41. 3
My entire body locks up, my breath stalling, my fingers gripping the sheets in sheer disbelief.
“T-that’s not fucking happening,” I gasp, shaking my head as I try to wrap my mind around what he just suggested. “You two are—I can’t—I won’t be able to—”
Tate’s hand cups my throat, pressing his thumb lightly against my pulse as his lips brush against my cheek.
“You can take as much as you can,” he says. “And you’ll stop us when it’s too much.”
“Tate—” Carter’s voice is hoarse, but Tate is already moving, pulling me into his lap, his thick cock rubbing against my pussy, pressing against it and then he slides inside me.
I let out a sharp cry, my body stretching around him again, raw and sensitive, trembling from everything they’ve already done to me. Tate groans, his head tipping back, his fingers digging into my hips as he slowly rolls his hips, fucking up into me, his cock filling every inch of me. “Fuck, that’s it, angel,” he groans, his chest heaving beneath me. “So fucking perfect, about to be broken between two cocks aren’t you.”
I can barely breathe, barely process anything as Carter’s hands slide up my back, as his lips press soft, gentle kisses along my spine.
“Baby,” Carter murmurs, his voice shaking. “Are you sure?”
Tate doesn’t give me time to think. His hands spread me wider, angling my hips, his cock grinding deeper inside me. I whimper, my entire body shaking as Carter slowly presses his tip against my pussy, against the space that’s already completely stretched around his brother.
I gasp, my entire body going rigid, my fingers digging into Tate’s shoulders.
“Carter—” I barely manage to breathe, my entire body burning, my nerves on fire, my mind screaming that I can’t take both of them. “I can’t—I can’t take—”
“You can, pretty,” Tate interrupts, his lips brushing over mine, his hands steadying me as Carter groans against my back, as his cock barely presses inside. “You can and you will take as much as you can fucking handle.”
Carter pushes slowly, carefully the thick tip of his cock inside before I cry out, my body shaking, my nails dragging down Tate’s chest.
“Fuck, baby,” Carter groans, his hands shaking, his forehead pressing against my shoulder. “I’m sorry—I d-don’t want to hurt you.”
“Too much,” I pant barely able to think, my body stretched to its absolute limit, my legs trembling, my hands shaking. “Carter, it’s too much.”
Tate’s lips crash against mine swallowing my whimper, his fingers sliding up my hips as he whispers against my lips. “Then we won’t push it, pretty angel.” A fucking lie. He grips my waist and thrusts in. Carter groans, his cock being pushed deeper. “F-fuck, w-what the fuck Tate.” He lets out a shuddering breath, quickly pulling out, his hands rubbing soft soothing circles into my skin, whispering sweet reassurances against my ear. “I’m sorry, baby,” Carter breathes, his lips brushing against my neck, his voice soft. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Too much, Tate,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, broken, my hands grasping for anything as Tate holds me still against him.
Tate groans against my shoulder, his hands sliding up my stomach. “I know, pretty angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin. “I know.”
He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t let me go. But he doesn’t push further either. Instead, he just rolls his hips, slow, deep, lazy thrusts that aren’t meant to take, aren’t meant to ruin but just to keep me full, to keep me grounded, to let me feel him. I whimper, my head laying against his shoulder, my body trembling from how soft, how gentle he’s being, from how different this is from everything we’ve done before. Tate doesn’t fuck me like he’s trying to break me this time. He fucks me like he wants to keep me. Carter moves from behind me, kneeling beside us, his lips finding mine, soft, warm, lingering. His thumbs stroke over my cheeks, his kisses slow, worshipping. “You deserve to be treated like the angel you are for us,” he whispers, his fingers brushing down my stomach before slipping between my thighs and Tate. I gasp as he finds my clit, rubbing me so softly, sending little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my body.
Tate groans, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, his fingers rolling my nipples, his breath ragged against my ear. “That’s right, pretty angel,” he murmurs. “You belong to us. No one else will ever fucking touch you like this.”
Carter nods, his lips trailing down my jaw, his voice thick with emotion. “Ours,” he whispers. “Always.”
