pooled low in her belly. Her thighs instinctively shifted, just enough for him to notice.
“I wanted to bend you over the couch while Eric went to get drinks,” he went on, voice dropping to something almost reverent. “Wanted to hear the sounds you’d make if I just pressed into you slow… deep… while your boyfriend sat ten feet away.”
Her breath caught.
Ray sat up behind her, the mattress shifting slightly beneath his weight. His rough hands smoothed over her stomach from behind, dragging up her ribs, his thumbs grazing under her breasts as he leaned down and murmured in her ear.
“You should see the way you’re breathing right now,” he said, his voice warm and gravelly, full of fondness and hunger. “Like your body remembers what it wanted back then, too.”
Lucy let out a small, helpless sound, caught between their voices and touches, her body already responding all over again.
Grant’s hand slid down her hair to her shoulder, then down the length of her arm, slow and deliberate. “You tempted the hell out of me,” he said softly. “And now that I’ve had you once…”
His thumb traced her lower lip.
“…I don’t think I’m ever going to stop.”
Ray’s hand curled low over her waist, grounding her as her chest rose and fell beneath their touch.
She’d teased. And now, they were answering.
And neither man looked like he had plans to stop.
Ray’s hands drifted lower, slow as heat, the calloused drag of his fingers down her belly making Lucy shiver. She could feel his breath near her ear, warm and steady, grounding her in the quiet hum of the hotel room and the thrum in her chest.
When his fingertips found her again—already aching, already slick—she gasped softly, her back arching just a little into him.
He rubbed slow, purposeful circles over the sensitive nerves between her thighs, and the fire that had barely cooled from before began to rise all over again.
Across from her, Grant leaned closer, watching her with that unreadable intensity. His green eyes locked with hers, and something in them made her breath catch. Not just lust. Possession. Admiration. Hunger.
Lucy flushed—cheeks, chest, stomach—her pale skin blooming pink beneath his gaze like something soft unraveling.
She didn’t look away.
She watched him watching her as he dipped his head and brought his mouth to her chest, his lips parting around one flushed peak, tongue moving slow, reverent, wicked. He worshipped her—his hands firm on her waist, holding her still as he feasted on her soft curves like they were the first and only thing that had ever tasted right.
Ray’s voice rumbled behind her, low and rough.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the edge of her jaw. “Look at you, letting him enjoy you like this.”
Lucy whimpered, torn between the sharp focus of Grant’s mouth and the steady, dizzying rhythm of Ray’s fingers.
“You’re making me proud,” Ray murmured. “Taking every bit of this like you were born for it.”
She moaned softly, head falling back onto his shoulder.
“While Eric’s at home,” he continued, voice darker now, full of that sharp, twisted heat, “probably glued to his game controller, not even wondering what his sweet little girlfriend is doing in a hotel room.”
His fingers pressed deeper, slower.
“Letting his dad touch her. Letting his uncle worship her.”
Grant lifted his mouth just long enough to look up at her, lips glistening, his voice thick. “And loving every second of it.”
She was already close again—right on the edge.
Between Ray’s skilled fingers and Grant’s reverent mouth, the truth was undeniable.
She did love it.
And she didn’t want it to stop.
Ray’s fingers moved faster now, confident and relentless, knowing her body like it was his favorite song—every note, every tremble, every catch in her breath. The sound of her soft moans grew sharper, breathier, her thighs already starting to tense beneath his touch.
Grant’s hands were firmer on her now, his thumbs teasing and tugging at her breasts, his mouth brushing close enough to drive her wild but not close enough to give her relief.
“Let go, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice coaxing and dark. “Come on. Don’t hold it back.”
His eyes burned into hers.
“Keep those pretty brown eyes on me while it happens.”
Lucy’s gaze flicked up, locked to his—wide and helpless, so full of want it made his smile grow even darker. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, a soft whimper caught in her throat as Ray’s fingers circled and pressed exactly where she needed him most.
“You feel what we’re doing to you?” Ray rasped into her ear, his breath hot. “That’s not love, baby. That’s possession. That’s what it means to be ours.”
She let out a choked moan, back arching.
“Now scream it,” he growled, his fingers pulsing faster. “Tell us how good it feels to be used like this.”
Lucy gasped, her entire body tight and trembling, her eyes never leaving Grant’s even as they welled with heat.
“Don’t stop,” she cried, the words ragged and desperate. “Please—don’t ever stop.”
Grant’s smile broke into a laugh—deep, hungry, thrilled.
“There it is,” he murmured.
Then she shattered.
Her scream tore free, raw and unfiltered, as her body broke apart between them—Ray’s fingers deep inside her, Grant’s hands holding her chest as she convulsed, lost in the tidal wave crashing through her.
They held her steady, both of them watching her come undone like it was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.
Lucy was still trembling, her breath shaky and shallow, when Grant leaned in and caught her mouth with his.
