Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Ambrose

“ARE YOU SURE you want to do this?” I ask.

Huxley takes in a deep breath, determination wrinkling his brow, though his knees bounce anxiously. “Yes,” he finally says.

I crouch between the chairs at the table where Huxley and Glory sit and place my palm on his knee. He stops the anxious bouncing and snaps his head to look at me.

The darkness dancing in his brown eyes catches me and refuses to let go. It was never darkness that drew me to him. If anything, there’s more darkness in Glory than there could ever be in Huxley, though he doesn’t recognize that the way I do. Yet, I see what’s there, the depth of it that exists within him and the way it’s clawing to be released upon the one person who could destroy all of our futures.

But it’s his mother we’re talking about murdering, and that’s never an easy decision to make, especially for a child of privilege like him. I’d had a lifetime of hatred and abuse at the hands of my parents to fuel me. I’d had their cruelty brutally handed to me, day in and day out for most of my life. And still, it was hard to end them.

Not them.

My mother.

Part of me wants to think that her cruelty was the result of my father’s…that perhaps she may not have been as cruel if I’d had a different father. Perhaps that was only wishful thinking. Regardless, a connection unlike any other exists between mother and child, and Huxley found privilege from his mother’s decisions.

Though Maura’s soul is as ugly as my father’s was, I think she did well hiding that from her son…until now.

“I’m sure about this,” he says slowly. “It has to be done. For Glory, if for no one else.”

No one else.

The words strike my chest and it burns.

Of course, it’s for Glory. I want it done for Glory, too.

But the no one else he’s referring to includes me, and though I’m happy to be in this at all, it hurts to know I’m second to them both. It makes me wish, for just a moment, that they’d left when I gave them the chance—if they had, I’d be alone now.

Could I ever be happy alone now that they’ve brought me back to life?

I shove to my feet and turn my back on them, pacing away a few steps before I stop, shoving my hands into my pockets to search for a cigarette and a lighter. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’ll invite her over for the night. I’ll pick her up and bring her back here.” I hold the cigarette to my lips and spark it, taking a good drag before blowing it out. “We’ll take care of her and bury her in the forest.” I turn back around. “Maybe a final sacrifice is just what this place needs to let us go.”

Glory’s head dips as she hides a secret smile, but we’ve come to a point where there can be no secrets between the three of us. Everything has to be laid out on the table or we’ll never be able to trust one another.

“What are you smiling about?” I ask her.

She whips her head up to look at me, the tiny smile falling away quickly. “It’s nothing…”

“It’s not nothing. You have to be honest with us about how you’re feeling about this. If you don’t think you can—”

She raises her palm to cut me off with some newfound overt confidence that makes me want to tie her hands and cut her off with a kiss. “It’s not what you’re thinking. It was just a passing morbid thought.”

“What thought?” Huxley asks. “Tell us.”

She looks at him as her face hardens, as she shuts down and pulls back. I slowly walk toward them as Huxley reaches out to caress her cheek.

“You can tell me anything,” he assures.

My eyes narrow on her features as she darts furtive glances between us—darkened glances. Her green eyes—which are usually bright and vivid—have grown dark with shadows.

“Just say what you were thinking,” I urge, closing the distance and standing beside them.

She swallows and looks down. “I was just thinking how twisted it would be if you put us back in the cage before you brought her here. Let her think you found us and locked us up to kill us like she wanted.” Glory lifts her head, locking eyes with Huxley. “I was thinking about how good it would feel to wipe the smug look from her face just when she thinks she’s won.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air, and after a beat or two, Glory tries to turn away. Huxley grabs her face to tug her back, leaning closer to her and looking deeply into her eyes.

Carefully, I ask, “And who would be wiping the smug look from her face?”

“You. Me. Huxley. The three of us…together.” Her features twitch with shame. “Sorry, it’s fucked up, I know.”

She says it as if fucked up weren’t normal here.

The three of us are fucked up in every imaginable definition of the term.

