Page 181 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

Willy’s cock is still right in front of me, flushed and impossible to ignore. Every part of me wants to touch it, wants to taste it, but my hands stay crossed behind my back where he’s holding them tight in one fist.

He brushes his thumb across my lips again before dragging it over my chin, then claims my mouth, his tongue working deep while his hips rock against my stomach in the same relentless cadence.

He still tastes faintly of strawberries, sweet enough to catch me off guard, but the kiss turns rough when he catches my lower lip between his teeth and tugs until I taste copper.

He chases the blood away with his tongue, and the sting shoots straight between my legs, pulling a shameless moan from my throat.

Behind me, Emmett’s hand stays buried between my thighs, two slick fingers driving inside me while the heel of his palm grinds against my clit. He never eases up, never gives me room to recover, working me until every breath comes apart in broken gasps.

Willy’s cock presses hot against my stomach, and I arch into him, desperate for the friction he answers with easy thrusts that match the pace of Emmett’s hand.

Then Emmett slips his fingers free, leaving me aching around the sudden emptiness. Before I can protest, he drags the wetness he pulled from me up the length of my back, smearing a sticky trail along my spine until it reaches my neck.

A shiver tears through me as coolness settles across my skin, and I twist toward him, but Willy only tightens his grip around my wrists and keeps me facing forward while my chest rises and falls with every desperate breath.

Emmett drops behind me, and I feel the heat of his breath moving over the backs of my thighs before his hands spread me wider. His tongue slides from my pussy to my asshole in one filthy stroke that makes me gasp, then flattens against me as he eats me with complete focus.

My legs finally give out beneath me, but Willy releases my wrists long enough to hook an arm around my waist before I collapse, hauling me upright against his chest while Emmett keeps me open between my thighs.

Once I’m steady again, Willy recaptures my wrists behind my back and strokes slowly along my arm.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against my ear. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The praise barely reaches me through the pleasure crashing over my body. I’m shaking so hard I can’t stay still, my fingers clawing at empty space while Emmett drives his tongue back inside me.

His hands tighten against my hips before he draws back just enough to close his mouth over my clit, sucking hard and circling it until every muscle in my body pulls tight.

A broken sound tears out of me, halfway between a sob and a growl, but neither of them eases off.

Emmett keeps eating me with complete devotion while Willy grinds against my stomach, the heat of him leaving slick streaks across my skin. I thrash helplessly between them, begging without finding words, and Emmett holds me open while the orgasm crashes through me.

My knees collapse again, Willy lifting me higher and arching my back into Emmett’s mouth until wave after wave keeps breaking over me, leaving me hoarse and trembling in their arms.

Red never looks away. I feel his gaze moving over me like another pair of hands, and when I finally lift my head, he’s stroking himself through his jeans, the outline hard and impossible to ignore.

Every part of me reaches for him, for Willy, for Emmett, craving all three of them until the need burns through me.

Emmett rises smoothly to his feet as Willy turns me toward the bed. He finally releases my wrists, and I stumble the last step before catching myself against the edge of the mattress while they crowd in behind me.

My legs barely hold me, yet my body already knows what he wants, spreading for him without hesitation.

He steps in behind me and drags the leaking head of his cock between my cheeks, rocking in tight circles that keep me aching for more. Emmett braces one knee on the mattress beside me, crowding close enough that his shoulder brushes mine while his fingers ease back inside me, stretching me open again.

I’m already oversensitive, but Emmett only smiles as his free hand glides over the insides of my thighs with a touch that’s equal parts filthy and admiring.

Willy eases into me inch by inch, drawing out the stretch until the sting melts into pleasure. A rough sound escapes him, halfway between a sigh and a groan.

He holds himself there for a breath, pulsing inside me while Emmett works his fingers through every movement, the two sensations folding together until I can’t separate one from the other.

Every drive of Willy’s hips reaches deep, Emmett’s fingers answering each thrust while his quiet laugh brushes my back, and the room fills with the slap of skin, the rasp of Red’s breathing behind us, and the groan of the old bed frame beneath my hands.

I lose myself in it, reacting to every touch as Willy settles into a relentless pace, drawing back before driving home again until he’s buried inside me each time.

Emmett never stops moving, curling and scissoring his fingers until I feel impossibly open. The cry that tears out of me arrives before I can stop it, ragged enough to make every man in the room go still for half a heartbeat.

Willy slides his hand around the front of my throat, steadying my head rather than squeezing, the touch firm enough to remind me exactly where I am and who has me.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasps. “Filthy for us.”