Craving Three Daddies To Hurt My Ex

Bringing All three men home

ISABEL

The drive to the penthouse feels like I'm hurtling towards my own destruction or my rebirth. I can't decide which.

My hands are steady on the wheel now, the whiskey from the bar creating a pleasant buzz that dulls the edges of my pain without clouding my judgment. Behind me, the black Range Rover follows at a respectful distance, three strangers who've agreed to help me plan the most spectacular revenge of my life.

Three strangers who are about to see me at my most vulnerable and most powerful simultaneously.

I pull into the underground garage, my designated spot feeling like a throne tonight instead of a prison. The Range Rover glides into the guest parking lot, and for a heartbeat, we all just sit there in our respective vehicles, the weight of what we're about to do settling over us like a blanket.

My phone shows Leo's location, he's fifteen minutes out, probably driving back from that hotel room smelling like cheap perfume and cheaper lies.

Perfect timing.

I step out of my car, and the three men emerge from theirs like panthers, graceful, dangerous, and impossibly beautiful in the dim garage lighting.

Ares reaches me first, those green eyes searching my face. "Last chance to change your mind. We can turn around right now, and no one will think less of you."

"I'm not changing my mind," I say firmly. My voice doesn't shake, and I'm proud of that.

Marco approaches, his grey eyes intense. "When he gets here, things might get ugly. He might try to hurt you."

"Let him try," Harvey says from behind them, his voice like gravel and smoke. "I'd welcome the excuse."

The protective fury in his tone sends a thrill through me that pools hot and liquid between my thighs. For three years, I've had to manage Leo's moods, reduce his violence, and make myself small to avoid his wrath. The idea of someone else standing between me and his anger feels revolutionary.

"He'll be here in twelve minutes," I say, checking my phone. "We should go up."

They follow me to the elevator, surrounding me like a protective detail. In the enclosed space, I'm hyperaware of them, the heat of their bodies, the subtle scents of expensive cologne mixed with pure masculine musk, the way they're all carefully not touching me but staying close enough that I feel claimed anyway.

The elevator opens directly into my penthouse. Leo insisted on it for privacy, and right now I'm grateful because no neighbors to hear what's about to happen.

I step into the space that's been my prison for three years, and suddenly it looks different. The sleek modern furniture that Leo chose, the sterile white walls, the complete absence of anything that reflects my personality, it's not my home. It never was but tonight, I'm taking it back.

"Nice place," Ares comments, moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the glittering city. "Very... minimalist."

"Very Leo," I correct. "I wanted color, warmth, and life. He wanted to look like a magazine spread."

"What do you want it to look like after tonight?" Marco asks, and I understand he's not just talking about the décor.

"Like mine," I say simply. "Like it belongs to someone who actually lives here instead of just existing."

Harvey has been silent, but now he speaks. "Where?"

I know what he's asking. Where do I want this to happen? Where do I want Leo to find us?

"The bedroom," I decided. "Our bedroom. I want him to see me in our bed the way I saw him in that hotel suite."

The three men exchange one of those wordless looks that I'm starting to recognize, silent communication born from years of friendship.

"Then let's set the stage," Ares says, and his voice has dropped an octave, taken on a darker edge that makes my p***y clench.

I lead them through the living room, past the kitchen I barely use, down the hallway to the master suite. The bed is made with military precision because I made it this morning, hoping Leo would notice the effort.

Now I'm glad it looks perfect. I want him to see exactly what he's losing on our pristine white sheets.

"How do you want to do this?" Marco asks, his grey eyes dark as they sweep over me, lingering on my breasts, my hips, and the curves Leo called "too much" when he wanted me to feel inadequate. "How do you want him to find us?"

The question sends heat pooling low in my belly, my n*****s tightening against the fabric of my dress. I've been operating on pure adrenaline and rage, but now the reality of what I've proposed hits me.

I'm about to get into bed with three men I met hours ago. I'm about to let them touch me, kiss me, and f**k me, all so my husband walks in and feels a fraction of the humiliation he's put me through.

"I don't know," I admit, my voice smaller than I'd like. "I've never... I don't know how to..."

"Hey." Ares is suddenly in front of me, his hands gentle on my shoulders. "You're in control here. Complete control. We do exactly what you're comfortable with and nothing more."

"What if I want more?" The words slip out before I can stop them, breathy and desperate.

The air in the room changes instantly, charging with electricity. I see desire flare hot in three sets of eyes.

"Then we give you more," Harvey says, his rough voice sending shivers down my spine and moisture gathering between my thighs. "But you set the pace. You say when, how much, and how far."

"Eight minutes," Marco announces, checking his watch. "We need to decide."

My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, and I can feel it pulsing in my c**t. This is it. The point of no return.

"I want him to see me surrounded by all three of you," I say, the words coming faster now. "I want it to look like I'm having the time of my life. Like he never mattered, and like I've already moved on."

"And touching?" Ares asks gently, his thumb stroking my collarbone in a way that makes me shiver. "How much touching are you comfortable with?"

I think about Leo's face in that hotel room. The casual cruelty, the way he didn't even stop when I walked in. He just kept thrusting into that blonde like I was nothing.

"Everything," I whisper, my p***y clenching at the thought. "I want everything. I want him to see exactly what he threw away."

"f**k," Ares breathes, and I see his c**k already hardening in his pants, the outline visible against the expensive fabric.

