Epilogue

EPILOGUE

FIVE YEARS AND EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Amelia

The wind rustles softly through the tall grass, carrying the scent of wildflowers on its gentle breeze, and sunlight filters through the leaves, casting playful shadows that dance across my arms as I chew on a Twizzlers.

It’s one of those perfect days.

There are a lot of them lately.

We’re in the meadow just twenty minutes from the house we bought—a peaceful retreat away from the bustle of Seattle. The house is more like two and a half homes combined into one. The largest section is ours, complete with a spacious shared bedroom for all of us, featuring a massive bed. Each of us also has our own room, a personal space for our belongings and clothes, and a quiet place to retreat or work.

But we also have a big home office where we can all work together, an amazing kitchen where Grey is constantly experimenting with new recipes for us, and a music room with a beautiful Steinway piano the guys gifted me for my last birthday. It even has an engraving on the front.

Ivor E. Key the Second.

I absolutely love playing on it.

Playing for them.

In the center of our connected homes is a cozy, accessible section just for Grandpa. Despite still not having full use of his left arm, he recovered well, is in good shape for his eighty-seven years, and is enjoying a slower, more peaceful pace of life. Morgan is still with us as well, taking care of him, but she’s now living in the final section of the house.

With Hendricks and Willow.

After we left Elysium, it took us months to figure out our game plan—to decide exactly what we wanted our company to be and what values we wanted to uphold.

We only knew one thing for certain.

It’s about technology that’s meant to help, not to take.

Once we had our vision clear, we launched our company with purpose and precision, making our presence known in the industry. Despite the time it took to get everything right—eight months spent living at Grandpa’s—we ended up revolutionizing the market and turning ourselves into billionaires. All the while, Elysium tried to sue us, but with Grandpa’s knowledge and connections in the legal community, they didn’t stand a chance.

As our company grew, so did our family. When we began involving Hendricks more in our plans and hired him as head of operations, he and Willow naturally became closer to us. It was during this time that Morgan developed a crush on Hendricks—something that might have gone unnoticed if it weren’t for Willow’s matchmaking talents. She made sure they spent plenty of time together, and before long, Hendricks was just as smitten.

Now, they’re part of our family in more ways than one, and I couldn’t be happier for them.

The house is nestled close to Misha’s favorite hiking trails, offering us a close connection to nature while still being conveniently near the city for those rare days we decide to go to the office.

Which, to be honest, isn’t all that often.

One of the perks of being the bosses is the freedom to work from home, where we can focus on projects and innovations without distractions. Hendricks handles the day-to-day operations at the company, always having our backs.

Tetra Technology —that’s the name the guys chose for us.

Tetra, for the fish that started the path that ended my loneliness.

Tetra, as in four , represents the four of us.

A team.

Our little stolen aquatic friends have become an integral part of the company, thriving in an enormous aquarium at the center of our office since Morgan didn’t want them at the house.

The aquarium is a space filled with everything a tetra could ever want—lush plants, vibrant corals, and plenty of room to explore. From time to time, we even buy— not steal —new tetras to join them, keeping the tank lively and reminding us of where we started.

It’s a living pillar to our story.

Today marks the five-year anniversary of Tetra Technology , and what better way to celebrate than by taking the day off to simply enjoy each other’s company?

The sun is warm on my skin, the sky is a perfect blue, and the birds are singing in the trees. It’s the kind of day that makes everything feel right in the world.

Grey is playing with Doctor, our new Bernese Mountain Dog puppy, who’s bounding around with endless energy. I snicker as I watch Grey try to catch and leash him. Doctor is all floppy paws and enthusiasm, darting just out of Grey’s reach every time he thinks he’s got him.

Next to me on the blanket, Peanut is lying contentedly beside Oliver, who’s absorbed in writing in his notebook. Peanut is an old boy now, his muzzle graying and his movements slower, but his eyes still light up when he watches Doctor play. Sometimes, the puppy’s energy is a bit much for him, but he loves his little buddy and keeps a watchful eye on him.

