Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amelia

My rumpled dress slides against the leather of Mother’s Bentley as Wilfred drives us away from my childhood home.

Oliver booked a hotel for us as we waited for the maids to collect our stuff and bring us our bags and suitcases. Now there’s no reason to ever go back there.

I’m somehow still in shock over what just happened. I knew this engagement was my mother’s goal, but I never thought she would orchestrate it like that without my agreement and in such a public way.

They did it publicly because they knew I would never step up against them in front of so many people.

I’m mad at myself for freezing so badly, for not telling them no. I’ve come a long way. I know that. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I’m sitting between Grey and Oliver, with Misha facing us from the other seat of the car. Glancing at each one of them, warmth blooms in my chest.

They did it for me .

Even Oliver, who’s just as shy, stripped his introverted self away to step up for me tonight.

Twice.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes for a second. I haven’t spoken since we left the ballroom, but I know I have to.

Grey squeezes my knee. “You okay, Princess?”

“No,” I answer truthfully but give him a small smile. “Thank you for tonight.” I look at Misha and then at Oliver. “Thank you for not letting them ruin my life.”

“We never would have. You know that, Bug.” Misha says with a sad smile of his own.

“I’m just… I feel bad,” I admit, voicing my regret.

“Why would you feel bad for those fuckers?” Grey asks, his hold on my knee tightening.

“I don’t feel bad for them . I feel bad for me. Somehow, I imagined myself walking out of there with my head held high,” I admit.

“Your arse was pretty high at some point there.” Misha shrugs with a grin tugging at his lips.

“Misha,” Oliver hisses, his brows furrowing in concern as he shoots him a reproachful look.

A laugh bursts out of me, and I can’t stop, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting me.

Grey carried me out of there and slapped my arse in front of London’s upper class.

The others chime in with small chuckles, dissipating the tension in the car.

“I guess that counts as something,” I say when I’m finally able to breathe again. “Also, that was so unnecessary,” I tell Grey with a mock frown.

“Debatable,” he dismisses me easily, his expression impassive but with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Then, in his typical no-nonsense manner, he asks, “What about that is bothering you?”

“I don’t know. If this is the big break, the big cutting ties, shouldn’t I have a final say? Shouldn’t I have stood up to them and told them how they hurt me to have closure? To move on?”

“Do you think you need this to move on?” Misha asks.

I think about it, about how much better I was in Seattle, how often I thought that just never picking up my phone again and acting as if they didn’t exist would have been the best thing I could do for myself.

“I don’t think so, but that sounds unhealthy, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Oliver says gently. “Sometimes, no contact and no explanation can help you heal and be healthy. Believe me, I know. If you really want to in the future, you can still seek that talk when you think you’re in a good enough place. But for now, if leaving it behind without a word feels right, then that’s what you should do.” He reaches out to cup my cheek. “You could always write them a letter if you want to let them know how you feel without giving them the chance to talk you down again.”

Oliver’s way of coping. Which is beautiful, but it isn’t mine.

“I can’t,” I lean into his touch. “I told them all my life that this wasn’t the life I wanted to live, and they never respected it. And tonight… they didn’t care about how I felt. A letter wouldn’t change that.”

They are the problem.

But not mine anymore.

Grey strokes my knee, a silent support, and I lean back into the seat, feeling a weight lifting off my shoulders.

A little while later, we arrive at the hotel. The guys clamber out of the car, and Grey extends his hand to help me out. I stand, and a sharp pain shoots through my feet, causing me to grimace and plop back down onto the seat.

“What’s wrong?” Grey asks, concern etching his features.

I gesture toward my feet, wincing. “Just my feet. These bloody high heels are murder.”

His lips quirk into a smirk. “I can carry you again.”

I point my finger at him accusingly. “No, you don’t. Again , that was unnecessary.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he playfully nips at my finger. “Oh, it was entirely necessary.”

Oliver interjects, “Hey, Grey, can you grab the other two bags? I’ll go and check us in.”