The kiss was deep, claiming. His hands gripped her hips with purpose, lifting her, moving her—until she was straddling him. His body was solid beneath hers, his chest rising and falling in short, controlled bursts. She barely had time to catch his name on her lips before he guided her down in one firm motion.
She cried out.
One thrust—deep, sudden, all-consuming—and she was filled.
Grant’s head dropped back, a curse sliding through his teeth as his hands tightened on her. “Damn,” he growled, his voice already frayed. “You feel like heaven, sweetheart.”
Ray sat behind her, watching with a hungry gleam in his eye. He leaned in close, his hands trailing down the length of her spine in slow, heated strokes.
“You should see yourself,” he murmured against her shoulder. “Stuffed full like that. You look gorgeous.”
His hands slid down, joining Grant’s at her hips. Together, they guided her, grinding her down slow, dragging soft, desperate sounds from her throat as she rocked against Grant’s lap.
Grant’s mouth was slack now, his eyes glazed with lust as he watched her move.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” he muttered. “Can’t believe I waited this long…”
Ray chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “This is why I took her in the kitchen that first time,” he said, his voice low, amused, and hungry. “Saw that pretty mouth, those thighs, the way she looked at me while she made dinner—”
His grip tightened.
“—and I knew I had to have her.”
Lucy moaned loudly, her hands clutching Grant’s shoulders now, her body moving with theirs, for them, lost in the pull of both men guiding her to places she hadn’t known she craved.
The room was full of heat, breath, the subtle creak of the bed beneath them. Their voices surrounded her—one low and reverent, the other dark and dangerous.
And she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Ray sat back just enough to take her in—his eyes heavy, devouring every movement as Lucy rode Grant, her body flushed and glistening, her breath uneven as she moved faster under their shared grip.
Ray’s voice was a low, filthy growl. “Look at you. Riding him like you were made for it.”
His hand slid up her back again, then down, catching her hips, gripping tight. “Such a good girl. Stuffed full of my brother while your sweet little boyfriend’s probably home playing his games and thinking you’re knitting with your mother.”
Grant groaned beneath her, his head tipping forward, green eyes scorching as they locked with hers. “You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Watching you bounce on me like that—begging for more with those pretty little sounds.”
Ray suddenly pulled her back—just slightly—just enough to shift the angle, then grabbed her hips and drove her down faster, harder.
Lucy cried out, her fingers clutching at Grant’s shoulders again as her rhythm turned wild under Ray’s control.
“Faster,” Ray ordered, his voice rough and breathless. “Let him feel what I feel. Let him know what it’s like to have you lose control.”
Grant groaned again, his hands moving to her waist as he tried to meet her thrust for thrust. “You’re so damn tight,” he said through clenched teeth. “You trying to ruin me, Lucy?”
She laughed—breathy, wrecked—and held his gaze as her hips worked faster.
“I need more,” she panted, voice teasing, trembling. “Come on, Grant… you going soft on me?”
His jaw clenched, green eyes burning. “You’re the one who’s gonna be begging when I’m through with you.”
Ray leaned into her again, his lips brushing her ear. “That’s it, baby. Keep your eyes on him. Let him see how greedy you are. How perfect you look taking every inch like it’s the only thing that matters.”
Lucy moaned, loud and unrestrained, her body shivering under their praise, under their hands, under the weight of it all.
And she never looked away from Grant.
Not once.
Lucy moved between them like something holy and undone—her body flushed, trembling, and on fire. But just as she began to fall into the rhythm again, she felt it.
They stopped.
All of them.
The motion ceased, Grant deep inside her, Ray holding her still. She whimpered at the sudden stillness, her hips instinctively bucking forward.
“No,” she breathed. “Please… don’t stop.”
She looked between them, eyes wild. “Keep using me. I need it. I need to be your whore.”
Ray leaned into her, his breath hot at her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered.
And then she felt the shift.
Ray moved behind her, slow and deliberate, and in one controlled motion, his body easing into hers from behind, deeper, stretching, filling.
She gasped—a sound caught between shock and ecstasy—as her body opened to him, now impossibly full.
Ray groaned, the sound guttural and worshipful. “Yes…” he whispered, over and over, like a mantra, like prayer. “Yes. Fuck just like that.”
He moved in sync with Grant now, their pace slow, measured, every motion making her tremble. Her body was on fire, stretched to its limits, taken completely. She tried to breathe, tried to find her voice—
—and then came undone.
Her cry ripped through the room, raw and unfiltered as her body shattered around them both. Her vision blurred, her pulse thundered in her ears.
Grant let out a rough groan beneath her, his hands tight on her hips before one slid up, firm, commanding, wrapping around the base of her throat.
“Keep those fucking eyes on me,” he said, voice shaking but steady, almost reverent. “Right here.”
Her brown eyes flew to his, wide and dazed, her mouth open in a moan she couldn’t contain.
“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my good slut.”
Ray moaned low behind her, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his breath broken and ragged as he moved within her, slow and deep.
