My own need is a violent thrum in my veins. I fumble with my belt, my jeans, my movements clumsy with urgency. Cast does the same behind her, his hands leaving her body for only a moment. The rustle of clothing, the soft thud of a wallet hitting the floor, the whisper of a zipper. It’s a coordinated undressing, a shared intent.
I free myself, my length hard and heavy in my hand. Cast produces a small, travel-sized bottle of lube from his pocket—a man always prepared—and my breath catches.Yes.This is happening. Right here.
He meets my gaze again, a question in his eyes.You first?
I nod, my throat too tight for words. I guide myself to her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat. Her eyes are wide, watching me, trusting me. “Is this what you want?” I whisper, the words scraped raw.
“Yes,” she breathes, her hands coming up to clutch at my arms. “Please, Vincent.”
I push in. Just the tip, a slow, stretching invasion that makes her gasp and her nails dig into my biceps. She is so impossibly tight, so warm, so wet. I hold still, letting her adjust, my ownbody trembling with the effort of not plunging in completely. I watch her face, every flicker of sensation, every shift from slight discomfort to pure, unadulterated pleasure.
“More,” she begs, her voice a broken thing.
I give her more. A slow, inexorable slide that fills her, that steals the air from both our lungs. I am sheathed fully inside her, our bodies pressed flush together.God.The feeling is absolute. Consuming. Her inner muscles flutter around me, a sweet, involuntary spasm that makes my vision blur.
Behind her, Cast is preparing himself, the soft sound of the lube bottle opening, the slick slide of his hand over his own length. Willow’s eyes dart toward the sound, a flicker of nervous anticipation in them.
“Look at me,” I command softly, cupping her cheek. She obeys, her gaze snapping back to mine. “Just feel,” I tell her. “Just us.”
I see Cast position himself. He meets my eyes, and together, we lift her. My hands under her thighs, his at her waist, hoisting her up until her feet barely skim the floor. She is suspended between us, completely reliant, utterly open. Her back is pressed against Cast’s chest, her legs hooked over my forearms, her core exposed and vulnerable.
“Easy, love,” Cast whispers into her hair, his voice thick with restraint. He guides himself to her other entrance, the tight, forbidden one. The cool touch of the lube-slicked head of his cock against that clenched ring of muscle makes her jolt in our arms.
“Breathe,” I murmur, holding her gaze, my own hips perfectly still inside her warmth. “Breathe for me, Willow.”
She takes a ragged, shuddering breath. And as she exhales, Cast pushes.
It’s a slow, relentless pressure. I feel it through her body, the minute stretch, the incredible tightness. Her eyes widen, hermouth forms a silent ‘o’ of shock and sensation. I watch a single tear escape the corner of her eye and track down her temple. It’s not from pain, I know. It’s from the overwhelming reality of it. Of being taken so completely. Of being claimed.
He works himself in, inch by agonizing inch, until he is buried to the hilt inside her. We are both in her, filling her, connected through the very core of her. The feeling is indescribable. The pressure, the heat, the absolute fullness. Her head falls back against Cast’s shoulder, a choked sob escaping her lips.
We are both motionless for a long moment, a statue of tangled limbs and shared breath in the silent hallway. Letting her feel it. Letting her absorb the profound intrusion, the reality of two men moving inside her.
Then, Cast shifts, the smallest flex of his hips.
The effect is electric. A sharp, broken cry is torn from her throat. Her inner muscles clamp down on me like a vise, a shockwave of pleasure so intense I groan, my knees nearly buckling.
“Again,” she pleads, her voice a shattered whisper. “Please.”
He does. A slow, withdrawing drag that makes her whimper, followed by a deep, rolling thrust that pushes her body into mine. I move with him, a counter-rhythm, a push and pull that has her writhing between us, suspended in a web of sensation.
There is no space between us. No separation. Only the slick, hot slide of skin on skin, the ragged symphony of our breathing, the soft, filthy sounds of our joining. I watch her face, a masterpiece of ecstasy. Her eyes are screwed shut, her lips kiss-swollen and parted, her expression one of utterly shattered bliss.
I can feel Cast’s thrusts through her body, each one driving me deeper, each one making her clench around me. The dual sensation is driving me out of my mind. My control is a frayed thread.
“Look at me,” I growl, my voice barely recognizable.
Her lashes flutter open. Her gaze is unfocused, glazed with pleasure.
“This is us,” I gasp, my hips pistoning into her, matching Cast’s rhythm perfectly. “Thisis me not shutting you out.Thisis me loving you.Allof you.”
A fresh wave of tears spills from her eyes. “Vincent…”
“And me,” Cast rasps against her ear, his own pace quickening, becoming less controlled. “Always me, too.”
She is sobbing now, small, breathless cries that punctuate each of our thrusts. Her body is taut, straining between us, a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit. I can feel the orgasm coiling deep within her, a gathering storm. I can feel it in the way her muscles clench and release around me, in the desperate, clutching grasp of her hands on my arms.
“Come for us,” I command, my voice rough with my own impending release. “Let go, Willow. We have you.”
