15. Harper #2
I slam down, crying out as he fills me completely. Again. Again. My pace grows frantic, my body slick with sweat, my breath coming in sharp gasps. I’m close. So close.
Then Maddox appears beside the bed.
He’s still hard, his cock thick and straining, but he doesn’t reach for it. Instead, he leans in, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
“I have an idea,” he says, voice low.
I glance at him, panting. “What?”
“You trust us?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
He smiles. “Good.”
Then he turns and says, “Asher. The bottle.”
Asher—naked now, his body a sculpture of lean muscle and dark confidence—steps forward with a bottle of lube in his hand. He doesn’t speak. Just hands it to Maddox, then moves to the head of the bed, crouching so he’s level with my face.
Killian’s still inside me, but his thrusts have slowed, his eyes on Maddox.
Maddox snaps the cap open. “Relax for us, Harper. Let us take care of you.”
I nod, my breath shallow.
Killian wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me flatter against him, my breasts pressing into his chest, my face turned toward Asher. His hand strokes my hair, soothing.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”
I feel Maddox behind me, his hands on my hips, his cock brushing against my ass. But he doesn’t push there.
He presses the blunt head of his cock to my pussy— right where Killian is still buried.
My eyes fly open.
“Shh,” Asher says, his fingers tangling in my hair. “It’s okay. If you want us to stop, we will, baby.”
Maddox pushes forward.
I gasp but I don’t want them to stop. I’ve never been this hungry before. I need them, I need this.
Two cocks. Inside me. At the same time.
It’s too much. Not enough. Stretching me wider than I thought possible. I whimper, my fingers clawing at Killian’s chest.
“Oh, God!”
“It’s okay, baby,” Killian murmurs, kissing my temple. “You can take it. Just breathe.”
Maddox doesn’t rush. He pushes in slowly, an inch at a time, letting me adjust. His cock drags against Killian’s inside me, creating friction so intense I see stars. I’m so full. So stretched. So claimed.
“God—yes—”
“That’s it,” Maddox groans, his hand gripping my hip. “So fucking tight. Both of us inside you. You feel incredible.”
They start to move.
Not fast. Not hard. But together. A rhythm forming between them—Maddox pushing in as Killian pulls back, then vice versa. The stretch is maddening. The pleasure builds like a storm, slow and inevitable.
I can’t speak. Can’t think. Just feel.
Their cocks glide in and out of me, filling me completely, stretching me in ways I never imagined. The friction is unbearable in the best way. My body clenches around them, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
Asher grips my hair, tilting my head back.
“Open your mouth,” he says.
I do and he pushes inside.
His cock is at my lips, then past them, filling my mouth as his brothers fill my pussy. I gag once, then relax, letting him slide deep. He doesn’t go fast. Just holds himself there, buried in my throat, his hand gentle on my head.
“You’re so beautiful, Harper,” he murmurs. “So, fucking perfect.”
Tears prick my eyes.
Not from pain. From fullness. From the overwhelming sense of belonging.
Even now, as they stretch me, claim me, fill every part of me—there’s tenderness in their touches, in their voices, in the way their eyes never leave mine.
Maddox leans down, kissing my shoulder. “You’re doing so well.”
Killian strokes my hair. “You’re making me so fucking proud, princess.”
Asher pulls back from my mouth just enough to whisper, “You’re ours. All of ours.”
And then they pick up the pace.
Harder. Deeper. A relentless rhythm that has me shaking, sobbing, clawing at the sheets. The double stretch threatens to break me, but I don’t want it to stop. I want more. More of them. More of this.
I come.
It hits me like a wave—crashing over me, pulling me under. My body convulses around their cocks, my scream muffled by Asher’s cock as he pushes back into my mouth.
They don’t stop.
Keep fucking me through it, their thrusts growing rougher, more desperate.
And then—
Maddox groans, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep. I feel him pulse inside me, hot and thick, filling me even more. Killian follows a second later, his cock twitching, then spilling into me, his hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.
They pull out.
But Asher doesn’t.
He lifts me, shifting me beneath him, laying me back on the soft linen. His eyes burn into mine as he positions himself at my entrance—slick now with their release, and my own arousal.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do.
He pushes inside.
Slow. Deep. Filling the space they left behind. His cock is slightly thinner, but longer, and he goes so deep I feel him in my throat. I cry out, my legs wrapping around his waist.
He starts to move.
Not fast. Not rough. But with such feeling—each thrust deep, deliberate, like he’s sealing something between us.
“Ours,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to mine. “You’re ours, Harper.”
I run my hands over his back, feeling the flex of muscle, the sweat-slick skin.
“Say it, baby,” he says.
“I’m yours,” I breathe and the sureness of it brings my lips to his.
Deep. Slow. Pouring everything I can’t say into it.
He moans into my mouth, his thrusts growing faster, harder. He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, opening me wider, hitting deeper.
I come again. My body shaking, my back arching, my fingers clenching the cushions beneath me. He follows me, groaning my name as he spills inside me, hot and pulsing.
For a long moment, he just stays there—inside me, over me, breathing against my neck.
Then he pulls out gently, lying beside me. Killian climbs onto the bed, pulling me against his chest. Maddox wraps around my back, his arm heavy over my waist. Asher shifts, draping a blanket over us, tucking it around our shoulders.
We lie like that—curled together on the round bed beneath the stars, the night air of Bordeaux whispering around us on the balcony.