I can’t help it; my hips rock forward, instinctively pressing against his hand, seeking more contact, more pressure. He parts my folds, and I’m already so sensitive that every brush feels amplified, overwhelming.
He drags my own arousal up to my clit, the pad of his middle finger swirling around, driving me to the edge with agonizingly sweet slowness. The pressure builds; my body tightens in response, craving release.
“Cruz,” I murmur, barely a whisper.
“Patience, baby girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “You’ve made me wait for so long, now it’s your turn.”
He knows exactly how to edge me, how to keep me on the precipice without letting me fall over. His fingers dance around my clit, never quite giving me enough to push me over the edge.
He eases one finger inside me, then another, stretching me slowly. His breath hitches as he feels me clench around him.
“Fuck, Bells,” he groans. “Your cunt is gripping my fingers so tight.” He pumps his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that spot deep inside me.
I rock my hips into his hand, desperate for more.
“I’ve dreamt about this,” he admits, his voice raw with need. “About how this cunt will feel stretched around my cock. How you’d taste on my tongue.”
His words are filthy, forbidden, and they only serve to heighten the tension coiling within me.
Every thrust deepens the connection, and I feel the world fade away, leaving only him and this moment.
After the second time he does it, I realize he’s edging me. So I shove my hand behind me, between us. He lets me, and Idon’t waste time—I slide my hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrap my fingers around him, thick and hot and already slick at the tip. He grunts against my hair, his fingers driving into me harder in retaliation.
I grin against his palm as I stroke him, slow and deliberate, giving back exactly what he’s been doing to me. I can’t see him, but I can feel the way his breath changes against my neck. That’s enough.
I work his boxer briefs down until he springs free against my ass, and the heat of him there makes my stomach drop.
“Trust me, baby girl?”
I nod. The admission comes too easy, and I don’t care.
He fits himself against me, cock sliding through my folds without pushing in, just—there. Dragging. The friction is obscene and not enough, and I have to bite down on my own lip to keep from making a sound.
Then his fingers find my clit again, and I forget about being quiet entirely. The dual sensation—his cock rocking against me, his fingers circling—pulls a noise from somewhere low in my chest that I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried. The effort of containing it only concentrates it, turns it inward, makes every nerve ending feel raw and overexposed.
The mattress dips.
My eyes open.
Gage’s blue-green gaze hits me like a hand around my throat.
My whole body clenches around Cruz’s fingers.
“Baby girl, fuck,” he groans into my neck, his hips stuttering forward.
Gage doesn’t speak. His jaw is tight, his gaze dragging over my shoulder to Cruz, then back to me—slow, deliberate, like he’s deciding something.
Cruz laughs, low and dark. “Looks like you weren’t quiet enough after all.”
Gage reaches over and peels Cruz’s hand from my mouth. His palm cups my jaw, tilts it up, and then he’s kissing me—deep and claiming and a little rough at the edges, like he’s been waiting too long to be careful about it.
My orgasm hits without warning, cresting and breaking all at once, stealing the air straight out of my lungs.
When I come down, my eyes are slow to open. Cruz’s cock is still rocking against me, slick with everything he pulled out of me, and the drag of it makes my thighs tremble. But my focus splinters—because Gage is already watching me with something that hasn’t been there before. Something that sits low and heavy in my stomach.
He takes me from Cruz’s arms before I can think to protest. The loss of contact pulls a small, involuntary sound from my throat.
Gage rolls onto his back and brings me with him, and suddenly I’m straddling his stomach, the fabric of his hoodie bunched warm and soft against the backs of my thighs. His hands find my hips and hold.
