Bonus Chapter: The Bigger Bed
An exclusive bonus scene from Honeymoon Crashers
by Isla Wilde
⚠️ Spoiler warning: this scene takes place three months after the events of Honeymoon Crashers. Read the novel first for maximum impact.
⚠️ Content note: this bonus chapter contains graphic, explicit MFM sexual content significantly beyond what appears in the main novel. Self-hosted exclusive — too hot for retail.
The bed arrived on a Tuesday, but the christening happened on a Friday.
Three days of sleeping in it. Three days of Mason complaining it was too firm and Theo reading mattress reviews to prove it wasn’t and Elise lying in the middle thinking about what she wanted to do on this bed that she hadn’t done yet.
The list was specific.
She’d written it in her phone’s notes app during a particularly boring planning meeting at work, sitting in a conference room full of people discussing centerpiece budgets while her thumb typed things that would have gotten her fired if anyone had glanced at her screen. Things she’d fantasized about. Things she’d read about in the books she no longer hid on her Kindle. Things she wanted to feel and say and hear and do with two specific men on a king-sized mattress that didn’t creak.
She’d started the list on Monday. Added to it Tuesday during her commute. Revised it Wednesday in the shower, where most of her best ideas happened and most of her best orgasms started. By Thursday night it was complete: eleven items, ordered by escalation, each one a step further into territory they hadn’t explored yet.
Item one: undress her together, narrating what they loved about each part. Item two: both mouths on her simultaneously. Item three: ride Theo while Mason watched. Item four: Mason’s turn, hard, while Theo kissed her. Item five: Elise on her knees, both of them. Item six: Theo from behind while she took Mason in her mouth. Item seven: the chair by the window. Item eight: the wall. Item nine: slow, synchronized, hands and mouths only. Item ten: her choice in the moment. Item eleven: all three, lights on, curtains open, no reason to be quiet.
The preparations were a collaboration. Candles: Theo’s department — twelve, white, unscented, arranged with surgical precision. Mason: “It’s a fire hazard.” Theo: “It’s ambiance.” Theo lit them anyway. Champagne: Mason’s contribution — Schramsberg Blanc de Blancs from the bar’s private stock. Three glasses on the dresser: two crystal flutes from Naomi’s housewarming gift, one shorter tumbler because the mismatch was tradition. Music: the playlist from the resort, low bass and slow rhythm.
Elise locked herself in the bathroom at eight-fifteen.
The emerald lingerie was new. Lace-edged, the green both men had independently identified as their favorite on her skin. A bralette that clasped in the front — strategic, designed for easy removal. A thong that was frankly ornamental.
She put it on. The woman in the mirror had laugh lines, a gold ring on her right hand that said ours, and a body that two men had memorized so thoroughly they could navigate it in the dark.
She opened the door.
The bedroom was glowing. Both men turned. Mason’s champagne glass stopped halfway to his mouth. Theo pulled his t-shirt off and crossed the room and stood in front of her with eyes full of reverence and hunger tangled into a single devastating frequency.
“Green,” Mason said. “You wore the green.”
“I have a list,” she said. “Eleven items.” She held up the phone. Mason read it — eyes widening, flush climbing his neck. Passed it to Theo. Theo’s jaw tightened. His knuckles whitened on the phone.
“We’re going to need more candles,” Theo said. “We’re going to need a chiropractor,” Mason said. “We’re going to need to start,” Elise said, and unclasped the bralette.
Item one. Undress her together. Narrate.
The bralette fell. Theo caught it, folded it, set it aside. His mouth followed the path the straps had taken. “This collarbone,” he said against her skin. “Day two. The pool. The only skin showing in that black one-piece. I thought about kissing it for forty-five minutes.”
Mason knelt. Drew the thong down her legs. Pressed his mouth to her hip bone. “This hip. This is where my hands go when I’m inside you. I’ve left fingerprints here. Bruises shaped like my hands. And every single time, I’ve wanted to do it again.”
She stood naked between them in candlelight. “Your turn. Both of you.” They stripped. She watched — Mason’s lean, cut body, tattoo sleeve dark in the firelight. Theo’s broad, solid frame, fully hard, the quiet man holding back a force she’d learned to unleash. Both naked. Both wanting.
Item two. Both mouths. Simultaneously.
Theo settled between her thighs. His thumbs spread her open and he made a sound — low, involuntary, a man seeing something he wanted the way you wanted water. His tongue landed: flat, warm, a long slow stroke from her entrance to her clit. The moan she made rattled the windows.
Mason’s mouth closed over her nipple. Tongue swirling, teeth scraping, the pattern he’d refined over thirteen months to maximize the frequency that made her hips roll. His other hand cupped her breast, pinching just hard enough to edge pain.
Two mouths. Two rhythms. Two men playing the same instrument from different positions. Theo’s tongue circled her clit — persistent, devastating. He slid two fingers inside her, crooked forward, found the spot. The dual sensation cracked her open.
She came with a scream — spine bending, thighs clamping around Theo’s head, nails digging into Mason’s shoulder. Neither man stopped. They rode the aftershocks until she was gasping and boneless.
“One down,” Mason murmured against her breast. “Ten to go.”
Item three. Ride Theo. Mason watches.
Theo against the headboard. Elise in his lap, sinking onto him inch by devastating inch. His head dropped back, jaw clenched, hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks she wanted.
Mason in the chair by the window. Stroking himself slowly, dark eyes fixed on the place where Theo’s body disappeared into hers. “Ride him,” he said. “Let me see you. I can see how wet you are from here. Every inch. Do you know what that does to me?”
“Tell me.”
“It makes me want to ruin you. Both of us. I want to watch you fall apart on his cock and then I want my turn.”
