“Mmmmm,” she moans softly, shifting slightly on Dom’s lap.
“Don’t move,” Dom growls, his typing momentarily paused. “I’m almost done with these security protocols, then I’m going to bend you over this counter and fuck you properly.”
Cora’s sleepy eyes find mine, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Morning, Liam.”
“Morning,” I respond, oddly enchanted by this domestic yet wildly erotic scene. “Need any help with damage control?”
Cora’s eyes sharpen with sudden clarity. “I know what we need to do.” She sits up straighter on Dom’s lap, wincing slightly as she adjusts her position. “I need to hold a press conference.”
Dom’s hands still on the keyboard. “A press conference?”
“To tell the truth about my father. All of it—the abuse, the threats, everything.” Her voice gains strength with each word. “We have enough evidence now. Martha’s letters, my medical records, the recordings...”
I lean against the counter, watching her transformation from sleepy lover to determined warrior. She’s magnificent.
“Cora,” Dom says quietly. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. Taking your story public?—”
“I am ready.” The steel in her voice cuts through his concern. “I’ve been silent for twenty-three years while he hurt me behind closed doors. Then you three came along and...” She looks between us, her expression softening momentarily. “You showed me what it means to be protected instead of controlled.”
Pride swells in my chest. This isn’t the frightened prey we captured in the Hunt. This is a woman reclaiming her power.
Dom studies her face for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll start planning it today. I’ll call our PR team.”
“Thank you.”
Dom suddenly closes his laptop with a decisive click. “I can’t work anymore.” His voice drops to that commanding tone that makes my cock twitch. “Not with you squirming on my lap like this. I need to make love to you. Now.”
In one fluid motion, he stands, lifting Cora with him. She gasps as he bends her forward over the kitchen counter.
“Watch,” Dom commands, his eyes finding mine as he pushes Cora’s sleep shirt up her back.
I don’t need to be told twice. My hand drifts to my hardening cock.
“God, yes,” Cora moans as Dom pushes inside her, her hands gripping the edge of the counter.
I lean against the kitchen island, stroking myself as I watch Dom slide in and out of Cora. Her moans fill the kitchen, the early morning light casting shadows across her arched back.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” I mutter, my hand moving faster.
“Looks like someone needs his ass stuffed.”
I turn to see Ryder standing in the doorway, gloriously naked, his cock already hard. His eyes flick from Dom and Cora to my hand working my erection.
“Yes,” I admit, my voice rough with need. “I really fucking do.”
Ryder grabs the olive oil from the counter—the expensive Italian stuff Dom insists on buying. He drizzles it over his fingers with a wicked grin.
“Bend over,” he commands, “on the other side.”
I comply immediately, assuming the same position as Cora across the kitchen island. We’re facing each other now, her eyes glazed with pleasure as Dom pounds into her.
Ryder’s slick finger circles my entrance before pushing inside. I groan, dropping my forehead to the cool marble counter.
“More,” I demand, pushing back against his hand.
“Greedy boy,” he chuckles, but obliges with a second finger, scissoring me open.
When he finally replaces his fingers with his cock, I gasp at the delicious burn of the stretch. Ryder reaches around, his oil-slick hand wrapping around my cock as he sets a steady rhythm that matches Dom’s across from us.