They hadn’t stopped.
They couldn’t now.
Lucy’s voice broke through the air, ragged and breathless, her body pinned between them. “Don’t stop,” she cried, her voice laced with need and something close to desperation. “Please—please, keep going. I need both of your cocks in me. Please just fuck me!”
Ray’s mouth was right at her ear, his breath hot and broken, his voice low and guttural. “That’s right, baby. That’s what you were made for. To be filled like this. Used like this.”
His thrusts were deep and steady, his hands gripping her hips with bruising intensity as he drove into her from behind, his chest pressed to her back. “You’re mine,” he growled. “Ours. Don’t ever forget that.”
Grant’s rhythm picked up, his green eyes locked on her, face tense with effort, with hunger, with the way she was unraveling above him. “You’re going to feel me all the way home,” he ground out, his voice full of dark promise. “Every step you take, every time you sit down, I want you to remember how full you were. I want you to feel me while you’re kissing Eric goodnight.”
Lucy moaned, loud and unrestrained, her nails dragging down Grant’s chest, raking over strong muscle, leaving red trails behind as she trembled.
She leaned forward, lips brushing his throat. “I’m gonna touch myself next to him,” she whispered, her voice sin incarnate. “When he’s asleep. I’m going to rub my swollen clit under the sheets and pretend it’s you. Both of you.”
Grant groaned deep in his chest, his hands tightening on her waist.
Ray cursed, his thrusts slamming harder now, his voice raw with possessive pride. “That’s it, slut. Say it. Tell us what you’ll do while he sleeps next to you, thinking you’re his.”
Lucy’s head fell back, eyes fluttering, her voice dissolving into another scream as they drove her over the edge again.
And this time, she didn’t fall.
She soared.
Lucy shattered again, her body trembling violently as the climax ripped through her—wave after wave, hot and all-consuming. She cried out, caught between the two men who had fully claimed her, inside and out.
Grant’s hands gripped her tighter, his face twisted with pleasure as he surged up into her one final time. His voice broke on a groan. “Take it,” he growled, his breath hot against her throat. “Take all of it—because that’s what you were made for.”
She felt him let go inside her, the heat of him spilling deep, mixing with everything they’d already done. Her eyes fluttered, mouth open in a gasp, her body aching and blissed out as their release soaked into the sheets beneath her.
Behind her, Ray let out a low, feral sound and slammed harder, deeper, his hips driving with frantic purpose. One hand buried in her hair, the other tight on her hip, he leaned in and bit her neck—sharp and hot, a claim.
“Mine,” he growled against her skin. “You hear me?”
His thrusts lost rhythm, wild now, until he buried himself fully and came with a deep, broken moan, spilling into her with heat and force. He held her tight as he rode it out, his mouth at her shoulder, his voice a rasp.
“You’ll never forget this,” he whispered. “You’ll feel me every time you sit down. Every time you look at him.”
Lucy collapsed into Grant’s chest, boneless and soaked, breath catching as both of them held her between them—filled completely, marked completely.
Grant’s fingers ran through her hair, his voice still dark, still hungry even in the aftermath. “You were made for this,” he murmured. “To be full of us. Begging for more.”
Ray kissed the bite mark he left, breath still shaky. “And you’ll beg again. You will. Because now, you know what you need.”
All three of them lay there, tangled, spent, and soaked in the weight of what they’d just done.
Lucy’s legs trembled as she tried to stand, the high finally giving way to exhaustion, her body worn and tender in the most delicious way. Grant noticed immediately. Without a word, he slipped an arm beneath her and guided her carefully off the bed, his other hand steadying her lower back.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She leaned into him, letting him take her weight as he led her to the bathroom, the light soft and golden in contrast to the heavy air of the room they’d left behind.
Behind them, Ray moved with calm purpose, tossing the drenched sheets into a laundry bag he’d brought from home, already anticipating the mess. He pulled a fresh set from his duffel, shaking them out over the bed. The crumpled room looked like a storm had passed through, and Ray looked entirely pleased with that fact.
He grabbed the hotel phone and ordered room service again—something hearty this time. It had been hours, and judging by the way Lucy had screamed, she was going to need the calories.
In the bathroom, Grant turned on the shower, letting the hot water steam up the room before pulling Lucy in with him.
She giggled softly, letting the warmth cascade down her sore body. “This is my second shower in the last six hours.”
Grant smirked and gave her behind a playful swat that made her yelp and laugh again. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be such a mess.”
She leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his chest as the water poured over them. He picked up the hotel shampoo and began working it into her hair with slow, gentle fingers, massaging her scalp like he’d done it a hundred times before.
Lucy let her eyes flutter shut. “That feels so good.”
“You deserve it,” he murmured.
She turned around and returned the favor, rubbing the soap into his shoulders, over the solid lines of his chest, the trail of dark hair down his stomach. She pressed a soft kiss to his chest—right over his heart—then another, lower, slower.