“Yeah, that’s fucked up,” Huxley says, and I want to backhand him for being so careless with his words, “but it’s fucking brilliant. You’re fucking brilliant, Glory.” He presses a quick kiss to her nose and lets his hands fall away before he looks up at me. “It would give her one last chance, wouldn’t it? One last chance to see us, to look me in the eye and tell you she wants me dead. It would wipe my conscience clean to know she had one more chance to save me.”

I blow out a ball of smoke over his head. “And what if she takes that chance? What do we all do then?”

“She won’t take it,” Glory says. “I know she won’t.”

I know that, too, but I need Huxley to really think this through.

“If she chooses to save my life, then we’ll frame her for Beau’s death. It would be our word against hers, wouldn’t it? Three to one…I’ll take those odds.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think it is, either. But a chance to fully clear my conscience of what we’re talking about doing is worth the risk for me.”

Glory makes a small sound, something like a hum of agreement, though there’s the breathiness of a moan mingled with it—a desire-fueled moan I’m becoming familiar with.

I drop to my haunches between them, hooking my elbow over the back of her chair and grinning up at her. “What exactly is it about this conversation that’s turning you on, little bird?”

“I didn’t say—”

“You don’t have to say a word. I can feel the pulse of your lust a mile away.”

She leans her shoulder against the back of the chair and rests her head against my arm. My chest swells with warmth at the simplest touch from her.

“I want you to fuck me again,” she purrs.

My cock twitches. “I know that, but why?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You know exactly what I’m asking. What part of this conversation turned you on? Is it the thought that Maura will soon be dead? The power you’ll have over her? The control? Is it the idea of being locked in that cage again? Or…is it the violence?”

Her breath catches and she hiccups out a gasp.

“It’s the violence.” I look at Huxley. “How do you feel about that? Knowing the thought of hurting someone who deserves it gets her off?”

His eyes flicker and narrow. “I don’t know.”

She looks at me, seeking my gaze to comfort her because the thought of any type of rejection from Huxley is too much for her to bear—it’s written all over her face. I reach out to touch her cheek, wrap my hand around her chin, and rub my thumb across her bottom lip.

“It’s okay, Glory. I like the violence, too. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that. It’s human.”

“Is it?” Huxley’s voice cuts between us, slicing our connection like a knife.

I direct my irritation toward him. “If you’re not man enough to admit that the thought of ending someone who wronged you gets you excited, it’s fine. But don’t direct your judgment at her.”

“I’m not judging her, but I’m not going to admit something that isn’t true just for her benefit. I don’t get off on violence. I don’t—”

“Did the sight of Beau Tolliver’s bloodied body make you sick? Did you run from the room to vomit because the sight of it disgusted you so much?” I stand and turn my attention to him, slowly straightening to my full height and hovering over him. He lifts his chin to look up at me. “Did it make you feel anything at all? Did the sight of blood on her hands make you weep with regret that you weren’t there to take the life for her? You’ve said it yourself…you would’ve killed him when you found out what he’d been doing to her if Glory hadn’t done it herself.”

His jaw is tense. “What’s your point?”

I reach down and slip two fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head back all the way. “You’re more concerned with clearing your conscience than you are about the fact that we’re going to murder your mother. It’s the only reason you want to give her one last chance to change her mind—not because you’ll be forgiving if she does. But because she raised you to take care of her and everyone else around you. She raised you to be a savior, not a reaper…and I know how that eats you alive inside.”

His chest heaves as his breaths deepen, as his fingers twitch. I hear Glory breathing behind me, heavy and heated. The way they want me is exciting, intoxicating, deafening.

“You know you’re still her savior.” I jerk my head back to indicate Glory. “Regardless of what happens with your mother, in her eyes…” I bend over him, bringing my lips close to watch his part with a sharp exhale, “you’re God.” I reach over and put my cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. I release him as I take a quick step back, reveling in the fact that both of their beautiful blond heads turn to follow me. “Glory would get down on her knees and worship you if you asked her. She’d beg at your feet for forgiveness of her sins, even when you and I both know she doesn’t need to.”

