Chapter 3 Getting F^ucked By The Three Brothers

The private suite on the yacht’s lower deck sealed with a quiet, final click, shutting out the distant thump of music from the main deck above and the soft lap of water against the hull. The room was all shadowed luxury—low golden sconces casting warm pools across dark wood paneling, a massive bed draped in crisp white linens and charcoal throws, chilled champagne sweating in silver buckets on a side table. The faint rock of the boat beneath us felt intimate, almost conspiratorial, like the entire vessel was holding its breath.

My skin still hummed from the walk down the corridor—Lucien’s hand steady at the small of my back, Vincent’s fingers brushing mine every few steps, Zane’s quiet presence behind me like a shadow that promised safety and sin in equal measure.

Lucien turned me gently to face him the moment the door latched. His ice-blue eyes were molten now, dark with intent. He didn’t speak—just cupped my jaw with one big hand and kissed me slow, deep, claiming. His tongue stroked mine with lazy possession, tasting of whiskey and want, while his free hand slid down my side, tracing the curve of my waist through the silver dress.

Vincent moved in from the left, lips finding the side of my neck, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver. “Been thinking about this dress all night,” he murmured against my skin, voice rough. “About peeling it off you.”

Zane stepped up on my right, silent but close—his breath warm on my shoulder as his fingers skimmed the thin strap over my collarbone, then tugged it down in one smooth motion.

The dress slid off like liquid, pooling at my feet. I stood in nothing but black lace panties and strappy heels, the cool air of the suite kissing overheated skin. My nipples tightened instantly under their combined stares.

Lucien broke the kiss first, eyes raking down my body. “Fuck, Sarah,” he rasped. “You’re perfect.”

Vincent’s hand cupped my breast, thumb circling the peak until I arched into him with a soft gasp. Zane knelt smoothly in front of me, hands sliding up the backs of my thighs, spreading me just enough to make me tremble.

They didn’t rush.

Zane pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of my thigh—slow, deliberate—then higher, until his breath ghosted over the damp lace. He hooked a finger under the edge and tugged the fabric aside. The first swipe of his tongue—broad, flat, then pointed and circling my clit—drew a broken moan from my throat.

Vincent claimed my mouth then—hungrier than Lucien, teeth nipping my bottom lip, tongue stroking deep while his hand rolled my other nipple between thumb and forefinger. Lucien watched it all, eyes blazing, one hand fisted in my hair to tilt my head back so he could bite a slow path down the side of my neck.

Zane’s mouth never left me—sucking, licking, tongue dipping inside before returning to relentless circles on my clit. My hips rocked shamelessly against his face; he groaned in approval, the vibration sending sparks up my spine.

Lucien pulled back just enough to strip—shirt, belt, pants—cock thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip. He rolled on a condom with practiced ease, then lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed.

He laid me down on my back, spread my thighs wide, and notched himself at my entrance. “Look at me,” he ordered.

I did.

He pushed in—slow, inch by inch, stretching me open until I was gasping, nails digging into his shoulders. The fullness was perfect, overwhelming. He bottomed out with a low groan, hips flush against mine, then started to move—long, controlled strokes that hit deep every time.

Vincent knelt beside my head, pants undone, cock long and curved, glistening. “Open for me, kitten.”

I turned my face, lips parting. He slid inside—salty, hot—filling my mouth as Lucien fucked me below. I sucked greedily, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing while Vincent guided my head with gentle fingers in my hair. “That’s it. Just like that.”

Zane moved to my side, stripping quickly. His hand found my clit—rubbing tight, perfect circles in time with Lucien’s thrusts. The dual sensation—Lucien deep inside me, Zane’s fingers relentless, Vincent’s cock sliding over my tongue—pushed me toward the edge fast.

I came hard—body clenching around Lucien, muffled cries vibrating around Vincent. Stars burst behind my eyes. Lucien didn’t stop—fucked me through it, pace steady, growling my name.

When the aftershocks faded, Lucien pulled out slowly, breathing ragged. “Switch.”

Vincent took his place between my legs—sliding in with one long thrust, groaning at the wet heat. “Fuck, you feel incredible.” His pace was faster, hungrier—hips snapping, one hand pinning my thigh wide while the other teased my nipple.

Lucien moved to my mouth—cock still hard, slick from me. I tasted myself on him as he fed it past my lips, slow and deep. Zane knelt at my side, fingers replacing Vincent’s on my clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles while his mouth closed over my other breast—sucking, teeth grazing.

The rhythm shifted again.

Vincent pulled out after a few minutes, breathing hard. “Zane.”

Zane moved between my thighs—thicker than the others, the stretch making me gasp. He entered slow, letting me feel every inch, then started a deep, rolling pace that hit places I didn’t know existed. His hands gripped my hips, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

Vincent took my mouth next—rougher now, thrusting shallowly while I sucked him eagerly. Lucien’s fingers found my clit—steady, circling—building the pressure again.

I came a second time—harder, walls fluttering wildly around Zane, body shaking. Zane groaned, pace faltering, then pulled out, stroking himself once, twice, spilling across my stomach in hot ropes.

Vincent followed—pulling from my mouth, coming across my breasts with a low curse.

Lucien moved last—flipping me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up, sliding back inside from behind. The new angle had him hitting deep, relentless. His hand wrapped lightly around my throat—not squeezing, just holding—while the other rubbed my clit in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me again,” he growled. “One more time, princess.”

I did—shattering around him, crying out into the sheets. Lucien thrust deep once, twice, then pulled out, coming across my back with a rough groan.

We collapsed in a tangle of limbs—sweaty, breathless, hearts hammering.

They didn’t rush to leave.

Zane lifted me gently, carrying me into the yacht’s private bathroom—marble everywhere, rainfall shower already steaming. Vincent adjusted the temperature while Lucien stripped the last of his clothes.

Under the hot spray, they washed me with reverent care—Zane’s soapy hands gliding over my back and shoulders, Vincent working shampoo through my hair with gentle fingers, Lucien kneeling to rinse between my thighs with careful, thorough touches that made me sigh and lean into him.

Lucien kissed the mark on my shoulder he’d left earlier. “You’re ours tonight,” he murmured.

Vincent pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “And every night you want us.”

Zane wrapped me in a thick towel, drying me slowly, then carried me back to the bed.

They tucked me between them—warm skin, steady heartbeats, arms draped possessively over me.

The yacht rocked gently beneath us.

Sleep came fast, deep, safe.

For the first time in too long, I didn’t feel alone.

I felt claimed.

Cherished.

Utterly, shamelessly wanted.