Page 45 of No Save Point

His hands tighten on my hips, his grip almost bruising as he thrusts up into me, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room, the sharp, desperate noises ripping from his throat like he’s barely keeping himself together.

He’s trying to talk. Trying to tell me how good this feels, how much he loves the way I feel around him, how fucking perfect I am for him.

But all that comes out are broken moans, low grunts, sharp gasps between words he can’t quite form. “So… f-fucking perfect—”

His head falls back, his lips parting as another moan spills from him, his hips snapping up harder, deeper, hitting me exactly where I need him.

I moan, my fingers slipping against the couch, my body starting to tremble, pulling him in, dragging him deeper.

His grip tightens, his breath shudders, his cock pulses inside me, and then he’s fully gone, fully fucking mine. I’m barely holding on.

I push back, letting my spine curve, letting Carter have a little more control, letting him move the way he needs to. And oh, fuck—Too much.

A sharp yelp leaves my lips, my hands flying up to grip his wrists, nails pressing into his skin. “N-Not so much—” I gasp, my breath hitching as he instantly slows, his body shuddering, his fingers flexing on my hips like he’s fighting himself, like he’s trying to hold back.

He nods without speaking, his jaw clenched tight, his groans soft, filling my ears like the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard. I let myself sink into it.

I close my eyes, let my head tip onto the back of the couch, let my body take in every single sensation, every deep thrust, every delicious pull, every second of Carter finally learning how to let go.

Just as I’m completely lost in the way he’s making me feel, in the way I’m starting to feel the build creeping through me, in the way I’m so close to falling apart for him. Something warm presses against my lips.

I freeze. The air in my lungs locks up, my entire body goes rigid. Before I can even open my eyes, I feel him. Tate. His fingers stay firm against my mouth, silencing me, while his other hand moves slow, deliberate, filthy.

He’s stroking himself. Right in front of me.

His fingers curl around the thick length of his cock, the motion lazy, teasing like he’s doing it just to fuck with me, just to make sure I know exactly what’s happening. Just to make sure I feel it.

I shouldn’t be watching him. I shouldn’t be focused on anything except Carter, still buried inside me, still moaning in my ear, still gripping my hips like I’m the only thing holding him together.

But I can’t look away. His breath is slow, but his hand’s moving faster now,his cock thick and hard in his grip, his hips shifting like he’s fucking into his own palm, like he’s the one moaning inside me instead of his twin.

I am losing my fucking mind. My brain is static. Carter is trembling beneath me, his voice falling apart in my ear, and all I can see is Tate, stroking, teasing, watching me with that dark, filthy gleam in his eyes like he already owns me.

So I do the only thing I can think of. I turn my face toward him, slide my fingers through his hair, and drag my nails across his scalp as I pant against his lips. “Talk dirty to me.”

Carter chokes on a groan but he tries, pushing through, giving me what I asked for, even as his mind is spinning from the way I feel wrapped around him. “You feel so fucking good—so tight—so—”

He thrusts in too deep. My mouth falls open, my back arches, a sharp whine ripping from my throat as my body jerks against him, my nails pressing into his skin.

Tate’s fingers tighten around his cock, his grip rougher now, his hips thrusting forward into his own hand, a low groan slipping past his lips behind the mask. I hear it. I see it. I feel my entire body betray me. Because I like it, I fucking like it.

Carter is about to come, I can feel it in the way his hips snap up harder, in the way his body trembles against mine, in the way his breath stutters, desperate, as he buries his face against my throat. “I—I’m sorry,” he pants, voice breaking, “I can’t—fuck—I can’t hold back anymore.”

I don’t want him to do anything except what he’s doing, ruining me, losing himself in me, giving me every single inch of his inexperience and desperation.

A low, sharp breath just above me. Tate is closer, so much fucking closer. His cock is right there, inches from my lips now, glistening, and he knows I see him.

His strokes slow down, drawn-out passes of his hand over his cock, his hips rolling into it like he’s savoring every second. Like this is just as much for him as it is for me.

Carter is still inside me, still fucking me, still apologizing between his broken whimpers, still completely unaware of the way his brother is standing right next to us, watching, jerking himself off like this is a goddamn show.

I should stop it. I should tell him to leave, but I don’t know if I want to. Tate moves in closer, his cock brushes against my lips, hot, sticky, gliding over the softness of them like he’s testing me.

My breath shudders, my lips parting just slightly, involuntary, instinctual, my entire body still trembling from the way Carter is still moving inside me. He notices, I feel it in the way his rhythm stutters, the way his fingers tense against my skin, the way his breath catches like something just doesn’t feel right.

He grips my hips harder, his thrusts turning sharp, deep, pulling another moan from my lips. “What’s wrong, baby?”

I can’t fucking think. Tate’s cock drags over my mouth again, smearing precum against my lips, teasing, waiting, pushing the boundaries just a little more, just a little further, just enough that my mind is spiraling, my body burning, my pussy clamping down on Carter so tight I feel his entire body shudder beneath me.

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