Glory takes it upon herself to slip from her seat and lower to her knees before him. He shifts back, as if trying to lean away, though his knees stay spread apart and he reaches for her.

“She doesn’t need to beg forgiveness for her sickness, because this demented thing between us doesn’t bare a passing resemblance to the true depravity of humans, does it? Maura Tolliver deserves to die, and so she will. There’s nothing wrong with looking forward to the violence that will end a deserving creature. She’s not innocent, and she doesn’t deserve your conscience.”

“Huxley?” Glory sits back on her heels, looking up at him with worried eyes. “Are you mad at me for wanting her blood on my hands?”

Oh, how my little bird wants to fly.

He snaps forward, gripping her face, bending to press his forehead against hers. The way they love each other is haunting and beautiful. They could never be together out there in the real world. The press would have a field day with the heiress dating her wannabe lawyer stepbrother who she grew up with. But here, with me, they can be exactly who they are.

And I can be myself with them because they saw the worst in me and chose to stay.

They chose to stay with me.

I pull my shoulders back when a feeling I’m not familiar with runs through me—pride. I’m proud that they chose me, that they chose to stay. I’m proud of them for the way they keep breaking down walls and how they sink into their deepest, truest selves through the chaos that swirls around us.

“I’m not mad at you,” Huxley tells her. “I’m not mad at all. If anything, I’m…scared.”

“What are you afraid of?”

He shuts his eyes. “I’m afraid of myself…of what I might be beneath the surface. I’m afraid of finding out that I’m not the same as you.” He says it to her, but then he turns his forehead against hers and opens his eyes to look at me. “Either of you.” He holds me with his stare, speaking directly to me. “I’m afraid I’m not real enough for you. That the two of you will sink into depravity without me, that I could walk away and you two would find comfort in each other without me. That you’d be fine without me.”

“Don’t you understand how much we need you? How you balance this thing between us?” I step closer, reach out, and stroke the back of his head. “We draw you into the darkness with us, and if you left us there, we’d never come back from it. You’re our tether to reality…You bring us back after we lose ourselves.”

With sudden agitation, he pulls away from Glory, shoves his chair back with a screech, and lets it topple to the floor as he marches away and paces. “Do you have any fucking idea how much pressure that puts on me? The responsibility of bringing you both back from the darkness? What the fuck is even happening here?” He rakes his hands through his hair, confusion etched in his face.

I know what he needs…what he’s not willing to admit. He needs permission. Permission to let go and stop thinking responsibly. Permission to unleash. Permission to give in to his urges and needs.

I charge after him, my outstretched hand reaching for him as he takes a step back. But he doesn’t move away fast enough, and I latch my palm around his throat, jerk him wildly, and slam his back against the wall. His hands come up, as if he means to claw at mine, but his fingers merely rest there. His brown eyes are wide and waiting as he huffs through his nose.

“There is no pressure.” I mold my body to his, my dick throbbing as it aligns with his. “You don’t have to do anything to bring us back. Your presence is enough. You are enough.”

His gaze shifts and narrows, studying the lines of my face, and though we’ve already fucked like animals, I feel more naked and exposed than ever before. It makes my stomach clench with nausea, but I don’t hate the feeling because it’s mixed with raw emotion and primal lust—feelings I’ve never know before Huxley and Glory came barging into my pathetic life.

I tilt his chin, pressing in harder, squeezing his jaw between my outstretched thumb and index finger. Just as I bend to kiss him, I feel her presence at my back—her gentle touch along my spine contrasts with my roughness. She softly kisses between my shoulder blades and nuzzles her cheek against my back. Though she makes me want to melt for her, I don’t let her take away my heat.

I kiss Huxley with the harshness he needs, spreading his lips with mine and shoving my tongue between his teeth. I keep him still with my body as I rub my thickening cock against his.

Our kiss breaks naturally as we both groan at the friction between us. I lean against him, bringing my lips to his ear. “Stop trying to control yourself. Let me tell you what to do.”