Grant’s hand came up under her chin, tilting her face to his. His green eyes searched hers for a moment, something softer in them now.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, quiet and serious.
She smiled, eyes warm, a little dazed. “Great. Better than great.”
He smiled, something deeper in it than just desire.
Then he kissed her—slow and thorough—under the stream of water, his hands sliding down to cup the back of her thighs as she leaned into him. Their mouths moved together in a dance that was less hunger now, more worship. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers trailing through his wet hair.
The steam curled around them like a cocoon, the storm fading into something quieter.
And for the first time in hours, Lucy didn’t feel devoured.
She felt held.
Lucy moaned softly into Grant’s mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck as the heat of the water rolled down their bodies. He kissed her deeply, but not rushed—like he wanted to savor her now. Every sigh, every taste.
Then, with one smooth motion, his hands slid beneath her thighs and lifted her.
She gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
And he sank into her—slow, steady, filling her completely.
Her moan echoed off the tile walls, her head falling back as she clung to him, slick skin to slick skin. He groaned low at the feeling of her wrapped around him, so warm and wet, it was almost unbearable.
“I love the sound you make,” Grant murmured, his voice raw against her neck. “Right when I slide in… that breathless little cry. Drives me insane.”
He began to move—slow, deep rolls of his hips, water slapping softly between their bodies. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wanted her to feel all of it.
His hands gripped her tight as he rocked her, his lips brushing over her jaw, her cheek, her ear.
“You feel so damn good,” he whispered, voice dark and reverent. “Like your body was made to take me. Like it knows me now.”
Lucy moaned, her fingers sliding through his damp hair, her body moving with his, slow and aching.
Grant’s words kept coming—low, dirty, adoring.
“Look at you. Wrapped around me. Dripping down my chest. Begging without even saying a word.”
She whimpered against his shoulder, overwhelmed and burning for more.
“Yeah,” he growled, picking up the pace just slightly. “You love this. You love being taken like this. Deep, slow, mine.”
And she did.
Every inch of her was melting for him, under him, around him.
And in the quiet steam of the shower, Lucy didn’t just feel wanted.
She felt owned.
The water poured down around them, hot and relentless, but not as consuming as the fire building between their bodies.
Grant pressed Lucy harder against the shower wall, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her in place as he rocked into her with deeper purpose now. His breath was rough in her ear, every motion pulling a new sound from her throat—soft, desperate, beautiful.
“Take me,” he growled, voice low and hoarse. “Every inch. I want to feel you wrapped tight around me until you can’t think.”
Lucy’s fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails dragging through his wet hair as her lips brushed his ear.
“I am thinking,” she whispered, her voice wicked and breathless, “thinking about how you fill me better than anyone ever has. Thinking about how I want you to fill my aching pussy with your cum again.”
Grant let out a raw sound, his rhythm faltering for a moment before his grip tightened.
“You’re dangerous,” he groaned, pulling her harder against him. “Saying things like that…”
She tightened her thighs around his waist, holding him deeper inside her, rolling her hips to meet every thrust. Her moans spilled freely now—louder, more urgent—echoing off the tile and steam like music made for sin.
The wet slap of skin on skin reverberated through the space, fast and steady, their bodies slick with water and sweat, moving like they’d been made to fit together.
Lucy threw her head back against the wall, her hair sticking to the tile, mouth open in a gasp as Grant drove into her again—harder, deeper, demanding.
And every time she moaned, he cursed under his breath and gave her more.
“God, you feel unreal,” he growled, eyes locked to hers, heat and need written all over him. “So damn good like this. So mine.”
And for Lucy, pressed to the wall, trembling and full of him—there was no place else she’d rather be.
Grant slammed his hand against the wall beside her head, the sharp sound echoing off the tile. His body trembled with restraint, his jaw clenched as he drove into her with a desperation that bordered on reverence.
“Damn,” he growled, voice rough and raw. “You feel too good—I can’t—Lucy—”
She cried out, high and shaking, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, her back arched into him. Her voice cracked with urgency.
“I’m—Grant, I’m close—!”
His forehead dropped to hers, wet and burning, his green eyes locking onto her wide brown ones. Their breaths tangled between them, broken and fast, both of them right there, on the edge.
His voice dropped to a whisper, but it hit like a command. “Be a good girl,” he breathed. “Let go. Cum for me, Lucy… let go.”
His hips slammed into her once more, deep and sharp, and his voice broke into a chant, low and hoarse—“Yes… yes… take this cock… take it…”
And she did.
Lucy screamed his name, her entire body shaking as the climax overtook her—so sharp, so powerful, she thought she might fall apart entirely. “Grant! Fuck me so good, Grant—”
He groaned loudly, voice ragged, and he followed her over the edge, buried deep, his body trembling as he released everything into her.
They collapsed into each other, bodies trembling, arms wrapped tight, the water still falling around them like a curtain. For a long moment, neither moved, chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, too full of sensation and breathless closeness to speak.
