Chapter 205 Epilogue Elena POV

Chapter 205 Epilogue Elena POV
Just when you think life has finally settled, when everything feels peaceful for once, life throws another curveball straight at your head.

Liam asked for a divorce.

After eleven years of marriage, after everything we built together, it all came down to his insecurities. Suddenly he couldn’t handle co-parenting with Ivan and Mason anymore. All of a sudden everything became too much for him.

The worst part?

He never said a word.

Not when he started feeling overwhelmed. Not when resentment started building inside him. Not when he realized he couldn’t handle it anymore. He simply woke up one day, told me he was done, and walked away.

Then the papers came.

Now I’m forty-three, divorced again, with five children from three different fathers.

What a fucking failure.

Sometimes I think I should have never married at all. Never had kids. Just stayed alone like I originally planned to. Lived quietly. Peacefully.

But then I look at my children and those thoughts disappear almost instantly.

Constantine took two years off after graduation, and now he’s in the military. Intelligence, of course. He’s too smart for his own good and far too much like his father. The silence came back to him slowly, creeping in when none of us noticed. He only speaks to a select few people now, locked away inside his own head most days.

Katia and Catori are in high school already. Somehow. They’ve already chosen the design school they want to attend in two years. Most afternoons after school, they sit together sketching clothes for the fashion line their aunts are desperate to fund.

Then there are my boys.

At least Liam didn’t try to take them away from me.

“You’re a good mother,” he said, like that somehow softened the blow of our marriage ending.

Like a compliment could function as a bandage over eleven years.

Like those words could stitch together everything he tore apart.

“It’s not even noon yet.”

Ivan’s deep velvet voice slides over me like smoke.

I barely glance at him while taking another slow sip of wine.

The morning sun spills across the balcony in warm gold, almost blinding against the glass railing. I’m wrapped in a cashmere blanket, curled into the oversized chair with a nearly empty bottle of wine beside me and the signed divorce papers spread across the table like evidence of failure.

Ivan bends to pick up the bottle.

“Damn, baby,” he mutters, studying the label. “This is vintage.”

Then his eyes lift to me.

Really look at me.

The smeared mascara. The trembling mouth. The tears I’m trying so hard not to let fall.

“Are we celebrating or mourning, dushichka?”

“Fuck you,” I whisper, voice cracking apart.

The tears come anyway.

His expression changes instantly.

Ivan takes the wine glass from my hand before curling his fingers around my wrists and pulling me up so quickly the chair nearly tips backward. The blanket slips from my shoulders and pools around my feet.

I collide against his chest.

Hard.

Warm.

Solid.

And my body betrays me immediately.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how much damage he’s done to me, my body still knows him.

Still melts for him.

Citrus. Tobacco. Leather.

His scent floods my senses until it becomes impossible to think clearly.

“Asshole,” Mason mutters from the doorway. “You were supposed to wait for me.”

I blink, confused, looking between them.

Mason walks toward us slowly, his gaze dragging over my body with enough heat to make my stomach tighten painfully.

And suddenly every old feeling I buried claws violently back to life.

What the fuck are these two doing?

“It’s just sex,” Ivan whispers softly near my mouth while Mason’s lips brush the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

My breath catches.

Ivan’s mouth barely touches mine. Just enough pressure to make my entire body ache for more.

Being trapped between them in their stupid boner sandwich peels something open inside me. A layer I didn’t realize existed until now. Like a wall I’d built over years suddenly cracking apart.

Overwhelming.

Like something inside me is splitting open after years of being locked away.

My skin hums beneath their hands.

My pulse turns frantic.

My entire body hums in their arms.

Alive.

Young.

Wild.

Reckless.

That’s the terrifying part.

I feel alive again.

Mason turns me slowly until I’m facing him, his fingers already tugging at the tie of my robe. Behind me, Ivan’s hands slide down my hips possessively.

“It’s more than sex. No more lies,” Mason says breathlessly, his forehead resting against mine while he struggles to steady his breathing.

Then he reaches blindly behind me and grabs Ivan by the jaw.

Their mouths crash together.

Slow at first.

Then filthy.

Tongues sliding together while I stand there trapped between them watching.

Heat rushes straight between my thighs so violently I nearly whimper.

It’s unbearably intimate.

Sensual in a way that makes my entire body throb.

“Would you two like a room?” I ask breathlessly because they’ve already started grabbing at each other.

They pull apart slowly.

Both of them look at me.

And the tension in the room becomes suffocating.

Heavy.

Hot.

Electric.

Then suddenly—

Snap.

Mason lifts me clean off the floor and throws me over his shoulder like some caveman while I gasp in surprise. Ivan follows behind us with a slow grin as Mason carries me through the living room and up the stairs.

Every step sends another rush of anticipation through me.

Mason sets me down gently in front of the bed. He sits first, already pulling his shirt over his head while I stand there frozen.

I should stop this.

I should ask them what the hell they think they’re doing.

What the hell we’re doing.

But whatever they awakened inside me doesn’t care.

That part of me only wants to forget.

Forget Liam.

Forget the divorce.

