Page 12 of Fractured Dynasty

But I am excited to marry the loves of my life.

We all agreed that on paper, Matteo and I are husband and wife. After all, we need him to ascend to his rightful position as the head of the five families. But in my heart? They’ll all be my husbands. That’s why we’re having four marriage ceremonies, officiated by Elvis himself.

Well, a very good Elvis impersonator if you don’t believe the conspiracy theory that he’s alive and well, marrying people in sunny Las Vegas for fun.

I push off the couch with one thing on my mind: finding at least one of my men. It’s Friday afternoon, so I know Matteo and Dante are around here somewhere. They make it a point to be home early on Fridays so we can spend time together. Sometimes it’s one-on-one, and sometimes it’s two or three of my boyfriends. My favorite nights are the ones where we’re all together, laughing and just generally enjoying one another’s company.

I follow the smell of roasted chicken and vegetables into the kitchen, expecting to find my handsome husband-to-be with his sleeves rolled up behind the island.

Matteo isn’t there, but the warming drawer in the oven is lit up.

I head toward the other side of the apartment. “Matteo? Dante?”

“Back here, Cherry.”

I follow the sound of Matteo’s voice and find him leaning against the wall next to the gray quilted headboard of my bed. I call it mine, but truthfully, it feels like ours. I haven’t spent a night alone in months—not since the warehouse. After the sixth time reaching for Dante in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and panic racing in my veins, he started going to bed next to me. Thankfully, the bed’s big enough that when three of us go to sleep together, there’s plenty of room. I have a sneaking suspicion that Dante had this bed custom made.

Matteo’s shirtless, his tattoos on display. They’re a physical representation of his story, his journey in life, and I’m eager to see what he adds.

“What’s going on?” I stop just in front of him, my gaze zeroed in on the way his shoulder muscles flex and bulge. The last couple chapters in the book I just read are too fresh in my mind, and I’m imagining all the ways we can make use of our time before dinner.

“We thought we could spend some time together.” Matteo pushes off the wall and reaches out to finger a lock of my hair.

“We?” My confusion doesn’t last long. Dante steps out of the bathroom looking like sin incarnate.

They’re both shirtless, dressed only in athletic shorts. My greedy eyes roll down their bodies, and I have to curb the urge to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Again.

I bite my lip at their insinuation. I’ve messed around with Matteo and Dante together before, but it’s been too long since we played.

“We thought you could use some extra attention today,” Dante murmurs.

My lids are heavy already, lust thick in my veins. I look at Matteo from underneath my lashes. “Both of you?”

“Yeah, Cherry, both of us.” His lids are low as he positively smolders. It’s the only way I can describe the look on his face.

“We go at your pace, baby girl.”

It’s an echo of the same thing he told me in the shower in Las Vegas. It feels like a million years ago since that day, but any thoughts of anything else are thrown out the window when my lust perks up at the idea of having both of them. We flirted with the idea of the three of us, but I wasn’t ready then.

I’m more than ready now.

A soft flush rolls over me and I’m nodding, too quick to be anything but eager, my gaze flicking between the two of them. I even overlook their matching sinful smirks, too focused on the way their broad chests take up so much more space without a shirt. Their six packs are unreal, like muscles crafted from rockface.

Dante stalks across the room and stops two inches from me. Anticipation saturates the air, the feeling sweet and urgent. I lick my lips and savor this moment, the one where the three of us are holding tight to our restraint. Dante’s in front of me, his gaze tracking every swipe of my tongue across my bottom lip, and I decide that I’m going to push them both. Just a little bit.

Their heat surrounds me, a comforting weight, but it’s not enough. I need them to both be okay with this. It’s one thing to say they’re okay with it, but to act on it is something else.

And I’m not sure if Matteo is ready.

He’s always been able to read me in an instant, and this is no exception. He erases the space between us, and my fingers tingle with the desire to touch him.

But I don’t. Not yet.

I shift from foot to foot, a small movement, but it seemed to ignite something in Matteo. He moves behind me and presses against my back, his cock already hard and pressing into my ass. I hold in the moan—just barely. He slides his warm palm on my waist, his fingers spreading wide. His bare skin warms my own through the thin cotton of my tank top.

“Are you ready for us to share you, Cherry?” His breath rolls over the sensitive skin on my neck, behind my ear. A shiver skates down my spine, and I arch my back, my ass pressing into him. He traces my arm with the barest touch, from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers. “Are you ready to take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours while Dante slides into that perfect pussy?”

I shudder at his dirty words whispered in my ear. He’s torturing me with the light pressure, teasing me as his other hand smooths over the curve of my ass. He stops his descent at the hem of my shorts. They’re comfortable and soft and most importantly, small as hell. Matteo’s fingers graze the swell of my ass cheek as he toys with the hem.

---