Page 19 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I absolutely do.

He steps forward, guiding me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Get on,” he says again, darker this time.

I obey without thinking.

The second I’m on the bed, his hands are all over me, trailing up my thighs, squeezing, guiding my knees apart so he can step between them.

He leans in, his palms sliding up the outside of my legs.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, eyes on my lips, hands stroking higher. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

I grip his shoulders hard.

“I—”

He cuts me off with a kiss.

His hands run up my torso again, and I swear he can feel my heart beating under his palms.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growls softly. “Do you know that?”

His mouth trails down my neck, lips tracing the line of my pulse. I arch involuntarily. His hands slide to my lower back, pulling me into him, making a quiet, needy sound escape my throat.

He groans, deep and guttural.

He kisses my collarbone, then along my shoulder, one hand sliding beneath the loose neckline of my sweater, his palm warm against my bare skin.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper, shaky, undone.

“Mmm,” he answers, mouth at my throat. “More.”

He presses me down on the bed, bracing himself with one hand while the other brushes over my skin. Up my thigh, gripping, squeezing, trailing up my hip, over my waist, slipping beneath the hem of my sweater again like he can’t stay away from my skin.

He touches me everywhere but where I’m aching for him, and it’s maddening.

Every place his hand moves makes me feel I’m about to break.

“Do you want me?”

I nod and tug him closer.

His eyes darken, undone.

“Good,” he whispers.

His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, lifting me slightly, positioning me exactly where he wants me on the bed. His body presses between my legs, his breath hot and ragged, his hands gripping my hips with intent that leaves no room for misunderstanding.

He kisses me again, deep and wild and claiming, his fingers hooking under the hem of my sweater as my hands slide beneath his shirt to pull him closer, everything tilting from heated to inevitable.

I splay my palms wide as I shimmy out of my sweater. Before I can even catch my breath, he pushes my underwear to one side, and his fingers fuck me deep. A guttural scream rises within me as he massages and explores all of me.

“Oh, my…” I yell as his thumb grazes over my clit, setting my whole body on fire. “That feels… it’s too much…”

He traces the most wonderful feeling patterns all over my clit. At some point, I wonder if he’s writing words, communicating a message, but I’m spinning too rapidly, sinking deeper into the pleasure—I don’t stand a chance of understanding anything right now.

“Oh fuck, what are you doing to me!” I cry out as his hand whips away.