“I’m very focused.” Enzo’s hands resume their work, slower this time. “See? Focused.”
My jeans slide down my hips. His hands follow, tracing the skin he reveals.
Dario takes my shirt off. Careful. Like he’s unwrapping something precious.
Saul unhooks my bra with practiced ease.
Suddenly I’m standing there in nothing but nerves and need, three men still in every stitch of clothing, and for a moment I feel it all, raw, naked, wanted.
Dario’s eyes drag over me, hungry and proud. “Look at you.”
Enzo grins, all wolfish hunger. “So fucking beautiful.”
Saul’s knuckles ghost down my arm. “Every inch of you,” he says, low, “belongs right here.”
I cross my arms, cock a hip, glare at all three of them. “Strip. Now. Or I’m putting my pajamas back on and making popcorn.”
They share that look, silent plotting, competitive gleam, and then it’s a scramble.
Dario undoes his cuffs, eyes on me the whole time. He unbuttons his shirt like it’s a performance. One button at a time. Watching me watch him.
“You’re insufferable,” I tell him.
“You love it.”
“I love you. The insufferability is a side effect.”
He laughs. Finishes undressing.
Enzo practically tears his shirt in half, throws it somewhere behind him, jeans following in a rush. All lean muscle and restless energy. He’s never been shy about his body, even with the scars that map his history.
I trace one with my finger. The long one on his ribs. He catches my hand, kisses my palm.
“Later,” he promises. “You can explore later.”
Saul’s slower, peels his T-shirt off, making my mouth water. I’ve seen him hundreds of times. I still catch my breath.
He’s broader than the others. Solid in a way that makes me feel anchored. When he holds me, I feel like nothing could ever hurt me again.
They close in, heat and skin and muscle.
“Bed,” Saul says. “Now.”
I end up in the center.
This is how it usually works. Me at the heart of them, each of them finding their place around me.
Dario moves first. He doesn’t walk, he prowls, when his hand closes around my ankle I feel it in my gut. “Eyes on me,” he says. His thumb traces circles on my skin, lazy, claiming. “You want us, you get all of us. Don’t look away.”
Enzo is beside me in a heartbeat, all restless hands and nervous energy, skimming up my thigh, pausing like he’s waiting for permission he already has. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, and his head dips, breath hot against me, not gentle at all. His mouth is greedy, messy, tongue rough where I’m already aching.
I arch up, grinding into his face, fingers knotted in his hair, he moans, eats me like he’s never tasted anything better.
Saul’s beside me, solid and warm, hands on my waist. He kisses my shoulder, teeth dragging over my skin, his voice a hush in my ear. “That’s it, Stevie. Let go. We’ve got you.”
Dario kneels up near my head, stroking my hair, his eyes catching every tremor, every gasp. “Stay with me,” he says, his voice a slow curl of heat. “Let me see you.”
Enzo’s hands slide under my thighs, spreading me wider, his mouth working me over until I’m shaking. “Jesus, you’re soaking, god, you taste so good.” His voice is ragged, hungry.
