Page 33 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
They want me.
And I wantallof them.
The thought should scare me. Maybe it does, but it also… electrifies me.
I shift beneath the sheets, my body aching with awareness, with memory, with possibility. My hand slips down, slow and searching, as my thoughts race and a fantasy blooms.
In my mind, they’re all here.
Ethan’s the first—his hands reverent, like he’s worshiping me with every slow stroke, every soft kiss to skin that’s been starving for attention. He’s always so careful. So controlled. But tonight, he lets it go. I imagine his breath on my neck, the rasp of his voice in my ear.“Let me take care of you.”
Then Jake’s there, reckless and bold, dragging his mouth over my collarbone, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt. He teases, grins against my skin, pushes me closer to the edge just to feel me fall.“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you? About this?”
And Liam—God, Liam. Slow, intense, eyes locked on mine like he’s reading every thought I’m too scared to say out loud. Histouch is firm, grounding, and his voice is a low command that makes me tremble.“Don’t hold back. I want all of you.”
I imagine their hands everywhere, guiding, teasing, claiming.
Ethan’s lips on my stomach. Jake’s fingers curling where I need them most. Liam’s mouth at my throat, whispering my name.
I arch against the sheets, breath catching, hips lifting into my own hand as I chase the high they’re giving me.
I think of Ethan’s restraint, Jake’s fire, Liam’s depth—and the heat spirals faster, stronger, until I can’t hold it anymore.
Release hits hard, waves crashing through me in sharp, sweet pulses. My back arches, a quiet moan slipping free before I can stop it.
I go still, breath ragged, chest rising and falling like I’ve run miles.
My hand falls away. The sheets are twisted around me now, tangled like my thoughts. I turn my head into the pillow and close my eyes again.
I’m in so deep and I don’t know how to navigate all these things I’m feeling about all these men.
A chill skates over my arms, unrelated to the air conditioning. I sit up, suddenly alert, like my body knows something I don’t.
A sharp knock on my front door slices through the stillness like a blade.
I jerk upright, breath catching in my throat. The clock on my nightstand blinks12:17 a.m. My heart is still racing from the fantasy I just fell apart to, but now it’s for an entirely different reason.
Another knock—louder and more insistent this time.
I scramble for my robe, the satin clinging to my damp skin as I pull it tight around me and pad barefoot through the apartment. The hallway feels colder now, like the air itself knows something’s off. I peer through the peephole.
My stomach drops.
Nick.
He’s standing on the other side of my door, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, dark hair messy. His eyes are shadowed, but locked on my door like heknowsI’m standing inches away.
I crack it open, but only just.
“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, still thick with everything I was feeling minutes ago—and everything I wish I wasn’t feeling now.
Nick’s eyes flick over me, taking in the robe, the flush still high on my cheeks. “We need to talk.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“I know.” His jaw tightens. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
I open the door wider, enough to cross my arms and block the frame. “Then say what you came to say.”