Grey nods and strides around the car to retrieve our stuff from Wilfred.

Misha steps in front of me, curious. “What shoe size do you wear?”

“Eleven,” I reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Perfect,” he grins, and to my surprise, he starts unlacing his dress shoes.

“What on earth are you doing?” I ask, bewildered.

Without answering, Misha crouches down in front of me. He removes my torturous high heels, placing a soft kiss on each of my shins as he does so. Then, he slips his own shoes onto my feet before standing up and sliding into my heels. He extends his hand to me, saying, “Come on, Bug,” while I’m still gawking at him in astonishment.

I laugh as I stand. Now he’s taller than me, and looks down with an amused expression, which feels oddly disconcerting.

Misha lets go of me when Wilfred steps around the Bentley and up to me. He pulls me into a warm, unexpected hug. “I can’t wait to hear about the big things you accomplish,” he whispers with a genuine smile.

“Thank you,” I whisper back, and with one last glance and a wave, Wilfred turns and heads back to the car, driving off into the night.

“Okay, let’s try this,” Misha grins and takes a few wobbly steps, teetering precariously at first. After a couple of yards, though, he seems to get the hang of it.

Enough to make it into the hotel, at least.

Grey, coming up behind us, shakes his head in disbelief. “Damn, Misha.”

I walk alongside him as he wobbles past the hotel lobby, where Oliver is at the reception desk, checking us in.

Misha grimaces, clearly uncomfortable. “God, why do women do this to themselves?” As we reach the elevator, he sways dangerously. I instinctively reach out to steady him, my hands finding purchase on his hips.

No need to fuck up his ankle again.

“Because it makes us taller,” I explain, amused by his struggle.

His hand comes up to stroke my cheek tenderly. “There’s nothing wrong with being short.”

I lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips, smiling. “You’re right. It’s rather hot, actually.”

His eyes light up at my words before he leans in, capturing my lips in a deeper, more passionate kiss, and I melt into it. Just then, the elevator pings and Oliver joins us.

“What on earth, Misha?” he exclaims, seeing Misha in my heels.

We chuckle, and once inside, Grey pulls me close, his strong arms encircling my waist as he kisses me, leaving me breathless.

When we reach our floor, Oliver fumbles with the key card before unlocking the room, and we all walk in, depositing our luggage haphazardly. It’s a big room with two queen-size beds next to each other.

Right. We’ve never slept in a room together before.

Misha dramatically kicks off the high heels, eliciting a giggle from me as I bend down to remove his shoes as well. They shed their suit jackets, Misha and Grey tossing them carelessly over nearby chairs while Oliver folds his and sets it down with care.

I can’t help but admire how devastatingly handsome they all look in their crisp shirts and well-fitted trousers.

Mine.

All three of them.

“You’re stunning,” Oliver says, stepping up to me, his eyes reflecting the same admiration I feel.

I draw him in, my hand cupping his face as I whisper, “I need your lips, too,” before kissing him tenderly. He responds with unexpected fervor, pulling me closer, his fingers trailing along my waist and the silky fabric of my dress.

My hair gets swept over my shoulder, and the zipper at the back of my dress is slowly lowered. Without looking, I instinctively know it’s Grey’s doing, his touch is unmistakable.

I’m still kissing Oliver, losing myself in the softness of his lips, when Grey murmurs in my ear, his breath hot against my skin, “May I?” His hands rest lightly on the straps of my dress, waiting for permission.

I break away from Oliver just enough to whisper a breathless, “Yes.”

The moment the word leaves my lips, Grey’s hands move with deliberate, almost reverent slowness. He eases the dress down, the silk slipping away and exposing my naked skin to the cool air of the room.

Underwear would have been visible through the silk .

A collective “Fuck,” escapes from the guys, and their eyes are filled with a raw, unfiltered hunger.

