Chapter 29 All Rise #3
Killian's mouth found hers, his hand cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head to the angle he wanted, and she tasted whiskey on his tongue.
The kiss was possessive, nothing careful about it.
He pulled back enough to press his forehead to hers, eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made everything else fade.
"Mine," he whispered, and his voice cracked on the word. “Please—I need to hear it.”
"Yours," April breathed, and in this moment she meant it completely.
He walked them somewhere. She felt the cool plaster of the wall against her back, shocking after all the body heat. His hands gripped under her thighs, lifting, spreading her wider as he positioned himself.
The blunt head of his cock pressed against her entrance. She was wet, so wet from everything before—but still felt the stretch as he slowly pushed inside, giving her time to adjust even though she could feel the tremor in his arms, the restraint it took.
"God," Killian groaned, bottoming out. His hips pressed flush against hers, heartbeat thundering where their bodies joined. "I've wanted this. Wanted you like this."
He started moving, each thrust catching the same internal ridge until her vision flickered. His rhythm built, careful control dissolving with each stroke. His fingers dug into her thighs hard enough to bruise, and she liked it—liked the proof she'd feel tomorrow that this happened.
Dante's hand appeared, finding her clit with devastating precision.
"That's it," Killian breathed against her mouth. "Come for me. Let me feel you—"
She came hard around him, pulling him deeper with it.
The pulses didn’t stop immediately; they kept catching, small aftershocks that made him twitch inside her.
He groaned and lost whatever rhythm he’d been holding, driving into her until release tore through him and her name came out broken against her skin.
For a moment they stayed like that, her pinned between him and the wall, both breathing hard. Then Arthur's steady grip was there, easing her down, supporting her weight as Killian withdrew.
She was turned and positioned, strong hands guiding her to bend over the arm of the couch. The leather was cool against her overheated skin, smooth under her palms as she braced herself.
Dante's hand settled in her hair, a solid weight that steadied her. His other hand spread over the small of her back, pressing down gently until her spine arched, her ass lifting.
"Don't move," he said, his voice low and commanding. His hand stayed firm on her lower back, holding her exactly where he wanted her. "Stay like this."
April's instinct was to shift, to adjust, to help, but his grip kept her pinned in place. She had to take it. Let him do everything.
He entered her in one smooth thrust, the angle drove him deeper than Killian had been, hitting spots that made her gasp. She was swollen, oversensitive, and the stretch bordered on too much before easing into perfect fullness.
His grip tightened in her hair.
"Watch," he said, voice carrying to every corner of the room. "Pay attention."
"Yeah," she managed, her voice steadier than she expected. "Watch."
April felt the shift immediately, the weight of multiple gazes like physical touch on her skin. She took a breath, grounding herself in the feeling of being completely seen, and lifted her head to meet their eyes.
Arthur had gone completely still across the room, his hand frozen on his thigh, his expression intense in a way she'd never seen. Jax's eyes tracked every movement. Caleb's lips were parted, his breathing visible.
Dante's hips snapped forward, and she cried out. Each thrust was deliberate, angled, his free hand gripping her hip with bruising force. He wasn't just fucking her. He was demonstrating.
She caught the scent of olive oil and rosemary—Mateo, the wet heat of his mouth sucking her neck hard enough to mark. Hands palmed her breast from the other side, thumb circling her nipple until it tightened into a hard peak.
"Let me show you how she likes it," Dante murmured, and his pace increased. April tried to move with him, to chase the building pressure, but Dante's grip became iron.
"Be still. You don't move until I say."
She couldn't control anything: not the angle, not the pace, not even her own body's response.
The slap of skin on skin was punctuated by her increasingly desperate sounds. Every point of contact a separate fire on her skin. When she came this time, it tore through her, her body convulsing, inner walls clenching around Dante's cock in pulses she couldn't control. She heard herself scream.
"Brava Principessa" Dante breathed, and even through the haze she felt those words like a brand.
Dante withdrew slowly, and warmth spilled down her thighs, evidence of everything that had happened. Liam moved with a towel.
