12. Brielle

The moment I step into the house, my heart is a wild drumbeat in my chest. Conrad's there, standing like some Greek god carved from living desire, and his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

"Look at you." His voice is a low purr that vibrates through the air. "Still wearing the dress from earlier."

My cheeks heat up, and I can feel the blush spreading like wildfire across my skin. It's that dress—the one that clings to every curve like it was painted on, the one that makes both his and Grayson's eyes linger just a tad too long.

"I…I didn't have time to change," I stammer out, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I stopped by my house but then…" My words trail off as I remember the frenzied rush to get here, driven by the need to see him again, to be near him.

God…how desperate can I be?

Conrad steps closer, and the air between us crackles with electricity. His scent wraps around me—something woodsy with a hint of spice that threatens to unravel me at the seams.

"Doesn't matter," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile. "You look so fucking sexy, Brielle."

His compliment washes over me, and I bask in the warmth of his gaze, feeling wanted, desired. The weight of his stare feels like a tangible touch, skimming over my bare arms, brushing along the hem of the dress that now seems far too short.

I tear my gaze away from Conrad's piercing eyes, and it lands on Grayson. He lounges against the back of a leather sofa, all casual grace and raw masculinity. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, hinting at the promise of what lies beneath, while the shirt he wears clings to him like a second skin, outlining every ridge and curve of muscle. Heat pools within me as my eyes trace the lines of his form, taking in the sight of him—so effortlessly hot it should be illegal.

"Enjoying the view?" Conrad's voice ripples with amusement, low and husky by my ear.

A shiver dances down my spine as his arm snakes around my waist, bringing me flush against his chest. The solid wall of his body radiates strength and warmth, grounding me in the reality of the moment. His breath fans over my neck, stirring strands of hair and sending goosebumps racing across my skin.

"Are you ready to get started?" he asks, voice husky, his lips grazing the sensitive spot behind my ear, igniting little sparks that zip straight to my core.

"Ready," I whisper back, though ready is too tame a word for the storm of desire churning inside me. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. I'm not just ready—I'm starving for whatever comes next, hungry for the touch of these two men who can set my world ablaze with a single glance.

I will enjoy this tonight…and then we'll all pretend as if this never happened.

Conrad's hand tightens on my waist, possessive and reassuring all at once. I lean back into him, my body instinctively seeking more contact, craving the press of his flesh against mine.

"Good," he says, and there's an edge of something primal in his voice that sends another rush of heat flooding through me. "Because we have a lot to explore tonight."

My breath catches in my throat, and I nod, unable to articulate the whirlwind of thoughts tumbling through my mind. All I know is that I want this—I want them—and that desire is the most powerful force I've ever felt.

"Come on now, Conrad." Grayson stands up, heading straight for the kitchen. "Let's ease into it. How about some wine? Do you drink, Brielle?"

"I uh?—"

"Give her a glass," Conrad answers for me.

Usually the idea of someone talking for me would be far from appealing, yet when Conrad does it…it makes my panties wetter.

Grayson smirks. "Coming right up." He easily moves through the kitchen, taking out three glasses before pulling out a bottle of what looks to be fairly expensive wine.

The cork pops, and the sound is like a starter pistol firing off in my already racing heart. Grayson moves with a grace that belies his robust frame, decanting wine into a glass with a practiced hand. The rich red liquid swirls.

"Here," he says, offering me a glass, his voice smooth as velvet. "This should help take the edge off."

I take it, our fingers brushing, sending a jolt up my arm. I watch him pour one for Conrad and then himself, the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Thanks," I murmur, bringing the glass to my lips. The wine is soft yet bold on my tongue. I can feel the warmth spreading from my chest, working its magic to loosen my limbs, relax my body.

"Come here." Grayson's voice is low, commanding without being forceful. He's different from Conrad in that way. He makes me feel as if I have a choice.

He reaches out, his hand finding the small of my back, and guides me toward him. His touch is electric, sparking fires in places I didn't know could burn.

