Chapter 6: The Breaking Point

Bella’s POV

The room turns into a live wire the second Nico sees us.

Victor stands in front of me—still fully dressed except for the open fly he never bothered to zip back up, cock half-hard and glistening. I’m curled on the sectional, knees drawn to my chest, naked, skin flushed and marked, thighs slick with both of them. The air reeks of sex, rain, and rage.

Nico’s gun is already raised—black steel steady, barrel trained center-mass on Victor’s chest.

Victor doesn’t flinch.

He just smiles. Slow. Taunting.

“You’re late, Romano,” he says. Voice velvet over broken glass. “She already came twice more since you left. Screamed my name the second time.”

Nico’s finger twitches on the trigger.

I surge forward—naked, desperate—placing myself between the barrel and Victor’s heart.

“Stop.”

Nico’s eyes snap to me. Wild. Betrayed. Devastated.

“You’re protecting him?” The word cracks. “After everything?”

“I’m protecting both of you,” I say. Voice shaking. “Put the gun down, Nico. Please.”

For a long, agonizing second, he doesn’t move. Then—slowly—he lowers the weapon. Doesn’t holster it. Just lets it hang at his side like he’s still deciding.

Victor steps forward. Places a hand on my bare shoulder—possessive. Claiming.

Nico’s gaze tracks the touch like it’s a fresh wound.

“You broke into my safe house,” Nico says. Low. Lethal. “You fucked her on my couch. In my shirt she was wearing when I left her.”

Victor’s thumb strokes my collarbone. “Your safe house is on my property. Your shirt was on my woman. And she was dripping me when I walked in.”

Nico takes one step closer. Gun still in hand.

“She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours either,” Victor counters. “Not exclusively. Not anymore.”

The words land like punches.

I feel them both staring at me—waiting for denial. For choice. For anything.

I have nothing.

Because they’re right.

I’m not exclusive to either of them. Not after last night. Not after this morning. Not after the way my body responded to both of them like it was starving.

Nico’s jaw clenches so hard I hear teeth grind.

“Then what is she?” he asks. Voice raw. “Your whore? My whore? Or just the prize you two keep fighting over until one of you puts a bullet in the other?”

Victor’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “She’s the woman we both love. And she’s done pretending she only wants one.”

Nico laughs—short, bitter, dangerous.

“You think love fixes this?” He gestures at the room—at me, naked and trembling between them. “You think she can fuck us both and we just… share?”

Victor’s eyes never leave Nico’s. “I think she already has. And I think you liked knowing I was tasting what you left inside her.”

Nico’s nostrils flare.

Then—suddenly—he moves.

Not toward Victor.

Toward me.

He crosses the space in two strides. Grabs my wrist. Pulls me against his chest. Hard.

His free hand fists in my hair. Tilts my head back.

And kisses me.

Brutal. Desperate. Claiming.

Tongue invading. Teeth nipping. Tasting Victor on my lips and not caring.

I moan into his mouth—helpless.

When he breaks the kiss, his forehead rests against mine.

“You still taste like him,” he whispers. Voice wrecked.

I nod. Tears slip free.

He looks over my shoulder at Victor.

“You want to share?” Nico says. “Then watch.”

He spins me around—my back to his chest now. One arm bands across my breasts. The other slides down my stomach. Between my legs.

Fingers part me—exposing me completely to Victor’s gaze.

I’m soaked. Swollen. Still leaking them both.

Nico’s fingers circle my clit—slow. Teasing.

Victor watches. Eyes dark. Breathing heavier.

Nico’s mouth finds my ear.

“Tell him,” he growls. “Tell him how wet you are right now.”

I whimper. “I’m wet.”

“Louder.”

“I’m so fucking wet,” I gasp.

Nico slides two fingers inside me—curling. Pumping. The wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.

Victor takes one step closer. Then another.

His hand replaces Nico’s on my breast. Pinches the nipple. Rolls it.

I arch between them.

Nico adds a third finger. Stretches me.

Victor leans in. Kisses my throat. Bites. Soothes with tongue.

Then—together—they move me.

Nico walks us backward until my calves hit the sectional again. He sits. Pulls me down onto his lap—facing Victor.

Nico’s cock is already hard against my ass. He shifts. Notches himself at my entrance from behind.

Victor drops to his knees between my spread thighs.

Nico thrusts up—slow. Deep. Filling me from behind.

I cry out.

Victor’s mouth finds my clit.

He licks while Nico fucks me—slow, steady strokes from below.

The dual sensation is overwhelming.

Victor’s tongue circles. Sucks. Nico’s cock drags against every sensitive spot inside.

I’m shaking. Moaning. Begging.

Nico’s hand wraps around my throat—not choking. Just holding. Possessive.

Victor’s fingers join his tongue—two sliding in alongside Nico’s cock. Stretching me impossibly.

I scream.

They don’t stop.

Nico thrusts harder. Faster.

Victor sucks harder. Fingers curling.

I come apart—violent, shattering, sobbing their names in broken syllables.

Nico follows—growling against my neck. Flooding me again.

Victor rises. Kisses me through the aftershocks—deep, filthy.

Then he lifts me off Nico. Carries me to the bedroom.

Nico follows.

They lay me on the bed.

Both strip—slow. Deliberate.

Victor climbs over me first. Slides inside—deep. Owns me with long, punishing strokes.

Nico kneels beside my head. Guides his cock to my mouth.

I take him. Suck. Taste myself on him.

They trade places. Again. And again.

Victor in my mouth. Nico inside me.

Nico in my mouth. Victor inside me.

Until I lose count of orgasms. Until my voice is hoarse. Until every muscle trembles.

Finally—when I’m limp, boneless, dripping—they both slide inside me at once.

Not both holes.

Both in my pussy.

Stretching me beyond reason.

I sob. Beg. Claw at their backs.

They move—alternating thrusts. One in while the other pulls out. Then reverse.

Friction. Fullness. Overload.

Victor comes first—deep inside. Growling my name.

Nico follows seconds later—adding to the flood.

They collapse on either side of me.

Sweaty. Spent. Breathing hard.

For a long moment—no one speaks.

Then Nico’s hand finds mine. Laces our fingers.

Victor’s hand covers both of ours.

No words.

Just the rain.

And the terrifying realization that the choice was never between them.

It was always whether I could survive wanting them both.

And whether they could survive sharing me.