6. Vincent
VINCENT
I break the kiss only because breathing becomes non-negotiable.
Anya's mouth stays parted, her lips swollen from the pressure I applied, and the sight drags another low sound from my chest.
She watches me like she's deciding whether to push me away or pull me closer. The uncertainty in those blue eyes hits harder than any practiced seduction could.
My hands move. One slides under her ass, the other grips her thigh, and I lift. Her legs wrap around my waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of my back.
The motion presses her heat right against my stomach, and I feel how damp she already is through the thin fabric of her dress.
Steel cabinets line the far wall of my office. I carry her there in three strides, back her against the cool metal. The impact makes her gasp, and the sound shoots straight to my dick.
My palm slips under the hem of her dress. Higher. Her skin burns against my fingers, smooth and trembling.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, my groan tears out raw because there's nothing there. Just slick, bare pussy waiting for touch.
"Eric took my panties."
The words tumble from her, half-defiant, half-breathless. They punch the air from my lungs. Of course he did.
I crush my mouth to hers again to stop myself from saying something that might scare her off.
One arm bands under her ass, holding her entire weight without effort. My other hand works my belt, yanks the zipper down. The metal teeth rasp loud in the quiet office.
My cock springs free, heavy and already leaking at the tip. I fist myself once, twice, spreading the wetness, then notch the head against her entrance.
Her breath catches. Those blue eyes lock on mine, wide and dark with something that looks a lot like need.
I don't ask if she's sure. The way her thighs tighten around me says enough. I push inside in one slow thrust.
Tight. So fucking tight. Her pussy grips me like a fist, hot and wet. The realization makes my hips jerk forward harder than I planned. She makes a broken sound against my mouth.
I hold still for three heartbeats, buried to the hilt, letting her adjust. My forehead drops to hers. Her quick breaths fan across my lips. Then I start to move.
Each thrust rocks her up the cabinet. The metal rattles behind her back with every drive of my hips. I keep one hand under her ass, the other braced on the cabinet beside her head.
The position lets me watch her face, every micro-expression that crosses it when I grind deep.
"Fuck, Anya." The words scrape out before I can stop them. "You feel better than I imagined. And I imagined this a lot."
Her nails dig into my shoulders through my shirt. She doesn't answer with words, just tilts her hips to take me deeper on the next stroke. The change in angle pulls a hiss from between my teeth.
I speed up, chasing the friction, the wet sound of my cock sliding in and out of her.
Her head falls back against the cabinet with a dull thunk. The column of her throat stretches long and pale. I latch onto it with my mouth, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. She clenches around me in response, and the squeeze nearly ends this too soon.
I need to slow down. Need to make this last. But her pussy keeps fluttering around my dick, and her legs shake where they lock behind me, and restraint feels like a foreign concept right now.
Before she can tip over the edge, I pull out. The loss of her heat draws a growl from me. I set her on her feet, spin her, and bend her over my desk.
Her hands slap against the wood to catch herself. I kick her feet wider, fist the back of her dress, and shove the fabric up to her waist.
The view wrecks me. Her ass presented like that, pussy glistening and swollen from my cock, her back arched in clear invitation. I don't waste time. I line up and slam back inside her from behind.
This angle hits different. Deeper. The desk creaks under us as I set a punishing rhythm. My hips slap against her ass with every thrust.
One hand grips her hip. The other slides up her spine, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her chest flat to the desk.
"Vincent." My name comes out ragged from her lips. She turns her head to the side, cheek pressed to scattered documents, eyes squeezed shut.
I lean over her, chest to her back, and speak directly into her ear. "That's right. Say it again. Want to hear how it sounds while I'm fucking you."
"Vincent." She repeats it like a curse this time, pushing back to meet my thrusts.
The door to my office opens without a knock.
Eric and Jones step inside. I register their presence but don't stop moving. Can't stop. Not when her pussy keeps squeezing me like that, not when she's this close to coming apart under me.
Jones doesn't hesitate. His blue eyes darken as they take in the scene—Anya bent over my desk with her dress rucked up, my cock disappearing into her with each snap of my hips. He crosses the room, already working his belt open.
"Wrap those lips around your stepbrother's cock, Anya."
