She rocks forward, her hands bracing on my chest, her body slowly opening again, her walls dragging over me like silk.Like fire.
Callaway settles behind her, kneeling, watching.His hand strokes over her back, then lower, cupping the soft curve of her ass.He leans in, breath ghosting over her neck.
“That’s it,” he says, watching us like it’s a fucking art exhibit.“Take him.Just like that.Ride Monty’s cock nice and slow while I open you up back here.”
She shudders between us, sinking all the way down, gasping as my cock hits the deepest part of her.
“Fuck,” I growl, my hands gripping her hips.“You’re squeezing me like you don’t want me to leave.”
“I don’t,” she whimpers.
Behind her, Callaway spreads her cheeks again, slow and deliberate, his fingers slick as they tease her open.I feel the brush of his knuckles as she shifts on my lap, and it sends a sharp pulse through me—anticipation so strong it makes my breath hitch.
I want him there.
Want to see her take him.
Want to feel what it does to her when he finally gives her what he’s been promising.
She rolls her hips, grinding down on me, and I swear I can feel the difference already—her body opening wider, softer, like she knows what’s coming and is making space for it.
“Easy,” Callaway murmurs, voice low and steady behind her.“Let me in slow.”
I watch her face as he presses closer—watch the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes flutter when she feels that first stretch.
She gasps.
“Oh—Cally?—”
My hands tighten on her hips.There’s something overwhelming about watching her like this—about seeing her take us both without hesitation.Not torn.Not unsure.Just open.
She leans back against me, her head dropping to my shoulder as Callaway eases himself into her, inch by inch, patient and reverent.
“So full,” she whispers, voice shaking.“God—you both feel so good.”
The words go straight through me.
I rock up into her slowly, letting her feel me while she takes him, the three of us moving together in a rhythm that feels instinctive.
I kiss her temple, her cheek.“You’re incredible,” I murmur.“Taking us like this.”
Callaway’s hands slide over her thighs, steadying her.“That’s it,” he tells her.“You’re doing so good.You always do.”
She whimpers again, overwhelmed and radiant and wrecked between us.
“I love this,” she breathes.“I love feeling you both.Love knowing you’re here—holding me—filling me.”
I close my eyes for a second, pressing my forehead to her shoulder, letting the moment settle deep.This isn’t about conquest.It isn’t about proving anything.
It’s about trust.
About being chosen—both of us—without hesitation.About sharing something intimate without fear, without holding back.
And I feel him.
Not just in the way she gasps when he moves behind her.Not just in the way her body tightens around me when he presses deeper.His hardness against mine.
I feel him in the shared fullness—in the way her body carries us both, in the faint, unmistakable awareness of him there with me.The pressure.The closeness.The truth that we’re connected through her in a way that’s physical and undeniable.
