8. Adam #3
Her lips stretch around his girth. Harry lets out a low grunt, one big hand tangling gently in her hair.
I keep fucking her. Hard. Each thrust pushes her forward onto Harry’s cock, forcing her to take more of him. The sight of her like this—impaled from both ends—rips a growl from my chest.
Chris steps closer. Chloe’s free hand finds him immediately, wrapping slender fingers around his length and pumping in time with my strokes.
She works all three of us at once, body rocking between us like she was born for it. Her muffled moans vibrate around Harry. Her pussy clenches me like a vise.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I grind out, slapping her ass once. The sound cracks through the room. She jerks, sucking Harry harder. “Take us, baby. All of us.”
Harry’s head tips back, jaw tight. His usual laid-back mask cracks, revealing the raw need underneath. Chris keeps his eyes on her face, one hand resting on the back of her neck, guiding but never forcing.
I feel her start to shake. Her walls flutter wildly around my cock. I reach around, find her clit, and rub tight circles. She comes with a cry that’s half-muffled by Harry’s dick.
Her entire body spasms, pussy milking me so hard.
I can’t hold back. I thrust deep one last time and come, flooding her with hot pulses. My fingers dig into her hips hard enough to bruise. The release rips through me like lightning, emptying into her in thick ropes.
I stay inside her for a few more shallow thrusts, riding it out, then pull free. Come trickles down her thigh. The sight makes my spent cock twitch.
Chris moves in immediately. He doesn’t speak. He simply lines up and sinks into her soaked pussy in one long glide. She gasps around Harry’s cock. Chris sets a punishing rhythm—controlled, deep, nothing wasted.
Each stroke makes her tits swing.
Harry’s breathing grows ragged. Chloe works her tongue along the underside of his shaft, hollowing her cheeks. I watch from the side, chest still heaving, as Chris drives her closer to another peak. His hand slips between her legs, finding her clit. She whimpers.
“Come for him,” I tell her, voice rough. “Let him feel how tight you get.”
Her body locks up, back bowing, a keening sound escaping around Harry’s cock.
Chris follows right behind her, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a low, controlled groan. His hips jerk once, twice, then still as he fills her.
Harry’s the last. Chloe doubles her efforts, sucking him deeper, hand twisting at the base. His massive frame tenses. “Fuck—Chloe?—”
He comes down her throat. She swallows every drop, eyes watering but never closing. When he finally pulls free, a thin string of saliva connects her swollen lips to the head of his cock.
We collapse together onto the massive bed. I pull Chloe into the center, her back to my chest.
Chris stretches out in front of her, one arm draped over her waist. Harry takes the space by the foot of the bed.
The room smells like sex and sweat and the faint trace of her perfume. Our breathing slowly evens out. Chloe’s skin is slick against mine, her heart hammering so hard I can feel it through her ribs.
She lets out a soft, breathless laugh. “Holy shit.”
My arm tightens around her middle. “You okay?”
“More than.” She turns her head just enough to meet my eyes. That sharp, sarcastic spark is back, softened by satisfaction.
I press a kiss to her shoulder. “No more pretending. Not after this.”
Chris’s low voice rumbles from the other side. “Parents are going to lose their minds if they find out.”
“Let them,” Harry says. “We’re not kids. And she’s not going anywhere.”
Chloe’s fingers trace idle patterns on Chris’s chest. “The vow renewal is tomorrow. Think we can keep our hands to ourselves during the ceremony?”
I snort. “Doubt it.”
She smiles, small and secret, the kind of smile that says she doesn’t mind one bit. Her body relaxes between us, soft and trusting in a way that makes something fierce bloom in my chest.
This woman—our woman—has no idea how long we’ve waited. How many holidays we spent biting our tongues, walking out of rooms, choosing bourbon over conversation just to keep from dragging her into the nearest closet.
Now she’s here. Marked. Claimed. Full of us.
The mountain wind rattles the window panes. Somewhere downstairs, the party winds down without us. Donald’s probably bragging about the estate’s square footage.
Allison’s probably calculating how much Chloe’s dress cost and whether it upstaged her own outfit.
None of it matters.
I bury my face in Chloe’s hair, breathing her in. Chris’s hand finds hers. Harry’s arm loops loosely over her feet.
The four of us fit. Messy, complicated, completely fucking wrong on paper.
But right here, in this bed, with the taste of her still on my tongue and the echo of her moans still ringing in my ears, it feels like the only thing that’s ever made sense.
Sleep drags at me, heavy and satisfied. Chloe’s breathing deepens first, her body going limp in the best way. I follow soon after, one hand splayed possessively over her stomach.
Tomorrow can bring whatever fallout it wants.
Tonight, she’s ours.
And we’re hers.