Misha is lying on his stomach on my other side, casually flipping through a tech magazine, completely oblivious to the fact that I’ve been plucking daisies from the edge of the blanket and weaving them into his curls. His head is now a riot of white and yellow blossoms, the flowers standing out vividly against his dark hair.

He’s so relaxed, so content.

We all love our new home out here, but for Misha, it’s like he’s found a deeper peace. Since moving here, his insomnia has almost vanished. He’s able to sleep next to us every night, curled against me, and the dark circles that once lingered under his eyes have faded. On the rare nights when sleep still eludes him, he either channels that energy into work or takes me to a certain twenty-four-seven burger joint for milkshakes and fries.

Being closer to the trails means our hiking trips can start later, allowing us to catch the sunrise without losing too much sleep. It’s a small change, but one that’s made a world of difference for Misha.

Still, we have never missed a sunrise we wanted to see. Even on those mornings when Oliver and Grey join us—Oliver with enthusiasm, though a bit clumsy on the rocky paths, and Grey with his grumpiness that only fades when the first rays of sunlight break the horizon—we always end up in awe.

By the time the sun is fully up, we’re all cheering and dancing with Misha on the mountaintop.

Ba doo doo ba !

And thanks to all the hikes I’ve taken over the years with Misha, I’m finally able to keep up with him.

Almost.

I laugh quietly to myself when I realize there’s no more space for another daisy. Misha, sensing my amusement, turns to look up at me with a smile. “What are you up to, Bug?” he asks teasingly.

I feign innocence, holding back a grin. “Nothing.”

But then he notices the daisy still in my hand and reaches up, feeling the flowers woven through his hair. Smirking, he moves quickly, grabbing me and pulling me down onto my back beside him. He hovers over me, stealing the daisy from my grasp with a playful glint in his eye.

“You little minx.” He snickers before tucking the flower behind my ear. “There,” he says, his eyes sparkling as he admires his handiwork. “Perfect.”

His gaze is soft, filled with warmth as he leans in to kiss me, a sweet brush of lips that makes my heart flutter.

After almost six years, they still give me butterflies.

“How’s the weather inside you today?” Misha murmurs, his hand on my shoulder and his thumb brushing over my collarbone.

I smile at him, bright and full, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “It’s a never-ending sunrise.”

“ You’re my never-ending sunrise,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss me deeply, his lips lingering on mine as he holds my throat gently, probably feeling how much my heart is racing.

When Misha breaks the kiss, he returns to his magazine, flipping the pages with a contented smile. I turn my attention to Oliver, who’s sitting cross-legged with his notebook balanced on his knee, scribbling away.

We took creative writing lessons together a while back, and ever since, he’s made it a habit to write me even more letters.

Love letters.

Sometimes once a month, sometimes even weekly, depending on our schedules and whatever’s going on in our lives. Each one is a treasure, and I’ve bought a beautiful chest to store them in my room. I love reading through them from time to time. They feel like a journal of our relationship, a diary of our journey and the depth of our feelings for each other.

It’s my favorite thing.

As for me, I’ve mostly used my creative writing lessons to craft digital sticky notes that pop up around the house when triggered by specific actions or locations. The last one was, It needs more cheese, I love you, which appeared when Grey was putting lasagna into the oven. It made him jump and spill some ricotta on the floor, and I almost laughed my head off.

The AR technology I’ve developed has advanced so much over the last few years and combined with the guys’ AI expertise—and Jamie’s brilliance—we’ve created something truly powerful. It’s the vision I’ve always had in mind, a dream I once only dared to imagine.

The current version of Jamie, coupled with my lensless AR, is a groundbreaking product that will lead the market. Once again, we’re poised to revolutionize the industry.

Everyone knows our name, and we’re determined to stay at the forefront.