“What,” he pauses to hiss in a shuddering breath through his teeth as I bite his earlobe and tug, “makes you think I trust you enough to do that?”

I slip my hand between our bodies, wrap my palm around his cock, and squeeze. “Because your body already does. Let your mind follow its lead.”

I take a quick sidestep, release him, grab Glory, and shove her forward to take my place. I press along her backside, sandwiching her between us as I lift her hair over her shoulders. “What would you let him do to you, Glory? Do you trust him with your life? With your light? Do you feel safe enough in his presence to descend into darkness knowing his heart will always bring you back to the light?”

“I’ll let you do anything you want, Hux,” she says, her chin lifted to look up at him as she grips his sides. “Let me go. Let me be dark. Then bring me back with your light. I just want to feel this…You can hurt me, fuck me, tie me up.”

“Christ, Glory,” he exhales, and I know he’s been waiting far too long to let go of that breath.

“Please, Hux—”

She barely gets out his name before he snaps. He grabs her shoulders roughly, whipping her around with such force that it causes me to stumble back. He slams her backward so her ass hits the edge of the stove. She puts her hands back to catch herself and her fingers accidentally brush the burner where I’d made the pancakes, which is still hot. She hisses and flinches, jerking her hand away, but Huxley shuts her up with a kiss.

He consumes her so intensely that she melts, her face softening as she falls into him and forgets about any lingering burn. His lips move frantically across her cheek, along her jaw, down the side of her neck as he pushes against her and holds her in place with his body.

His hands work between them, gripping her panties and shoving them down her bare legs. She kicks them away and he raises the hem of her shirt—my shirt—as he grips her hips and whips her around to face the stove. He reaches down as she arches her back and grabs behind her knee, forcing her knee up and onto the stove, only inches away from the hot burner.

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t tell him to stop, doesn’t try to move away. She trusts him so implicitly that she’d let him risk burning her for the promise of pleasure—because we both know he’ll deliver.

I see the way he strains, the way he fights getting down on his knees to worship her cunt.

“Take from her,” I tell him. “She asked you to take from her, so do it.”

His shoulders relax with the reminder of the permission that’s been granted to him. He grips her hips and jerks her ass back, forcing her to bend over the stove. He pulls down the gray sweatpants I loaned him, along with his boxer briefs, and in seconds, he’s fucking naked in my kitchen.

My eyes linger on his sculpted ass as he fists his cock, lining up behind her. He’s a work of art, such a perfectly chiseled specimen of a man that he looks unreal, too perfect for this world. But if he can embrace the darkness within, he’ll be perfect enough for my world…for Glory’s world.

Huxley’s hand slips between her cheeks, reaching beneath her to shove his fingers inside her pussy without warning or ease. She cries out as her hips buck forward against the stove edge.

I have to fucking see it.

I rush to move beside them, dropping to my knees next to Glory’s lifted knee so I have a perfect view of her glistening pussy. I groan as I watch Huxley add a third finger and he fucks her roughly with his hand. She squirms, bucking her hips away, but he slams his hips forward, wedging his hard cock between her cheeks, holding her there as her palms come down to grip the edge of the stove.

“Ow!” she shrieks and pulls her hand back—she touched the burner again. “Hux…” There’s a small hint of warning in her tone and I see his jaw tense.

“Don’t let up,” I tell him. “Add another finger. Stretch her wide. Let’s make it hurt before we let her come.”

With a low, chest rumbling growl, he turns his hand, twisting it to wedge his pinky finger inside her with the other three. She gasps and whimpers and pulls away, but she doesn’t stop it.

“Does it hurt, little bird?” I whisper.

She nods ferociously as her body jerks and Huxley suddenly stops. As soon as he does, she’s reaching behind her with one hand, waving aimlessly for his arm. “Don’t stop. Hurt me like I’ve been hurt before…then make it all better like you always do. I want this from you.”