"Are you sure?" Marco presses, though his grey eyes are nearly black with desire. "Because once we start—"

"I'm sure," I interrupt. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Harvey moves closer, and suddenly I'm surrounded by all three of them, drowning in testosterone and heat and the promise of pleasure. "Then let's give you what you need."

"Six minutes," Marco says. "We need to move."

They spring into action with the efficiency of men used to working together. Ares dims the lights to something softer, more intimate, Harvey pulls back the pristine white comforter while Marco moves to lock the front door, we want Leo to use his key, to walk in without warning, and I stand in the middle of my bedroom, watching three beautiful men prepare to help me destroy my marriage, and what excites me is that my panties already soaked with anticipation.

"The dress," Ares says, turning to face me. His eyes rake over my body like a physical touch. "Do you want to keep it on or...?"

I look down at the red dress I bought to make my husband desire me. The dress I wore to our anniversary dinner where he never showed. The dress I wore when I caught him f*****g another woman.

"Off," I decided. "I want it off. Now."

Ares approaches slowly, predatory, giving me time to change my mind. His fingers find the zipper at my back, lowering it with agonizing slowness. The fabric whispers as it falls away, falling at my feet in a thud.

I'm left standing in black lace, a matching bra and panty set that I wore hoping Leo would see them tonight. The panties are already damp, evidence of my arousal visible through the delicate fabric.

Instead, three pairs of eyes devour me.

"Jesus f*****g Christ," Harvey mutters, and I see him adjusting himself through his pants, his c**k clearly straining against the fabric.

"You're stunning," Marco says, his voice rough with barely controlled lust. "Absolutely f*****g stunning."

"Four minutes," Ares warns, but he's staring at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, his hand moving unconsciously to palm his erection.

"Then stop wasting time," I say, surprised by the boldness in my own voice, by the way my n*****s are peaked and visible through the lace, by how wet I am already.

I climb onto the bed, Leo's bed, our bed, the bed where I've spent three years being made to feel inadequate, and I recline against the pillows like a queen on her throne, my thighs falling open slightly with an invitation.

The three men arrange themselves around me without needing discussion. Ares stretches out on my left, propped up on one elbow, his hand immediately landing on my bare stomach. Harvey takes my right, his larger frame making the king-sized bed suddenly feel smaller, his palm hot against my thigh. Marco positions himself at the foot of the bed, his grey eyes locked on the wet spot visible through my lace panties.

"Two minutes," Marco says quietly, his voice strained. "He's in the garage."

My heart rate spikes, adrenaline and arousal flooding my system in equal measure. This is happening. This is really happening.

"Isabel," Ares says softly, drawing my attention. "You're shaking. We can still—"

"Don't stop," I interrupt, my voice breathy with need. "Whatever happens when he gets here, don't stop. Promise me."

"We promise," Harvey rumbles from my other side, his hand sliding higher on my thigh, so close to where I'm aching for touch.

I hear it then, the elevator, the mechanical whir of it ascending to our private floor.

"Showtime," Marco murmurs, his hands wrapping around my ankles.

Ares leans in, his lips hovering over mine. "May I?"

I nod, unable to speak, and then his mouth is on mine.

The kiss starts gentle, questioning, and careful, but I don't want gentle, I want Leo to walk in and see me consumed by passion, see me being f****d by men who actually want me.

So I kiss Ares harder, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, my tongue demanding entrance.

He responds immediately, the kiss turning hungry, and desperate. His tongue invades my mouth and I surrender completely, tasting whiskey and mint and pure masculine desire. His hand slides up from my stomach to cup my breast through the lace, thumb brushing over my n****e in a way that makes me moan into his mouth.

Harvey's hand slides higher, finally reaching the apex of my thighs. His fingers press against my panties, feeling the wetness there, and he groans.

"So f*****g wet already," he mutters. "Christ, you're soaked through."

I am. I'm dripping, my p***y clenching around nothing, and desperate to be filled.

Marco's hands wrap around my ankles, and I feel him slowly, reverently, sliding his palms up my calves, over my knees, and spreading my thighs wider apart.

I'm drowning in sensation as Ares's mouth is on mine, his hand kneading my breast, Harvey's fingers pressing against my soaked panties, Marco's hands spreading me open like an offering.

I hear the elevator ding in the distance, and footsteps in the hallway.

"Isabel?" Leo's voice calls out. He sounds annoyed, not concerned. Of course he does.

Ares breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down my jaw to my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point and I gasp, arching into the sensation. His hand slides inside my bra, fingers pinching my n****e, and pleasure shoots straight to my c**t.

Harvey hooks his finger in the side of my panties, pulling the fabric aside, and then his thick finger is sliding through my folds, gathering my wetness. The touch sends electricity through my entire body.

"So wet, so ready," he mutters appreciatively, circling my c**t with just enough pressure to make me squirm. "f*****g perfect."

Marco's hands reach my thighs now, pushing them even wider apart. He leans forward, and I feel his hot breath against my inner thigh, making me shiver with anticipation.

The footsteps get closer.

"Isabel, where the hell are you? I need to talk to you about—"

Leo appears in the bedroom doorway and stops dead.

For a frozen moment, nobody moves. Nobody breathes. I can see the exact second his brain catches up to what his eyes are seeing.

His wife in the bed with three men. Ares's mouth on my neck, his hand inside my bra. Harvey's fingers in my panties, touching my p***y. Marco positioned between my spread thighs, his face inches from my core.

"What the f**k?"