I glance at Oliver’s socks peeking out of his sneakers—a blue pair adorned with bright yellow rubber ducks—and can’t help but smirk. We have this tradition called Silly Sock Sunday , where Misha, Grey, Grandpa, Morgan, Willow, and even Hendricks join in, and we all wear goofy socks while having brunch together .

But Oliver and I wear our silly socks every day. It’s become such a thing that everyone gifts us socks for birthdays and Christmas, and I love it, even if it’s getting harder to find unique pairs.

Finding ones for Oliver’s birthday is always a challenge, especially since he tends to decide at the last minute when he wants his birthday to be.

Last year, I had this idea to dress us up as the cast of Twilight for Halloween, but Grey flat-out refused to play Edward Cullen and put glitter on his face. I pouted, of course, but Oliver saved the day by declaring that Halloween was his birthday and that his birthday wish was for us to dress up as I’d planned.

I loved him even more for it.

Misha was Jacob, and Oliver dressed up as Carlisle, whispering to me with a mischievous grin that he always thought Bella had a thing for the father of her boyfriend.

Let’s just say I found glitter in places where it doesn’t belong for days after that.

“What are you writing over there?” I ask Oliver, trying to sneak a peek at his notebook. He pulls it away with a playful grin, holding it above his head and squinting his eyes at me teasingly.

“You’ll read it soon enough,” he says, smirking.

I put on my best puppy dog eyes and lean in closer. “But I wanna know now.”

He sets the notebook down and kisses the tip of my nose. “Same old, same old. Talking about how you’re my favorite person, how living with you is my favorite life, and how kissing you…” he leans in to press his lips to mine, “… is my favorite thing to do.”

“Doesn’t it get boring after all this time?” I whisper against his lips, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

“There are a thousand ways to describe how something becomes my favorite,” he murmurs, pecking my lips again. “And why it’s my favorite out of all the other options out there. Loving you will never get old, my Fave.”

“I love you, too,” I reply, kissing him once more before leaning against him and closing my eyes, soaking up the warmth of the sun while my hand reaches over him to absently stroke Peanut’s fur.

After a few peaceful moments, Grey joins us, having finally managed to leash Doctor, who comes barreling up and nearly plops right into my lap. Right now, it’s still almost possible for him to fit, but soon, he’ll be as big as Peanut, and I can only hope he’ll realize he is, in fact, not a lap dog.

“What do you guys think? Want to head home? All this chasing around has made me hungry,” Grey says, smiling down at me as he pulls Doctor off and extends a hand to help me up.

I smile back and take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. Oliver and Misha stand as well, gathering up the blanket and our things while I clip Peanut’s leash onto his collar. Grey keeps a firm grip on Doctor’s leash, trying to prevent him from dragging us home while Peanut ambles along at a leisurely pace beside me.

I glance up at Grey, who’s already looking at me with a warm smile. “You ready for next week?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

Next week, August and his family are coming to visit. I hadn’t heard from him in almost three years before he finally reached out, and we started to rebuild our relationship. It took him some time to figure out how to steer the law firm in a better direction, but he did it—even with our father’s reluctant blessing, though August said he doesn’t share all the details with him. Apparently, he and Abigail did make up, and she and the girls will be visiting, too, and I’m genuinely excited to see them.

“Ready as can be, but definitely excited,” I tell Grey, and he squeezes my hand reassuringly.

I haven’t heard from my parents since everything happened. I didn’t reach out to them, and they never tried to contact me—not a single call, letter, or message. Not even through August.

But that’s okay.

It’s more than okay.

It’s good.

Maybe closure isn’t what I thought it was. Maybe I don’t need to revisit every detail or rehash the past one more time. I don’t need to seek healing from the people who hurt me.

Maybe what I truly need is to honor my own feelings—to be the one who stands firm in the knowledge that the situation no longer serves me and its time has passed. Perhaps closure comes from trusting what I already know to be true.

