Kyla

Two years later

Writing my own screenplays was one of the hardest yet most satisfying things I’d ever done. 

The first one poured out of me like water. We funded the movie ourselves, filmed it at Rainforest Resort, and cast April in the lead role. It turned out that Martin Lewinski, the owner of the resort, was in a three-way relationship with his wife and her husband, and was happy to let us film there for free, on the condition that we help him repair the resort to its former glory. We agreed and within months, everything looked beautiful and new again. The movie won awards and received a limited screening around the world, that snowballed into a bigger release as word-of-mouth spread. 

But the second screenplay? That was harder, and it took me a while to figure out the routine that worked for me. The hours had a habit of slipping away when I was with the guys, especially when we were naked, so I discovered that I was most productive in the mornings while they slept. 

I’d wake early, make myself a coffee and something warm to eat, pull on my most comfortable bathrobe, and wander down to the studio that sat on the edge of our property. I’d switch on the computer, arrange my notes, and then… 

Nothing. 

It made no sense. I’d been a reader all my life, and I’d written an award-winning screenplay, so why was the blank screen suddenly so intimidating? I’d write a few lines, imagine them being performed, and delete them. I’d write something else and do the same thing, and then scroll through the internet looking for inspiration and finding nothing. 

And then I’d return to the house, feeling a tiny bit worse each day. 

“How was today’s writing session?” Dean asked, as he fed our dog — yes, we had a dog now, a golden retriever named Lucky — strips of bacon under the dining table. 

“The bacon’s for you, not the dog,” Isaac scolded, which made Olly giggle and bounce in his high chair. I scooped Olly up and gave him a cuddle. 

“Not great,” I admitted. “I’ve got nothing.”

The men had set four places at the table even though I’d already eaten, and I sat next to Wyatt and helped myself to one of the apples from our fruit bowl. 

“That can’t be true, Miss I’ve-read-every-book-in-the-library,” Isaac said. “Your brain must be overflowing with ideas.” 

“Nope.” I bit into the apple. It was crisp and juicy, just the way I liked them, and Olly reached for it with his tiny fingers. “My imagination’s as blank as Dean’s short-term memory.” 

Dean paused while lowering another slice of bacon within biting distance of Lucky, whose tail wagged with anticipation. 

“Who what now?” 

“You heard me.” I gave him a wink while reaching across to salvage the last piece of bacon from his plate before it could become dog food. 

“Why don’t you write another story about a relationship like ours?” Isaac suggested. “You don’t see many of those around.” 

I pulled a face. 

“I don’t want to become too predictable, you know? Like, I don’t want this to become the only thing I’m known for.” I sighed. “But you three have spoiled monogamous relationships for me now. Even fictional onces.”

“Glad to be of service.” Wyatt grinned and gave me a salute. “But is that a bad thing? If it makes you happy…?”

I chewed a bite of apple while I thought about it. 

“I don’t know.”

A big part of why I liked reading fiction books was that they weren’t true. For me, reading had always been about escaping reality. But what if my reality wasn’t something that I needed to escape from anymore? 

“Maybe you guys could give me some inspiration,” I said with a yawn. “You know, spark some ideas.” 

Their expressions told me that they loved that idea. We moved our plates to the sink where Lucky couldn’t reach them, put Olly down for a post-breakfast nap, and made our way to the bedroom. 

It was my favorite place in the house. Dean had ordered a custom-made bed that filled almost the entire room, giving us plenty of space to do whatever we wanted. I removed my robe and sank into the cushions, naked and ready for them. 

Wyatt kissed me first, climbing on top of me so his whole body covered mine. I wove my fingers through his unruly hair and, not for the first time, felt guilty about moving them to a place so far away from the ocean, where he couldn’t surf. 

But as all three of them kept reminding me, that was why they’d kept Isaac’s mansion in L.A., so we all had a base there for when we needed to attend meetings or auditions, or just escape from winter in June and July. 

Wyatt’s cock stiffened against my abdomen and I reached down to squeeze it through his pajama pants. Dean and Isaac stripped off — Isaac removing his robe and Dean stepping out of his boxer shorts — and lay on either side of me so I was surrounded by men in every direction. When I turned my head right, I kissed Dean, and when I turned my head left, Isaac’s lips were right there, waiting for me. 