And in that quiet, soaked tangle of limbs, they didn’t feel used or lost or ruined.
They felt found.
Grant held Lucy close as the last shivers of release melted away between them. His hands were steady now, cupping her gently as he pulled back just enough to look at her—still breathless, still flushed, still glowing.
He reached for the soap again, quietly, carefully, and began to clean her. His touch was tender now, reverent. He worked slow circles over her skin, washing away the mess and the steam, but none of the heat. She smiled at him, eyes heavy-lidded but full of softness, her heart still racing somewhere beneath the calm.
When he finished, she took the cloth from his hands and returned the favor, running it over his chest, his shoulders, the strong lines of his back. Then, still beneath the shower’s heat, they shared a kiss—not rushed or ravenous, but deep and full. The kind of kiss that lingered on the tongue and left the heart aching.
A knock at the bathroom door broke the quiet.
Ray’s voice followed, casual and amused. “Food’s here. Try not to flood the bathroom.”
Grant chuckled, forehead still resting against Lucy’s. “Guess we’ve been in here a while.”
Lucy laughed, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before they stepped out. They toweled off, wrapping up in the hotel’s thick, fluffy robes. Her hair was damp and curling at the ends, cheeks still tinged pink from both the heat and everything else.
As they stepped back into the main room, Ray looked up from the tray he was unpacking, eyebrows raised.
“Well?” he asked, smirking. “How was the shower?”
Lucy walked straight up to him, slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him sweetly. “It was amazing,” she said against his mouth. “You both are.”
Ray’s smirk softened just slightly, eyes glinting. “We try.”
They settled into the chairs around the table, the bed behind them still rumpled and a little wild-looking. Plates were uncovered, steam rising. The scent of garlic, butter, and something fried filled the room.
They ate with the easy comfort of people who had given everything and still somehow had room for laughter. They traded playful jabs, Ray teasing Grant for taking so long in the shower, Lucy grinning as she stole a bite off both their plates.
There was still heat in the room, humming just beneath the surface—but for now, it was wrapped in warmth, in the joy of shared hunger, shared secrets, and the calm that always comes after the storm.
And Lucy?
She’d never felt more satisfied.
Or more alive.
The movie played quietly in the background, long forgotten by the time their bodies gave in to exhaustion. The three of them were tangled together across the wide king bed—Lucy in the middle, her head resting on Ray’s chest, one leg draped lazily across Grant’s lap. Their breaths had slowed, bellies full, skin still warm from shower and touch, the tension finally dissolved into a quiet kind of bliss.
Ray stirred first.
His eyes blinked open to the soft blue glow of the television still playing something muted and forgettable. Lucy’s golden hair was spread across his chest and the pillows like sunlight poured out between them. Her breathing was soft, steady. Grant was on the other side of her, one hand resting near her bare thigh, his chest rising and falling with the calm rhythm of deep sleep.
Ray smiled faintly, something peaceful washing over him—rare, quiet. He leaned down and kissed the crown of Lucy’s head, just a whisper of contact. Then let his eyes drift closed again, lulled by the warmth of her weight, the soft scent of her skin.
But Lucy didn’t stay asleep.
Sometime later, her lashes fluttered open, the light from the screen flickering over the bed in faint waves. The room was still and dark, filled with the sound of two sleeping men breathing beside her.
But she wasn’t tired anymore.
She was wanting.
Her body still hummed from earlier, but a new ache had begun to rise. A need for closeness. For taste. For something only Ray could give her.
Her hand slid beneath the covers and found him already firm in his sleep—heat pulsing in her palm. She bit her lip, watching him, his face peaceful in slumber, unaware of the desire curling tighter in her belly.
She moved slowly, carefully.
Her lips pressed against the skin just above his waistband. A trail of kisses down, deliberate and teasing, until she wrapped her mouth around him—soft and warm, a slow pull that made his breath catch even before he woke.
Ray stirred, brow furrowing slightly, a low sound escaping him as he shifted beneath her.
Then his eyes cracked open—half-lidded, dazed—and found her already there, moving over him with slow reverence, her mouth working him with long, steady strokes.
“Lucy…” he breathed, voice rough and still heavy with sleep. One hand found her hair, tangling in it gently as his head tipped back.
She didn’t stop. Just hummed softly around him, like she was saying good morning in the only way that mattered.
Ray’s hand tightened gently in Lucy’s hair, his breathing growing heavier with each slow, wet pull of her mouth.
His hips began to move, slow at first, then more purposeful—matching her rhythm, unable to stay still as she took him deeper. A quiet moan slipped from his lips, low and broken.
He didn’t care if Grant heard.
Didn’t care if the whole hotel heard.
“God, Lucy…” he murmured, his voice thick and wrecked with pleasure. “You feel so good. You suck my cock like you were born for it.”
