Chapter 38 #2
I stretch, slow and lazy in the backseat. “Are we… home?” That’s going to take some getting used to saying.
Tate nods, thumb brushing the side of my knee. “Yeah. We are.”
Carter steps out of the car first, then opens my door, offering a hand.
The porch light is on and there’s a bag of Twitch-branded mail on the front step. Thankfully I had remembered to get my mailing address switched right away.
We don’t even make it past the doorway before I start crying.
Carter turns toward me. His eyes go wide, panic blooming across his face. “Hey, hey what’s wrong? Haven—”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, but my voice cracks on the word.
Tate’s behind me, shutting the door with his foot, my rug and backpack in his hands. “You’re not fine, you’re crying.”
“I’m not—” I sniffle, blinking fast. “I’m just… we’re here. I’m here. And I don’t have to pack again, or measure my life in weekends, or keep waiting for everything to fall apart.”
Carter’s face softens like a sunrise, like something holy. “You’re not waiting anymore baby.” he whispers, pulling me into his arms. “You’re home.”
And I’m crying harder.
Carter tugs me closer, pressing his forehead to mine like he’s grounding himself. “Oh, before I forget, we put your account with all your devices on the Wi-Fi already.”
I choke out a laugh, still sniffling. “You didn’t.”
“We did,” Tate says. “It’s locked behind a password no one will ever guess.”
I narrow my eyes. “What is it?”
They both speak at once. “CarterIsASimp69,” Tate says. “TateCanSuckIt,” Carter shoots back.
And then they argue about it while I stand in the middle of the hallway, holding my new house key.
Later, after the rest of my stuff is brought inside, the three of us are stretched across the couch, Carter presses a kiss to my temple. I tilt my head, resting it on his shoulder, glancing at Tate over Carter’s chest.
“Your bedroom pretty girl. Now.”
Carter looks between me and Tate disappearing upstairs into what’s now my room and groans. “Wait. Are we skipping dinner? Like… real, edible food?”
We don’t answer and the second I step into my room Tate’s hands are on me.
He walks me backward toward the bed, his mouth down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, down to the hollow of my throat. His fingers find the hem of my shirt and yank it up.
“Two weeks without this,” he groans, kissing the curve of my shoulder. “You really expect me to be normal?”
“Missed you too,” I murmur, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, the other sliding under his shirt as he pulls it off.
“I never stopped,” Carter whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth.
Between Carter’s soft touches and Tate’s possessive ones I’m stripped down to my bra.
Tate spins me, pulling me toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the edge.
I don’t even realize what he’s about to do until his grip on my hips tightens and he pulls me forward, right into his lap.
My breath catches, my bare skin meeting fabric at first, but he doesn’t let it stay that way. His hand slides down his own thigh, dragging the hem of his shorts up. “That’s better, I need to feel you.”
He shifts me without warning, guiding me down onto his thigh, setting me exactly where he wants me. My hands land on his shoulders.
“Fuck…” he exhales under his breath. “Yeah. Right there, pretty girl.”
Carter’s hand closes around my jaw, turning my face toward him, and his mouth finds mine before I can steady myself.
Tate doesn’t wait for me to catch up, his hands lock on my hips, and he rocks me down once on this thigh. “Move angel.”
My breath breaks into Carter’s mouth. I try slowly but Tate’s grip tightens, correcting me instantly, setting the pace himself. “Not like that, here slow it down. Feel it drag.”
Carter hums softly against my lips, one hand sliding down my spine, kissing me deeper.
Tate shifts his leg slightly higher, changing the angle just enough to make me react harder, and I gasp into Carter’s mouth. “Yeah,” he groans. “Fuckkk, just like that. You feel it now, don’t you?”
My grip tightens on him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I try again, slower this time, but it doesn’t last. The second it starts to build, I lose control of it, my movements turning uneven.
Tate’s hand slides up my side, then back down, dragging me with it, forcing me to slow. “Easy pretty girl, don’t start begging for it already.”
I shake my head slightly against Carter, but he just kisses me again, softer this time, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “Listen to him baby, you’re doing fine.”
That shouldn’t make it worse, but it does.
Tate’s grip tightens again, controlling every inch of my movement now, guiding my hips in a slower, more deliberate rhythm that makes it impossible to escape. “That’s it. Stay right there… let me handle it.”
I try to follow, I do—but my body keeps pushing ahead, trying to speed up, trying to get there faster, and every time I do, he stops me. Holds me still just long enough to feel it slip.
A broken sound leaves me, frustrated, desperate.
