37. Brielle

We reach my hotel room, and Grayson slides the key card from his pocket, the green light blinking in welcome.

"Wait, why do you have a key to this room?" I ask.

"Because it's my room."

As the door swings open, the sight of two large beds halts me mid-step.

"Wait, I'm sharing this room? With both you and Conrad?" I blurt out, my pulse quickening for reasons I can't quite name.

Grayson leans in close, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my ear. He whispers, "I was hoping we could spend some time together." His words send a shiver down my spine. "Just us…and Conrad."

My heart flutters, a wild beat against my chest. I turn to look at him, his eyes gleaming with unsaid promises, the dim light of the room casting shadows across his chiseled jawline. Something stirs inside me, an awakening desire.

"Is that so?" I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper, the air charged with something new, something dangerous.

"Very much so," he responds, his gaze never leaving mine. I swallow hard, aware of every point where our bodies nearly touch, aware of the tension building between us—a tension that speaks of unexplored territory and whispered wants.

The door swings closed behind us with a soft click, and my eyes adjust to the muted lighting of the hotel room. I see Conrad sprawled out on one of the beds, his attention fixed on an open book in his hands. His brow furrows in concentration, glints of silver in his blue eyes catching the light every time he looks up from the text.

"Whatcha reading?" I ask, curious despite the electric undercurrent of tension humming through the room.

Conrad looks up, a smile playing on his lips as he pats the space beside him. "Greek mythology," he says. "Homer's Odyssey. Ever read it?"

"Once, back in high school," I reply, crossing the room to sit next to him. The scent of his cologne, a mix of wood and spice, wraps around me comfortingly. "It's all about epic journeys and heroic deeds, right?"

"Exactly. It's about the long journey home…and the adventures along the way." His gaze locks with mine, something deeper than just words passing between us.

"Sounds like life," I murmur, half to myself.

"Life is an odyssey, Brielle." Conrad taps the page gently. "We're all just trying to find our way."

I nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. But the heat that's been building since we entered the room becomes too much, and I push to my feet, needing a respite from the intensity.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announce, already moving toward the bathroom.

"Take your time," Grayson says, his voice low and smooth like velvet.

With each step, I feel their gazes on me, heavy and hot. The bathroom door creaks as I leave it slightly ajar, the steam from the hot water filling the space quickly. I strip down, my skin tingling, aware of the proximity of Grayson and Conrad, just beyond the door.

I step under the water, letting it cascade over my body, washing away the remnants of the day. A small sigh escapes my lips as the tension starts to unravel.

"Looks like you left the door open." Grayson's voice floats in, barely above a whisper but somehow filling the entire room.

I freeze, then force a laugh, feigning nonchalance. "Is that a problem?" My heart thuds, betraying my casual tone.

"Problem? No." There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick with desire. "Actually, it's quite the opposite. Seeing your silhouette through the fogged-up mirror is doing things to me, Brielle."

"Bad things?" I call out, playful yet breathless, the sound of the water a veil for the mounting tension.

"Depends on your definition of bad," he teases back, his tone suggesting he's anything but distressed.

A shiver races down my spine, not from the warm water, but from the anticipation of what's to come. The air grows thick with steam, enveloping me.

I hear the rustle of clothing, the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor. My pulse skitters, a mix of nerves and heat flooding through me. Grayson's gaze locks with Conrad's, a silent conversation passing between them—a decision made without words.

Grayson moves first, his steps deliberate as he approaches the bathroom. The air shifts, anticipation crackling like static. Conrad doesn't hesitate, peeling off his shirt, revealing a canvas of taut muscle and smooth skin.

My heart hammers against my ribs, waiting, wanting. The shower curtain whispers aside, and Conrad steps in. Water slicks his hair, darkening it, droplets running down his chiseled chest.

"Hi," he murmurs, his eyes dark pools of intent.

"Hi," I reply, my voice barely there, drowned out by the roar of blood in my ears.

He reaches for me, his hand tangling in my wet hair, pulling me closer. His lips find mine, insistent, demanding. I melt into him, the kiss igniting a fire that races through my veins. His taste, like rain and desire, is intoxicating.

"Tell me what you want, Brielle," he breathes against my mouth.

"You," I gasp. "Both of you."

Conrad groans, deep and guttural, as his mouth claims mine once more. This kiss is all heat and promise, branding me, claiming me. His hands roam, mapping the curves of my body, stoking the flames higher.

Outside the shower, I'm vaguely aware of Grayson watching, the intensity of his desire palpable even through the steam and water. But right now, it's just Conrad and me, the world narrowing to the space where our bodies meet, to the relentless drum of the shower and the rhythm of our hearts racing in tandem.

The steam clings to my skin as Grayson steps into the shower. His presence is a new heat, a different kind of fire that makes the small space feel charged with electricity. He slides up behind me, and I can't help but press back against his hard chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"Room for one more?" His voice is low, a rumble that resonates through my wet skin.

"Always," I manage, my breath catching in my throat.

They keep me pinned between them, trapped in a cage I never want to leave. One of Grayson's hands snakes around my waist, between my body and Conrad's, dipping lower, finding that sweet spot that makes my knees buckle. Conrad doesn't stop kissing me—his lips on my neck now, soft and hot and insistent.

"Relax," Grayson murmurs near my ear, his hand moving in slow circles that send shivers down my spine.

Conrad's mouth trails down to my collarbone, his hands cupping, teasing, squeezing lightly. The sensations are a whirlpool, pulling me under, drowning me in pleasure.