The room falls into a charged silence, broken only by the harsh intakes of breath and the soft, awed mutterings of appreciation from Misha. Their gazes are riveted on me, and I can almost feel the heat of their stares like a physical touch. Goose bumps erupt across my skin, each one a response to their intense scrutiny.

Grey’s touch is soft but radiates a fierce possessiveness as his hands come to rest on my exposed shoulders, his fingers pressing into my skin with a grip that is both tender and commanding. His breath is hot against my neck, and the tension in his chest, pressed flush against my back, is evident.

Oliver’s eyes are dark with reverent appreciation, his jaw clenched as if struggling to hold back the storm of emotions raging within him. Misha, on the other hand, lets his gaze sweep over me with an intensity that sends a thrill of anticipation through my entire being.

“Jesus, Amelia,” he finally breaks the silence, his voice rough and strained. “You’re…”

“Beyond beautiful,” Oliver finishes for him.

The air in the room seems to thicken, charged with a tension that makes it almost impossible to breathe. Their reactions are overwhelming, their desire palpable, and the heat of their collective need wraps around me like a physical force.

Grey’s grip on me tightens slightly, his lips brushing my throat when he murmurs, “We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more,” I whisper back, feeling my nipples peak.

What are we even doing?

Grey’s lips find the crook of my neck, and he whispers against my flushed skin, “We had quite an interesting discussion before we had to whisk you away from there.”

My mind hazy with desire, I manage a soft, “Oh?”

“Indeed. We were thinking…” Misha moves closer. “… we’d like to teach Oliver a thing or two, but only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Oh God.

“Teach him what, exactly?” I ask on a breath.

Grey’s voice rumbles in my ear. “Pleasure. Giving it, specifically.”

A delicious shiver runs through me, a heady mix of anticipation and nervous excitement settling in the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart as I turn and meet Grey’s intense gaze. The dimly lit room seems to shrink around us, the air crackling with an electric tension that I can almost taste on my lips. His fingers graze my cheek with a touch so light it’s almost cruel, sending a bolt of desire straight through me.

And before I can even register what’s happening, his lips are on mine in a searing kiss that threatens to consume me whole. It’s as if every nerve in my body is attuned to the sensation of his mouth on mine, the urgency of his hands as they reach down to pull me up to him, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him. The heat builds between us as he carries me with a sureness that speaks of possession, a commanding force that brooks no resistance and threatens to burn.

Our lips are locked until we reach the edge of one of the plush beds. Then he sits, the force dropping me into his lap and making me groan as my clit rubs against his length. I start to rock my hips, seeking further friction, but his hands on my hips grip tight, stopping me. “Shit, baby. We have time,” Grey assures me, releasing me to move back against the headboard. “Now, get your sweet ass over here. ”

He reaches for me, and with a gentle yet insistent pull, he tugs me into his lap, turning me so my legs drape over his, effectively spreading me open. The sudden sound of Oliver and Misha groaning have me snapping my eyes up to where they stand at the foot of the bed, their eyes riveted to my pussy.

Oliver’s gaze is filled with a reverent appreciation, while Misha’s holds a predatory edge that makes my pulse race even faster.

Misha’s words break the lust-filled haze and are laced with that familiar, playful edge. “I figure that’s a yes to us teaching Oliver this?” His question hangs in the air, a tangible challenge.

The thought of what this entails sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

But…

“It’s just… it’s not easy for me to come. I don’t want him to think…” I struggle to find the right words without breaking Grey’s rule about not mentioning other men in his bed or sounding foolish. “Grey and you are the only ones who have ever made me come.”

Something like fire burns in Misha’s eyes, and a proud grin spreads across his lips.

“And Oliver will, too, if you let him try,” Grey rumbles in my ear, and my gaze flits up to him, his arms a steady fortress around me. “Will you?”

I feel the heat of their stares and the weight of their expectations. It’s intoxicating, the idea of us all together like this, of Oliver learning from them—from us. My answer slips out, breathy even to my ears, “Yes.”