Six hands caressed my body, tweaking my nipples, setting off pins and needles in my skin, and making my clit tingle and swell. I lost myself in the sensations of pleasure, forgetting about everything in the outside world. None of that was important right now, not even the barely started screenplay on my laptop. 

Isaac dipped his hand between my legs and played with every part of me he could reach with his wrist squashed under Wyatt’s thigh, brushing his fingers over my clit and soaking wet lips. Dean grabbed my breast and squeezed my nipple until I moaned and forced myself down on Isaac’s fingers, letting them slide inside my pussy. 

Wyatt sat back and peeled his pajama pants off as I rolled on my left side to kiss Isaac, and I felt Dean’s fingertips brushing over my ass cheeks, massaging the fleshy skin before dipping between them to rub the outside of my asshole. 

“Come here,” I ordered, gesturing for Wyatt to move up to my head. He walked on his knees and kneeled close enough for me to grab his cock in my fist and thread it into my mouth. 

After all this time together, I still wasn’t sick of being stimulated by three men at once. 

I didn’t think I could ever get sick of it. 

Which was lucky, because not only did we have a son together, and a production company, but I’d also found the diamond rings that they’d hidden in Isaac’s suitcase, which he’d packed ready to take to L.A. this weekend. 

I wasn’t snooping, I swear — our suitcases were identical, and I’d thought it was mine. I’d only partially opened it to poke my hand inside and feel whether I’d packed enough socks. When my hand closed over a small jewelry box, I unzipped the suitcase all the way to see what it was. 

The ring was gorgeous, as were the other two beneath it. All three had gold bands and embedded diamonds, and I could see just by looking at them how they would interlock on my ring finger. 

Maybe that discovery had made me extra horny today, because my orgasm came quickly. Dean and Isaac seemed to work together to increase the pressure on my most sensitive parts simultaneously, and my breathing grew ragged around Wyatt’s cock. My clit strained against Isaac’s finger, ready to burst, and I heard myself moan as I seemed to rise a few inches above my body, the intense pleasure making me weightless. 

I flopped on the bed with my eyes closed, well and truly at peace with the world. 

But the guys weren’t finished with me yet. Isaac steered me toward the edge of the bed so I was on my hands and knees, with my ass exposed. He stood behind me, holding my hips with a firm grip and brushing the tip of his cock over my wetness. 

“Are you ready for me, babe?” he breathed, and I moaned in response as he penetrated me, fucking me with a slow, steady rhythm while Dean took Wyatt’s place in my mouth. They coordinated their movements, so they were both plunging into me at the same time, so I stayed where I was instead of swaying from one to the other. 

We were so well-practiced at this that when Isaac finally exploded in my pussy, Wyatt was ready to take his place. My breasts shuddered with every thrust and I flicked my tongue around the base of Dean’s cock, no longer intimidated by his size. When I reached up to massage his balls with one hand, both men had reached their limit. 

They came at the same time, both of them pumping me full of hot white cum. I swallowed Dean’s seed as Wyatt ground his cock deep in my pussy, adding to the wetness that was already there from Isaac’s orgasm. I moaned as I crested my own wave of pleasure, glad that our closest neighbors were so far away that they wouldn’t be able to hear us. 

When the aftershocks of pleasure finally abated, Olly was crying. 

My moans really must have been loud. 

“I’ll get him.” Isaac found his robe among our discarded clothes on the floor and left the bedroom. 

“Do you think that will give you inspiration?” Dean asked, and I stared at him for a moment in confusion before I remembered my screenplay. 

“Shit… maybe. Yes, of course.” 

I showered quickly, kissed them, and headed back to my workstation, where I cracked my knuckles and placed my hands over the keyboard, my fingers hovering slightly above the keys. 

The Four-Way Proposal, I typed, before deleting it, centering my body, and reflecting on how I felt right now. My abdomen felt warm, and I still had the faint taste of Dean’s saltiness on my tongue. 

Was today the day we’d conceived Olly’s younger sibling? I didn’t know, but whatever was coming next, I was ready for it. 

I balled my hands into fists, released them, and began to type. 

---

I hope you enjoyed this bonus chapter of Act Three! If you would like to read more of Becca’s books, please click here.