Page 70 of Christmas with Three Firemen

The feeling of all three of them is overwhelming—Mateo filling my pussy, Wes in my mouth, Grant’s hands and mouth everywhere. I moan loudly around Wes and rock my hips faster.

Grant’s hand suddenly slides up to my throat. He applies light pressure, just enough to make my head feel floaty.

“Quiet,” he warns, voice low and rough against my ear.

I shake my head, moaning softly around Wes.

Mateo reaches between us and starts rubbing my clit while I ride him. “That’s it, baby. Ride my cock just like that. You look so pretty taking me.”

I’m already close. Wes spanks my ass hard, the sharp sound echoing in the bay. I cry out around his cock and he pulls out just long enough for Grant to warn me again.

“Be quiet,” Grant says, spanking me harder. “Or I’ll have to gag that pretty mouth too.”

Wes slides back into my mouth. I’m dripping down Mateo’s cock. Grant keeps one hand around my throat, the other spanking me in sharp, stinging slaps every time I moan too loudly.

I pull off Wes for a second, gasping. “Please… I need more. I want all of you inside me.”

Grant’s hand tightens slightly on my throat. “You’ll get it. But first…”

He reaches for the spare string of Christmas lights coiled on a nearby shelf and wraps the flexible wire around my wrists, tying them behind my back. The small bulbs press into my skin.

“Now you’re ours,” he says, voice low and rough, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

He sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap so I’m facing him. I sink down onto his cock with a broken sound. Mateo is already behind me, one hand on my hip, the other working two slick fingers into my ass with patient pressure.

Wes stays in front of me, watching. He doesn’t speak. He just cups my jaw, tilts my face up, and waits until my eyes find his. Only then does he feed his cock into my mouth—slow, exact, the way he does everything.

Mateo’s voice is warm against my ear even while he’s stretching me open. “That’s it, pretty girl. Breathe for me. You’re taking him so well already. Look at you, all tied up in Christmas lights like a present we’re unwrapping.”

Grant’s hand tightens at my throat—not hard, just present. His eyes never leave mine. “Quiet,” he says when I moan too loudly around Wes. “Or I’ll gag you myself.”

When Mateo finally pushes into my ass, the stretch is sharp. Grant holds still inside me, giving me something solid. Wes’s hand stays gentle in my hair, guiding but never forcing.

They find a rhythm that has nothing careful about it—Grant thrusting up hard, Mateo matching him from behind, Wes using my mouth with that same quiet intensity. The lights dig into my wrists every time I jerk.

Grant’s control frays first. His voice comes out almost involuntary. “Fuck—look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

I come shaking between them, bound and full. Grant follows with a low, punched-out sound, like something finally broke loose. Mateo laughs softly against my neck as he finishes, the sound affectionate even now. Wes pulls free and paints my throat and chest in silence, eyes never leaving my face.

We stay tangled together afterward. I’m in the middle on the couch. Wes on one side, solid and warm. Mateo on the other, arm draped across me. Grant sits on the floor with his back against the couch, head resting against my knee. My hand is in his hair. I do not remember putting it there, but I do not move it.

The candles have burned low. The generator hums under the floor. Outside the frosted windows, the brownstones keep their small battery-lit vigil, glowing stubbornly in the dark.

Nobody speaks. There is no need to.

I lie in the middle of the three of them.

Grant’s head is heavy against my knee. Wes’s breathing goes slow and even. Mateo murmurs something soft against my shoulder. I close my eyes.

I stay.

Chapter twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-One: Noelle

The city has stopped pretending it has streets.

I ride out in the battalion SUV behind Engine 23, authorized, credentialed, a laminated fact hanging around my neck, because that’s what I am now, the investigator attached to a live pattern, and every structure fire in this district is potentially my arsonist until proven otherwise.