He grabs hold of her, pulls her from the stove, turns her, and shoves her to the floor on all fours. He slams to his knees behind her and pulls her back against him as she struggles to right herself and push up onto her palms. He lifts her ass into the air as he pulls his hips back, then slams into her, his cock slipping into her soaked pussy.

Giving up the fight to rise, Glory cries out and lets her upper body drop to the floor instead, her cheek pressed to the hardwood. Her head turns toward me, her eyes seeking mine. I smile at her as Huxley pulls out and slams back inside with a groan, as her eyes roll and her lashes flutter.

I want to lay beside her, stroke her hair, grip her neck, shove her face down hard into the floor, caress her cheek. I want to give her endless pleasure and at the same time, take everything from her that she has to give. Her beautiful face scrunches, her pink lips parting as she pants, her cheek scraping the floor with each of his rough thrusts.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “fuck, that’s so good. Come…come inside me, Hux. Please.”

I slip my hand beneath her, grip her throat, and lift her from the floor. They both whimper and moan as I bring her upright with one hand with Huxley still inside her from behind. Her back arches as she comes up on her knees. He lassos an arm around her waist to hold her as I force her to crane her neck back against his shoulder. On my knees, I move in front of her, our bodies touching as I move in close.

I lean over her, pressing a quick kiss to her throat before skating my lips across her skin to whisper against her ear. “You come with him, or he doesn’t come at all.”

She huffs out a breath as her head flops back heavier on Huxley’s shoulder. “I’m not there yet…”

My thumb brushes beneath her chin. “Then fucking get there.”

Huxley and I move as one, as though our instincts and needs have fully aligned with Glory’s fragile beautiful body between us. I drop my hand from her throat and shove it between her legs. He grips her waist tighter with his arm while slipping his other hand inside the unbuttoned V at the collar of her shirt.

Her back arches impossibly more at our synchronized assault of her senses. She presses her breast into his hand while thrusting her cunt forward against my fingers.

He grips and claws and toys with her nipple as my fingers play down below. I can feel how hard his cock is as my fingertips graze the length pressing inside her. The three of us easily find our twisted rhythm. Though I’m still fully clothed in a hoodie and sweatpants, I feel as bare as being naked before them.

Huxley’s eyes hold mine with a look of pure possession—a look that battles with my own because I feel the primal truth rumbling through my chest, awakening my cold, dead heart.

These two are mine.

They have been mine from the moment I laid eyes on them in the forest.

I will never, ever let them go.

Something resembling a growl rumbles through both of us as we push against her, destroying her pussy with his cock and my fingers. She lifts her head, though her expression shows how lost she is to the passion; her eyes half-hooded and perfect lips parted to let out audible, moaning breaths. Our gaze turns all at once to look at her, as she turns her eyes to look back and forth between the two of us.

Her eyelids flutter closed as a shiver runs through her, a vibration so strong that it shakes all of us. “Kiss me,” she begs.

She could be talking to either of us, but Huxley and I both know the truth—she wants it from both of us. We both lean for her at the same time, press our mouths to hers at the same time, part our lips for her at the same time.

She opens for us and lets both of our tongues battle for space inside her mouth. Her hands come up to grip the backs of our heads as she twists her upper body, fighting to kiss us both at the same time. Three tongues taste and lick and battle and sin.

Huxley’s tongue is thick and forceful, tasting with precision and skill. Glory’s is soft and sensuous, licking languidly and lapping up every ounce of pleasure we feed her. And mine is eager and grateful, quick and sharp, delivering sensation to them both with force.

Our hips rock and thrust, grind and roll, moving aimlessly through beats that won’t serve the release of an orgasm, but instead, build the intense desire for more, more, always fucking more.

I’ve never wanted anyone this way, no one, but now, I want them both in equal measure and I’ll do anything to keep them…

Fucking anything.

This thing between us isn’t sick. It isn’t depraved. It isn’t twisted—not in the way I thought it would be.

They are the antidote to the poisonous energy that plagues me.

