Picture Perfect - Page 176

“Look at you,” Dre groans, finding a steady rhythm that has us moving together. “So beautiful, so fucking tight.”

Each thrust is a surge of sensation that builds upon the last, a crescendo of pleasure that spirals higher and higher. Chess meets my eyes, his gaze intense, steady, grounding me even as Dre’s pace quickens, pushing me closer to the edge.

“Stay with us, Snowflake,” Dre pants, his fingers digging into my skin, marking me as surely as the love bites we’ve left on each other’s skin. His hand comes up to wrap around my throat, his other reaching for Chess’. Chess groans, long and low.

I don’t have words as I’m swept along on the rising tide of ecstasy, anchored by the love of these men who claim every part of me as theirs.

Saint’s lips find mine, a tender contrast to the fervor of Dre and Chess. His kiss is a whisper, a soft touch that speaks of love amid the storm of passion. I melt into the sweetness of his mouth, so light, so caring.

“Beautiful Princess,” Saint murmurs against my lips, his voice a soothing balm as Dre and Chess claim me with a fervency that borders on reverence.

“Saint…” I breathe out, my senses awash in the juxtaposition of gentle kisses and the relentless drive of our bodies joined together. Saint’s hands cradle my face, his thumbs brushing away the hair sticking to my forehead, grounding me as pleasure coils tight within my core.

“Let go, my beautiful wife,” he whispers, encouraging the release building inside me. I cling to him, to the whispered endearments, to the promise held in his dark eyes.

Dre’s rhythm becomes insistent, a tempo that matches the racing of my heart. Chess’s grip on my hips is both an anchor and a call to surrender. And then it happens—my body clenches around them, and I’m soaring, shattering into a million pieces.

“Ah!” My cry is a broken sound, half-lost in the intensity of my climax. Stars explode behind my closed eyelids, bright and fleeting as I teeter on the brink of consciousness.

“Fuck, yes,” Dre groans, his movements stuttering as he reaches his own peak, spilling warmth inside me. Chess follows suit, his own release pulsing within me, a testament to our shared ecstasy.

And then, Saint, ever my constant, spills his seed across my chest, marking me with a visceral claim that intertwines our souls. His groan vibrates through me, a guttural sound that echoes my own pleasure.

“I love you,” I gasp, my voice a threadbare whisper as aftershocks ripple through me. “I love you all.”

Their responses are a symphony of adoration, each one a note that writes itself onto my heart, ensuring I’ll never forget this moment—our perfect union of love and desire.

We collapse onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and breathless sighs, the room still echoing with the remnants of our passion. The cool sheets contrast against our heated skin, offering a gentle reprieve from the intensity that had just consumed us.

“Never,” I pant out, struggling to draw air into my lungs, “never been happier in my life.”

I turn my head, seeking their eyes—Saint’s dark and full of tender warmth, Dre’s ice blue and glinting with satisfaction, Chess’s hazel ones alight with that familiar spark of mischief. They are my heart, split into three, each beat now synced with mine.

“I love you,” I say again, needing them to hear it, to feel it. It’s as necessary as the air I breathe, this declaration, this truth that binds us.

“Love you more, Princess,” Saint murmurs, his curls tickling my forehead as he presses a soft kiss there. His voice is a soothing balm, wrapping around me like a protective shield.

“Always,” Dre chimes in, his words etched with the raw edge of his emotions. He traces a finger down my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Forever,” Chess adds, his smile lazy but his gaze serious, promising eternity in that single word.

Their love washes over me, filling the cracks and crevices of my soul, mending the brokenness that once defined me. With them, I am whole, I am loved, I am home.

“That was only round one,” Dre says, dark eyes glinting with affection and mischief.

My heart swells, so full it might burst. I smile at him, languid and utterly content. “There’s no rush,” I murmur, the weight of their love wrapped around me like the finest velvet. “We have the rest of our lives.”

Chapter seventy-six

Addy

Iblink away the remnants of sleep, the first rays of morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the room. Saint’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his arm draped protectively around my waist. I nestle closer to him, memorizing the feeling of his skin against mine, the reassuring solidity of his presence.

Chess and Dre had wanted some time to themselves last night, so it was just the two of us in here this morning.

“Saint,” I whisper, my voice still thick with slumber.

He stirs, his dark curls a tousled contrast against the white pillowcase. His eyes, those deep wells of unspoken thoughts, open and fix on me. There’s a question in them.