Lucy moaned around him, her mouth working steadily, lovingly, her eyes fluttering as she took him deeper still. She gagged slightly, a soft, messy sound, and Ray’s body tensed in response—but it only made everything hotter. Her lips, her tongue, the saliva slicking every inch of him—it was overwhelming in the best way.
Ray looked down at her, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he whispered, “Look at you. My sweet girl… mine.”
His voice dropped lower, darker.
“Eric’s dumbass doesn’t deserve this mouth,” he growled softly. “Doesn’t deserve a damn thing about you.”
She moaned again, louder this time, and the vibration made him curse under his breath. His eyes rolled back slightly, hips stuttering with the force of restraint.
“You know what you’re doing to me?” he whispered, his voice fraying. “You’re going to make me explode in that dirty mouth.”
And beneath the sheets, in the soft glow of morning, she just kept going
—slow, steady, perfect.
Lucy worked Ray faster now, her mouth and hands moving with practiced need. Ray’s groans deepened, his hand tight in her hair, his hips lifting to meet her with every stroke. The room felt warmer, the bed softer, every sound heightened in the early hush of morning.
From beside them, a deep chuckle stirred the quiet.
Grant. He’d woken to the sight of her: bare shoulders dipping, golden hair trailing over Ray’s stomach, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the space.
“Well, damn,” he said, voice thick with sleep and arousal. “I could wake up to this every day.”
Lucy glanced sideways, her mouth still full, eyes sparkling. Grant sat up slowly, his green eyes locked on her with reverence—and heat.
“You look so beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “Taking him like that… look at you.”
She moaned softly, the vibration drawing a sharp inhale from Ray, whose hand now braced against the headboard, muscles taut.
Grant slid behind Lucy, close and warm, his body a second press of heat against her. He kissed down her spine, slowly, worshipfully, his breath teasing every inch of her skin as she moaned louder into Ray’s lap.
Then his hand slid lower, between her thighs, his fingers finding her already soaked, already shaking.
“Still so ready,” he whispered against her back. “You need this again, don’t you?”
He pressed his fingers inside her—slow and deliberate—drawing another deep moan from Lucy as she rocked slightly between them, her body caught in the rhythm of both men. Ray’s eyes never left her, his jaw tight, watching her fall apart from both ends.
And the morning, soft and golden, filled with the sound of her surrender.
Lucy’s breath hitched as Grant’s fingers moved within her, her body aching with fullness, with want. But something shifted in her then—something bright and hungry and unafraid.
She released Ray from her mouth, letting him fall back against the pillows, flushed and hard and ready. She turned her head slowly, her eyes locking with Grant’s—brown to green, fire to fire.
“I need more,” she whispered, her voice husky. “No more playing. I need both of you.”
Neither man moved—stunned by her words, stunned by the hunger in her tone.
Then she climbed onto Ray, straddling him with purpose, her thighs firm around his hips. Her hand guided him, and with one smooth motion, she sank down onto him, gasping at the way he filled her.
Ray let out a low, broken sound, his hands flying to her hips. “Jesus, Lucy—”
But she wasn’t finished.
She looked over her shoulder at Grant, eyes blazing. “Now you.”
Grant’s breath caught as he knelt behind her, hands running reverently over the curves of her back, her waist, her trembling thighs. He guided himself carefully, pressing slow and sure where no one else had ever been.
And Lucy—moaning, trembling, owning the moment—let him in.
She gasped, body stretched and overwhelmed and alive as Grant sank into her from behind, careful, deep, moaning as he filled her tight ass.
Now she was full.
Completely.
She began to move—slow at first, then stronger—rocking her hips, her hands braced on Ray’s chest as she rode them both.
Both men groaned, their hands gripping her body, their heads falling back as she took over.
“You like watching me like this?” she panted. “Being so filthy for you? Letting you both take every part of me?”
Ray’s hands moved up to her breasts, full and bouncing with every motion. He groaned, squeezing them, thumbing over her soft peaks. “You’re taking our cocks so well, baby. So good. So damn full of us.”
Grant’s hands clenched at her hips, holding her steady as she took him deeper. “Look at you,” he growled. “Taking both of us like you were built for it. I’ll never get enough of this.”
Their words drove her higher. The pressure, the fullness, the way they watched her and held her and needed her—it sent her spiraling.
And in that moment, Lucy wasn’t a girl caught in a secret.
She was the center of their world.
The rhythm changed.
It turned wild.
Lucy’s body moved with desperation now, riding both men like she needed it to breathe. Her moans filled the air—loud, honest, broken with pleasure. Every inch of her was stretched, claimed, full.
And they loved it.
Grant leaned forward, his breath hot on her neck, his hands sliding up her sides as he pressed closer. His mouth found her throat, and he sucked hard—right over the mark Ray had left the day before.
She gasped, her head tilting to give him more, her body trembling between them.
“I’m going to leave my mark too,” Grant growled into her skin. “Right where he’ll see it. Right where your sweet little boyfriend will kiss you, not knowing what we did to you.”
