Maya doesn’t either.
For one long breath, the three of us hold there, locked together, Cole shaking between us.
“Move,” Cole says, wrecked. “Both of you.”
Maya moves first, a slow roll up into him that makes Cole’s grip tighten on her. I follow, careful at first, letting him feel the rhythm before I give him more. His body clenches around me every time he drives into her, every time her hips lift to meet him, and the pressure drags a sound out of me I can’t stop. It’s a rough, broken thing, torn from somewhere deep.
“Dante,” he breathes.
“I’ve got you.”
Maya’s mouth finds his throat. Her hips move with more certainty beneath him while I fuck him from behind, the rhythm building until Cole is taking both of us in the same breath. His body goes tight over her, open around me, his shoulders shaking under my chest. Sweat slicks my skin where I press against him. The room fills with the sounds of us—skin on skin, ragged breaths, the soft, wet slide of each thrust.
She grips Cole’s shoulders. Her nails leave welts. His body arches between us.
I lean over him, my hand sliding between his body and hers to find her clit. My wrist brushes his hip, then her thigh. My fingers find her, slick and swollen, and her voice breaks around it.
“Oh god,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”
Cole’s hips drive into her. His body clenches around me. I thrust into him harder, and Cole’s next stroke into hergoes rough, uncontrolled. The rhythm fractures into something desperate, beautiful.
She comes first, clenching around Cole in waves that make his whole body lock over her. His head drops back, his mouth open, our names tangled in one broken sound.
“I can’t hold,” Cole says, wrecked. “Maya, Dante, I’m—”
“Don’t hold,” Maya says, her voice thick with pleasure. “Let go.”
Cole comes. His body goes rigid between us, hips driving into her while he clenches hard around me, Maya’s name buried against her skin and mine breaking against the room. I feel every pulse of him, feel him come while he is still wrapped around me, still buried inside her, and his body clenches around me while her voice breaks underneath us. The sensation is overwhelming—the tight, rhythmic spasms, the heat, the utter surrender. It unravels me.
I drive in deep. My hips lock against him. I come saying both their names, the words broken out of me, ripped from a place I usually keep guarded. Pleasure crashes through me in hot, relentless waves, leaving me shaking, breathless, hollowed out.
We hold there, trembling, breathing hard in the silence after.
I withdraw first. Gently. Cole shudders over Maya. He pulls out of her slowly, and she makes a rough sound at the loss before he lowers himself against her chest.
“Here,” Cole says, holding her tight. “I’m here.”
“I’m here,” I say, my hand on his back, then hers. Their skin is damp, warm. The scent of sex and sweat and us fills the air.
“You’re both very here,” she murmurs. “Excessively here. Aggressively here.”
“Championship-level here,” Cole says, voice ruined.
“If you say championship-level one more time tonight, I’m sleeping on the couch,” Maya says.
“There’s ice in your hair,” Cole says to me.
“What?” I ask.
He picks something off my temple and holds it up. A tiny sliver, glinting in the lamplight.
“Championship ice. In your hair. While you were inside me.”
Maya lifts her head from his chest. “That’s disgusting.”
“That’s memorable,” Cole says.
“It’s both,” I say. “Like most things about us.”
