12. Dakota #3
“You’re taking him so well, baby.” Dante is right behind Cruz now, one hand on Cruz’s lower back, the other steadying his own cock. “Look at you. So good for him.”
Cruz bottoms out and we both groan.
“Stay still.” Dante’s voice in his ear. “Don’t move. Let her adjust. Eyes on her.”
Cruz looks down at me. “Sweetheart. Christ. You okay?”
“More than okay.” I cup his face. “Move. Please.”
“In a second, baby.” Dante’s thumbs press into the dimples at Cruz’s lower back. “I’m coming in. Don’t move yet.”
I watch Cruz’s face as Dante pushes into him.
His mouth falls open. His eyes shut. The flush spreads down his throat to his chest, and his cock pulses inside me where he’s gone impossibly harder.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Dante—”
“That’s it.” Dante’s forehead drops between Cruz’s shoulder blades. “There. All the way.”
For one long suspended second none of us move. I can feel Cruz throbbing inside me. Cruz can no doubt feel Dante throbbing inside him. We’re a chain of three and I don’t know who’s in control anymore.
Dante breaks first. He pulls his hips back and rocks forward, and the motion pushes Cruz deeper into me, and I keen.
“There we go.” Dante does it again. Slow. Controlled. “Cruz doesn’t have to do anything. I’ll fuck him into you. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Cruz breathes. “Oh yeah. Like that. Like that.”
“Like that?” I drag my nails down his chest. “He’s fucking you so good you can’t even move?”
“Sweetheart, you got such a filthy fucking mouth—”
“You love it,” I retort.
“I love it.”
Dante’s rhythm picks up. Each thrust drives Cruz into me, and I’m being fucked without Cruz doing the work, and the helpless, dazed look on Cruz’s face is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“He looks pretty like this, doesn’t he?” Dante’s voice over Cruz’s shoulder, his eyes finding mine. “Big strong fighter, taking it so well. Letting me take control.”
“So pretty,” I agree, and Cruz makes a wounded sound.
“Don’t—you two can’t talk about me like I’m not—oh fuck, do that again—”
Dante does it again, snapping his hips harder this time. Cruz’s eyes roll back.
“He’s loud when he’s getting fucked,” Dante tells me. “Did you know that, baby? Loud and sweet.”
“I want to hear him.”
“Then make him loud.”
I reach up and pinch one of Cruz’s nipples between my fingers. His whole body jerks.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah?” I roll it. Pinch harder. “Like that, big guy?”
“Sweetheart. Oh god, you keep doing that and I’m gonna—”
“Don’t.” Dante’s hand fists in Cruz’s hair, pulling his head back. “Not yet. Not until she does. You hold it.”
“I can’t, I can’t. She’s so tight and you…”
“You can.” Dante kisses the back of his neck. “You will. Be a good boy for us.”
I clench down deliberately and Cruz nearly sobs.
“Don’t do that,” His voice breaks.
Dante laughs low. “She’s going to do it again. Aren’t you, baby?”
“Maybe.” I squeeze deliberately around Cruz, and he drops forward onto his hands on either side of my head, caging me in, his face inches from mine.
“You are the most—” He pants between every word. “The most beautiful—filthy—fucking—”
I kiss him to shut him up.
He moans into my mouth. Dante’s rhythm goes ragged behind him, less measured now, more urgent, and every thrust grinds Cruz right against the place inside me that will shatter me.
“Dante—” I gasp against Cruz’s mouth. “Dante, I’m close, I’m so close—”
“Then come, baby.” His voice has dropped to gravel. “Come on his cock. Let him feel it.”
I drag my hand down between us and find my clit, two fingers working tight quick circles, and Cruz watches with his mouth slack.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart, you’re—touching yourself on my cock. Fuck…”
“Hold it,” Dante warns.
“I can’t, she’s—”
“Hold. It.”
It hits me like a wave breaking. My back bows off the bed. I clench around Cruz so hard I feel him pulse inside me. The sound that comes out of my throat doesn’t even feel like mine.
“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it, give it to me—”
“Now.” Dante’s voice goes guttural. “Now, Cruz, come.”
Cruz comes with a shout that probably wakes Dante’s neighbors, his hips driving as deep into me as Dante’s driving into him, and I feel the hot pulse of him filling me up. Dante follows two thrusts later, his forehead pressed to Cruz’s shoulder, a long broken moan against his skin.
We collapse in slow motion.
Cruz manages, somehow, to fall sideways instead of on top of me. Dante stays braced behind him for a long moment, then eases free with a kiss to the back of Cruz’s neck.
I’m shaking. The good kind. The kind I didn’t know existed until last night.
“Sweetheart.” Cruz’s huge arm drags me into his chest. “Sweetheart. Holy fuck.”
“You good, baby?” Dante’s hand finds my hip across Cruz’s body. “Tell me you’re good.”
“I’m good.” I’m laughing. I’m crying a little. I can’t tell. “I’m so good.”
“Green?” he asks.
“So fucking green.”
Cruz presses his mouth to the crown of my head and holds there, one big palm rubbing slow circles on my back, and I think—dazed, wrecked, with two men who might just burn the world for me—that this might be what safety feels like.