"Is this okay?" Grayson's breath is hot against my damp hair, his movements deliberate, coaxing.

"More than okay," I gasp out, leaning into him, craving the fullness of their attention.

Grayson's fingers are deft, sure, and Conrad's lips and hands worship my body with equal fervor. Together, they're a symphony of touch, and I'm the melody, rising and falling with each caress, each kiss, each stroke.

"Beautiful," Conrad whispers against my skin, his words washing over me as much as the water does.

"Ours," Grayson adds, his tone possessive yet tender—a promise wrapped in a single word that sends another wave of desire crashing through me.

I tilt my head back, resting it on Grayson's shoulder, giving myself over to them, to this moment where nothing exists but us and the relentless cascade of water that veils the world.

The steam swirls around us as Grayson's hand works magic between my thighs, his other arm a steel band around my waist. I writhe against him, grinding my ass against Grayson's hard length behind me and my breasts against Conrad's hard chest in front of me. Grayson's fingers are relentless, stirring a fire that licks every nerve ending into a frenzy.

"Grayson," I pant, my hands clinging to Conrad's shoulders for support, "I need?—"

"I know what you need," he growls, and without warning, he slides into me, practically lifting me into the air as he does so. A gasp escapes my lips, mingling with the sound of water and heavy breathing. I revel in the sensation of being supported between them, and the sudden intrusion of Grayson's cock, so intense it borders on pain.

"Can you handle both of us, Brielle? Tell me you're our good girl." Conrad's voice is thick with desire, his words a velvet caress that sends a shiver through me.

"I—I can," I manage to say, though a part of me trembles with the anticipation of being stretched, taken by both of them. I bury my face in the crook of Conrad's neck, and take deep breaths, trying to relax.

"Good girl," he praises, and I feel the press of him at my entrance. Slowly, he pushes inside me alongside Grayson, joining where I am already claimed. The stretch is delicious agony, the fullness complete.

"Ah, God, yes," I moan, tilting my hips to allow them deeper access. Every inch of Conrad feels like a new discovery, a perfect counterpoint to Grayson's possession.

"Look at you, taking us both." Grayson's voice is a husky rumble against the shell of my ear, his thrusts measured, letting me adjust to the dual invasion.

"Perfect," Conrad adds, his rhythm slow and steady, as if he's savoring every moment, every inch.

The dance begins—a push and pull, give and take. The heat builds, spiraling higher with each synchronized move. My body stretches to accommodate their size, a sweet burn that promises an explosion of pleasure.

"More," I beg, and they comply, their movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. They fill me, split me open with their desire, and I'm lost in the sensation, flying high on the edge of something monumental.

The rhythm they create is a symphony of carnal desire, each thrust from Grayson and Conrad driving me further into a haze of pleasure. My senses are on fire as the sounds of our mingled breaths and the scent of steam and lust fill the air. They move with a precision that speaks of their unspoken bond, their bodies working in tandem to worship mine.

"Can you feel how perfectly we fit together, Brielle?" Grayson's voice is tight with control, his grip on my waist firm and possessive.

I nod, words lost in the onslaught of sensation as they find a matching pace. The room fades away until there's only the sensation of being completely filled, completely loved. My muscles clench around them, drawing them deeper, and it's like touching the stars—over and over I soar, reaching peaks I never knew existed.

"Grayson…Conrad…" Their names are a plea, a praise, each climax tearing through me, leaving me shattered and whole all at once.

"More," I gasp, greedy for the intensity they give me.

Grayson responds by tightening his hold, his movements growing more forceful, more insistent. "You want more, sweetheart? You can take it?" His hot breath skates across my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"Y-yes…please," I manage, my voice a tremble of need.

Conrad matches Grayson's urgency, his hands tracing fiery paths along my skin. "We've got you, Brielle. We're going to take care of you."

Their synchronized thrusting becomes relentless, a storm of passion that threatens to sweep us all away. My body is a vessel for their desire, flexing and yielding under their command. Tension coils deep within me, winding tighter with each powerful drive. I'm close, so close to the edge, teetering on the brink of an abyss of ecstasy.

"Grayson, Conrad, I'm—" My breath hitches as the wave crests, ready to crash down.

"Let go, Brielle. Let us catch you," Grayson murmurs, his pace unyielding.

And I do—I let go, tumbling into bliss as they bring me to the brink, their own cries joining mine in a chorus of release.

Heat coils inside me, a burning knot that's ready to ignite. Grayson's grip is iron on my waist, his rhythm relentless. I'm on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"Grayson!" My voice is a breathless whimper, desire cresting within me.

He grunts, a sound of pure male satisfaction as he finds his own peak. He reaches it with a shudder that rocks through all three of us, his hot release filling me. It's the spark that ignites the powder keg inside me.

I cry out, the world narrowing to this blinding burst of pleasure. My second orgasm ripples through me, wave after potent wave, and I'm floating, lost in a sea of sensation.

"Conrad," I pant, and he groans, his movements growing erratic.

"Almost there." Conrad's voice is tight, strained. His hands roam my body, possessive and demanding, pushing me higher even as I'm still coming down.

Then he stiffens, his own climax overtaking him. He buries himself deep as he comes, joining our chorus of ecstasy.

We're a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths, a perfect storm of pleasure that leaves us all gasping, spent, and utterly satisfied. We find release together, a trio bound by desire, each of us catching the others as we fall back to earth.