Tate leans in slightly, close enough that I feel his breath against my ear. “Don’t get greedy,” he murmurs. “You’ll get it when I say you do, pretty girl.”
My fingers curl tighter against him, and Carter’s hand presses firmer at my back, keeping me grounded when everything else feels like it’s slipping.
Tate drags me into motion again, slower than before, controlled down to the smallest shift of his hands.
“Stay with me, right here… yeah, like that. Fuck, you’re doing so good, I can feel that perfect little clit angel.”
Carter pulls back just enough to look at me. “You’re okay,” he says. “We’ve got you.”
I nod, even though my breath won’t cooperate and my body feels like it’s not mine anymore.
Tate just watches, guiding, controlling, dragging it out exactly how he wants it. He tilts his head. “Mmm, slow down.”
A sob bubbles up in my throat. “You’re mean.”
“You want to come?”
“Yes.”
“You want Carter to lick your sweet pretty pussy until you cry? Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I gasp, nearly shaking now. My clit is throbbing against Tate’s thigh and I feel like if I make the tiniest movement he’s going to have a huge mess to clean.
“Then keep those eyes on me.” His hands are firm on my hips, and with one sharp movement, he guides me onto the bed, pressing me down just enough to make the mattress dip under my weight. “Carter, get between her legs. Now.”
Carter slides closer, and I feel him press gently, positioning himself between my thighs before he quickly
flattens his tongue against my whole pussy.
I barely manage to choke out a sound.
Tate’s thumb brushes my lower lip. “That’s it, let it all out while we watch you fall apart. You’re almost there.”
Carter sucks softly on my clit and my body arches. My mouth drops open on a silent scream.
Tate kisses me like he’s swallowing the sound of it.
Carter doesn’t stop until my thighs jerk and I’m tugging on his hair. When he finally pulls back, his mouth is soaking wet.
Tate strokes a hand down my trembling stomach. “You took it so well.”
“I hate you,” I whisper hoarsely.
They both laugh as we sprawl across my bed before Carter groans, dragging a pillow over his face. “I’m trying to go soft. You’re not helping.”
I sit up slowly, and run a hand through my messy hair. “We should really eat something before I pass out.”
Tate leans over and presses a kiss to my lips. “Welcome to the endgame, pretty girl.”
“So… who’s cooking dinner?”
Carter immediately raises his hand.
Dinner devolves into a mess of shared bites and stolen touches.
Carter tries to play it cool—passing me a forkful of spicy noodles but his other hand won’t stop grazing my thigh, soft and slow.
Tate, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother pretending. He sits in nothing but his boxers, with his legs spread like a fucking menace. He eats with one hand and keeps the other curled loosely around the back of my chair, fingers occasionally brushing the nape of my neck.
“I give it ten minutes before one of you drags me back to bed,” I giggle around a mouthful of food.
He smirks. “I’ll take that as permission.”
We finish eating, and Carter starts cleaning up, and he keeps looking at me over his shoulder like he’s counting the seconds until he can touch me again.
Tate’s the one who finally loses patience. He steps in behind me just as I’m tossing a napkin away, his hands sliding around my waist. “Bed, now.”
Carter turns. “We just ate.”
“So?” Tate’s mouth brushes my neck. “I’m starving for something else.”
It doesn’t take long before we’re back in my room. This time we don’t even make it under the covers before Tate grabs my hips and lifts me straight onto Carter’s lap, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, wide-eyed and flushed.
“I love when you get like this,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to Carter’s lips.
His hands tremble as they grip my thighs, his mouth parting for me. “I-I can’t help it. You’re just…”
“Perfect,” Tate finishes from behind.
“Wait.”
They both still instantly.
“I want to try something.”
Tate studies me, slow, assessing. “Yeah?”
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Sit back. Both of you.”
Tate shifts first, leaning back toward the end of the bed like he’s curious more than anything, one brow lifting slightly. Carter follows, a little faster, a little more eager, like he doesn’t even need to understand it yet.
I take a small step closer between their legs. “Don’t move.”
Carter actually stills, completely, like he’s afraid even breathing too hard will break the rule.
Tate leans back on his hands. “Careful, You’re playing a risky game, pretty girl.”
I settle between them on the bed, my knees tucked underneath me. My hands curl around both of their cocks at the same time, Carter to my left, Tate to my right.
Carter tries to rub his hand up my thigh. “No touching,” I giggle, tightening my grip just enough to make both of them twitch. “Hands to yourselves. Or I stop.”
Carter nods quickly, biting his lip.