Page 67 of Perfect Convergence

“He won’t,” Oliver whispers.

He doesn’t. But Oliver also shuts the hell up, which is probably best for his ass cheeks.

Wren moans when I go harder. I can’t help it. The sight of Rhett fucking Oliver is too hot.

Rhett comes first, which is no surprise considering how long he fucked Wren’s mouth for.

“Oliver,” he grits out, grabbing onto his hips. As his thrusts die off, his eyes slide closed, and his head drops to his chest.

For a minute he stays like that, working to regain his composure. Oliver tries to look back at him, but he really can’t with his head pressed into the mattress, so he watches Wren instead.

That is, until Rhett pulls out and flips Oliver onto his back. He’s on him in a split second, kissing Oliver like he’ll die if he doesn’t. Then, standing, he grabs Oliver’s legs and yanks him to the edge of the bed.

As Rhett lowers himself to his knees, I freeze. It’s not often that he puts himself in this position, kneeling for someone. It’s too vulnerable for him, reminds him too much of things he’d prefer to never remember.

The same thoughts must be going through Oliver’s head, because he’s sitting up and shaking his head. “You don’t have to—”

Rhett cuts him a sharp look. “Do you want to finish or not?”

That shuts Oliver right up. His eyes roll into the back of his head when Rhett fists the base of his cock, licking it before taking it into his mouth.

I groan at the sight. And then I remember that I’m still inside of Wren. When I turn, she’s smiling up at me patiently, probably grateful for the chance to catch her breath.

I pick up my pace again, pressing my fingers into her walls as well. Her breasts bounce every time I slam into her, and her eyes turn foggy. She’s drowning in the sensations, in the emotions, in all of us.

When I press my thumb to her clit, she comes undone almost immediately. Her back arches as her hips jerk, trying to find relief from my touch.

“Too sensitive,” she cries.

I pull my hand away, and she groans in relief, sagging into the bed. She’s well and truly used up and limp, just like Rhett promised she would be.

“Eight,” I say, but I’m not sure she hears me.

From there, it doesn’t take long before I come again. It hits me so hard that all I want to do is collapse onto the bed on the other side of Wren. But I need to get her out of the ropes first. So after I give myself enough time that I can see straight again, I sit on the bed, pulling her up.

When her hands are free, she rolls her shoulders and wrists, beaming at me. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” I kiss her lightly.

“Fuck. Fuck, Rhett.” Oliver throws his head back as he finishes in Rhett’s mouth, gripping the blankets. Rhett swallows every drop of cum Oliver gives him, licking his lips when he’s done. Before he stands, he presses a kiss to Oliver’s thigh.

The four of us look at each other, breathless and dazed. That was... well, I think Wren sums it up the best when she says, “Holy fuck.”

Oliver snickers. “If you think a single thing we just did was holy, we did something wrong.”

She’s too tired to laugh, but she smiles. “If it sends me to hell, I’ll go gladly.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

OLIVER

AFTER WE SAY goodnight, Elliot takes Wren into his shower, and I drag Rhett into mine. He washes me silently. Tenderly. I don’t know how he’s managing this much vulnerability without getting all tense and awkward, but I don’t care. I’m just grateful we’re back to being okay.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” I ask as we dry off.

“I think so. You all wore me out.”

After hanging up my towel, I start to leave the bathroom, but he grabs my arm. His towel is knotted around his waist.

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