Tate fucks me slowly, his hips rocking up in lazy, shallow thrusts, not enough to hurt, not enough to push me over again, just enough to keep me right here, between them, surrounded, cherished, claimed. “You’re not going anywhere, pretty girl.” Tate’s thrusts stay slow, so achingly deep, his cock stretching me, filling me, but not taking, just letting me feel him. Every inch, every roll of his hips, every pulse of his cock inside me. “You’re gonna stay right here, dripping for us, shaking for us, begging until you forget you ever belonged to anyone else but me and him.” My thighs trembling, my skin hot, my breathing uneven as my head rests against his shoulder. I don’t have the strength to do anything but take it, to let him have me exactly the way he wants. I can barely keep my eyes open, can barely focus, but I don’t have to. Tate’s cock moving inside me, stretching me with those deep, lazy strokes. He leans me back as Carter’s mouth is getting closer until he kisses my pussy. A deep trembling gasp leaves my lips as Carter’s tongue flicks over my clit, soft, teasing, and my whole body jerks. My thighs tense, my fingers clutch at Tate’s arms where they hold me, but I don’t stop it. “Please,” I whimper, voice cracked and desperate, “don’t stop… don’t stop, please… I’m yours… I’m all yours…”
Carter’s tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, his lips wrapping around me, sucking just enough to make me whimper, my body trembling. Tate groans, his cock still thrusting at that torturous, aching pace. “That’s it, pretty angel,” Tate breathes against my neck, his lips brushing my ear. “Take it all. Let us take care of you.”
Carter’s tongue never stops moving, slow circles over my clit, his mouth soft and warm, the suction just enough to keep my nerves firing, to keep my body on the edge of something devastatingly perfect. His hands are gentle on my thighs, keeping them spread, keeping me exactly where he wants me as he licks me like he’s savoring every second, like he wants to pull every last drop of pleasure from me. Tate’s pace shifts, still slow and deep, but harder now, his cock pushing inside me with more deliberate thrusts. His hands are on my waist, his fingers digging in to hold me steady as he takes me the way he wants.
I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips, my head falling back against Tate’s shoulder, my fingers threading through Carter’s hair as his tongue moves faster, pushing me higher, pushing me exactly where they want me. “There you go, pretty,” Tate breathes against my ear, his voice thick with need. “Let go for us, for me.”
The orgasm builds slowly, achingly, my whole body tightening, my stomach tensing, my thighs shaking as the pleasure climbs higher, higher, until it’s unbearable, until it crashes over me, pulling me under, stealing my breath. I come with a whimper, my hips jolting, my fingers gripping Carter’s hair tighter, my whole body trembling as he stays on me, licking me through it, drinking down every last sound I make.
Tate groans, his cock throbbing inside me as he keeps thrusting, each roll of his hips keeping me completely theirs.
“So fucking perfect,” Carter whispers against my skin, his voice full of reverence, full of something deeper than just lust.
Tate slows his thrusts, groaning, his hands still gripping my hips, still keeping me where he wants me as he pulls himself from me, my body shuddering at the loss, still throbbing. His hands are firm but careful as he moves me, pulling me away from Carter’s mouth, guiding me until my back meets the soft sheets beneath me. I can barely keep my eyes open, can barely focus on anything but the heat of their bodies surrounding me. My chest rises and falls in sharp, shaky breaths, my mind fogged from how completely they’ve taken me.
Carter’s lips press against my stomach, his breath fanning over my skin as he moves lower, his hands gliding down my sides. His touch isn’t desperate this time, it’s tender. Tate does the same, his lips finding the curve of my neck, his tongue tracing a line down my collarbone, his hands framing my face for a moment before trailing down, brushing over my breasts, rolling my already sensitive nipples between his fingers. My body responds instantly, my back arching, a soft gasp slipping past my lips.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Carter whispers against my skin, his lips pressing over my hip bone, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me open just enough to kiss higher, just enough to taste me again.
Tate’s fingers slide into my hair, his other hand resting over my ribs, his voice lower, raspier. “Took us so fucking well, pretty.” His lips find the spot right below my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re ours, aren’t you?”
I can’t even form words, can’t do anything but nod, can’t do anything but feel them. Their lips, their hands, the way they take their time kissing, tasting, covering me in their touch. Carter’s mouth moves lower, Tate’s lips move higher, and I let them have me. Every inch. Every part. Tate’s fingers slide down my stomach, claiming every inch like it belongs to him. Carter’s still kissing my body, still tracing soft patterns over my thighs, my ribs, my arms. Their touches are slow, their hands gentle, but my body is exhausted, trembling from the way they’ve ruined me over and over again.
Tate’s fingers tighten around my jaw, tilting my head up toward him, his lips brushing over mine, his voice low. “You can’t take our cocks anymore,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding through my soaked pussy before moving back up my body. “But you can take our cum.”