If someone’s absence brings you peace, you absolutely did not lose anything.

But even though I’m good now, more than good, I feel a little vindicated.

I hope my success offends the shit out of them.

Not only am I good enough, I’m more than enough.

It’s a lesson I learned from therapy. It helped me work through my family issues and coping mechanisms. I’m feeling so much better and grounded.

Enough.

Talking to Grey during our many puppy walks helped a lot too. He also has a therapist now and seems to have finally found his own sense of closure with his parents. They send the occasional card and call every now and then— suspiciously, it all started once our success went public and the accolades began pouring in. At first, I was worried about how Grey would handle their obvious two-faced attempts to reconnect, but he’s taken it all in stride. He’s polite but distant, keeping them at arm’s length, just as they did with him his whole life.

I’m so proud of him, words don’t even do it justice.

We’ve built our own family, and after visiting Misha’s family two years ago and seeing firsthand what he meant by they’re a little much , I’m even more grateful for the way ours is. Misha’s family is amazing but big—his four siblings all have at least two kids each.

Having this small, close-knit family of ours, packed with meaning and filled with our favorite people—it’s all I ever wanted.

More than I ever wanted.

Approaching the house, Grey glances over at me and asks, “What do you want me to cook for dinner tonight? Something special?”

Grandpa and Morgan are sitting on the garden porch, soaking in the beautiful late afternoon.

“How about we order something instead?” I suggest, not wanting to make him spend two hours in the kitchen today.

I want them all to be as close as possible, which is my way of celebrating our life together.

“Pizza!” Misha shouts from behind us, making me snicker.

Of course.

“Who eats pizza for an anniversary?” Oliver mutters, but I hear the smile in his voice.

“People with taste,” Misha fires back.

Well, facts.

When we reach the fence of our expansive garden, we step through and unleash the dogs. Doctor immediately bolts toward Morgan while Peanut takes his time, leisurely making his way to Grandpa.

“How was the meadow?” Morgan asks with a smile as we come to stand beside them.

“Amazing, as always,” I reply, returning her smile. “But the garden looks just as beautiful. You guys did an incredible job with the flowers.”

Morgan beams with pride. “I just planted them. Grandpa decided which ones would look best together. When one set of flowers stops blooming, the next batch starts right on time.”

I glance at Grandpa, who strokes his mustache with his right hand. “Everything has its time,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

“It does,” I agree with a grin.

“And it’s almost time for dinner,” Misha chimes in. “You guys good with pizza?”

“Oh yeah, that sounds perfect.” Morgan beams. “Let me text Rob. He’s finishing up work in a few minutes, and he can pick up the pizza on his way home. That way, we won’t have to wait for delivery.”

“Amazing. Just get the usual, please,” Oliver says with a smile.

A moment later, Morgan’s phone buzzes, and she reads out, “Sounds like it’ll take about an hour. He has to drop Willow off somewhere first. Do you still want him to bring it, or should we order instead?”

“No, let him bring it,” Grey says with a mischievous grin. “We can find something to do for an hour.”

“I don’t want to know.” Morgan puts up a finger at him. “Just let me keep the puppies, and I’m happy.”

I stick my tongue out at her, and she returns the gesture, making us both giggle as the guys and I head inside .

“So, what are we doing for the next hour?” Misha murmurs in my ear when I come to a stand inside.

“Well, I’m going to change into something more comfortable, and you still have flowers stuck all over your hair,” I tease with a grin. He grabs the flower from my ear and twirls it in between his fingers.

“Sounds like we all should lose our clothes,” Grey murmurs.

I turn and find all three of them giving me that familiar, hungry look. Without another word, I sprint up the stairs, laughing as Jamie’s voice chimes in through the speakers.

“Hello, Amelia.”

“Hey, Jamie. I’m a little busy right now,” I reply, panting as I run, the sound of the others chasing close behind.