They are the vaccine against my future suffering.

They are the cure I didn’t know I needed.

Six hands grow frantic—gripping, scratching, holding, touching—each of us falling into obsessive madness to please one another. Something has to give, something has to flex and bend, or we’re all going to snap with need.

And just as I expect it, Glory bends for us. “Fuck each other,” she says with heat in her eyes. “Let me watch you fuck each other before you both come inside me.”

“Glory—” Huxley starts, but she interrupts him with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

“Shut up and do it for me, Hux.”

His hand slips so quickly from her chest to her throat that it surprises me to see it rise. He grips her, shoves her sideways, and takes her down to the floor, slamming her on her back and settling over her.

“Is that what you want?” He runs the flat of his tongue up the side of her neck, and I pull my hoodie off over my head.

She shivers in his hold and manages a sharp nod against his grip. “Yes.”

“Then I’m gonna come inside your mouth after he fucks me.”

“Yes,” she repeats.

I wrap my arms around his waist and tug him off her, flipping him over me and slamming him face-first against the floor. He rewards me with a groan as I settle my weight on top of him, grabbing his wrists and forcing his arms above his head. He clenches his fists, but he doesn’t fight me because he wants this. He loves being in control, but he loves giving it up to me even more.

His ass lifts from the floor, pushing against my hips like he’s begging for it. He is begging for it, and fuck, I want to give it. I let go of one of his wrists to reach between us, tugging my sweatpants and boxer briefs down just enough to free my cock.

I lift my hand and wave my finger at Glory in a come-hither motion. “Come here.”

She rolls and gets on her hands and knees to crawl to me—a fucking goddess crawling to me.

I sit up on my knees behind Huxley and bring both my hands to his ass, giving a good squeeze as I hold Glory’s attention. I tug at his cheeks, eliciting a strangled groan from him as Glory’s eyes widen with desire.

“Spit,” I tell her, tracing my thumb along his crack. “Make him wet for me.”

She nods eagerly as Huxley presses up onto his forearms, turning his head to look back over his shoulder. “Fuck,” he hisses.

Glory bends over him and I watch her lips twist as she pushes saliva to the front of her mouth. She spits soundlessly, dripping liquid down his crack. I’m about to tell her to spread it for me, but I don’t have to. She reaches out and traces the saliva down the seam, circling around the hole I’m aching to fuck.

With gritted teeth, Huxley begs, “Christ, fuck me.”

I let Glory play for a minute, watching the curiosity in her expression as she circles the spot. Then she bends over and spits again, happily preparing him to take me. I have to grip her wrist and pull her hand away just to get her attention, and she gives it to me with a snap of her eyes to mine.

“You wanted to watch,” I tell her. “So watch, little bird. Go. Sit. Watch.” I jerk my head toward the table just behind us.

I give her a crooked smile as I let go of her, one that makes an absolutely filthy smile spread across her rosy cheeks. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she climbs to her feet, turning and stepping backward toward the table as I fist my dick to line it up with Huxley’s entrance.

I start to push inside and his body jerks. “Fuck, yes.”

Wood table legs screech across the floor behind us, followed by a crash, a thud, and a surprised, “Oh, shit,” from Glory.

Huxley and I both turn our heads to look back at her, her palms gripping for purchase on the edge of the table as she bumps into it with her backside, the maple syrup topples off the table to the floor.

“Sorry,” she mutters as she bends to pick it up. “Don’t stop.”

I keep my eyes on her as I continue to press into Huxley, waiting until she sets the bottle on the table and gives me a small, sweet smile while bringing the side of her hand to her lips, licking off some of the spilled syrup.

I hear her hum as I turn my attention back to Huxley, as he tightens around me while I inch my way inside of him. He’s up on all fours and I grip his hips, holding him steady until his muscles relax, until he pulls me deep inside him, inch by steady inch.

Fuck, he feels good.