Before I'm fully aware of what's happening, he's sitting on the couch and I'm on his lap, straddling him, my dress a pool of silk around us. His thighs are firm under mine, and I'm acutely aware of the strength in his body.

"Comfortable?" he teases, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that makes my pulse race even faster.

"Very," I say, though it's only half-true. Comfort isn't really what I'm feeling right now.

"Good." Grayson's hand rests on my hip, thumb rubbing small circles through the fabric of my dress. It's a simple touch, but charged with so much promise that my breath hitches.

We talk, or rather, he does, telling me about his day in a way that feels intimate despite the mundane details. The timbre of his voice wraps around me, each word a caress that has my body leaning into him, craving more contact.

"Tell me something," he says after a while, his gaze locked on mine. "Have you ever done anything reckless? Something that made you feel alive?"

My laugh is nervous, tinged with excitement. "Isn't that what I'm doing right now?"

"Maybe," he admits, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile. "But I bet there's a wild side to you that's just waiting to be unleashed. I refuse to believe you're just the good girl your dad thinks you are."

I'm so sick of being called that. "I'm not just a good girl."

His other hand comes up to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering along my jawline. "Then let me see another side of you. Let me see you lose control."

The heat from Grayson's palms seeps through the fabric of my dress as they settle confidently on my hips. He guides me, a subtle pressure that sets a rhythm against his lap, his breath warm on my neck.

"Like this?" I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with curiosity and need.

"Exactly like that," he responds, the low timbre of his voice resonating against my skin. "Move with me, Brielle."

My heart pounds. And as I move, I feel the pull of another gaze—the burn of Conrad's eyes on us.

I can't help but watch him—the way his jaw clenches, a vision of restrained control. His lips part slightly, as if tasting the charged atmosphere between us, and I know without a doubt he's envisioning himself in Grayson's place.

"Good?" I ask, eyes still on him.

"Better than good. Gorgeous," Conrad says, his voice roughened by arousal. "I'm just getting ready for my turn." The air shifts as he moves closer, his presence enveloping me from behind. A gasp escapes me as I feel the hard proof of his desire press against my lower back. My body reacts instinctively, rolling against him in a sinuous wave, seeking friction where heat pools within me.

"Conrad," I breathe out, surprised by how much my voice quivers with want.

"Shh," he soothes, one hand trailing up my spine, sending shivers cascading down my body. "Just feel."

And oh, how I feel—every inch of me alight with a hunger that demands to be sated. I grind back against Conrad's solid length, eliciting a guttural sound from him that thrums through me. The sensation is intoxicating, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that has me teetering on the edge of abandon.

I close my eyes, lost in the rhythm we create, the slick slide of fabric between us doing little to diminish the rawness of our connection. With each movement, with every breathy moan that spills from Conrad's lips, I'm drawn deeper into their world?—

"Does that feel good?" Grayson asks, his hands gripping tighter.

"More than you could imagine," I admit, my words punctuated by the roll of my hips. The room spins, reality blurring at the edges.

Conrad's fingers are bold, firm as they find the curve of my breast through the fabric of my dress. My breath hitches, every nerve ending singing beneath his touch. The world narrows down to the sensation of hands—Grayson's at my waist, Conrad's tracing fire across my skin.

"Ever pleased a man with your mouth, Brielle?" Conrad's voice is velvet wrapped around steel.

I can't look at him. I'm caught in the gravity of the moment, the question hanging heavy in the air like the thick scent of arousal. "No…I haven't," I confess, my words barely above a whisper.

"Then it's time you learn," Grayson comments, and I feel his hands slide away as he gently dislodges me from his lap.

My heart is a wild thing in my chest, pounding against my ribs. I don't move right away, caught in the indecision that swirls within me like the wine in our glasses moments ago. But then Grayson's hands guide me, insistently yet tenderly, toward Conrad.

"Go on, sweet girl. Let Conrad teach you." His voice is encouragement laced with promise.

I take a shaky step, then another, until I'm standing before Conrad. His eyes burn into mine, dark and commanding. There's no room for doubt in his gaze, only expectation—a challenge I'm ready to rise to.

