Behind me, Dante’s voice is lower now. Rougher.
“Let’s stuff her full of us, lucciolina.”
My heart skips.
Grant groans. His hand finds my face as I release him with a pop and rise again, straddling his lap. I kiss him as I guide his cock to my entrance, teasing him with slow rolls of my hips.
Then I slide down.
He’s thick. Hot. Deep.
I wrap my arms around his neck, moaning as he fills me completely, his hands gripping my hips like he never wants to let go. He kisses me again—hungry, messy, eyes flicking over my shoulder toward Dante before returning to mine.
I ride him, slow at first.
And then?—
Dante’s hands.
He’s behind me now, kneeling on the couch. I hear the soft crinkle of his condom being unwrapped; the slick sound of lubebeing applied—drizzled between my cheeks, preparing me for his fat cock.
He strokes himself slowly, watching us with that calculating hunger.
His hands are warm as they slide over my hips.
“Easy now,” he murmurs, slowing my rhythm. He kisses my shoulder, my neck. His fingers spread the lube over my ass, making me gasp and tense.
The other hand finds my hip, brushing Grant’s fingers. Neither of them moves. They just… stay there. Touching. Not running. Not retreating.
Just… holding.
I feel Dante’s cock at my entrance.
He presses in slowly.
My mouth falls open every second it takes him to slide in, inch by inch, until I’m completely, utterly full.
“Come on, bug,” Dante groans against my ear. “Let’s fuck her. Let’s make her scream for us.”
And God—they do.
Two men. One rhythm. One purpose.
Dante’s grip moves to my hips, pulling me into him. His hand drags to Grant’s. Then his wrist.
Grant’s gaze locks over my shoulder, and I know Dante is holding his stare with equal intensity. Dante’s hand continues to slide up Grant’s forearm, pulling Grant to him. Wanting to feel his fingers on his bare skin.
Grant takes the invitation, his callused palm sliding from my hip to Dante’s. Grant must squeeze him, because I feel Dante let his head fall back as a moan escapes him.
Their thrusts sync—Dante deep in my ass while Grant pounds into my pussy—their hands gripping each other, gripping me, owning me, as I sob and moan and fall apart in the space between them.
My body is fire.
Every sensation—it’s all too much and not enough. I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, only that I never want this moment to stop.
I’m wrecked. Gloriously ruined.
And when I come again, shaking and gasping, it’s with their names on my lips—both of them.