Grey’s response is immediate, a low murmur against my ear that sends goose bumps cascading across my skin. “Good girl.” His fingers find my clit, rubbing slow circles as he sucks on my neck. I moan, my hips bucking against his hand. Then he slips a finger inside me, curling it up to hit that sweet spot that makes me gasp.

Oliver watches, mesmerized, while Misha grins. “Okay, Ollie, let’s do this.”

Oliver swallows visibly, his eyes meeting mine as he moves toward the bed, the tension in his shoulders betraying his nerves. He settles on the comforter, his gaze never leaving mine, seeking silent reassurance.

I smile at him, trying to tell him all he needs to know with my eyes.

I love you, and I will love everything you do.

This is new territory for him, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on me.

“Do you want to touch her?” Grey asks Oliver. “Do you want to feel how wet she is?”

Oliver nods, his eyes never leaving mine as he reaches out to touch me. Grey guides his hand, showing him exactly how to pleasure me. Oliver’s fingers are tentative at first, but he quickly picks up the rhythm, his thumb rubbing circles around my clit. “Good job, Ollie,” Grey praises, his voice thick with approval. “Now, keep the tempo.”

I moan, my head falling back in pleasure as I try to maintain eye contact with Oliver, letting him see the effects of his touch on me. My body trembles with each stroke.

“I bet Amelia wants your mouth on her, am I right, Bug?” Misha’s hand slides up my inner thigh, his fingers teasing with a mischievous precision that sends a thrill through me. “This is where you start, Ollie,” his voice a low, inviting purr. “You want to make her feel good, right?” Oliver nods, his eyes wide and earnest as his fingers leave my clit, drinking in every detail as if his life depends on it.

With a devilish grin that promises all sorts of delightful wickedness, Misha starts to caress my pussy, and then his fingers part me, revealing my most intimate parts to the cool air of the room. Oliver watches, his breath hitching audibly as Misha exposes me, and my breath comes faster.

Grey holds my thighs apart with a firm but gentle grip while his lips are on my neck, kissing and nibbling with a tantalizing heat that makes me shiver. Each nibble and caress adds to the overwhelming sensations, keeping me on edge.

“Watch carefully,” Misha instructs in a low, rumbling voice that reverberates through me. His fingers glide over my clit with expert precision, causing a sharp gasp to escape my lips. “You already gathered that this is the magic spot. You’ll want to use your tongue to tease her like this.” His finger flicks over my sensitive nub, igniting fireworks of pleasure throughout my body.

Grey’s lips brush against my ear, and his breath is hot as he pinches my nipple. It’s like a sensory overload but nowhere near enough. The contradiction has my body buzzing with need, wanting everything they have to give.

Fuck.

Misha’s lips brush against mine, his breath a whisper in a kiss that is just out of reach as he pinches my clit and whispers, “Are you ready for this, Bug?” My heart races as I nod eagerly, and Misha pulls his hand away. “All right, Ollie. Your turn.”

Oliver leans in, his hands gripping my thighs, his lips finding their way to my center. His tongue darts out tentatively, unsure of where to begin. He starts by tracing slow, deliberate circles around the outside of my slit, causing my hips to buck involuntarily. Seemingly taking this as a good sign, he continues exploring, growing more confident with each passing moment.

Spreading me as Misha did, Oliver flicks and prods at my clit.

Holy shit.

He licks me until I’m writhing beneath him. Then he sucks on my clit, and I let out a guttural moan that seems to spur him on even more.

Grey’s voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, low and commanding. “Does that feel good, Princess?” His fingers continue to tease my nipples, and I struggle not to arch into his touch, trying to focus on the sensations Oliver is creating.

I try to respond, but my words are lost in a moan as Oliver’s tongue dances over my clit. The intensity of it overwhelms me, and my attempt to speak is cut off by another moan. Oliver, seemingly misunderstanding my reaction, starts to pull away, concerned that he’s not doing it right.