“I’m detecting an elevated heart rate. Are you all right?” Jamie asks, sounding concerned.

“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 fa lling 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.”

Their bodies instinctively strain toward the sound of my voice, desperate for a connection they can’t yet have. Even blindfolded, they’re far from powerless—but in this moment, they’re entirely at my mercy, and the thrill of it sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine.

I relish the power I hold over them, the way they’re teetering on the edge, waiting for me to give them what they crave. “Remember this,” I murmur, leaning in. “Remember how it feels to be on the other side, to be the ones who are seen.”

I sink to my knees in front of them, the soft carpet beneath me, the three men I love before me, their cocks hard and ready for my touch, my taste. Reaching out, my fingers brush against the hot, smooth skin of their shafts, starting with Grey and Oliver. Their breaths catch as I wrap my hands around them, stroking gently while I lean forward to take Misha into my mouth. His cock is thick and warm, and the sensation of him fills my senses completely. The taste of him, combined with the heat and tension in the room, is intoxicating.

I move my mouth up and down, my tongue swirling around the head of Misha’s cock, teasing the sensitive underside as my hands continue their rhythmic strokes on Grey and Oliver. The sounds of their pleasure fill the air—low, guttural growls from Misha and sharp, ragged breaths from Oliver.

After a few moments, I switch, my lips sliding off Misha and moving to Oliver while my hand takes over where my mouth just was. Oliver tenses under my touch, his hips bucking as he struggles to maintain control. Misha’s cock throbs in my grip as I give him the attention he craves.

I pause, letting go of them, and glance up, my eyes locking onto their blindfolded faces, and I feel a thrill at the sight of them like this.

Grey’s breath hitches impatiently, and in one swift motion, he tears off his blindfold, his intense eyes locking onto mine. “Fuck it,” he groans out, his hand moving to the back of my head, fingers tangling possessively in my hair as he guides my mouth to his cock. I start to suck him while my hands reach out to Oliver and Misha, stroking them in tandem.

The others follow suit, their blindfolds falling away as they watch me, their eyes dark and smoldering with lust. The intensity of their gazes, hot and hungry, only fuels my own desire, sending a rush of heat through me, leaving me dripping. The weight of their need is heavy as they devour the sight of me with their stares.

The way they respond to my touch, the way they surrender to the pleasure I’m giving them, is beyond intoxicating. It’s empowering.

Their moans grow louder, more desperate, filling the room, and I revel in it. This is exactly where I want them—completely undone, driven to the edge…

… and entirely mine.

“Hold your cocks together,” I instruct, and am surprised when they do as I say, their hands overlapping as they present themselves to me, their cocks lined up in a row.

I lick my lips, my mouth watering at the sight. Leaning forward, my tongue darts out to lick along each head, teasing and tasting. My hands stroke their thighs, my fingers exploring their skin.

Their groans of pleasure are music to my ears, and I look up at them as I continue to work them with my hands and my tongue.

“Baby,” Grey rasps, his voice filled with awe and desperation. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

Oliver’s touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he maps out the freckles scattered across my shoulders and chest with his fingertips. Each touch sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core, and I grow hotter with every caress.

My tongue flicks over the heads of their cocks, my lips sealing around one and then another, my hands never ceasing their movement. I can feel their release building, their cocks growing impossibly harder against my tongue.

But just as I feel Grey’s cock twitch against my palm, Misha’s voice cuts through the haze of desire. “Stop,” he commands in a strained tone. “I’m already too close, and I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to come in your pussy… preferably at the same time as Ollie.”

I release their cocks, looking up to meet Misha’s gaze, his dark eyes burning with desire. A slow, mischievous smile spreads across my face as I rise to my feet. “Great minds think alike,” I murmur, leaning in to peck his lips.

“Great minds fuck each other,” Misha quips with a grin, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me into a deeper, more passionate kiss. His other hand trails down my back, gripping my ass possessively.

