Chapter 29 #2
The tip of his tongue traces my bottom lip and I shudder, which makes me want him more, which he registers, of course.
Cody’s mouth shapes a small, self-satisfied sound into my lips, then he slides two fingers into my hair and grips tight. I’m not sure if he’s holding me in place or holding himself back.
Behind me, I can feel Duke’s hands sliding up, catching bare skin under my shirt. The way he hooks his thumb into the waist of my jeans, not hesitating, reminds me exactly who I’m dealing with.
He’s a menace, but he’s my menace, and he’s already tugging fabric down, exposing me to the cold air and the sizzling gazes of everyone in the foyer.
Silas’s hands land heavy on my knees. He spreads them wider, then steps close enough that his thigh presses right between mine, pinning me in place on the table.
I look up at him. His jaw is set, his eyes black in the low light, cheeks flushed with want.
He leans in, his mouth right at my ear, and murmurs, “You take everything, huh, Annie?”
The question is rhetorical. His teeth scrape my lobe, and I shiver, which only encourages the other men in the room.
Duke has my jeans off before I can process, and his hands are all over my thighs, rough and playful, one palm splayed at the back of my knee, bending it even higher, the other cupping under and dragging me closer to the edge of the table.
I’m already slick, already shaking a little with how much I want this, how much I want all of them, right now.
Cody’s the one who notices first; his lips brush my temple, then he looks down and smirks, this pained sound breaking in his throat.
“She’s already wet for it,” he says, and it’s not even meant for me.
Duke laughs, delighted, and then he’s between my legs, his face buried in me, tongue greedy, hands bruising on my hips.
I gasp and try to cover my mouth, but Silas catches my wrist and pins it flat to the table.
“Let them hear you,” he says.
It’s all too much, so public and so exposed, but I want it anyway, the risk, the heat, the way all their hands and mouths are on me at once.
Duke’s tongue is broad and dirty, slow at first and then rapid fire, every perfectly calibrated flick making me shudder and whimper.
I have no idea if I’m making sense, all my thoughts turned to static.
Cody’s hand tangles in my hair, tipping my head back. I want to see him, want to see all of them, but all I can do is shiver as Duke eats me out like it’s a contest.
Silas, standing over me, dips his hands into his pants, and the pale knuckles and the jut of his hip through the denim is so sinfully beautiful I almost come at the sight.
Not a thought in my head, just wanting, just them, just the way Cody’s hand curves at the nape of my neck like it was biologically engineered for this exact function.
Duke works me mercilessly with his tongue, rhythm shifting just when I think I can brace for him, then doubling down.
One of Silas’s hands covers my ankle, holding it in place, and his thumb strokes slow, hypnotic circles over the bone.
Watching all of them, the expressions, the silent, hungry attention—it makes me dizzy, makes me grind myself helplessly against Duke’s face, makes me shudder with a pressure so intense I might cry.
Cody kisses me then, hard, almost bruising, hand still grafted in my hair, and the taste of myself is electric. Hot and humiliating and absolutely what I deserve.
I keen into him, the friction of his stubble, the clever cruelty of his tongue, the way he never once lets my hips free from his palms.
Silas’s hand traces up my calf, kneads, then slips further, thumb pressing into the inside of my thigh just above where Duke is destroying me.
I’m trying so hard not to fall apart, but they aren’t having it.
Duke draws circles with his tongue, the kind that build then vanish, and I realize he’s waiting for me to beg.
Absolute bastard.
He wants it loud, messy, the confirmation that he makes me desperate. Fine. I’ll give him a symphony.
“More,” I gasp.
I hear Cody mutter, “Fuck, I knew it.”
Duke rewards me, lips closing around my clit, tongue flicking with devilish rhythm, and my back arches off the table. Pleasure sizzles up my spine, burning hot, so close I can see white spots behind my eyelids.
I try to chase it, hips rolling, but the hands on me only let me move how they want. Duke’s mouth is all focused aggression now, and it’s like he’s dead set on making every nerve ending remember him.
The messy, primal sounds echo off the foyer tile, and I realize I’m making them. I don’t care. Cody is almost vibrating at my side, the way his breath hitches every time I whimper.
He kisses my jaw, my throat, his hands splayed wide against my back. I reach for him blindly, fingers finding the buckle of his belt, yanking him forward.
“You can’t just…” I can’t even finish the thought, every word shredded by how intensely I want him inside me, right now, just like this.
