8. Cade #3
"Make me."
I don't bother. My attention stays glued to her—the frantic flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the way her small hand works Jude's length with clumsy enthusiasm, fingers slipping on pre-cum and spit.
She's taking all three of us like she was built for this exact torment, and the realization sinks bone-deep. Maybe she was. Mine. Ours.
Rhett eases back suddenly, his cock slipping from her swollen lips with an obscene, wet pop.
Strings of saliva connect them for a heartbeat before breaking.
She gasps sharply, chest heaving, lips shiny and parted.
He cradles her face in both hands, thumbs stroking tenderly over the freckles on her cheekbones, gray eyes soft in a way that only she seems to pull from him.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, voice like gravel wrapped in silk. "Every part of you."
A broken sound tears from her—half-sob, half-moan—raw and needy. Rhett's body locks up then, shoulders bunching, a deep groan vibrating through him as he spills across her tongue and lips.
She doesn't pull away, stroking him through every pulse with eager, trembling fingers, swallowing what she can while the rest paints her chin in pearly streaks. He bends, presses a lingering kiss to her damp forehead, then steps back on unsteady legs, chest rising and falling like he's run miles.
I come hard at the sight. I bury myself one more time before hot ropes of my seed coat her inner walls. With a groan, I pull out.
The loss of my own cock leaves her whining, high and plaintive, her hips bucking up desperately from the drenched cushions as if she can't bear the emptiness. Cool rain spatters her overheated skin, making her shiver, nipples tight and begging.
"Jude," I say, the command simple, inevitable.
He doesn't hesitate, flashing that wide, wicked grin as he slots into my place between her spread thighs. One smooth, relentless thrust buries him to the hilt in her fluttering heat, and her back bows clean off the lounge, a sharp cry ripping from her throat that cuts through the softening storm.
He grips her curvy hips, yanking her flush against him so every inch stretches her wide, then drops his mouth to one ripe breast. The wet suction of his lips around her nipple is loud, obscene—teeth grazing the sensitive peak until she's writhing, fingers clawing at the soaked cushions beneath her.
I shift to the side, cock still rigid and aching, throbbing in time with my heartbeat as I watch them. The way her body jolts with his faster, greedier rhythm, the slick slide of him pounding into her cum-slick pussy, the way her freckled tits bounce with every impact.
He switches to the other nipple, sucking hard enough to leave marks, tongue flicking while his stubble scrapes her tender skin. She's lost in it, flushed and glossy with sweat and rain, inner thoughts probably a chaotic storm of too much, not enough, don't stop.
"Tell me," Jude murmurs against the curve of her breast, voice vibrating into her skin. "Tell me how it feels."
"Good," she gasps out, the word fracturing. "So good."
"Better than good." He drives deeper, hips snapping with that playful ferocity only he can manage while buried balls-deep. "Say it."
"Better—oh God—better than good." Her voice cracks on the plea, blue eyes rolling back.
He grins against her, triumphant. "That's my girl."
I can see her teetering on the edge—the violent tremor in her thighs, the way her breathing turns choppy and shallow, those gorgeous walls starting to flutter wildly around him. Jude feels it too.
His fingers slip between their slamming bodies, finding her clit and rubbing tight, perfect circles.
The orgasm crashes into her like the waves below us, ripping a keening wail from her throat.
Every muscle locks rigid, pussy spasming so hard I can see her belly quiver, juices flooding around Jude's pistoning cock.
He buries his face in the crook of her neck with a muffled groan, hips stuttering as he follows her over, pumping her full until it leaks out around him in creamy rivulets. The rain softens further around us, pattering lighter now, as if the sky itself is catching its breath.
The rain's softer now. Still steady, but the thunder's moved off, distant and low.
Nora's sprawled across the lounge chair, breathing hard, her skin flushed pink. Jude's beside her, one arm slung across her waist. Rhett's on the other couch, leaning back, eyes half-closed.
I'm still standing. Watching.
She looks at me. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, but there's something in them—trust, maybe. Or surrender.
"Cade."
My name. Just my name. But the way she says it makes my chest tighten.
I move toward her. Kneel beside the chair. Brush a strand of hair off her forehead.
"You okay?"
She nods. "More than okay."
Jude grins. "Told you."
Rhett's watching us. His gaze flicks between Nora, me, Jude. Something passes between the three of us—unspoken, heavy. An understanding that doesn't need words.
She's ours.
All of ours.
And we're not letting go.