76. Scarlett
Scarlett
T race’s tongue was fucking magic—circling my clit, teasing the edge before diving back into me like he was trying to memorize my taste. One hand gripped my thigh, holding me open for him, while the other slid up my stomach, over my ribs, possessive and firm.
“Fuck,” I gasped, back arching. “Trace—don’t stop—please—”
Alden’s mouth was everywhere. On my neck, on my shoulder, dragging slowly down my spine, his hands running up the front of my body—palming my breasts, tweaking my nipples until I was moaning and shaking between them.
“You gonna come again?” Trace growled into me. “On my fucking mouth?”
I could barely speak. Barely think.
“Yes—god, yes—”
He moaned against me, lips moving faster, tongue flattening dragging in slow, punishing strokes.
Alden bit down softly on my shoulder, then licked the mark he left. “She’s falling apart already.”
I came so hard my legs shook, my cry sharp and helpless, head thrown back into Alden’s chest as Trace licked me through it—every flick of his tongue pulled another tremble from my spine, slow and sinful.
I was still trembling when they turned me over.
Trace kissed me—hard, deep, tasting myself on his tongue. “You’re fucking everything,” he rasped. “Everything.”
Then Alden pulled me to my hands and knees. His palm slid over my ass, then down between my thighs.
“So wet,” he muttered. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”
I whimpered, nodding.
Trace stayed in front of me, kneeling at the edge of the bed, cupping my face while Alden pushed inside me from behind.
“Fuck, Baby” Alden groaned, voice guttural. “So fucking tight.”
My hands gripped the sheets. My body bowed under the weight of it—pleasure, pressure, the way they moved around me like I belonged to both of them.
Trace kissed my forehead. My cheek. My lips.
“She’s shaking,” he whispered. “You feel that?”
“I feel everything,” Alden gritted, his voice breaking at the edges.
His rhythm was deep, steady, claiming. Each thrust had me seeing stars. Trace’s hand found my throat—not squeezing, just grounding—while Alden fucked me steady and deep, the kind of rhythm that branded.
“Let him fuck you, Scar,” he whispered. “Let him leave a mark.”
And I did.
I took every inch. Every gasp. Every filthy promise.
Because for tonight, I didn’t have to choose.
I just had to burn.
Alden was relentless.
His thrusts deep, deliberate—as if he wanted me to feel him in my bones, remember him tomorrow, every step, every ache.
“Fuck, Scar,” he groaned behind me, one hand gripping my hip, the other sliding around to rub slow circles over my clit. “You’re taking me so good.”
I moaned—loud, needy—head buried in Trace’s shoulder as his thumb brushed along my jaw.
“You look wrecked,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful.”
I turned toward him and kissed him, messy and desperate, Alden pounding into me from behind. Trace pulled back to watch me unravel—eyes dark, lips parted.
“You close again?” Trace asked, voice low.
I nodded, whimpering, body taut and trembling.
“Good,” he said. “Let go. Let him feel you fucking fall apart.”
Alden thrust harder, faster, fingers pressing down until my breath hitched and the world shattered around me again. My scream broke against Trace’s mouth as I clenched around Alden, coming hard, stars bursting behind my eyes.
“Fuuuck,” Alden groaned, hips jerking once, twice, then stilling. He collapsed against my back, panting, kissing the curve of my spine as he came inside me. “Jesus. You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”
I dropped to the sheets, chest heaving, body limp, pulse racing.
But I wasn’t done.
Trace leaned over me, hands on my cheek. “You still want more?”
I looked up at him, eyes wild. Craving to see what happened when the man who always held back finally let go.
“Take me,” I whispered.
Trace looked ready to break.
His back pressed into the mattress, arms tense at his sides, chest rising hard and fast as I climbed over him—slow, deliberate, dripping with control.
Alden remaining beside us, stretched against the headboard, a hand on my thigh as I settled above Trace. His fingers slid lazily across my skin—a quiet reminder that this wasn’t just about pleasure.
It was about power.
“You sure?” I asked, fingers curled against Trace’s chest, teasing his lips with my thumb.
“I’m sure.”
His voice was strained. Low. Pulled from somewhere deep and raw.
Reaching between us, I lined him up and sat down in one slow, agonizing roll of my hips.
Trace’s head hit the pillow, a curse trembling from his lips.
“Fuck,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second, as if being inside me knocked the breath from his lungs. “Scarlett…”
I rocked once, letting him feel every inch.
“Look at me,” I whispered.
He opened his eyes and I moved—deep, slow, controlled.
Trace’s hands found my waist and gripped hard, holding me like I might vanish.
“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” I murmured.
“All the fucking time.”
My hands slid up his chest, feeling the tension ripple beneath, his hips rose to meet mine.
“You wanna know what I thought about?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Tell me,” he rasped.
I leaned down, mouth near his ear. “What it would feel like to make you completely come undone.”
His groan was guttural.
I rode him harder—hips snapping, moans echoing. He met every thrust, hands roaming my body, eyes glassy with need.
“I missed you,” he muttered, head back, eyes wide and wrecked. “Missed you so goddamn much.”
“Then don’t hold back.”
I pressed a hand to his chest, riding him harder. Every motion deliberate. Every gasp drawn from the center of him.
Alden’s hand slid up my back. “Fuck, look at her…”
“She’s fucking perfect,” Trace breathed. “Always was.”
His grip tightened on my thighs. His pace turned urgent, undone.
“Scarlett—” he gasped.
“Give it to me.”
And he did.
He came with a moan so deep and gutted it didn’t even sound human—arms around me, forehead pressed to mine, breath caught in his throat.
But I kept moving. Slower now. Savoring him.
Because this wasn’t just release.
It was surrender.
And he gave it to me like it was the only thing left he had to offer.