My breath catches, even as my muscles protest, as my body begs for rest. I don’t deny either of them. I just blink up at him, dazed, as he and Carter both move onto their knees beside me. Carter’s hesitant, his lips parting, his brows furrowing slightly as he watches Tate grip his cock, pumping it in slow, even strokes. “Tate, I don’t thi—”
“Shut the fuck up and touch yourself.”
Carter exhales shakily, his hand finally wrapping around his own cock, and my stomach tightens at the sight, both of them touching themselves above me, their eyes raking over my ruined body. Their hands stroke slow at first, their gazes devouring. I feel every flick of their wrists like it’s happening to me, like I’m the one being touched, being pleasured, being wrecked all over again. I can’t help it, I finally open my eyes fully, taking them both in, my breath coming in shallow little gasps as I watch them pump their thick, aching cocks, as their hands glide over, as their muscles flex, as their groans fill the air. Carter’s eyes fall down to meet mine.
Tate doesn’t break eye contact at all either. His jaw clenches, his muscles tensing, his hips stuttering forward slightly, he groans, deep and rough, his cock jerking in his hand as a thick shot of cum shoot across my stomach, my hips, my soaked, swollen pussy.
I moan, my thighs twitching, my nails digging into the sheets as the warmth of him coats me. “Fuck, angel,” he breathes, his hand still moving over his cock, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. “So fucking pretty covered in me.”
Carter is next. He tries to hold back, tries to keep control, but the second he sees me like this, sees me covered in his brother’s cum, his grip tightens, his breath shatters, his hips buck forward, he spills all over my tits, my throat, my parted lips. I whimper, my tongue darting out to taste him, my body aching, spent, but completely, utterly theirs. Carter lets out a broken sound, his cock pulsing in his hand, his cum still dripping onto my skin, his free hand smoothing over my cheek, his touch sweet.
Tate grins, dragging a finger through the mess on my stomach, bringing it up to my lips. “Now, that’s a good girl.”
The three of us are tangled together, bodies still warm, limbs draped lazily, exhaustion weighing heavy but satisfaction even heavier. Carter’s fingers trace gently over my hip. Tate is behind me, his body heat pressing against my back, his lips brushing against the top of my ear every now and then, like he wants to say something but won’t. I let my eyes flutter closed, feeling the rise and fall of Carter’s breathing beneath my cheek, the steady pulse of Tate’s heartbeat against my spine. My body is ruined, my mind is a mess, but I’ve never felt more at home than I do right here, with them.
Then Tate ruins it. “So, pretty,” he teases, a smug little edge curling through every word. “Think you’ll last longer in our next round, or are we gonna have to carry your ass through it again?”
Carter groans, not even lifting his head. “Dude. She’s literally still shaking.”
“I’m just checking,” Tate laughs, brushing a kiss against the side of my neck like he didn’t just say something completely stupid. “Gotta keep her on her toes.”
I peek up at Carter, catching his expression, half exasperated, content and I can’t help but grin. “You two are the worst,” I mumble, voice hoarse from overuse.
“Objectively true,” Carter says, his fingers tightening just slightly on my waist. “But I’d argue we’re also the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“Oh, the best,” I deadpan, even as my grin widens. “You mean besides the part where I can’t feel my legs?”
Tate chuckles behind me, shifting just enough to drape his arm across my stomach, his palm splayed over my ribs like he owns the space. “I take full responsibility for that.”
“Yeah,” Carter mutters. “Of course you do.”
“Relax,” Tate hums, and now his voice dips lower, quieter, dragging shivers across my skin. “You both loved it.”
God, he’s not wrong. “Maybe,” he adds, rolling me gently onto my back, his grin all teeth and trouble. “But you can’t get enough of us.”
Carter shifts beside me, brushing his thumb along my jaw as his gaze softens. “Not that I’d ever let you go.”
My throat tightens at that, just a little. I look between them, my troublemakers, my chaos.
“You’re right. I can’t.” I’ll never get enough. Not of Carter. Not of Tate. Not of the beautiful, messy thing we’ve created together. Maybe it makes me twisted. Maybe it makes me theirs. But fuck, I’ve never felt more alive. Maybe that’s the point. Life was never supposed to be neat. It was never supposed to be clean lines and carefully drawn boundaries. It’s supposed to shattered and stitched together again by the people crazy enough to love every broken piece. There’s a violent kind of beauty in being wanted this way. In being kept.