CHAPTER 14
Marina
Marina woke to light spilling through the thin curtains and the warmth of a body pressed against her back. Not her sister’s. Something broader, heavier, a man’s body – Ryan’s. She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, letting the memory of last night settle.
The three of them had ended up here somehow, in her bed instead of the living room couch, tangled in her sheets. Her hand was curled around a bunched edge of blanket, her body tucked against him, one of his arms draped loosely over her waist.
She didn’t open her eyes right away. There was something perfect about this moment, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, when the world was just warmth and skin and the quiet sound of breathing.
A strand of hair had worked its way across her eyelid, and she felt it twitch with each blink.
Then, a gentle touch. Fingers brushing the hair away from her face with such care she almost smiled.
She heard a moan. Not Ryan’s. Katrina’s. Marina felt the shift in the mattress, the soft rustle of sheets, and then a hand – moving somewhere she couldn’t see. Ryan’s body tensed slightly next to her. His breathing changed.
“Good morning,” she heard Katrina say, her voice still thick with sleep.
Marina opened her eyes to see Ryan turning to lie on his other side, his broad shoulders blocking her view. She caught a glimpse of Katrina’s messy hair across the pillow as they kissed.
And then, Katrina’s hand reached down to Ryan’s waist, and Marina knew what her sister was doing. Ryan’s groans confirmed her guess.
“Slow down,” Ryan said, his voice rough. “Not yet.”
Katrina’s took his hand and guided it between her legs, spreading her thighs. Ryan moaned again, and Marina felt a tingling between her own thighs.
“Move closer,” Ryan whispered to Katrina.
The bed shifted again as Katrina did what he said, now draping a leg over Ryan’s thigh. Marina felt the mattress dip, felt Ryan’s body move as he pushed into her sister. He was being careful, slow, trying not to wake her.
Marina decided it was time to stop pretending. “What a way to start a day,” she murmured against his neck.
She felt him shiver. His bicep flexed under her hand.
“Good morning, Rina,” Katrina said between gasps. “Join us. Not every day you wake up with a gorgeous hunk.”
Marina paused. The truth was, she’d been awake for most of this, pretending not to be, enjoying the show. “I will, if I can figure out how. I wish he had two cocks.”
Ryan chuckled. The sound rumbled through his back and into her chest.
“I’ve got two hands,” he said.
Katrina laughed. “See? Problem solved.”
They rearranged themselves. Katrina lay on her back, and Ryan moved between her legs. Marina shifted to lie beside her sister, close enough that their shoulders touched.
She looked at Katrina’s face – flushed, eyes half-closed, lips parted – and felt a surge of something complicated and warm. Then Ryan’s hand was on her, sliding between her thighs, and the thought dissolved into sensation.
He pushed two fingers into her, and Marina gasped.
His other hand was on Katrina, his hips moving in a steady rhythm.
Marina watched his face – the concentration there, the pleasure – and felt the strange doubling of it all.
His fingers inside her, his cock inside her sister.
Similar sensations, she imagined, but different.
Katrina was fierce even in this, her body moving with urgency, while Marina found herself sinking into something slower and deeper.
Or maybe that was just the difference between fingers and a cock.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except his hand and her sister’s breathing and the morning light on the sheets.
“Lucky,” Katrina murmured between moans, not opening her eyes.
Marina wasn’t sure if she was talking to Ryan or to herself.
Ryan’s pace changed. He was thrusting faster now, his fingers working her with the same urgency.
Marina felt it building, a tightening low in her belly, and she heard Katrina’s breathing quicken beside her.
They were syncing up without meaning to, the way they always did, even in this.
The only difference was that there was Ryan, joining them.
“I’m close,” Marina said.
“Me too,” Katrina gasped.
Ryan’s rhythm faltered for a second, and Marina knew he was holding back, trying to time it right.
She didn’t care about timing. She cared about the wave breaking inside her, about Katrina’s hand finding hers on the sheets and squeezing hard, about Ryan’s fingers curling inside her and finding that spot that made her see white.
They came together. Marina felt her body clench around his fingers, a hot rush of pleasure that made her arch off the mattress. Beside her, Katrina cried out, her back bowing, and Ryan groaned – a low, broken sound – as he pushed deep into her sister and went still.
For a moment, nobody moved. The room was quiet except for their breathing, ragged and slowing. Marina felt Ryan’s fingers slide out of her gently, and she watched his hand rest on her thigh. Katrina’s leg was still hooked over his hip, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Well,” Katrina said after a while, her voice lazy with satisfaction. “I have a lesson in an hour.”
She untangled herself from Ryan and slipped out of bed.
Marina heard the bathroom door close, then the sound of the shower running.
Ryan’s arm settled around her waist again, pulling her back against his chest. His skin was damp with sweat, warm, and she felt the steady thud of his heart against her spine.
“Good morning,” he said quietly.
