45. Dakota #3
A warm cloth moves over me. Dante, probably. Always the thoughtful one. Water presses to my lips and I drink. A blanket settles over my skin, soft as breath. The candles burn low, throwing long shadows.
Bodies arrange themselves around me. Cruz behind me on the floor, his hand resting on my hip through the blanket. Brady’s head near mine. Eli’s fingers laced with mine. Dante somewhere at my feet, thumb rubbing slow circles on my ankle.
Time goes soft and strange. I drift.
When I surface, the room has changed temperature. Bodies stirring, breath quickening, arousal rebuilding out of exhaustion, impossible and inevitable.
“I got an idea.” Cruz’s voice, rough and low near my ear. “The chain. All five of us. One line, everybody connected.”
“You’re insane,” Brady says, but there’s no refusal in it.
“You love me.”
“God help me.”
“Floor,” Dante says, already moving cushions. “More room.”
He lies back on the rug and reaches for me, and I climb over him on shaky legs and sink onto his cock with a moan. My pussy is tender, swollen, and it doesn’t matter, my body welcomes him like he’s coming home.
“There she is.” Dante’s hands frame my hips. “Still so wet. Still full of us.”
“Gonna be fuller.” Cruz kneels behind Dante, lifting his hips, lining up. “Ready, D?”
“Do it.”
I feel the exact moment Cruz pushes into Dante’s ass, because Dante’s cock jerks inside me and his back arches, driving him deeper, and his groan vibrates through my bones.
“That’s two,” Cruz announces. “Brady, come claim your spot.”
Brady kneels behind Cruz. The prep is quick and when Brady pushes into Cruz, the ripple travels down the line. Cruz thrusts harder into Dante. Dante drives up into me. I gasp and grind down and the whole chain shudders.
“Fuck,” Brady breathes. “Fuck, I can feel it. I move and everybody moves.”
“That’s the magic, kid.” Cruz’s voice has gone gravelly. “Eli. Finish the line. Come fuck your family.”
Eli takes his place at the end, and when he pushes into Brady, all five of us groan at once, a single sound from five throats.
For a heartbeat we hold still. Five people connected in one unbroken line, pleasure wired through us like current, and I look down at Dante beneath me and his eyes are wet.
“Move,” I whisper.
Eli moves.
The thrust travels the whole chain. Eli into Brady, Brady into Cruz, Cruz into Dante, Dante up into me. One wave of motion arriving as a deep, devastating stroke that punches a cry out of me. Then again. Then again, and we find it, the rhythm, five bodies learning to move as one.
“Look at us,” Cruz pants. “Look at this. Filthiest goddamn family portrait in history.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Dante growls.
“Both. I can do both. I’m a multitasker.”
Brady laughs, breathless and broken, and the laugh turns into a moan when Eli picks up the pace, and then nobody’s laughing anymore, the rhythm building, harder, faster, skin against skin, the sounds obscene in the candlelight.
Every thrust hits me at the end of the line amplified by three men’s force behind it, Dante’s cock driving deep with power that isn’t only his, and I brace my hands on his chest and take it, take all of them, all their want channeled through one connection into me.
“I’m close,” I warn. “It’s too much, I’m going to come!”
“Don’t hold it,” Eli commands from the end of the chain, voice frayed to threads. “Let go. Bring us all down with you.”
The orgasm rips through me and I clench hard around Dante and hear him curse, feel him break, coming inside me with a shout, and his release makes him clamp down on Cruz, and Cruz swears loud enough to wake the neighbors and follows, and Brady’s rhythm shatters and he spills into Cruz with a sound halfway between a sob and a prayer, and Eli comes last, dominoes falling in reverse, five orgasms cascading up the chain until the whole structure collapses in a heap of tangled, shaking limbs on Dante’s rug.
Nobody moves for a long time.
The candles gutter and die, one by one, until the room holds only darkness and breathing. Someone’s heartbeat thuds under my ear. Someone’s hand rests in my hair. I couldn’t say whose and it doesn’t matter. They’re all mine. I’m all theirs.
Eli breaks the silence, his voice quiet and rough with more than exhaustion.
“I never knew it could be like this. Any of it. I spent forty years thinking love was a liability. A door you locked.” He exhales slow. “I never knew home could be four heartbeats instead of a place.”
Cruz rumbles agreement against my back, wordless and warm. Brady makes a sound that might be a sob or a laugh or both at once. Dante’s hand finds mine in the dark and squeezes.
I think about the girl who ran to a gym she’d never seen, running from a monster. She thought survival was the ceiling, the most life would ever offer her.
She had no idea.
Gerald’s trial is coming. The blackmailer is still out there. The world doesn’t build houses for families shaped like ours, so we’ll build our own, five bedrooms and a fenced yard and a plaque on one door that says whatever Cruz wants it to say.
Whatever comes next, it comes for all five of us.
Let it come.