"Conrad…" His name tumbles out of my mouth, a plea.

"Shh," he soothes, one hand leaving my breast to tilt my chin up. "Just follow my lead."

At his coaxing, my resolve solidifies. There's power here, in the willingness to explore, to taste the unknown. And I want it—I want them, with a ferocity that startles me. It's a wanting that has nothing to do with experience and everything to do with the raw desire that pulses between us.

"Good girl," Conrad praises, and the words fan the flames of my arousal into a blazing inferno. My pulse races, anticipation licking at me.

"Show me," I breathe, leaning into Conrad's space, surrendering to the lesson I'm about to receive.

Conrad's fingers graze my chin as he undoes his pants with a fluid, practiced motion. The sound of the zipper is loud in the silence?—

"Get down here," he commands, his voice low and husky. His eyes hold mine, dark pools of promise and temptation.

I sink to my knees, the plush carpet cushioning my descent. His presence looms above me. My breath hitches as he guides himself to my lips, the head of his penis nudging against them, warm and insistent.

"Open for me, Brielle," he instructs, his tone threaded with a lust that mirrors my own. I part my lips, and he eases in, filling my mouth with his taste, his heat.

"Like this…" Conrad's hand rests on the back of my head, guiding me gently, urging me to take him deeper. I follow his lead, enveloping him, savoring the slide of him against my tongue. I'm engulfed by the scent of his musk, the salt-sweet flavor that is uniquely him.

"Use your tongue, love." He groans, and I feel the vibration through every inch of his length. I swirl my tongue around him, exploring, learning what elicits those deep, guttural sounds from his throat. Each moan from him is a trophy.

"Your mouth…it's perfect." His words are ragged whispers, each one stoking the fire within me. I suck harder, reveling in the power I wield, in the way I can unravel this composed man with just my mouth.

"Play with my balls, they're sensitive." His request comes out strained, a plea laced with fire. I reach up, cupping him gently, rolling the tender orbs with careful fingers. He shudders, hips bucking slightly, pushing deeper into the warmth of my mouth.

"Ah, Brielle…just like that." Conrad's voice breaks on a groan, and I double my efforts, sucking, licking, playing him like an instrument of pleasure. The air is charged with erotic energy, every nerve ending in my body screaming.

"God, yes…I'm close." His hands tighten in my hair, movements becoming more insistent, but still controlled.

"Take it, take all of me." His words tumble out, a fervent mantra as I feel him swell, pulsing against my tongue. And then, with a strangled cry, he surrenders to me. Heat floods my mouth, and I swallow every last drop, my name a benediction on his lips as he ejaculates.

He gazes down at me, panting, a sheen of sweat on his brow. His look is one of awe and satisfaction.

"Good girl," Grayson murmurs, approval lacing his voice as warmth spreads through my cheeks. His hands are gentle but commanding as they slide beneath my arms, lifting me from the floor with an ease that sends a fresh shiver of desire down my spine.

"Ready for more?" he asks, his eyes darkening with a promise of pleasures yet to come.

"Always," I breathe out, and it's true. I'm eager, hungry for the sensations that only they can awaken in me. My body pulsates with an anticipation so intense it's almost its own form of climax.

Grayson carries me through the threshold of a bedroom, the air thick. The soft lighting casts shadows across his chiseled features, making him look like some deity of lust and passion. I'm caught in the gravity of his gaze, tethered to him by this invisible force that is part attraction, part pure, unadulterated need.

He sets me down on my feet beside the bed, his fingers deftly working at the buttons of his shirt. Fabric parts, revealing the sculpted terrain of his chest, and I can't resist the urge to trace the dips and swells of his muscles with my gaze. My fingers itch to follow suit, to map the expanse of his skin, but I know there's a different role for them tonight.

"Watch her, Conrad," Grayson says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "She's going to light the room on fire."

Conrad stands behind me, silent, but his presence is a tangible thing, wrapping around me like a second skin. I feel the heat of him, and then his hands are on me, unzipping the dress still clinging to my curves. It falls away with a whisper, pooling at my feet, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in the best possible way.

