“Mmmmm, baby,” he groans, and I look up just in time to see him licking my cum from his fingers. “Fuck. McCrae, you want some?” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t deny it as Santos extends his hand. McCrae takes the offering hungrily, his throat working as he licks Santos’ fingers clean.
It’s enough to make any girl come undone—the sight of two impossibly strong, masculine men devouring my cum like it’s their last meal.
McCrae chuckles. “You want us to kiss.” Again, not a question.
There’s no point in lying. “Always.”
Santos lowers his hips, the tip of his cock already stretching me slightly as he works himself inside. My legs tremble as I try to focus on how amazing it feels to be pulled tight around his beautiful cock and to see the two men I’m obsessed with leaning in to kiss each other.
“Fuck, I can never deny you.” McCrae grabs Santos’ head, yanking his face from my neck and wrapping his hand around his throat. Santos groans at the man-handling, and I grow impossibly wetter.
McCrae kisses him, his hand still wrapped around his throat, his other pinching open his jaw to give him better access to his tongue. I watch their tongues tangle, their teeth mashing against each other.
They break the kiss for a moment, and Santos spits into McCrae’s mouth, his tongue licking hungrily around his lips. They seem lost in each other, and I’m glad to just watch, even as my body’s pinned down by Santos’ half-sheathed dick.
“Fuck her, Santos. Our girl’s waiting,” McCrae whispers against Santos’ lips before wrapping his hand around the back of Santos’ head and taking his mouth once more. As he does, Santos pistons his hips, driving into me with such intensity, I scream.
He fills me so completely, I’m unable to distinguish my body from his, and I press wet, hungry kisses along the column of his throat. I kiss higher and higher, desperate to join my tongue with theirs as Santos drives into me at a maddening pace, but before I get there, McCrae pulls back. His eyes bore into mine, and Santos lowers his head once more to my neck, focusing wholly on tearing me in two.
The bed rocks beneath us, the steadythump, thumpagainst the wall like a drum, and McCrae continues to stare into me, hungry but never moving closer.
“She needs you,” Santos growls into the crevice of my throat.
But McCrae just shakes his head. “No. You’re enough.”
I wake, hot, sweaty, and hornier than ever. It would be just my luck to feel McCrae’s angry gaze burning a hole in my face at a time like this—just like the dream, he refuses to come any closer than he must.
“I know you’re awake,” he bites out. Dream McCrae was way hotter but no less obtainable, now that I’m thinking about it. It’s like my subconscious knows I’ll never get closer than arm’s length with him.
I don’t open my eyes. Maybe if I keep them closed, he’ll go away.
“We need to talk, Valentina. Get up.”
“Are you my dad?” I hiss, snapping my eyes open to glare at him. Just as I expected, he’s staring at me, his arms folded across his chest as he leans in the open doorway. He looks dirty, like he’s already put in a full-day’s work, and I grab my phone to check the time. “It two in the afternoon?”
Fuck, was I really that drunk?
“Yes, I’m aware. The working folk around here have been up for hours.”
I roll my eyes. “You and Santos, you mean, right?”
“If you got up and took an interest in your ranch, you might know.”
“Yeah, I’m useless, I remember.” I throw the sheet off my body, not bothering to cover my nearly naked bottom half.
“Fuck, V.” McCrae tosses the jeans I slung over the chair by the door at me, and I catch them reluctantly. He seems genuinely uncomfortable with my t-shirt and underwear, and it only erodes what little self-esteem I have.
If he finds me so repulsive, why bother?
“I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have. You’re not useless.” McCrae’s voice takes on a soft quality, something I’ve never once known him to be with anyone but me, and my anger flares anew. I used to think his gentleness with me was something special, something that meant he cared about me more than anyone else.
But now, I’m not so sure. Does he really think I’m so weak that I can’t handle him unless he’s this softer, quieter version?
Why am I not enough?
“What do you want, McCrae?” I walk into the bathroom, brushing my teeth while I wait for him to continue.
Finally, he sighs, pushing off the doorway and walking farther into my room, even though his shoulders stiffen. He’s repulsed by me.I’m so pathetic to him, it makes him sick.
