"Fuck, you love this, don't you?"
I moan louder as Beckett picks up the pace, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me back to meet each thrust.
"Eyes on me," Cody says.
I keep my eyes locked on his as I reach for him, my hand finding the hardness straining against his boxers. I pull them down and take him in my mouth.
"Fuck," Cody breathes, his hand threading through my hair. "Good girl. Such a good, bad girl.Mygirl."
The contradiction makes me moan around him, and I feel Beckett's rhythm falter behind me.
"That's it," Cody murmurs, his voice thick. "Take it. Take all of it. You love my dick in your mouth while he’s fucking you, baby?"
I feel myself building again — impossibly, after already coming with Theo — but the sensation of Beckett inside me and Cody in my mouth and the knowledge that Theo is watching from across the room is overwhelming.
Beckett's fingers find my clit, and I cry out.
"Don't stop," Cody says, guiding my head. "I want to keep fucking your mouth while he fucks your pussy. Fuuuuuck, baby. I didn’t know you had this in you. Look at you, baby. You’re like a fucking dream."
I don’t stop. I keep working him with my tongue while Beckett drives into me harder, faster, his breathing ragged.
"Adela," Beckett groans, and I feel him tense, feel him getting close.
"Come for him," Cody says, his eyes dark. "Let him feel it."
Beckett's fingers press harder against my clit, and I shatter, my body clenching around him as the orgasm crashes through me.
Beckett follows immediately, his grip on my hips bruising as he buries himself deep and lets go.
When he pulls out, I'm still shaking.
Cody pulls me up, guiding me off him gently, and then he's pushing me back onto the bed, positioning himself between my thighs.
"My turn," he says.
He enters me slowly — so slowly it borders on torture. His eyes never leave mine.
"I love you," he whispers, and the words hit differently than they ever have before. Not possessive. Not claiming. Just honest.
"Cody," I breathe.
He starts to move, his rhythm deep and steady, building something different than what Beckett built. Something more intimate.
"I wish I'd known," he murmurs against my neck. "How bad you could be. Fuck, how are you so perfect for me."
His hand slides between us, finding my clit again, and I gasp.
"That’s it, baby.” He thrusts harder, leaning down. His eyes never leave mine as he whispers, “It’ll always just be me and you in the end. I came out of that coma because I heard you fucking crying for me, babe. Now I’m here, and fuck, babe.” He presses my clit harder. “Come with me," he says. "I want to feel it."
He moves faster, his fingers working in tandem with his thrusts, and I feel myself climbing again—impossibly high, impossibly fast.
"Cody, I'm—"
"Me too, baby," he breathes. "Me too."
We come together, his name on my lips and mine on his, our bodies locked together as the pleasure crashes over us both. He kisses me, and I don’t let go. I’ve never felt more connected to him than I do now.
After, he collapses beside me, pulling me against his chest, his breathing ragged.