I am bare, laid open for their eyes, their touches, their desires. And mine echo back.

"Your mouth, Brielle," Grayson instructs, stepping out of his pants, his voice threaded with a raw edge. "Show me what those pretty lips can do."

My knees find the plush carpet as I inch forward, eager to taste him. My hand wraps around the base of his erection, and I can't help but admire him—the strength, the power, the sheer masculinity that pulses from him. I lean in, my tongue flicking out to taste the drop of pre-cum beading at his tip. His flavor bursts on my tongue, a heady mix of salt and man, intoxicating and addictive.

"Ah, fuck," Grayson hisses as I take him into my mouth, enveloping him in wet warmth. My head bobs, taking him deeper, my senses filled with the scent and taste of him. Every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath, is a victory.

"Beautiful," Conrad whispers, his voice barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears. I feel his hands glide over my skin, exploring the plains of my back before descending to my hips. He guides me back against him, kneeling behind me, and I gasp around Grayson, the sudden fullness of Conrad pushing inside me sending lightning strikes of pleasure throughout my body.

"Take us both, Brielle," Grayson groans, his hand finding its way into my hair, guiding my movements with a tender firmness. "You can handle it. I know you can."

I moan, vibrations running along Grayson's length, as Conrad begins to move within me. Each thrust is a stroke of ecstasy, each pull of my mouth a sweet agony. Here, between them, I am consumed.

God, yes, I think, unable to voice the words, my mind awash with sensation. They fill me, complete me in ways I never dared to dream.

"Look at you," Grayson breathes against my ear. "So eager, so ready for us." His words fan the flames within me, desire crackling through every nerve.

Conrad's finger trails a daring path down my spine, slipping lower to circle the forbidden entrance of my asshole. A shiver races through me, and I can't help but push back against his exploring digit. The gentle pressure is insistent, promising new depths of pleasure.

"Conrad," I pant, desperate for more, my voice hitching as he slowly eases his finger inside me. The sensation is bewildering, intense, and I clench around him instinctively.

"Relax, love," Conrad murmurs, his free hand caressing the curve of my hip. "Let me make you feel good."

"Trust us," Grayson adds, his thumb rubbing circles on my lip, still wet from his arousal. "We'll take care of you."

"Grayson," I whisper against his thigh, moments before taking him into my mouth again. The salty-sweet taste of him is intoxicating, and I savor the power I hold as he groans above me.

Their hands are everywhere—stroking, teasing, pushing me closer to the edge of reason. Conrad's finger moves within me with an expertise that leaves me breathless, his other hand roaming across my breasts, pinching my nipples until they're taut peaks of need.

"More," I beg, my words muffled by Grayson, my hips grinding in rhythm with Conrad's thrusts.

"Everything," Grayson vows, his fingers tightening in my hair. "We'll give you everything."

The room spins, my body coils tight like a spring, and I'm close, so close to shattering apart. Sparks of light burst behind my closed eyelids, and I can almost touch the stars?—

"Come for us, Brielle," Conrad commands, his voice rough with his own desire.

"Let go," Grayson urges, his hips bucking into my eager mouth.

And I do. I come apart in their hands, cries and moans escaping me as pleasure overwhelms my senses. It rips through me, a tidal wave of ecstasy that drowns out thought.

They continue to pleasure me, drawing out my first orgasm of the night until I'm limp, spent, floating in the aftermath of our shared passion. Their touches become softer, almost reverent, as I tremble between them, the echoes of my climax ringing in my ears.

They gently help me to the bed where I'm brought to the heights of pleasure again, Grayson taking his turn inside me this time as Conrad covers my trembling body in kisses. Once we're all spent and lying in a heap together on the bed, our breathing returning to normal, I let out a contented sigh. "That was amazing."

"Perfect, just perfect," Conrad whispers, kissing my shoulder tenderly.

"Ours," Grayson asserts, his gaze locked with mine, heavy with promise.

And in this heated, tangled web they've spun around me, I realize—I don't ever want to be untangled.