Marina smiled into her pillow. “Good morning.”
They lay like this for a moment, Ryan spooning her, the sound of Katrina showering in the background.
She could feel his breath against her shoulder, warm and even. His hand began to move, tracing the dip of her waist, the rise of her hip, then back again in a lazy circle that made her skin prickle with goosebumps.
His fingers found her breast and cupped it, his thumb brushing across her nipple with a gentleness that made her gasp. He did it again, slower this time, and she arched into his touch.
“You’re going to make me want you again,” she said, her voice low.
“That’s a good thing,” Ryan said against her shoulder. “Because that’s what I want.”
She felt him shift behind her, his cock – slightly soft from earlier – pressing against the curve of her ass. He rocked against her once, twice, and she felt him hardening. He nestled himself in the deep groove between her cheeks, his length warm against her skin.
“You have a perfect ass,” he whispered into her ear.
Marina chuckled. The sound caught in her throat and came out half moan. “Are you an ass man?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he said. “Not until now, at least.”
He was fully hard now. She felt him dip along her wetness, the slick heat of her own arousal, and then he was pushing into her, slow and careful. She received him eagerly, her body opening for him, and she sighed when he was fully seated inside her.
“I love this position,” she said. “You hit my sweet spot so easily.”
It wasn’t, she knew, the best angle for him. She could tell by the way he had to adjust, the slight strain in his hips. But he found his rhythm, thrusting deeper, and the next moan that escaped her was louder, involuntary. She felt his hand tighten on her hip.
Ryan picked up his pace. One hand slipped around her neck, not squeezing, just holding, while his other hand found her clit and began to stroke in time with his thrusts.
The combination was overwhelming – his cock hitting that spot inside her, his fingers circling her clit, his palm against her throat. Marina’s vision blurred at the edges.
“Oh my god,” she gasped. “This is so intense, Ryan. You’re giving me a sensory overload.”
“Good,” he said, his breath hot against her ear. He was breathing hard now, each thrust punctuated by a soft grunt. “That’s the goal, Marina. To overload you, in every way. Ready for another load?”
She laughed, the sound breaking into a moan as he thrust particularly deep. “I love your dirty talk,” she said. “And yes. Definitely ready for a load of you.”
He pushed harder, faster. Marina wriggled her ass against him, feeling his balls slap against her, and heard him curse – a ragged, desperate sound that sent a thrill through her. His hand on her clit moved faster, his fingers slick with her wetness.
“That night at the Beacon,” he said, his voice rough. “Watching you on stage. Swaying your hips, teasing the crowd. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Marina went still for a second. Yeah, of course, that night. Marina would have been uncomfortable if any other man told her this. But with Ryan, it was the opposite. “I wouldn’t have guessed,” she said with a small laugh. “You seemed cool about it when I saw you later off stage.”
“Not at all. I thought about you the whole night. On my way home, in the shower, in bed, when I slept, and dreamed.”
She laughed again, but it dissolved into a moan as his thumb found a rhythm on her clit that made her thighs shake.
His hand moved to her thigh, her stomach, her breast again, as if he couldn’t decide which part of her to touch first. She felt owned by him in that moment, claimed in the gentlest possible way, and the thought made her push back against him harder.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “Fuck me harder. Cowboy.” Shit. She had never talked this way before. She sounded like a whore. This “cowboy” was doing something to not just her body, but her head as well.
Thankfully, Ryan seemed to be spurred by her flirty demand. His hips snapped against her with a force that drove the breath from her lungs. She felt every inch of him, the stretch and fullness, the way his cock dragged against her walls on each thrust.
His fingers on her clit were relentless now, circling faster, and Marina felt the tension building in her lower belly, a coil winding tighter and tighter.
She was close. Her breathing had gone shallow, and her thighs trembled. Urgent, helpless sounds escaped her throat. Ryan felt it too. His rhythm stuttered, and she knew he was holding back, waiting for her.
“I’m coming,” she gasped. “Ryan, I’m—”
Her body tensed. Her walls clenched around his shaft in rhythmic pulses, and the orgasm hit her like a wave breaking – a hot rush that started deep inside and radiated outward until her toes curled and her back arched.
She cried out, a sound she barely recognized as her own, and felt Ryan shudder behind her. He pushed deep and held there, his cock pulsing as he came, his groan muffled against her shoulder.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Marina’s heart hammered against her ribs.
She could feel Ryan’s pulse where his wrist pressed against her throat, rapid and slowing.
His cock was still inside her, softening gradually, and the feeling of him there – warm, spent, connected – made something ache in her chest.
The shower had stopped at some point. She could hear Katrina moving around in the bathroom, the sound of drawers opening and closing.
She needed a shower, too. But it could wait. She wanted to linger in bed for a moment longer, to feel Ryan’s weight against her back, his arm heavy across her waist, and his breath steadying in her ear.
Marina closed her eyes and let herself exist in the quiet.