Page 192 of Filthy Rich Santas

I kneel down, scratching behind Baldwin’s ears as he leans into my touch. “Goodnight, little guy,” I murmur, feeling a surge of affection for this quirky, sweater-wearing pup.

With final hugs and thank-yous to Grandma Meg, the men and I make our way out to the guest house. The cool night air feels refreshing against my skin, and I take a deep breath, letting it cleanse some of the day’s tension from my body.

“This is cozy,” I say as soon as we step inside the guesthouse.

Tristan grins. “I thought you’d like it. There’s not much to it, but I think it will do just fine.”

He’s right. It’s not huge, but it’s warm and inviting. Just a small sitting room, a tiny kitchen, a closed door that I’m guessing leads to a bathroom, and an open door with what seems to be the guesthouse’s only bedroom.

And inside it, all the proof I need that Meg really does accept our relationship.

I laugh. “There’s only one bed.”

“Feeling a little déjà vu?” Ryder teases me, his strong arms wrapping around me from behind. His familiar cinnamon and bergamot scent envelops me as he pulls me close. Within moments, Tristan and Beckett join in, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety around me.

“I’m definitely feeling something,” I murmur, melting into their embrace.

The tension I’ve been carrying all day drains right out of me. The hug isn’t sexual, but it’s perfect. Their touch grounds me, reminding me of what truly matters.

It wasn’t just because of them that I found the courage to stand up to my parents—that was something I’ve needed to do for myself for a long time, and I know I deserve credit for finding the strength to finally confront them. But there’s no doubt in my mind that these three men have helped me find that strength.

They’ve shown me who I can be when I’m not holding back, when I’m true to myself, and that means everything to me.

“What do you need right now, Lana?” Beckett’s deep voice rumbles softly against my ear.

They’ve all been so attentive, so concerned and caring. And in light of the day we’ve just had, I’m pretty sure this is Beckett’s not-so-subtle way of checking in on my energy levels.

But for once, I’m not feeling fatigued. Maybe a little tired, sure, but sleep isn’t really what I want right now. And it’s definitely not what I need.

I pull back a little so I can look at them, and all three men immediately loosen their holds.

“I need you to fuck me. All of you.”

Time feels suspended for a moment, the private bubble we’re in, tucked away in this guesthouse, seeming to shrink around us. The air hums with electricity.

And then Beckett growls, his voice low and husky. “We can do that. We can do anything you need, little menace.”

I let out a slow, shuddering breath. “I want…”

He kisses me before I can put it into words, but I don’t have to. Not with these three.

Beckett’s lips are demanding, his kiss pushing me toward the bed. Tristan and Ryder are right there with us, their hands reaching, pulling, tugging at my clothes as they undress me.

“Look at you, freckles,” Tristan murmurs, his breath hot against my neck as he nuzzles the curve of my shoulder. “So fucking beautiful.”

A thrill tumbles down my spine. Then Ryder’s fingers dance along my sides, feather-light touches that make me squirm.

“Ticklish, love?” he teases, his lips brushing my ear as he nibbles on the lobe. “Or are you wiggling around for some other reason?”

“Let’s find out,” Beckett says, dragging his mouth away from mine to suck and bite gently at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

I gasp, my back arching, and he chuckles, low and dark as Tristan cups my breasts, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over my nipples until they pucker and tighten.

Then he dips his head and sucks on them.

They’re worshiping me, revering every inch of my body like it’s sacred, and it’s both wonderful and maddening, liquid heat pooling between my legs as they push me higher and higher.

“Oh fuck.Please.”

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