Ray slammed up into her just then—deep, rough, merciless.
Lucy screamed, her hands bracing on his chest, eyes flying open.
“Say it,” Ray demanded, voice guttural, his grip bruising on her hips. “Tell us how we feel inside you. Tell us how much better we are than him.”
Grant’s mouth was at her ear now, biting, panting. “You’re ours now. You don’t even think about him anymore, do you? Not when you’re taking both of us like this. So full. So ruined.”
Lucy gasped for breath, her head spinning, her body burning from the inside out.
“You feel amazing,” she moaned, barely able to form the words. “So much better than him. I’ll never stop wanting this.”
Ray’s pace turned savage, every thrust punching out another cry from her throat.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Say it again.”
Grant kissed her jaw, her neck, still grinding against her from behind, his hands roaming her body like he never wanted to stop. “You belong to us now,” he whispered. “And when you go home, he’s going to kiss a throat we’ve both marked.”
She cried out again, close—so close—her whole body unraveling as the pleasure built, deep and animalistic and real.
The rhythm changed.
It turned wild.
Lucy’s body moved with desperation now, riding both men like she needed it to breathe. Her moans filled the air—loud, honest, broken with pleasure. Every inch of her was stretched, claimed, full.
And they loved it.
Grant leaned forward, his breath hot on her neck, his hands sliding up her sides as he pressed closer. His mouth found her throat, and he sucked hard—right over the mark Ray had left the day before.
She gasped, her head tilting to give him more, her body trembling between them.
“I’m going to leave my mark too,” Grant growled into her skin. “Right where he’ll see it. Right where your sweet little boyfriend will kiss you, not knowing what we did to you.”
Ray slammed up into her just then—deep, rough, merciless.
Lucy screamed, her hands bracing on his chest, eyes flying open.
“Say it,” Ray demanded, his voice guttural, his grip bruising on her hips. “Tell us how we feel inside you. Tell us how much better we are than him.”
Grant’s mouth was at her ear now, biting, panting. “You’re ours now. You don’t even think about him anymore, do you? Not when you’re taking both of us like this. So full. Our perfect whore to take whenever we want.”
Lucy gasped for breath, her head spinning, her body burning from the inside out.
“You feel amazing,” she moaned, barely able to form the words. “So much better than him. I’ll never stop wanting this. I’ll crave your cocks forever.”
Ray’s pace turned savage, every thrust punching out another cry from her throat.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Say it again. Tell us who fucking owns you, slut.”
Grant kissed her jaw, her neck, still grinding against her from behind, his hands roaming her body like he never wanted to stop. “You belong to us now,” he whispered. “And when you go home, he’s going to kiss a throat we’ve both marked.”
She cried out again, close—so close—her whole body unraveling as the pleasure built, deep and animalistic and real.
The room was chaos—heat and skin and breathless, frenzied movement. Lucy was caught between them, crying out with every thrust, her body writhing, slick with sweat and need. Grant’s hands gripped her hips with bruising force, his body pounding into her from behind. Ray was beneath her, thrusting up to meet her with raw, relentless power.
The sounds—wet, wild, obscene—filled the air.
They were lost in it.
“Harder!” Lucy screamed, voice hoarse and ragged. “I’m—I’m coming!”
Her body convulsed, a scream tearing from her throat as she shattered between them, overwhelmed and undone. Her nails dug into Ray’s chest, her back arching, her head falling back onto Grant’s shoulder.
Grant moaned against her neck, voice guttural and dark. He slaps her full ass as he pounds away , filling her. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Take it. Take all of it like the good little girl you are. Take my fucking cum deep inside your tight little ass.”
She felt him spill into her, deep and warm, his mouth still at her ear. “You’re mine now. Ours. Don’t forget that.”
Ray’s growl rumbled low in his chest, his eyes locked on hers as he watched her fall apart, body still rocking from the aftershocks.
“I’m going to make Eric watch next time,” he snarled, his rhythm turning punishing. “Let him see what you really need. Let him see how useless he is when you’re bouncing on us like this. Taking our cocks in your tight holes.”
Lucy cried out again, her body still quivering from the force of her release.
Ray gripped her hips and slammed up into her one final time—hard, deep, possessive—and groaned as he came, his eyes locked to hers, his hands branding her as his.
They all collapsed together, shaking, breathless, bodies tangled and soaked in the raw aftermath.
There were no words.
Just the sound of their breathing.
And the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same.
The chaos settled into quiet.
Lucy lay sprawled across both men, breath shallow, her skin flushed and glowing. Her body trembled faintly, stretched and overwhelmed, but completely satisfied. Ray still beneath her, Grant wrapped around her back, both of them still buried deep inside her—holding her in place like they couldn’t bear to let her go just yet.
They didn’t thrust anymore.
They just stayed—inside her, around her, hands slowly gliding over the curve of her waist, her thighs, her trembling stomach. The heat of the moment had dulled into something warmer, softer. More intimate.
