Page 102 of Meet Me In The Dark

“More, baby,” he told her. “Always more.”

Conor and Luke were lying, side by side, Luke’s hand gripped around both their cocks, holding them together. Micah lifted her by her hips and began to lower her down, but even in her sex-drunk state, she knew enough to say, “Uh uh, no way. They’re not going to fit.”

“Oh, we’ll fit, sweetheart,” Luke said darkly. “We’re going to stuff you full with every last fucking inch.”

“And you’re going to take it like our good girl, aren’t you?” Conor asked.

It wasn’t really a question, and she clearly wasn’t meant to answer, because suddenly the tips of both their cocks were inside of her, Luke’s first, because he was longer, and then Conor, thicker, and even though it hurt, it hurt, ithurt,it felt more right than anything ever had, especially as Micah forced her hips down, forced her to take them, slowlybut relentlessly, as determined to fill her pussy together as they had been to get inside her heart.

And just like she’d made space for them in the latter, she let them fill the former, as well.

She felt every inch of them, pushing against her pussy walls on all sides, until there was nowhere left for them to go, but there still was more, and more, and more. Until finally,finally, they were all the way inside, so deep, so thick, she couldn’t move, just succumb to the sensation of them inside her.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” Luke asked, his voice pure gravel.

“Full,” she said, or moaned, or gasped, or cried. She wasn’t sure; she’d never made a sound like that before. “So full.”

“You’re about to get fuller,” Micah promised, and she heard the click of a plastic bottle being opened, and then she was being pushed down over Luke and Conor, so her head was in the groove between their bodies, and she was being trapped by them so she couldn’t fight, so she was safely held for what came next.

“Better than blood,” Luke gasped out his joke.

And Kara would have laughed, if she could have. If she wasn’t so full—and aching to be fuller.

Then there was cool gel being pushed inside her ass, and Micah was crooning, “You want to let me in, baby, don’t you? You know it’s going to be so good, the four of us like this,” and Conor was praising her, calling her “our good girl,” and Luke was brushing back her hair, murmuring “sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart,” and then…

And then.

Micah was pushing his cock inside her ass, and if she’d thought she’d been full before, she hadn’t known what theword meant. Micah’s thick girth redefined the word, as he pushed deep into her ass, and all she could do was make that same unfamiliar sound, a sound that meant pain and pleasure and submission and love, complete and encompassing, love that stuffed her full until she was about to burst with it.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured in her ear, and she realized he was all the way inside.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, “I can feel you. I can feel all of you,fuck, I need to move,” and the filthy honesty of his words made Kara cry out again as she came around their cocks, pulsing.

And then they began to move, in and out, slow but deep. There was no orchestrated rhythm, no flow, no orchestra conductor or choreography. Just a relentless push and pull, and a sweet, perfect ache that took over everything, until she became nothing more than the bones and flesh holding them together, their safe space where they could all belong, and she could belong to them, too. Words bubbled in her chest, perfect, beautiful words, but she wasn’t sure what they were, only that her three men responded with their own words of love and adoration, and groans and growls as their speed picked up inside her and they held her tighter and all she could do was take it, submit to them as they powered into her, and she came, so many times she didn’t know who she was outside of an orgasm. This was it, everything she wanted.

Theirs, she was theirs.

“Mine,” Luke growled, and came, filling her with his release.

“My good girl,” Conor groaned, coming inside her.

“Ours,” Micah sighed, as he finished in her ass.

Slowly, they withdrew, shushing her through theaftershocks. Gently, they carried her to the shower, bathing her body and washing her hair and soothing her, praising her, as she cried from the intensity of it. They dried her with a towel, and then they were back on the bed, and then they were fucking her again.

“We’re not done?” she managed to ask.

“We’ll never be done,” Conor told her.

And there, on their massive bed, in the cabin they’d built for her out of desperation and hope, she and her men proved that very thing.

That no matter what they did, or who they hurt, they belonged to each other.

That they loved each other.

And for that, Kara Blum was glad.

EPILOGUE

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