20. Lena #2
“You can,” I whisper.
That’s all it takes.
Vale starts to fuck me like he’s starving.
Not wild. Not careless. Deep, deliberate thrusts that make the bed creak softly under us, make the dark press closer around every sound I can’t hold back. He keeps kissing me through it, swallowing my moans, his hand at my waist, then under my thigh, opening me wider so he can drive in deeper.
I dig my nails into his back and feel him shudder.
He groans my name against my mouth and thrusts harder, and I know without asking that the scars there pull when he moves, that it probably hurts, and the thought only makes me hotter, more desperate to give him something back.
I kiss his forehead. His mouth. The scar at his cheek.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice wrecked.
“Giving you what you won’t give yourself.”
That hits him so hard his rhythm breaks for one second before turning brutal.
“Lena—”
I’m too close to answer with anything but a gasp.
He reaches between us and rubs my clit, rougher now, and I cry out, thighs locking around him.
Every thrust drives me higher. Every stroke of his fingers shreds another layer of thought.
He fucks me like a man praying with his whole body, desperate and reverent and filthy all at once, and I come apart under him hard enough to bite my own lip to keep from making too much noise.
He fucks me through the orgasm with deep, relentless thrusts, mercilessly.
And he doesn’t slow down after I come.
If anything, Vale gets rougher. Like the orgasm only stripped the last layer of restraint off him and now there’s nothing left between us but impact and heat and the relentless drag of his cock driving into me again and again.
The bed knocks softly against the wall. My thighs are spread wide around his hips, shaking every time he thrusts deep enough to make my whole body jolt.
He’s braced over me on one arm, the other hand gripping my waist hard enough to hold me exactly where he wants me.
I can barely catch my breath.
He’s really fucking me now. Not careful. Not cautious. Railing me with the kind of focus that makes it feel like there’s nothing else in the room except his body pinning mine into the mattress and the wet, filthy sound of him moving inside me.
“Vale—” I gasp, and it comes out broken.
His mouth finds mine for one hard kiss, then my throat, then back to my mouth again, like he can’t decide where he wants me most. His scar brushes my cheek when he moves, rough skin against flushed skin, and the intimacy of it hits me almost as hard as his cock does.
I’m not used to this.
Not the sex. Not just that.
The attention.
Being looked at like this, held like this, wanted like this.
Every part of me lit up under somebody’s hands and mouth and eyes.
I spent most of my life being easy to miss.
Easy to move around. Easy to forget. Now every sound I make gets answered.
Every twitch of my body gets noticed. Every shiver means something to him.
It’s too much.
And I love it.
Vale’s hand slides up my stomach, over my breast, fingers tightening just enough to drag a cry out of me before he drops his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth. The combination of that and the punishing rhythm of his hips nearly makes me black out for a second.
“Fuck,” he groans against my skin. “You feel?—”
He doesn’t finish.
He doesn’t need to.
I know.
I can feel how close he is in the way his thrusts start hitting harder, rougher, less measured.
I can feel it in the way his breath comes apart against my throat, in the way his hand slips between us again to rub my clit with impatient, brutal little circles that make me arch so hard my back nearly leaves the bed.
I’m half floating from the first orgasm and somehow already climbing toward another.
He looks wrecked. Beautiful and wrecked and lost enough in me that I almost don’t notice anything else.
Almost.
Then I do.
A shift in the dark. A breath that doesn’t belong to either of us. The faint, wet sound of a hand working over skin.
My eyes open properly.
And there’s Havoc. Watching. One hand wrapped around himself, stroking slowly while he watches Vale fuck me into the mattress like he can’t make himself leave.
His face is half shadow, half that thin stripe of light from under the curtain, enough for me to see the heat in his eyes and the way his mouth curves when he realizes I’ve caught him.
For a second, I think the sight should shock me.
It doesn’t.
Maybe because everything about tonight has already gone too far to be shocking anymore. Maybe because my body is so open, so overrun with pleasure and being seen, that adding one more gaze to the weight of it feels less wrong than it should.
Maybe because some part of me wanted this too.
Vale is still driving into me, still rubbing me, and the knowledge of Havoc watching only makes the pleasure hit deeper.
I can’t help it. I reach out toward him.
Havoc’s eyes flick from my face to my hand, and for one second he actually looks surprised. Then his smile turns slow and wicked.
Vale notices my arm moving and lifts his head, breathing hard. His eyes follow the line of my reach, find Havoc, and something dark flashes across his face.
But he doesn’t stop. If anything, he fucks me harder.
That’s all Havoc needs. He steps closer to the bed, still stroking himself, and takes my hand. His fingers slide between mine, then down, guiding my palm over the hard, slick length of him.
I moan at the feel of him.
Vale curses low against my throat and thrusts deep enough to make my whole body jump.
“There,” Havoc murmurs, voice rough now. “That’s it.”
He lets me touch him while Vale pounds into me, and the whole thing turns blindingly hot. One man between my thighs, one at my side, both of them breathing harder now, both of them focused on me like I’m something they can’t quite believe they get to have.
I stroke Havoc clumsily at first, too dazed, too overwhelmed, but he grins and guides me, shows me the rhythm he likes, the pressure. Vale keeps fucking me through all of it, hand still working my clit, mouth at my neck, and I can’t do anything but drown.
“You like being watched?” Havoc asks softly.
I can’t answer.
Vale answers for me with another hard thrust that makes me cry out and clamp around him.
Havoc groans at the sound, at the sight of it, and his hand covers mine on his cock, moving us together faster now.
“One time might be a mistake, but two is a confession,” he says, reminding me of our encounter just this morning.
And he’s not lying. I love it. I love being taken, being wrecked like this.
The room narrows to sensation. Vale filling me, hitting deep, relentless. Havoc hot and slick in my hand. My own body trembling under all of it, split open by attention and need and the raw, impossible fact of being wanted this much.
I come with a broken moan, Vale’s name falling apart on my lips while Havoc curses under his breath leans down to kiss me just as Vale buries himself deep and spills inside me, coming with me still clenching helplessly around him.
For a few seconds after, nobody moves.
We just breathe.
Vale over me, heavy and shaking.
Havoc at my side, still holding my hand.
And me in the middle of both of them, staring into the dark and knowing there is no version of my life where this should feel as right as it does.