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“Dante. Deeper. He can take more than you’re giving him,” Eli orders.

I obey, pushing deeper into Brady, and he chokes out my name in pleasure. The feel of him accepting me, taking me deeper, nearly ends me right there.

“And Brady.” Eli’s voice drops lower. “Eyes open. Watch how pretty our girl looks stuffed full of Cruz while Cruz takes my cock. Watch her.”

“I’m watching,” Brady rasps. “Angel, I’m watching you, you’re so beautiful getting fucked.”

Dakota shatters first. Her back bows off the bed and she comes crying out a tangle of names and the clench of her drags Cruz right to the edge. He fights it. I watch him fight it, muscles tensing visibly along his back, but Eli doesn’t slow down, won’t let him hold the line.

“Let go,” Eli orders.

Cruz comes with a shout that starts as pleasure and lands as a plea, spilling into her on top of what Eli already left, and thenEli keeps moving, fucking him through it, and the sounds Cruz makes now are almost sobs. Overstimulated. Undone. Taking it anyway.

“That’s it.” Eli’s grip on Cruz’s hips will leave marks. “That’s it, that’s—” His control finally snaps and he buries himself and goes rigid, breath tearing out of him.

Beside them, I’m close. Too close. I slow down, measured strokes, and Brady pushes back against me desperate for more.

“Please,” he says. “Please, Dante.”

Dakota turns her head, boneless and glowing, and cups his face affectionately. “Look how good you are. Taking him like that. I’m so proud of you, baby. So proud.” Her thumb traces his cheekbone. “I love watching you take what you need.”

Brady comes apart. The rhythmic clench of him rips my orgasm out of me before I can stop it. I empty into him with my forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.

We collapse in stages. Eli eases out of Cruz, who drops onto the mattress like his strings got cut. I pull out of Brady’s ass slow, carefully, and help him roll onto his side. Five people breathing like we’ve run sprints. The room smells like sweat and sex and all of us.

Brady’s eyes are wet when he looks at me. Not with sadness, but with relief maybe, or gratitude, or whatever it costs to cross a line you thought would destroy you but you find yourself on the other side whole in a way you never imagined possible.

I pull him close, kiss him. “You did so well. So fucking well.”

We remain in bed silent, blissful for at least twenty minutes when I feel the mattress shift and watch Eli slip into the adjoining bathroom. The tap runs, and then he comes back out, dick half-hard, eyes fixed on Dakota.

She’s still spread across the center of the bed, thighs slick, leaking Cruz’s cum, hair stuck to her temple. Something in his face changes. It goes soft in a way I’ve only seen a handful oftimes. He disappears into the bathroom and I hear the faucet running, then he comes in and moves between her legs again.

“Daddy,” she whispers. “You already… ”

“I know.” He slides into her and this time it’s nothing like before. His hands cradle her face like she’s made of glass and steel at the same time. “Let me.”

We watch. All three of us, spent and silent, watching Eli make love to her in the wreckage of what we just did. His forehead against hers. Her legs wrapping his waist, her heels pressing him closer. No performance in it. No audience, as far as they’re concerned.

When they come it’s quiet—her breath catching, his shoulders shaking once—and it feels less like sex and more like a vow.

He pulls out and folds down beside her, and for a long minute nobody moves. Brady’s foot hooks over my ankle. We’re tangled past the point of knowing whose limb belongs to whom.

Then Cruz starts laughing.

It builds from his chest, that deep unrestrained sound that fills whatever room he’s in, and he throws an arm over his eyes, nearly hysterical with laughter now.

“We can’t be eight hours apart tomorrow. I’m dead serious. If this is what happens after one workday, somebody’s gonna get bent over the squat rack by Wednesday.”

“Don’t,” Eli groans.

“I’m just saying, Eli, from a safety standpoint… ”

Dakota backhands his chest, and then we’re all laughing. The whole day’s tension pours out of us at once, Brady wheezing into the pillow, Eli covering his face with both hands.

“I need food,” Dakota announces. “Actual food. I burned four thousand calories in the last hour.”

“Modest estimate,” Cruz says.