Page 164 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

It’s all too much, so public and so exposed, but I want it anyway, the risk, the heat, the way all their hands and mouths are on me at once.

Duke’s tongue is broad and dirty, slow at first and then rapid fire, every perfectly calibrated flick making me shudder and whimper.

I have no idea if I’m making sense, all my thoughts turned to static.

Cody’s hand tangles in my hair, tipping my head back. I want to see him, want to see all of them, but all I can do is shiver as Duke eats me out like it’s a contest.

Silas, standing over me, dips his hands into his pants, and the pale knuckles and the jut of his hip through the denim is so sinfully beautiful I almost come at the sight.

Not a thought in my head, just wanting, just them, just the way Cody’s hand curves at the nape of my neck like it was biologically engineered for this exact function.

Duke works me mercilessly with his tongue, rhythm shifting just when I think I can brace for him, then doubling down.

One of Silas’s hands covers my ankle, holding it in place, and his thumb strokes slow, hypnotic circles over the bone.

Watching all of them, the expressions, the silent, hungry attention—it makes me dizzy, makes me grind myself helplessly against Duke’s face, makes me shudder with a pressure so intense I might cry.

Cody kisses me then, hard, almost bruising, hand still grafted in my hair, and the taste of myself is electric. Hot and humiliating and absolutely what I deserve.

I keen into him, the friction of his stubble, the clever cruelty of his tongue, the way he never once lets my hips free from his palms.

Silas’s hand traces up my calf, kneads, then slips further, thumb pressing into the inside of my thigh just above where Duke is destroying me.

I’m trying so hard not to fall apart, but they aren’t having it.

Duke draws circles with his tongue, the kind that build then vanish, and I realize he’s waiting for me to beg.

Absolute bastard.

He wants it loud, messy, the confirmation that he makes me desperate. Fine. I’ll give him a symphony.

“More,” I gasp.

I hear Cody mutter, “Fuck, I knew it.”

Duke rewards me, lips closing around my clit, tongue flicking with devilish rhythm, and my back arches off the table. Pleasure sizzles up my spine, burning hot, so close I can see white spots behind my eyelids.

I try to chase it, hips rolling, but the hands on me only let me move how they want. Duke’s mouth is all focused aggression now, and it’s like he’s dead set on making every nerve ending remember him.

The messy, primal sounds echo off the foyer tile, and I realize I’m making them. I don’t care. Cody is almost vibrating at my side, the way his breath hitches every time I whimper.

He kisses my jaw, my throat, his hands splayed wide against my back. I reach for him blindly, fingers finding the buckle of his belt, yanking him forward.

“You can’t just…” I can’t even finish the thought, every word shredded by how intensely I want him inside me, right now, just like this.

He laughs, breath hectic, undoing the button before I can even think, making this wrecked little sound like my need is contagious. The two of us fumble his fly, shoving denim and boxers down just enough, and I’ve never wanted to be ruined so completely.

Duke pulls back, face slick and pretty, eyes bright and so full of need it’s almost comical. He grins at me, cocky and glorious, then moves behind the table, pressing himself close to my lower back, hands kneading my ass.

“Annie, you’re a fucking mess,” he says. He runs his tongue up my spine with a filthy, delighted sound.

I yank Cody forward by the waistband and wrap my legs around his hips. He’s already hard, the head of his cock flushed dark and angry. We both groan when he rubs himself against me, not entering yet, just rocking slow, shallow, right at the slick mess Duke left, just to feel me shake.

I’m clawing at his shirt and he still won’t give it to me, eyes locked on my face, lost in every wrecked sound I make.

Silas looms above both of us, watching, breathing hard, hand fisted tight around himself, knuckles white with restraint.

“Ask for it, Annie.” His voice is a dare. “You want him? Say it.”