Page 66 of No Save Point

My stomach twists. “What?”

Tate glances up, his expression almost calm. Like he’s explaining the weather. “Some girls like it,” he says. “The loss of control. Being touched while they drift. It’s not about not wanting it. It’s about trust.Letting go.” His eyes drop back to her, softer now. “You think Haven would stay quiet if she didn’t want to be touched?”

I swallow hard. “That doesn’t mean we just take,” I say, quieter now. “She deserves to be asked.”

Tate’s lips curve, not mocking. More like approval. “Which is why you’re her good boy.” His fingers finally brush against her hip, feather-light. Not enough to wake her, but enough to make my heart pound. “And why I’m the one she dreams about when she needs a little more.”

Haven moves slightly, her thighs parting just a little, like her body’s still chasing my mouth.

Tate watches that happen, and he presses two fingers against her inner thigh and slides them up, stopping just before he touches her again. “She’s still wet.”

I don’t move.

“You want her to feel good again?” he murmurs. “Let me show you what she needs.”

I want to say no. I don’t say no. Tate leans in and licks her, one long, slow drag of his tongue over her and Haven moans in her sleep, hips twitching.

“Carter…” she breathes, voice thick and sleepy.

That’s all it takes. I drop to my knees beside the bed again, guilt and hunger a tangled mess inside me. Tate moves onto the bed, hovering over her, spreading her legs wider, fingers parting her for me.

“She’s all yours again,” he says. “Make her come like this.”

I bury my mouth in her. No hesitation now. I suck, lick, lap at her like a man possessed. I moan into her, hips grinding into the sheets again, lost in her taste, her sound, her fucking scent. Her fingers twitch against the mattress, lips parting.

“She’s going under again,” Tate says roughly. “Look how soft she is. Open. Needy.”

He moves his hand between her thighs and presses his thumb above my mouth on her clit, while I fuck her with my tongue. Her legs kick. Her voice cracks. A sleepy littlepleaseescapes her lips.

I whimper against her, desperate to obey. We take turns, Tate teasing her with his fingers, me licking until she’s gasping in her sleep, drenched and dripping and helpless under us. When she comes again, broken moans, my name on her lips, I nearly come untouched.

Tate grins over her shoulder. “You really are her favorite,” he says as he slides two fingers deep inside her, curling them with precision, like he’s done this a hundred times before, like he knows exactly how to pull pleasure out of a sleeping woman’s body. “Still so fucking tight,” he groans. “And she’s clenching, even in her sleep.” He leans down and kisses her shoulder, her neck, tongue dragging over her skin before he whispers in her ear: “Your pussy missed me, didn’t it, pretty?”

She whimpers in her sleep.

“God,” I mutter, staring. “Tate…”

He glances over at me, eyes wild. “You ever seen anything this perfect, little brother?”

I shake my head. I can’t speak.

He shifts her gently onto her side, body limp and open between us. Then he moves behind her , one hand braced on her hip, the other stroking his cock, already leaking. “You’re gonna let me fuck her,” he says. “You’re gonna watch me fill that pussy while she moans your name.”

She stirs, a soft, broken sound and arches her hips toward him in sleep.

“She’s begging,” Tate groans. “Even now.”

He pushes in. I hear the sound she makes. A long, breathy moan as Tate buries himself inside her, inch by thick inch. Her pussy stretches to take him, and his groan rips through the quiet like thunder. “Fuck, she’s gripping me so tight, like she knows it’s not you.”

I’m kneeling beside them, trembling, rock hard, breath caught in my throat as I watch him fuck her slow and deep, hips rolling into her in powerful, measured thrusts. “Look at her,” he pants. “She loves being used.”

His hand wraps in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose her neck. “You’re made for this, aren’t you, Haven? Soft little hole for us to worship. Our good fucking girl.” Her breath hitches. Her legs jerk. She’s waking up, just barely, dazed, dreamy, soaked and spread.

“Carter…” she whispers again, voice barely there, caught between sleep and pleasure.

“I’m here,” I whisper back, crawling up beside her, cupping her face. “I’ve got you.”

Tate groans behind her and starts to fuck her harder, rough now, snapping his hips into her, balls slapping against her ass, the sound obscene and wet and perfect. “You hear that?” he pants. “That’s your cunt clenching around me. You know you want it.”

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