"Wait." Jax's voice cut through the haze.
Everyone stilled.
She could feel the wet mess of everything they'd left inside her, and her face went hot with the awareness of being so completely, thoroughly used.
"Look at her," Jax said, and his voice had dropped into a tone she'd never heard from him, stripped of framework.
Jax moved closer, his presence a weight even without touch. His hands spread her thighs wider where she was still bent over the couch arm. Cool air hit overheated, oversensitive skin. She could feel cum dripping out of her, explicit and abundant.
"You're so full of us," he murmured, "It's everywhere."
His fingers traced where she was open, slick with the combined evidence of Killian, Dante, whatever was left of the rest. April whimpered, her nerves frayed, and still she arched into it, her body chasing sensation even now.
His fingers pressed inside, methodically gathering what was dripping out and pushing it back in with exquisite, devastating precision.
"That's it," Jax breathed. "Keep all of it."
April made a sound she didn't recognize, half sob, half moan. It hurt in all the ways that made her greedy. Her arms shook where she braced against the couch, her body caught between exhaustion and desire. She couldn’t decide if this was too much or just enough.
"Jesus Christ," someone breathed. Caleb, maybe Liam, but April couldn't focus on anything except the feeling of Jax's fingers, the depravity, the claiming of it.
For a minute no one moved.
Then Arthur stood.
The movement was sharp enough that April's eyes found him through the haze. His jaw was clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from crossing the distance.
Jax's fingers were still inside her.
"Jax," Arthur said, his voice strained. "Move."
Jax withdrew immediately, stepping aside, and Arthur was there in three strides.
His hands gripped her hips and turned her to face him. For a moment he looked at her, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
"I need." he started, then swallowed hard. "Tell me you can take more."
"Yes," April said immediately.
He lifted her easily, hands turning her once more, gripping the backs of her thighs, spreading her wide as he hooked her legs over his forearms. She was completely open to the room, held in place by nothing but his strength. He lowered her onto his cock in one smooth motion.
The stretch was immediate and intense. Arthur was bigger, noticeably bigger than the others, even after everything, her body had to work to accommodate him. The burn made her gasp, made her fingers dig into his forearms as he filled her.
"Breathe," he murmured against her temple, even as she felt the tremor in his arms, the restraint it took to go slow. "You can take it. I know you can."
She breathed. Felt her body adjust, soften, open for him. When he bottomed out, the fullness was overwhelming. She tried to clench around him, instinctively, but she couldn't. Arthur's girth held her open, made closing impossible.
Jiro kneeled between them where Arthur had her spread wide. His tongue dragged across her clit, feather-light, and her hips jerked up, chasing the pressure that wasn't enough.
Arthur started moving. The careful control that had defined him all night was gone, replaced by raw need.
He lifted her, pulled her up his cock and brought her back down. Then again. And again. Using her body. She felt every inch of the slide, the depth when he dropped her, the stretch that wouldn't close.
She couldn't do anything. Couldn't control the rhythm or brace herself or touch more than his arms. Just held open while he lifted and dropped her, using her how he needed.
Each thrust was hard, deep, driving her down onto him as Jiro's tongue worked her clit in soft, maddening circles that never gave her what she needed.
"God," Arthur groaned, and his voice unrecognizable. "You feel—fuck—"
Hands on her breasts, squeezing, pinching her nipples just hard enough to make her arch. She could hear Jax's voice somewhere close, murmuring filth she couldn't quite process.
Her body tried to clench, wanted to bear down on the sensation. There was no room. He held her open, stretched too wide on his cock, and Jiro's tongue kept circling with that infuriating flick. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat slicked between their bodies.
His rhythm broke. The careful lifts turned erratic, then stopped entirely. He held her down, pinned on his cock while his hips drove up into her—faster, harder, the control gone.
"Come," Arthur managed, his grip tightening. “I need—” He swallowed. “Come.”
Jiro shoved his face in, sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, firm pressure after all that teasing, and for a second she wondered if she'd asked for more than she could survive. Her body trembled, trying to clench and failing, and that squeeze was enough.