Theo thrust up — hard, sudden, breaking the rhythm, driving deep. “You’re mine,” he said. Low. Controlled. The quiet voice that cost more, meant more. “Both of ours. And I’m going to make you come on my cock while he watches.”
The words tipped her over. She came on Theo’s lap with Mason’s eyes on her body and her voice filling the room with sounds she’d spent four years suppressing.
Item four. Mason. Hard.
He pushed her onto her back. Hooked her legs over his shoulders. Pinned her wrists. Drove into her with the relentless rhythm that had the headboard tapping the wall.
“You’re so tight after you come — fuck, can you feel how wet you are? That’s from him, and now I’m in it, both of us—”
Theo beside her, kissing her mouth, swallowing her moans. His thumb circled her nipple in counterpoint to Mason’s rhythm. Fire and water. Both necessary. Both hers.
“You feel like home,” Mason gasped into her neck. “Every time. Every single time. You feel like coming home.”
He came hard. She held him — arms around his back, fingers in his hair, feeling the shudder of a man who had spent his whole life running and had finally stopped.
Items five and six.
Five: Elise on her knees on the mattress, both men at the edge. She alternated — Mason’s cock in her mouth while her hand worked Theo, then switching, taking Theo deep while Mason’s fingers tangled in her hair. Two men standing before her, both hard, both waiting for her mouth. She was on her knees and she had never felt more in control.
Six: Theo behind her, hands on her hips, entering her deep and slow. Mason in front, his cock in her hand, then her mouth, the rhythm of her strokes matching Theo’s thrusts until all three moved in sync. A single engine with three components. She came around Theo with Mason on her tongue and the moan she made vibrated through him until his hips bucked and his hand tightened in her hair.
Items seven and eight.
Seven: the chair by the window. Mason sitting, Elise in his lap, facing the room. He entered her from below — the stretch, the depth. Theo knelt between her spread legs and put his mouth on her clit. The overload — Mason inside her, Theo’s tongue on her — produced an orgasm that whited out her vision. Mason had to hold her upright.
Eight: the wall. Mason lifted her, pressed her back against it, fucked her standing while Theo pressed against her side, his hand between their bodies, fingers on her clit. She came with plaster dust in her hair and the picture frame rattling and her voice hoarse from not being quiet.
Item nine. Slow. No penetration. Just hands and mouths. As many times as she could take.
Theo first. His hands only — two fingers inside, thumb on her clit, slow grinding pressure. He watched her face. Adjusted. Found the angle that made her eyes roll back and stayed there. She came with his name on her lips.
Mason second. His mouth — messy, enthusiastic, the oral equivalent of his personality. He buried his face between her legs and moaned against her, the vibration traveling through her clit. The sound of his pleasure at her pleasure tipped her over.
Together. Four hands. Theo’s fingers inside while Mason circled her clit. Mason’s mouth on her breast while Theo kissed her neck. They traded, overlapped, creating continuous waves until she lost count — three, four, something that blurred into a sustained plateau. She came one final time, quiet, deep, curling into Theo’s chest while Mason held her from behind.
Item ten. Her choice.
“I want to feel both of you,” she said. “Not taking turns. At the same time. I want to be so full of both of you that I can’t tell where I end and you begin.”
They built the configuration carefully. Theo on his back, Elise riding him face to face. Mason behind her. Theo entered first — slow, familiar, deep. Mason’s fingers joined, stretching her gently, preparing her. Then Mason pressed forward. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, and Elise buried her face in Theo’s neck and breathed through it.
Full. Both of them, inside her, together. The sensation was beyond anything — not just physical but existential. A completeness that resonated through her chest and her throat and the place behind her eyes where tears lived.
They moved. Small, careful thrusts finding a rhythm for three bodies. “We’ve got you,” Theo said, eyes locked on hers. “Let go,” Mason breathed against her spine. She let go. The orgasm was tectonic — deep, slow, enormous. She screamed. They came together — Theo first, then Mason, their bodies shuddering against hers. Three people. One moment. The kind of pleasure that didn’t just happen to your body but happened to your life.
Item eleven. Whatever feels right. Lights on. Curtains open.
It happened in the aftermath. Slow, gentle. Mason inside her while Theo held her from behind. Not athletic, not performative. Just three people moving together in dying candlelight with the curtains open and the Austin night warm beyond the glass. They finished at twelve-forty-three AM. Every item done. Every fantasy realized. The feeling wasn’t satisfaction — it was gratitude.
After.
The candles were guttering. The champagne was warm. The king bed was a disaster of tangled sheets and three bodies that had no business fitting together and fit perfectly.
Elise in the middle. Mason on her left, face in her neck, already half asleep. The man who’d been afraid of sleeping next to anyone now fell asleep within minutes of lying down beside her, as if her presence was a switch that turned off the noise in his head.
Theo on her right, thumb drawing slow circles on her hip. Awake. Always the last one awake.
“How’d we do?” she murmured. “On the list.”
“Eleven for eleven.”
“The bed held.”
“The bed held.” A pause. “We should send Derek a thank-you note.”
She laughed. “We are not telling Derek what we did to his mattress.”
“Derek would be proud. Quality product performing under extreme conditions.”
“Theo?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For the candles. For the napkin. For sitting outside a bathroom door when I was falling apart. For changing a flight on a Tuesday because you were hoping. For reading mattress reviews. For the ring. For being the kind of man who keeps things.”
His arm tightened around her. His lips pressed to her shoulder. “You’re the thing I keep,” he said. “Everything else is just proof.”
She closed her eyes. Pressed into the warmth on both sides. The bigger bed, christened. The list, completed. The life, ongoing.
On the nightstand, the cocktail napkin sat in its leather case. Ten rules — five broken, five kept.
Fall in love every day.
Easiest thing in the world.