When he lets go of me, I feel a playful slap on my other cheek, making me squeal.

“Grey!” I protest, but there’s a smile on my lips as he grips my hips and guides me toward the bed. Then, with a mischievous grin, he tosses me onto it, and I bounce on the soft mattress.

He climbs onto the bed, crawling toward me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Now, where were we?” he murmurs as his hands find my thighs, spreading them apart as he settles between them.

Oliver and Misha join us on the bed, their hands roaming over my body in tandem with Grey’s. I arch off the bed as they touch me, tease me, drive me wild with desire.

“Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for. I just know that I need more, need them to fill the ache inside me.

Grey chuckles, his fingers tracing the outline of my pussy. “Who’s impatient now, huh?” he teases, but there’s a gentleness in his touch that belies his words.

His fingers dip inside me the same time his mouth finds my clit, and I gasp at the sudden intrusion. He strokes me slowly, building up the tension, sucking on me. Oliver and Misha each take a breast in their mouths, their tongues swirling around my nipples in time with Grey’s movements.

The sensation is overwhelming, and I can feel myself hurtling toward the edge.

“Grey, I—”

Grey doesn’t stop. He continues his relentless assault on my senses, his fingers moving inside me with expert precision while his tongue teases my clit. I cling to the others, my fingers digging into their shoulders as I cry out. My body convulses around Grey’s fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I fall apart beneath them.

“Good girl,” Grey whispers, his breath hot against my thigh as he watches me come undone. “You look so fucking beautiful like this.”

As the final tremors of my orgasm dissipate, Grey removes his fingers, presenting them to Oliver’s lips for a taste of me.

“Delicious,” Oliver murmurs, his eyes dark with lust behind his glasses as they find mine.

Grey retreats and sits in the chair beside the bed, his gaze never leaving me, and it’s impossible to ignore the weight of his attention. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in that way that makes my stomach flip. “Now be good for them.”

I’m still catching my breath when I feel Misha’s and Oliver’s hands on my thighs, spreading me wider as they position themselves on either side of me, their hands still exploring my body, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touch. I can barely catch my breath, the remnants of the orgasm Grey gave me still pulsing through me when I feel their fingers circling my entrance.

“You’re so wet for us, Bug.” Misha almost growls, sending a shiver down my spine. “You have no idea how much we want you, how much we need to be inside you.”

I gasp as he and Oliver both push a finger into me, their movements perfectly synchronized, and I moan at the intensity of it all.

“So tight, so perfect,” Oliver whispers. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, to fill you up until you’re overflowing with us.”

Grey leans back and watches, his eyes never leaving me. “Look at you,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Taking them so well. So fucking perfect for us.”

Misha’s lips find mine in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers, claiming me, branding me as his. “We’re going to make you feel so good, Bug,” he murmurs against my lips.

They add more fingers, moving deeper, stretching me, preparing me for what’s to come. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves me breathless, desperate for more. “Please,” I beg. “I need you, all of you.”

Their response is immediate, their fingers withdrawing from my body in an instant so I can sit up.

I turn to Oliver, who’s already laid back on the bed, his eyes filled with hunger as he watches me get up to straddle him. My knees are on either side of his hips, the heat of his big cock pressing against my entrance.

“That’s it…” Grey’s eyes darken as he watches me move, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his face, “… take what you need.”

Oliver’s eyes lock onto mine, a silent question lingering in their depths. I nod, my lips parting in a silent gasp as he begins to push inside me, his hips rising to meet mine.

“Yes,” Grey says, his voice rough, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he watches me sink down on Oliver. “Take that cock, baby.”

So damn good.

Misha kisses my neck before he pushes my chest down onto Oliver’s, and I use the opportunity to kiss him. We’ve done this before, but it’s always a delicate dance, a symphony of bodies and breaths that requires patience. Grey isn’t into it, but he still loves watching me get fucked by his best friends at the same time. He grabs the lube from the nightstand next to him and throws it at Misha, who catches it with a snicker.