He laughs, breath hectic, undoing the button before I can even think, making this wrecked little sound like my need is contagious. The two of us fumble his fly, shoving denim and boxers down just enough, and I’ve never wanted to be ruined so completely.
Duke pulls back, face slick and pretty, eyes bright and so full of need it’s almost comical. He grins at me, cocky and glorious, then moves behind the table, pressing himself close to my lower back, hands kneading my ass.
“Annie, you’re a fucking mess,” he says. He runs his tongue up my spine with a filthy, delighted sound.
I yank Cody forward by the waistband and wrap my legs around his hips. He’s already hard, the head of his cock flushed dark and angry. We both groan when he rubs himself against me, not entering yet, just rocking slow, shallow, right at the slick mess Duke left, just to feel me shake.
I’m clawing at his shirt and he still won’t give it to me, eyes locked on my face, lost in every wrecked sound I make.
Silas looms above both of us, watching, breathing hard, hand fisted tight around himself, knuckles white with restraint.
“Ask for it, Annie.” His voice is a dare. “You want him? Say it.”
I want to be coy, but there’s nothing left of me but hunger now.
“Yes,” I stutter, “fuck, I want you all…”
And the way his face changes, heat and danger blooming at once, is almost enough to make me come right then.
Cody slides in and I see stars. He hisses through his teeth, hands gripping my hips like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
He rolls his pelvis, and it’s not enough—I need more, I need all of him. So I claw him closer, and he buries himself to the hilt and just stays there, trembling, jaw tight, eyes locked on mine.
The table creaks under us. Duke’s mouth is back on my neck, biting and kissing with careless devotion.
The ache in my body is beautiful, electric, every nerve ending tuned to their touch. Silas moves behind me, lining himself up with the back of my neck, one palm cradling my jaw, the other unbuttoning his own jeans with calm movements. He wants to make a moment out of it.
I kiss his forearm and taste salt and warmth and the electric promise of what comes next. Duke slips a hand between me and the tabletop, and the next thing I know he’s holding my clit, rolling it between his fingers, knowing exactly how to play me for every sound.
It’s a symphony of pressure, Cody inside me, Duke’s mouth at my ear, Silas’s big hand bracing my jaw and the other stroking me to absolutely obscene levels of sensitivity.
I grab for the edge of the table, digging my nails into lacquer, and let them do it, let them make me the loudest thing in the house.
Cody fucks me like a dare, every thrust deep and true, hips snapping hard enough I can barely breathe. The way he looks at me undoes me.
I take it, all of it, and can’t stop myself from begging, from pleading for more, for faster, for deeper.
“Silas,” I gasp. “I want to taste you.”
All I want is more, but Silas’s hand is commanding, tilting my face until his zipper grazes my cheek and I can smell the heat and salt and feral need pouring off of him.
He fists himself out. The head of his cock is flushed, leaking, and I lunge toward it needily.
He brushes my mouth with it once, painting me with pre-come, and then gently, deliberately, pushes past my lips.
The stretch burns perfectly, and I moan on his cock. Both men groan like it’s their own personal ritual.
There’s no grace to it, Silas is huge, hands braced like he’s afraid I’ll break, and I’m gagging and drooling already, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
But I want it brutal. I want to be the reason they finally lose control.
Cody’s rhythm falters. I feel him twitch and pulse inside me, his hips slamming forward with a force that screams months of wanting.
I try to cry out, but it’s all muffled by Silas’s cock, and then his hand is in my hair, fisting me gently, then rough again as he fucks my throat, making sure I feel every inch.
I can’t breathe. I don’t want to; I want to be gutted and reconstructed by this moment.
Duke scratches nails down my back and plants kisses across my spine, then bites, hard enough to make me gasp around Silas.
“Look at you,” he mutters, as if he can’t believe his own luck, as if I’m some kind of divine punishment for every bad decision he’s ever made.
I’d laugh if I could, but Silas is holding my face like a benediction, fucking my mouth with restraint that’s almost affectionate.
The world reduces to sensation. Cody’s hands grip my hips, every thrust fast and deep and frantic, his cock dragging across every nerve that matters.
The edge comes on so hard I want to beg for it, but all I can do is cling to Silas’s thighs and moan around him, the vibrations working their own kind of magic.
I feel the telltale punch in my gut, the coil inside gone past warning signs, just a runaway sensation with no brakes.
I clamp down around Cody’s cock and ride out the earthquake, shaking and sobbing on Silas’s dick, and Cody shouts something wordless, almost a prayer, as he empties into me. I want all of it, need it so bad it hurts.