Page 197 of Filthy Rich Santas

I can’t form words, the need inside me clawing to the surface and stripping away any ability to speak. But I don’t need to say anything. Not with these men.

Beckett reads me like a book, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“Now, Tristan. She’s ready.”

Tristan coats his cock with lube, then crawls onto the bed with us. The mattress dips as he kneels between our legs, his knees pressed into the backs of my thighs as he hikes my legs up. Ryder’s cock pulses inside me, and his hold on my hips tightens even more.

“Do it,” Beckett growls, kneeling next to us and stroking his thick length.

With a groan, Tristan fits his cockhead against my entrance, staring down at where we’re connected with a heated reverence in his eyes that makes my chest ache. Then he pushes in, stretching me around him, his cock above Ryder’s as he slowly works his way back inside me.

My head falls back against Ryder’s shoulder, my lips parted in a silent scream as he sinks deeper. The angle is different than when they were both inside me before, and it’s overwhelming.

“Too much?” Tristan’s voice is tight with restraint.

“No,” I manage, my voice ragged and barely audible. “Give me all of you.”

He pushes in another inch, his breathing as ragged as mine, and then Ryder shifts, and a long, drawn-out moan leaves my lips as I’m suddenly filled with both of them.

“Oh god,” I whimper, the feeling almost too much.

Tristan’s hips jerk forward, shoving his cock the rest of the way home. “Fuck,” he grits out. “You’re so tight like this. I can feel Ryder’s cock pulsing right against mine.”

Ryder groans, and then they’re fucking me, moving my body as if it’s their own personal toy, using their strength and their cocks to send me soaring, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

It would be so easy to tip over it and come on their cocks, but I want more. I want everything.

“Please, Beckett,” I manage, looking over to where he’s kneeling next to us, his eyes blazing as he fucks his fist like he’s about to die.

I reach for him, sweaty and breathless, and he makes a feral sound of pure possession as he swoops down to kiss me. Then he straightens up, exchanging a look with Tristan.

Tristan leans back, holding himself still, as Beckett slicks his cock with lube and then straddles my hips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” he mutters, his eyes roaming over my body as his thick thighs bulge with strength, holding him between me and Tristan. “You ready for this, little menace?”

“I need it,” I whisper, the most honest thing I’ve ever said.

Ryder and Tristan both hold themselves completely still as Beckett strokes his leaking cockhead over my clit, sending a wave of heat to my core that almost drowns me.

Then he fits the blunt tip just above Tristan’s cock, sliding it through my slick arousal to press against the lips of my pussy.

He feels impossibly big. Even bigger than usual.

He rubs his cockhead up and down, coating it with my wetness, and then starts to push inside, working his way into me with short, shallow movements that send shockwaves through my body.

It’s almost more than I can take, the stretch so intense it blots out everything else, consuming me. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I throw my head back against Ryder’s shoulder, panting as an equally intense pleasure starts to roll through my body, wave after wave of it with every inch Beckett gains.

“That’s it. Fucking look at you, love. We’ve got you,” Ryder mutters, his big hands still holding my hips steady as his muscles tense and contract under me, telling me without words that this is just as intense for him—for all of them—as it is for me.

“Oh fuck,” Tristan whispers, a shudder going through him that I feel in my core. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jesus, fuck.”

“Lana,” Beckett growls, the low, deep sound reverberating through all three of them. “You fucking belong to us. You’re taking me so damn well. I’m halfway there.”

I’m shaking, trembling so hard that it feels like I’m falling apart. But these men won’t let me. They’re here, holding me together. Holding me open. Making me theirs.

“Take it,” Beckett grits out. “Take all of me, dirty girl.”

The pressure builds and builds as he gets deeper, and I gasp, the breath stolen from my lungs when he finally slides all the way home, his body rubbing against my clit as he settles against me with a groan.

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