“Thanks, man.”

Misha flicks the cap open with practiced ease, the distinct sound of the bottle followed by the cool sensation of lube against my heated skin. His fingers, now slick with lube, tease my pussy where Oliver and I are connected, stretching me gently. I relax into his touch, my body yielding to his insistent pressure. It’s a strange sensation, one that borders on discomfort, but the pleasure that follows is worth the initial stretch.

Grey’s breathing is heavier now, his gaze fixed on the spot where Misha’s fingers join Oliver’s cock inside me.

“You’re doing so well, Bug,” Misha murmurs in my ear, his voice a low rumble as his finger finally slips inside next to Oliver’s cock. I push back against him, eager for more, for that feeling of fullness that only comes from having them both inside me at once.

Oliver’s hands grip my hips. His eyes lock onto mine as he waits for Misha and me to find our rhythm. His cock twitches against me, and I can’t help but rock my hips, eliciting a groan from him.

Grey seemingly can’t hold himself back anymore and comes to stand beside the bed, his voice cutting through the haze of desire. “That’s it. Let them take you. Let them make you feel good.” His fingers trace my spine, sending sparks of pleasure through my body. “I love watching you like this. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

I turn my head to see him stroking his thick cock lazily. He steps closer, his thumb pressing against my lips. “Open up, baby.”

I part my lips, allowing him to slip his thumb into my mouth. I suck on it greedily, my tongue swirling around the digit as I imagine it’s his cock instead .

“Good girl,” Grey praises, “You’re so damn sexy, taking both of them. You’re going to make such a pretty picture when Misha’s inside you too.”

His words, combined with Misha’s relentless fingers, push me to the brink. I’m teetering on the edge, my body humming with anticipation. And then Misha’s fingers are gone, replaced by the insistent pressure of his cock against my entrance, alongside Oliver’s.

The feeling of being filled by both of them is indescribable, a sensation that borders on pain. Grey’s thumb is still in my mouth, and I suck on it harder, my eyes locked onto his as he watches us. His hand moves faster on his cock, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment. “Suck me,” he growls out, his voice raw with need. His hand wraps tightly in my hair, guiding me to his cock. I open my mouth wide and take him in, my lips sliding along his length with desperate eagerness. “You’re doing so well, taking all of us,” he praises, his voice a low growl. “You’re so fucking perfect, Amelia.”

I’m pinned between them when Misha and Oliver find their rhythm, their movements synchronized as they thrust into me. The intensity builds as Oliver’s pelvis rubs against my clit with each thrust, sending shivers of pleasure through me. The feeling is electrifying, a constant, delicious friction.

Grey’s cock pulses in my mouth, and I work my tongue over him with determined eagerness. My lips slide up and down his length, the taste and texture of him filling my senses. Each time I take him deeper, his groans become more desperate, and the tension in his grip on my hair tightens. I swirl my tongue around his head, savoring the way his pre-cum coats my tongue, a salty, intoxicating flavor, and so him.

His breathing becomes ragged, and he pulls me in closer, my nose brushing against his pubic hair with each deep thrust. “Yes, that’s it,” he urges, his voice rough and strained. “Just like that. Take me deeper.”

My mouth works tirelessly, moving in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts, and the combination of sucking him and being filled by Misha and Oliver is almost too much to handle. The pleasure is overwhelming, the hot pressure of Grey’s cock against the back of my throat mingling with the relentless thrusts inside me.

The room is alive with the slick sound of skin on skin, the ragged breaths that escape their lips, and the filthy, beautiful words that leave their mouths.

“ That’s my girl.”

“ You take it so well.”

“ I love when you whimper for us.”

“That’s it, baby.”

The praise washes over me, bolstering my confidence. I ride Oliver harder, meeting each of Misha’s thrusts with equal fervor.