My eyes fall shut as I savor the feel of him squeezing around me, as he groans and reaches down with one hand to fist himself when I start to move. I fuck him slow and deep, and it only takes moments for me to fall into a trance, to get lost in the rhythm and the warmth of him around me.

And then I feel her beside me, her sensual energy sliding into my space as she drops to her knees and comes in close. I open my eyes to look at her and find her gaze filled with heat and hunger.

Slowly, she licks her bottom lip. Then, she brings up one finger and draws a line across that very lip, drawing a sticky substance across it. She leans in and kisses me softly, gradually opening for me in her raw sensuality.

My tongue seeks to mingle with hers and that’s when I taste the maple syrup on her lips—the maple syrup they make at her dead father’s factory in addition to their maple candies.

But fuck if it doesn’t taste just like her, sickeningly sweet. I grab the back of her head and hold her against me as the kiss deepens, as I lick every last drop from her lip and make sure there isn’t any lingering on her thick tongue.

“I could never make a treat more delicious than you, Glory.” I drop my forehead to hers as she looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “I want to consume every part of you, taste every sweet morsel of madness you feed me.”

“I want you,” she pants. “I need you both…always.”

As easily as breathing, I promise her, “Always.”

Huxley reaches back with one arm, swatting her hip. “Have you watched enough yet? I need your mouth on me, sugar.”

Sugar.

A very appropriate nickname for the sweetest thing in my life. She tastes like heaven, but if you take too much from her, she’ll turn on you and make you wish you’d never taken a single bite.

A vicious vixen.

She turned on her disgusting father when he took too much, and she’s going to do the same to Maura.

And I can’t fucking wait to see it.

The thought of it throbs through my cock and forces me to move my hips, to fuck and thrust as Huxley rises, lifting himself upright while I fuck him. Glory quickly bends over his lap to give him what he needs, because she would give him anything.

I think she might give me anything, too.

I hold on to him as I find a rhythm, as Glory wraps her soft, sweet lips around Huxley’s cock and takes him inside her mouth. His head falls back as his hand lands on the back of her head, not pushing her down but stroking her fake blonde hair.

I wish I could strip the dye from it and see the dark color of her roots all the way down the strands. She’s stunning exactly as she is, but I selfishly want to see the darkness take her entirely, stripping what’s left of her mask to leave her raw and bare and entirely real.

I watch as her head bobs in his lap, as one of her hands disappears to reach for her pussy. As much as I love seeing her consume Huxley the way I want to, I can’t bear the thought of her making herself come when we can do it for her.

I slip my hand over Huxley’s hard chest and up his throat, pinching at his jaw to tilt his chin back. I whisper against his ear, “I want your cock inside her cunt so I can fuck her through you.”

His body shudders and sinks in my hold as I loosen my grip, letting my hand drift across his chest before falling away so he can move freely. He slips his fingers into her hair, grips her harshly, and tugs her head up from his lap. Her lips leave his cock with a smack, and she pants, looking at him with hooded eyes, the skin around her mouth flushed pink.

“Lay down in front of me,” he tells her, and she does.

I feel an awakening deep in my soul, a reverberation of perfect harmony I’ve never felt before. The perfection of the three of us together is something I cannot describe with any level of accuracy. And I know they feel it, too.

It’s Glory’s way of needing us both to command and care for her, the way she needs to trust us so she can let go and let us give her everything she needs.

It’s Huxley’s perfect balance between control and submission—the way he lets me command him so he can feel free while dominating her senses.

It’s my ownership, my claiming of the both of them that leads us all and drives us into blissful insanity.

It’s healing for all of us.

We all feel that perfect alignment as Glory spreads her legs and Huxley tugs her closer, slipping deeply inside her. We feel it together, all at once, letting out a single moan in unison as he buries inside her to the hilt while I’m buried inside him. He lays over her, letting me control us, letting me fuck him, which moves him inside her.

We let go inside our peaceful madness.

As heat grows, tension builds and pleasure looms. When Glory convulses in her release, it sets all of us off at once and we fall together.

We fall deeply.

We fall madly.

We fall forever.