Ray leaned up just enough to kiss her collarbone, slow and lingering. “You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, his hand tracing lazy circles on her hip. “You took everything.”
Grant followed with a kiss to her shoulder, his palm sweeping down her thigh and back up, savoring the curve of her. “And you liked it,” he whispered against her skin.
Lucy let out a breathy, satisfied sigh, her fingers brushing along Ray’s chest, then reaching back to thread through Grant’s hair. Her body twitched as they both slowly slid out of her—leaving her tender, wet, and marked.
A soft moan slipped from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the warmth of their release trailing down her thighs, sticky and unmistakable.
She shivered.
Ray pulled back just far enough to look down at her with a dark, reverent gaze. “God, look at you,” he breathed. “Leaking us. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Grant sat up behind her, brushing hair from her face with gentle fingers as he took in the sight. “You’re so fucking sexy like that,” he said with a grin. “And you’re perfect.”
Lucy, still catching her breath, rolled onto her back between them. Her legs still shaking, she slid a hand down her body, spreading her thighs just enough to show them the mess they’d made of her.
“Hope you’re proud of yourselves,” she said with a wicked, breathless grin.
Both men stared.
Then Grant reached for his phone from the nightstand, angled it, and snapped a picture of her—wrecked, glowing, spread across the bed in their aftermath.
He held it up, tapped the screen, and saved it.
“As of now,” he said, eyes glittering, “you’re officially my Lock Screen.”
Lucy laughed, head dropping back into the pillows.
Ray leaned over, nipping gently at her shoulder. “Mine is going to be live action next time.”
They all laughed then—breathless, tangled, and so far beyond shame they didn’t remember what it felt like.
The sheets were still rumpled. The air still carried the faint scent of sweat, sex, and something sweeter—something like connection.
But time, cruel as ever, was running short.
Lucy lay nestled between Ray and Grant, her head tucked under Ray’s chin, her legs tangled with Grant’s. They hadn’t spoken much—just soft touches, quiet breaths, the occasional stolen glance that said I’m not ready for this to end.
Eventually, they had to get up.
They moved slowly, dressing piece by piece. Grant lingered with every button, every glance. He kissed Lucy hard before leaving, one hand gripping the back of her neck, possessive and unwilling.
“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “And if I don’t—I swear I’ll drag Eric out of your apartment myself and take his damn place.”
Lucy laughed breathlessly, heart full, cheeks flushed. “Please do.”
Grant gave Ray a firm handshake, a smirk between them as if they’d shared a thousand weekends like this before. “See you at the barbecue.”
“Count on it,” Ray said.
And then Grant was gone, out the door, leaving Lucy watching the space he’d occupied with a flicker of sadness in her eyes.
Ray came up behind her and pressed a slow kiss to the back of her shoulder. “He’ll be at the BBQ this weekend, you’ll be able to feel us both soon, “he murmured as he winked, his voice low and reassuring.
Lucy turned to him, her face brightening with a grin. “Good.”
But as they stepped into the elevator, her fingers curled into Ray’s.
She was already thinking ahead.
And when they reached the car, it hit her.
Eric would be at the barbecue too.
That single thought dulled her smile. How was she supposed to be around her men—her real men—with her clueless boyfriend in the same backyard?
She stayed quiet for the first few minutes of the drive, watching the trees blur past the window.
Then she spoke. “Ray…”
He glanced at her, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily on her thigh, his fingers tracing circles on her creamy skin.
“What if I want more?” she said quietly, “I want you. And Grant. I want what we had this weekend. That was more real than anything I’ve felt with Eric in three fucking years. I’ve always thought that was how I was supposed to feel, he’s so safe. I don’t want safe anymore, I want to live. I want to be used and fulfilled by the two hottest men that know who I am.”
Ray’s jaw tightened slightly, but not with tension—just thought. He nodded slowly.
“If that’s what you want,” he said, his voice steady, “then it’s done. I’ll take you. Grant will too. Whatever this is between us all needs to be explored.”
Lucy bit her lip, her eyes flicking down to her hands in her lap. “But what about everyone else? What people will say? You’re—well—you’re my boyfriend’s dad.And you’re forty-five…”
Ray let out a dry, quiet laugh. “Fuck the people,” he said. “I’m old enough to know that what they think doesn’t matter. If I want to be with a twenty-two-year-old woman who makes me feel alive, that’s nobody’s business but mine. And yours. Even if that woman used to be my son’s girlfriend.”
His hand squeezed hers gently. “You’re not just some weekend fling, Lucy. Grant would feel the same too.”
A long, quiet breath escaped her lips.
She turned her face to the window again, and smiled softly.
She didn’t need to say it out loud, but she knew the truth.
Eric was probably going to leave her anyway—one look at the deep, dark mark on her neck and he’d know something had changed. Because it had.
And for the rest of the drive, she leaned into the seat, into Ray’s warmth, into peace.
She was already gone.