Misha leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Come for us, Bug,” he urges, tension clear in every word. “Let go.”

And I do. My orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and Grey pulls out of my mouth when my body convulses around Oliver and Misha’s cocks as I cry out in ecstasy. I grip Oliver’s shoulders hard, my nails digging into his skin as they continue to move inside me, drawing out my pleasure until I’m a quivering mess of sensation.

When my orgasm subsides, Oliver stiffens beneath me, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. Misha isn’t far behind, his fingers digging into my hips as he buries himself deep inside me one last time, their cocks pulsing in unison as they fill me with their cum, so much so it starts seeping out of me.

Grey kisses me deeply, his tongue sweeping against mine. Misha pulls out, placing a tender kiss on my shoulder before he collapses onto the bed, his chest heaving. I’m acutely aware of the wetness between my thighs, the evidence of our shared pleasure mingling with Oliver’s.

Grey’s hands are on me then, helping me off Oliver’s still-hard cock, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. He lays me on the bed, my legs falling open for him, an unspoken invitation. His dark blond hair is tousled, but his eyes—his eyes are soft as they roam over me.

“Are you done, baby?” Grey murmurs, his breath warm as his fingers trace lazy patterns on my inner thigh, inching closer to my swollen, sensitive center.

I shake my head, a small smile playing on my lips despite my exhaustion. “I’m never done until you are,” I tell him, the desire in his eyes kindling a fresh wave of arousal within me.

He positions himself between my legs, his gaze locking onto mine as he glides the head of his cock up and down my slit. “Can you take me already?”

I nod, my breath hitching in anticipation. Grey pushes into me, his cock sliding in easily with the help of Misha’s and Oliver’s cum still dripping out of me. He groans as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush against mine. “I love fucking you when you’re already such a mess after they’ve had their turn,” he mutters, raw and full of need.

I nod eagerly because I love that too.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me how it feels,” Grey commands, his fingers finding my clit as he starts to move inside me.

I gasp as he pushes deep into me, my body automatically responding to his touch. “It feels… so good. You feel so good,” I manage to say, trembling with each powerful thrust.

“That’s it. You’re doing such a good job for me,” he praises, his fingers rubbing against my clit in time with his thrusts. “Taking me after you already took two cocks. Baby, I’m so proud of you.” My body squirms beneath him, the sensations overwhelming as he plays with my clit while I’m impaled on his cock. “Squirm as much as you want. I won’t let you go until you come on my cock too.”

I’m already close, the tension coiling low in my belly, ready to snap. Grey’s fingers work their magic, his cock pushing deep inside me, making me gasp with each powerful thrust. “Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, and my body obeys his command, my orgasm washing over me in waves as I convulse around his cock.

He follows me over the edge, his release pulsing inside me as he buries his face in my neck, his chest heaving against mine.

We lie there, connected in the most intimate way possible, our hearts beating in sync. Then Grey rolls us over, his cock still buried inside me, and I collapse onto his chest, utterly sated and boneless. His arms tighten around me, holding me close. “Mmm… I love how you warm my cock,” he murmurs, a satisfied rumble vibrating through his chest.

Oliver and Misha lie next to us, their hands lazily tracing patterns on my skin.

“Mind-blowing,” Oliver breathes out.

“Incredible,” Grey says, his arms tightening around me.

“Perfect,” Misha concludes with a contented sigh, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. Surrounded by these three remarkable men, I couldn’t agree more.

We are perfect—together.

I press back, and Grey reaches up, his hand cupping my cheek as he looks at me with such tenderness it takes my breath away. “Happy anniversary,” he murmurs. “We love you, Amelia.”

“So fucking much,” Misha agrees .

I close my eyes, leaning into the touch, a soft smile playing on my lips.

“Until our hearts give out,” Oliver whispers.

“I love you, too,” I whisper back.

We’re each other’s favorite person.

And this?

This is a forever thing.