Chapter 20 #2
Teague sees me first. His grin is immediate, the grin of a man who just won a game he was already enjoying. Ledger is a step behind him, his gray eyes moving over me once with that cataloging precision that always makes me feel like I'm being read in a language I don't speak.
"There you are," Teague muses.
"Took you long enough."
"Did you like that?" Teague crouches in front of me, his forearms on his knees, close enough that I can smell his soap. His voice drops several octaves. "Waiting for us to come looking? Knowing we'd track you down?"
My face heats but I hold his gaze. "Yes."
"You like being found, Sunshine." It's not a question. His eyes search my face, reading whatever he finds there. "You like hiding somewhere and knowing we're coming to get you. That's going to be useful information."
Whatever he means by that, the promise in it sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the air on my bare skin.
Teague stands and offers me his hand and I take it.
He pulls me to my feet, walks me out of the stall, into the tack room where the old oak desk sits against the far wall, scarred with boot marks, covered in papers nobody's organized in a decade.
Teague sweeps the papers off with one arm before laying a thin fabric across the middle. "On your back."
I sit on the edge and lie back. The wood is cold and hard against my back through the thin sheet.
I'm looking up at both of them, completely exposed, my legs hanging off the edge.
Teague moves between my thighs as Ledger comes around to the head of the desk.
I can see both of them above me, upside down and right side up, the barn light cutting across their faces.
"Here's how this works," Teague purrs, his hands settling on my hips, his thumbs pressing into the bruises there.
"Ledger's going to take your mouth. He has more control than I do and he won't lose himself in how good you feel.
" He leans down, his breath warm on my stomach.
"I will absolutely lose myself in how good you feel. So I'm taking this end."
"I need you to listen, Ash." Ledger's voice is above me. His hand comes to my jaw, tilting my face up toward him. "If it's too much, you tap my thigh. Twice. I'll feel it. Don't try to talk, don't try to push through it. Two taps. I pull out. We breathe."
"Two taps," I repeat, looking up at him upside down.
"I'm going to let you breathe between. Every few seconds I pull back and you get air. You keep your eyes on me so I can read your face. If your eyes go glassy or your hands stop gripping, I stop whether you tap or not."
"Okay."
Teague pulls the plug out and I gasp at the emptiness. His fingers replace it for only a moment, checking, before the blunt pressure of him pushes in and my back arches off the desk, the wood groaning beneath me. My hands scramble for something to grip, finding the edges of the desk.
Ledger's hand cards through my hair, tilting my head back until my mouth is open and my throat is a straight line.
He feeds himself past my lips slowly, the weight of him on my tongue making my eyes water.
He pushes deeper and holds, watching my face, reading me the way he reads everything, with total attention and zero wasted movement.
My throat closes around him and he pulls back.
I gasp, air flooding in, my chest heaving.
He waits two seconds, three, until my breathing steadies, then presses forward again, deeper this time.
My fingers grip the desk edge so hard the wood bites into my palms and the stretch in my throat borders on too much, pressure filling me from both ends until I'm nothing but sensation caught between them.
Teague's hips roll forward. The angle on the desk is devastating, every thrust hitting so deep that my body slides on the wood.
Ledger has to steady my head with both hands.
Incoherent sounds tear from my throat around Ledger's cock that vibrate through us both and his jaw tightens at the sensation but his pace stays measured.
He pulls out giving me a moment as I gasp, my vision blurring. I can feel tears running into my hair.
"Color," Ledger says.
"Green," I choke out, my voice ragged. "Please don't stop."
Ledger slides back in. Teague picks up his pace, fingers digging into my hips, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. Ledger holds my head, fucks my throat with a precision that leaves me just enough air to survive.
I'm shaking on the desk, my body caught between their rhythms, tears streaming, my cock painfully hard against my stomach without anyone touching it.
Ledger pulls out again, his thumb wiping the tears from beneath my eye as he checks in. I blink up at him and his expression shifts, something cracking behind those pale eyes as he reads whatever he finds in my face. He presses back in before I can form a word.
Teague leans over me, his mouth finding my ear. "God, Sunshine, look at you. You're taking both of us like you were made for this." His voice is rough, losing the edges of composure. "Every sound you make, every time you choke on him and come back for more, do you have any idea what you do to us?"
I can't answer. My mouth is full, my body is full, the drop circling at the edges of my vision. I grip the desk harder and focus on Ledger's eyes above me, on the gray of them, on the barely-there crack in his control.
Teague's hand wraps around my cock and I scream around Ledger's length, the vibration making him groan, the first real sound I've ever pulled from him.
Three strokes and I'm done, coming so hard across my stomach that my entire body locks.
Teague follows me with a groan filling the space, holding himself deep inside me while his hips stutter.
Ledger pulls from my mouth, finishing across my jaw and throat, his hand tight in my hair.
I blink a few times as Teague pulls back, the drop finally taking over.
It's gentler this time. The fall is slow and warm, like sinking into a bath I can't feel the bottom of.
I know they're talking because I can hear the low hum of their voices, Teague's hands on my face, Ledger's palm against my chest. The words come through like light through water, scattered and muffled.
I surface gradually. Teague's face comes into focus first, his blue eyes close to mine, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. Ledger's hand is on my chest, measuring my heartbeat.
"There you are," Teague says softly. "Welcome back, Sunshine."
I blink twice, my mouth working before my brain has fully returned. "More."
Teague laughs, obviously surprised as Ledger just shakes his head, both of them looking at me like I've said something impossible.
"More," I repeat, trying to sit up. My arms don't cooperate.
"You're getting water and food and a break," Teague says, easing me upright. "Nonnegotiable."
"But I want—"
"I know what you want. Your body needs about an hour and a meal before it can cash the checks your mouth is writing.
" He kisses my forehead and pulls back. "Besides, if my father sees you looking like this he's going to fuck you before you make it through the kitchen door and then we'll never get dinner started. "
Ledger hands me a water bottle from the shelf. I drink half of it in one pull, my throat raw, my body humming with that warm buzzing aftermath that's becoming familiar.
"You're insatiable," Teague muses, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
Ledger just looks at me and shakes his head once, the corner of his mouth doing something that might be a smile.
"I want to go on the record," I say, my voice cracked and barely there, "that this is the best Tuesday of my life."