His voice carries that commanding edge that makes people listen. Makes her listen. She turns her head further, eyes fluttering open to find him standing beside the desk. His cock stands thick and hard in his fist. She parts her lips without argument.
I watch her take him into her mouth. The sight of her lips stretching around Jones's dick while I continue to fuck her from behind sends a bolt of pure lust through me.
Her moan vibrates around him, and Jones's hand fists in her loose blonde hair.
Eric closes the door behind him. The soft click barely registers over the wet sounds filling the office. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, that familiar half-smile playing on his face as he watches us.
His green eyes track every detail—the way her throat works around Jones, the way her hips roll back to take more of me.
I keep thrusting, harder now, chasing the pressure building at the base of my spine. My hand slides down to where we're joined. My thumb finds her clit, rubs tight circles in time with my strokes.
Her response is immediate. She jerks between us, a strangled sound escaping around Jones's cock.
"That's it," I mutter, voice rough. "Come on my dick while you suck him off. Let me feel it."
Her pussy clamps down hard. The orgasm hits her sudden and sharp. Her whole body goes rigid, then starts to shake.
The rhythmic pulses around my cock drag me over with her. I bury myself deep and come, hips stuttering against her ass as I spill inside her.
For a moment the only sounds are heavy breathing and the faint wet noises as Jones continues to use her mouth. Then he pulls back slightly, letting her catch air while I ease out of her.
My come trickles down her thigh. The sight makes something possessive uncoil in my chest.
Eric moves then, strands of blonde hair falling around his face. He takes my place behind her without a word, hands gentle on her hips as he turns her to face the desk again.
"You good, sweetheart?" His voice carries that warm edge even now, checking in while his cock nudges against her entrance.
She nods, pushing back against him. The movement makes my come leak out further, coating his tip. Eric groans at the sensation, then slides inside her in one long stroke.
"Fuck." The word escapes him as her pussy takes him easily, slick with a mix of her wetness and my release. "So damn wet. Vincent really filled you up for me."
He starts slow, giving her time to adjust to his size. His hands roam her back, soothing the places where I gripped too hard.
Where I was rough and precise, Eric moves with fluid confidence, rolling his hips in a way that makes her gasp and press back for more.
The sight of her caught between my two brothers—Eric fucking her from behind while she sucks Jones—stirs my spent cock back to half-mast.
I sink into my desk chair, watching, my hand absently stroking myself as I catch my breath.
Eric picks up speed. His thrusts grow deeper, more urgent. One hand snakes around to play with her clit while the other grips her shoulder for leverage. "Come again for us, gorgeous. Want to feel this tight pussy milk my cock while Jones fills your mouth."
Her response comes out muffled around Jones's dick, but the way her back arches tells me everything. Eric keeps talking, voice dropping into that charming lilt even as he fucks her harder. "That's my girl. Taking us so well. Look at you, all flushed and perfect between your stepbrothers."
Jones remains quieter, more controlled. His hand stays tangled in her hair, guiding but not forcing. His blue eyes stay locked on her face, watching every reaction.
When she hollows her cheeks and sucks harder, his jaw clenches visibly.
I lean forward in my chair, close enough to see the sweat beading along her spine. Close enough to smell the combined scent of all of us in the air. My hand finds her wrist where it braces against the desk.
I link our fingers together. The small connection feels important somehow, grounding amid the intensity.
Eric's rhythm falters first. His strokes turn erratic, hips snapping forward with less precision. "Shit. Anya. Gonna come. Want to fill you up too. I told you, we're putting a baby in you."
She moans around Jones's cock at his words. The vibration must push Jones closer because his free hand grips the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening. His control slips just enough for a rough curse to escape him.
Anya's second orgasm crashes through her. Her fingers tighten around mine hard enough to hurt. Her body convulses between Eric and Jones, pussy clenching visibly around Eric's cock as she comes.
The sight sends Eric over the edge right after her. He buries himself deep and stays there, groaning low as he comes inside her.
Jones follows moments later. His hips jerk forward, pushing deeper into her mouth as he spills down her throat. She takes it all, swallowing around him until he pulls back with a shaky breath.
The office falls quiet except for the sound of four people trying to remember how to breathe normally.