Without thinking, I grab his head, pulling him back toward me with desperate urgency. “No, don’t stop,” I manage to gasp out between breaths, making Grey chuckle behind me. My fingers thread through Oliver’s hair, guiding him back to my clit, encouraging him to continue.

The sensation of his mouth on me again is a relief, and I moan, my hips rocking in response.

Misha’s hand joins Grey’s on my chest, his fingers pinching and twisting my nipple, while Grey pulls on the other, nibbling my neck. Oliver’s tongue delves deeper, teasing and tasting every inch of me. They are working me up, the pleasure mounting, and I am getting closer and closer to the edge, but I don’t want this to end already.

Grey’s hand moves down to my hip, steadying me as I thrash around. His fingers dig into my skin, adding a delicious hint of pain to the mix. The combination of sensations is almost too much to handle, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming.

“That’s it, Ollie,” Grey murmurs. “You’re doing great.”

Misha leans in closer, guiding with calm intensity. “Now, slide your fingers inside her like this.” He demonstrates with two curled fingers, and Oliver follows, his fingers slipping into me as I gasp. “In and out, slow at first, then faster.” Oliver’s long fingers reach the perfect spot, and the sensation of him inside me, combined with the relentless teasing of my clit…

“ Fuck.”

Through the pleasure-induced haze, I hear Grey chuckle into my neck, his breath hot against my skin, and the sensation makes me squirm even more.

“Be a good girl for Oliver,” he whispers in my ear on a low rumble. “He’s such a good boy for you. Isn’t he?” I nod, feeling my face flush with heat at his words. Grey’s hands roam over my body, and his hardness presses against my ass. I find myself pressing back against him, seeking more of the sweet friction. “Use your words, baby,” Grey commands, a sharp contrast to the tender touch of his fingers.

“Yes,” I barely manage to say. “I love your mouth on me. It’s amazing, Oliver.”

Oliver lets out a groan at my words, the vibration against my pussy an overload of the sensation that pushes me closer to the edge.

Misha chuckles, shaking his head as he watches us. “Come on, don’t get distracted,” he chides Oliver, who nips at my clit again.

I moan even louder than before, the sound filling the room and echoing off the walls.

“Tell him how good he makes you feel,” Grey commands, and I can hear the need in his words, the urgency that matches my own.

My hands instinctively move to Oliver’s hair, threading through the soft strands and pulling him closer, guiding him exactly where I need him most. “Mmm… that’s it. Shi-it, Ol—?” My praise is cut short by a moan that overrides all co herent thought. “Oh God. It’s so good,” I say, my breath hitching and my thighs trembling.

Misha curses under his breath, and Grey’s hardness twitches against my ass. He shifts, releasing my thighs to adjust himself, but before I can move, his grip is back on my legs, tightening possessively.

“Are you close, baby?” Grey asks, his voice filled with need, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against my neck.

“Yes…” I gasp, the word barely out of my mouth before I cry out again. “God, Oliver, please don’t stop .”

“That means keep the rhythm and pressure. Don’t change a fucking thing,” Misha commands, and I notice him squeezing his cock over his trousers. “Notice how she’s trembling? She’s so damn close.”

Oliver responds with a low, guttural growl, a sound of pure male satisfaction as he keeps doing his magic.

And then it hits me, a surge of pleasure so intense that it borders on pain, crashing over me like a wave. Now I’m almost pulling Oliver’s hair, pushing myself into his face as I ride out the orgasm, my body shaking with the force of it. Grey bites down on my neck at the same moment, and the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure sends me even higher.

“Don’t stop,” Misha instructs Oliver. “Get her through the pleasure.”

The waves of my orgasm start to subside, and I let out a whimper, my body going limp with satisfaction. Oliver finally pulls back, his ears red, his glasses slightly askew, his pupils blown. But I see pride in his eyes from the knowledge he’s the one who brought me to the peak.

And not through an AI this time.

“Kiss her,” Misha commands, and he doesn’t have to tell Oliver twice .

