I don’t know how many times they made me come before we reached the bed, but now I’m sprawled across silk sheets that have long since lost their careful arrangement of rose petals.
My body is trembling with aftershocks that haven’t fully subsided before new sensations begin building in their wake.
The candles have burned lower, wax pooling in glass holders, flames casting shadows that dance across skin slicked with sweat and want.
The music still pulses through the room, bass vibrating through the mattress and up into my spine, matching the rhythm of hands that haven’t stopped exploring since they first touched me.
Paul kneels between my thighs, his mouth tracing a path down my stomach that makes my muscles flutter and clench.
His stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, rough and perfect, leaving trails of heat wherever it drags.
Behind me, Zane cradles my head in his lap, his fingers threading through my hair while his free hand traces lazy patterns across my collarbone, my breasts, the sensitive skin of my ribs.
I can feel him hard against the back of my skull, can feel the wet heat of him, and the knowledge that he’s desperate makes me clench around nothing.
I’m surrounded. Overwhelmed. Exactly where I want to be.
‘Finally,’ Nireya breathes, and her presence pulses with satisfaction that mirrors my own. ‘This is what we were made for.’
Paul’s tongue finds my center, and my back arches off the mattress, a sound tearing from my throat that barely sounds natural.
He licks into me like I’m something to be devoured, his tongue flat and hot against my swollen flesh, circling the bundle of nerves that makes my vision blur.
He works me, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place as I writhe beneath his attention. The pleasure builds in spiraling waves, each crest higher than the last.
Zane leans down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that swallows my moans. His tongue slides against mine in counterpoint to his brother’s movements, and the dual sensation short-circuits whatever remains of coherent thought.
I can taste champagne on his lips, can feel the urgency in the way his teeth catch my lower lip and tug. I exist only as nerve endings and need, a body strung tight between two men who seem determined to take me apart piece by piece.
“Please.” The word escapes against Zane’s lips, desperate and raw. “I’m so empty it hurts. I can’t take it anymore—”
Paul lifts his head, his eyes glowing amber in the candlelight, his mouth glistening. “Can’t take what?”
“I want you both inside me.” My voice cracks on the admission. “Now.”
They move with coordination that suggests they’ve discussed this. Zane shifts, lowering himself onto the mattress and pulling me on top of him in one fluid motion.
My thighs bracket his hips, and I feel him hard and ready beneath me, his hands guiding my hips as I sink down onto his length.
The stretch steals my breath. He fills me completely, hot and solid, and for a moment I can only hold still, adjusting to the sensation of being so utterly full. Zane’s hands stroke up my sides, soothing and inflaming in equal measure.
His thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts, teasing, circling closer to my nipples without quite touching.
“Okay?” His voice comes out strained with the effort of holding still.
I nod, rolling my hips experimentally, and we both groan at the friction. Behind me, I feel Paul’s presence—the heat of his body, the press of his chest against my back, his mouth finding the curve of my neck.
His erection presses against the cleft of my backside, hot and insistent, leaving a trail of moisture against my skin.
“Lean forward,” he murmurs against my skin.
I obey, folding over Zane’s chest, and feel Paul’s fingers trace down my spine, lower, lower still.
Cool liquid drips between my cheeks—they thought of everything, prepared for everything—and then pressure begins building where I’ve never been touched before.
The sensation is strange, foreign, overwhelming in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Paul’s finger circles my entrance, slick and patient, spreading the lubricant with care.
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