Forget the ruined life sitting downstairs on the balcony beside an empty wine bottle.

Ivan moves behind me, untying my robe fully and letting it slide to the floor. His knuckles drag lightly down my spine as the fabric slides from my shoulders and pools at my feet.

Mason groans softly at the sight of my lingerie.

Black lace. Silk ribbons. Thin straps barely holding me together.

Every year I still fly to Spain and spend an absurd amount of money on lace and satin because it’s the one thing that always reminds me I’m still desirable.

Even in my forties, beautiful lingerie still makes me feel powerful.

Ivan rolls my stockings down my thighs slowly while Mason reaches behind me and unhooks my bra with practiced ease.

Cool air kisses my skin.

I squeeze my thighs together instinctively, trying to stop the wetness already spreading between them.

It’s useless.

I’m already dripping.

Mason’s fingers slide inside me immediately.

“Fuck,” he groans against my mouth. “I missed you like this.”

His fingers curl deep inside me slowly, deliberately, stretching me open while Ivan presses fully against my back.

The heat of him surrounds me completely.

“I’m convinced you’re either a succubus or a vampire,” Ivan whispers into my neck. “There’s no fucking way you should still look like this. It’s not fair.”

“Like a siren,” Mason mutters. “You call to us and we keep drowning willingly.”

I want to say something clever back.

But words won’t form.

Not when their hands and mouths are pulling every thought out of me.

Their hands move over me like they remember every inch by heart.

And maybe they do.

Mason lifts me into his lap effortlessly. My legs wrap around him instinctively, like they’ve belonged there since I was eighteen years old.

We both groan softly at the feeling while Ivan stays pressed firmly against my back, one hand sliding over my stomach while the other grips my hip possessively.

There’s something about the closeness between them that drives me insane.

Something about the way they touch each other while touching me.

Mason leans back against the bed while Ivan spits into his hand behind me, stroking himself slowly.

I don’t even need to look.

I know exactly what he’s doing.

Then he leans closer and slides inside me.

The stretch steals the breath from my lungs.

Pain and pleasure collide instantly.

Slow.

Deep.

Deliberate.

Every thrust drags another sound from my throat.

Mason’s hands guide my hips while Ivan keeps me pinned against his chest, both of them moving together until my thoughts completely dissolve.

Moans fill the room.

Wet skin against skin.

Heavy breathing.

The filthy sound of them moving inside me.

Messy.

Desperate.

Controlled chaos.

Ivan’s teeth graze my shoulder before sinking in softly.

“Come for me, little vixen,” he whispers.

My body shatters instantly.

Everything inside me pulses violently while Mason’s fingers slide over my clit.

And I break apart.

The orgasm tears through me, leaving my entire body trembling helplessly between them while they keep moving through it.

Everything inside me feels molten.

Raw.

Open.

They lower me carefully onto the bed afterward, but even while I touch them back, even while I actively participate, part of me still feels disconnected.

Like I’m floating somewhere above all of this.

Ivan buries his face between my thighs while Mason moves above me, his cock sliding into my mouth.

I still can’t fit all of him.

Never could.

Every thick vein drags across my tongue while they both move against me together.

For one brief moment, I feel complete.

Like maybe we honestly belong in this fucked-up little threesome.

Another orgasm crashes through me so hard my body jerks violently against the sheets.

“That’s a good girl,” Mason groans while trying to catch his breath.

Then they switch places again.

My nerves feel electric.

Every inch of me trembling and oversensitive.

Another orgasm hits before I can even recover from the last one.

Afterward they pull back, both stroking themselves while staring at me with dark hungry eyes.

Then they reach for each other again.

I open my mouth instinctively.

“Don’t swallow,” Ivan says.

My eyes widen because I know exactly what he wants.

I lay there obediently, mouth open, tongue out, watching them stroke each other while their bodies press together above me.

“Fuck,” they groan together.

Warmth fills my mouth, spilling at the corners while Mason pulls me upward so they can both kiss me at once, stealing everything back from my tongue.

We collapse afterward in a sweaty tangled mess of limbs and ruined sheets.

Finally, I manage to speak.

“What the fuck?”

Ivan drags a hand over his face before looking at me seriously.

“I’m tired of empty sex,” he admits quietly. “You’re the only woman who’s ever made me feel anything.”

I turn toward Mason.

His hazel eyes are already fixed on mine.

“I’m never going to love anyone the way I love you,” he says softly. “I tried. I can’t.”

I stare up at the ceiling, exhausted and overwhelmed, my body covered in sweat while the sheets cling to my skin.

“I am way too old and tired for this shit,” I mutter.

Both men immediately move closer again.

Ivan on one side.

Mason on the other.

Their mouths trail over my neck while their hands slide over my stomach.

Then their fingers move inside me together.

“We work too well together,” Ivan murmurs against my skin.

“Nothing else has to change,” Mason whispers.

But deep down, I already know the truth.

They just changed everything.

And somehow…

I don’t even care anymore.

Some love stories don’t end. They consume everything in their path until there’s nothing left but each other.

THE END.