“Fuck… fuck…” His forehead presses to mine, his grin gone, replaced by something raw. His release floods me, heat spilling inside me.
Nathaniel lasts the longest, like he’s proving a point. He waits until I’m trembling, until I’m nothing but open nerve endings caught between Talon’s heat, Cassian’s salt on my tongue, and the water pounding down around us.
Then he drives up into me and finally allows himself to lose control. His cock drags fire along my inner walls as he burieshimself one last time and releases with a low, guttural moan against my ear.
It’s too much.
I’m too much.
I go limp between them, held together only by their hands.
The shower hisses. The bench groans beneath our weight. My voice is gone. It’s nothing but a rasp.
They’ve broken me. Not just my body, but also my mind, my rules, my everything.
And gods help me… I want them to do it again.
I need to be carried out of the shower.
Yes. I’m officially this close to fainting.
And I’m not talking about the supernatural kind that usually knocks the wind out of me and drops me into the void for my little chats with Death.
This time, it’s painfully human. And extremelyinconvenient.
My legs don’t work. My arms are jelly. My head lolls against Nathaniel’s shoulder like I’ve forgotten how neck muscles function. Even my eyelids feel heavy, dragging down like wet curtains over a window.
“I can’t stand anymore,” I croak, barely audible over the hiss of the shower.
“Just a bit more,” Nathaniel murmurs, rubbing soap between his palms before pressing them to my back. He scrubs me carefully, thoroughly. “Let me clean you, and we’ll get you out of here.”
A weak sound escapes me. It’s a half protest, half surrender, but it dies when his fingers glide between my shoulder blades and down the curve of my spine.
“I said I can’t stand anymore,” I mumble again, though I’m not sure if I’m complaining or begging.
“You don’t have to,” Cassian says, crouching. “Sit on me. I’ll hold you.”
“Wow. A real gentleman.” I scoff. “Now, at least.”
He wasn’t that lovely when he was pressing his dick so deep down my throat he was searching for my stomach. Not that I’m complaining—it was mind-blowing, honestly—but a girl’s entitled to a little snark when the room’s spinning and she still has to finish basic hygiene before she can officially melt into a puddle.
Cassian doesn’t rise to the bait. His dark eyes flick up to mine, unreadable, before he hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me down onto his lap. My ass meets the solid muscle of his thighs with a wet slap, and suddenly I’m straddling him like I never left the bench at all, but only the guys switched places.
“Better?” he asks, voice flat, as if he isn’t cradling me like I’m something fragile.
“Debatable,” I mutter, trying to lean away, but gravity’s not on my side. I collapse against his chest, water dripping down both of us.
Nathaniel crouches beside us, still lathering soap across his long fingers. He catches one of my wrists, lifts it gently, and scrubs along my arm.
Talon, meanwhile, leans against the wall—grinning, of course—watching like it’s his favorite show.
He catches my eye, winks, and snatches a shampoo bottle from the shelf.
“You’ll thank us for this once you realize you don’t have cum spilling out your ass the rest of the day,” Talon says cheerfully, popping the cap. “And you could have.”
Cassian’s chest rumbles under my cheek like he’s suppressing a laugh. “He’s not wrong.”
“Yeah? What, you guys know all about that from experience?”