He sweeps in, his lips meeting mine with a tenderness that makes my heart hurt. I taste myself on his lips, and the realization sends a fresh jolt of desire straight through my core. When he pulls back, his eyes meet mine for a brief, vulnerable moment before Misha turns my head toward him.

Misha’s kiss is fierce and claiming, he’s undoubtedly tasting the aftermath of Oliver’s kiss, and I revel in the mingling of their flavors on my tongue.

“You’re addictive,” he murmurs against my lips, his dark eyes shining with admiration and something deeper—something that looks a lot like love.

Grey’s hand is on my face before his lips claim mine with a possessive fierceness. He tastes me as well, his tongue sweeping against mine with a dominance that makes my heart race. He presses his hardness up against me, a silent promise, and I arch back into him, craving the connection.

When we finally break apart, I glance around and find all three of them watching me, hunger clear in their eyes. Their gazes are filled with desire and adoration, and a wave of emotion surges inside me, almost overwhelming.

Yes, I want all of them.

But all of them at once?

The thought is both thrilling and terrifying, a leap into the unknown that I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared for.

Grey’s strong arms lift me effortlessly, and I let out a soft gasp as he places me gently on the bed. His eyes lock with mine, a playful glint in them as he starts undressing down to his boxer briefs with a deliberate, teasing slowness. My heart races, not just from the sight of him but from the realization that Oliver and Misha are following suit.

Oliver’s eyes meet mine as he undresses, a warm, reassuring smile on his lips .

“Careful,” Misha says with a smirk. “If you look at us like that, we might think you’re up to something.”

I don’t even know if I’m up to something.

They push the second bed close to create one large mattress, and I feel a flutter of anxiety in my chest. I haven’t even had sex with Oliver yet, and the thought of having sex with all three of them at the same time is making me nervous.

How would that even work?

Grey helps me under the covers before slipping in beside me, his warmth immediately enveloping me.

Oliver settles on my other side while Misha flicks off the light before sliding in next to Oliver, leaving me in the dark, naked under the covers with three hot-as-hell men in only their underwear. Grey and Oliver press close, their hands roaming over my skin in gentle, soothing caresses. Their arousals press against me, reminding me that they’re just as affected as I am, their bodies taut with need.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

I can do this.

I can handle them.

I think.

“Hey,” Grey prompts softly, seeming to notice my tension, his breath warm against my cheek, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I lie, but it comes out breathy.

“Relax, Princess.” His deep voice rumbles in my ear. “Try to sleep.”

“But what about you?” My voice is barely audible, nearly drowned out by the sound of our collective breathing.

Grey shushes me, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. “We’re going to sleep now, too,” he murmurs.

“But… don’t you want…” I trail off.

How can I do it when I can’t even say it?

“Of course I want to fuck you, baby,” Grey says, the low rasp of his words sending a shiver through me. “But we did enough experiments for tonight. Let’s figure the rest out when we’re back home. If and when you want all of us, it will be at your pace. We have forever, no need to rush things.” His words are a promise of countless nights just like this one. “Practice makes perfect, right, Ollie?”

Oliver’s soft chuckle joins Grey’s, his hand finding its way into my hair as well. The dual sensation of their fingers massaging my scalp is heavenly.

“Exactly,” he agrees, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “And I, for one, am more than willing to put in the practice.”

“Okay,” I whisper, a wave of relief washing over me.

This would have been a lot to handle in one day.

Hell, the entire day has been a lot to process as it is.

Misha’s amused voice pipes up from the other side of Oliver. “She really thought she would have to pop Ollie’s cherry in a gang bang.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Oliver mutters, followed by a soft thud and Misha’s grunt as if he’s just received an elbow to the ribs.

His laughter, warm and infectious, fills the room, and I can’t help but giggle at their antics while Grey’s deep chuckle reverberates through his chest. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.

Why was I even worried?

They get me.

And they’ve got me.