Page 51 of Single Mom's Daddies
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” I say.
He shrugs off his coat. “Changed my mind.”
Roman’s there too, in the next breath, standing beside the desk like he never left. He doesn’t say anything. Just watches.
Saffron turns slowly, breath ragged. “You’re all here?” She should be scared. She’s not. She licks her bottom lip. Her hands drop from my chest. “You all…and me?”
“Is that too unusual?” Roman asks.
She smirks a little. “For some.”
“For you?” Victor asks.
“No.”
Victor’s behind her before I can blink, brushing her hair off her neck. He kisses the spot where my mouth was minutes ago, and she shudders between us.
Roman’s eyes are heavy-lidded now, hands working open the buttons of his sleeves.
“You sure?” I ask, watching her face.
She nods again, more certain now. “Yes.”
That’s all we need.
Victor pulls her shirt over her head, slow but firm, exposing her skin inch by inch. Roman closes the distance between them and leans in, lips brushing hers—once, twice—then deeper. She’s breathless when they part, but her hands find his belt without prompting.
I step back just enough to watch. Watch as Roman helps her out of the rest of her clothes. Watch as Victor kisses a line down her spine. Watch as her body trembles in anticipation.
She turns to me again, eyes heavy with heat. I pull her into my arms and kiss her like I’m claiming what’s mine. We lower her onto the bed I never made. Hands everywhere. Mouths too.
She moans when Victor slides a hand between her thighs, fingers circling until her hips buck. When she cries out, I’m dying to be inside of her. To feel that. To make her come on me.
Roman strokes her jaw, murmuring something quiet that makes her smile even as her breath comes faster. I kiss her again, harder. And she opens for us like it’s all she’s ever known.
She’s gasping now.
Laid out across the bed, naked and flushed, her limbs loose but shaking slightly with every touch. Her breath stutters when Victor kisses down her stomach, when Roman brushes his mouth along her thigh. She’s not in control. And she loves it.
I kneel beside her head, one hand cradling the back of her skull, the other stroking her cheek as I kiss her again. Deep. Possessive. She tastes like heat and honey.
Victor’s fingers are slow and relentless between her thighs. He watches her like a man solving a puzzle, learning what makes herarch, what makes her whimper, what makes her cry out. When he licks her there, her body locks down tight.
Roman murmurs low praise against her skin, his voice a rumble against her hip. “Good girl. That’s it. Let go.”
She moans. Loud. Unapologetic.
“Now,” he says, voice steady.
She shatters. Eyes wide, back arching, one hand in my hair, the other gripping Roman’s arm like an anchor. We let her ride it. Let her fall. When she finally sinks back into the mattress, panting, eyes glazed, I press a kiss to her temple.
“You still with us?” I ask, low.
She nods. Barely.
Roman strokes her side, his fingers light and reverent. Victor kisses the inside of her knee and settles beside her, still fully clothed, eyes dark with restraint.
I glance between them. We could stop. We could end it here.
