Page 50 of No Save Point

I don’t even think, I just move. I slide onto the couch beside them, reach out, grabbing Haven right off Tate’s cock, dragging her into my lap. The second she’s settled, the second she gasps, her body pressing against mine? I sink inside her. Deep, all at once.

Tate doesn’t fight me. He just leans back, watching, his hand already circling his cock, stroking himself instantly, his other hand reaching between us, his fingers finding Haven’s clit.

Fuck, I can feel it. I can feel his fingers rubbing against her while I pound into her, feel the way she clenches tighter, the way she trembles, the way she’s absolutely fucking ruined between us. And I don’t know who’s in control anymore. All I know is that I need to keep going.

Tate’s hand moves faster, rubbing tight, devastating circles against Haven’s clit while his other hand strokes his cock, his grip rough, his pace brutal.

And fuck, he’s loud. Moaning, groaning, completely unfiltered, letting every filthy thought spill past his lips as he watches me pound her. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he rasps, “take every fucking inch of him.You love it, don’t you? Bet you love being stretched open by my brother while I watch, while I get off to the way you fall apart between us.”

Haven yelps, her nails clawing at my arms, her breath completely ruined as I slam into her, as my hips snap up, as I bury myself inside her over and over again.

I don’t hold back, not anymore. I know what she wants now, I know exactly how to fuck her, exactly how to make her moan, exactly how to pull those desperate, broken sounds from her lips. I know exactly how to be such a good boy for her. So I give her everything.

I go all the way in, with every single thrust, filling her so deep she gasps, yelps, her body clamping down on me like she doesn’t want to let go.

Fuck, her moans. They’re loud, sharp, completely fucking unrestrained, filling my ears, filling Tate’s ears, echoing in the space around us like music, like fucking perfection.

Tate groans, stroking himself harder, his voice thick as he watches. “Goddamn, look at you, Carter,” he pants, “finally learning how to fucking give it to her.”

Haven, losing herself, moaning, falling apart, clenching around me while Tate circles her clit, while I fill her over and over again, while both of us take her exactly the way she wants.

Tate’s hands tighten on Haven’s waist, his grip firm and he yanks her off of me.

I instantly whimper at the loss, my body twitching, my cock throbbing, aching, desperate to be inside her again, but Tate doesn’t care.

He’s already bending her over the back of the couch, lining himself up taking exactly what he wants. He slams into her, hard, deep, unrelenting, dragging a broken cry from her lips as he grips her hips, as he pulls her back onto him, as he fucks her like he’s claiming her.

His voice is possession as he groans, “This is what you wanted, pretty. To be used. To be fucked, over and over again. To be filled.”

Haven yelps again, her fingers clawing at the couch, her breath coming in sharp, uneven pants as Tate fucks her harder, his cock driving deeper, his pace punishing, brutal, unforgiving. His groan is low, his grip tightening as he thrusts into her one last time, burying himself deep as he spills inside her, filling her up with everything he has.

I can’t wait, I don’t clean her up, don’t even let him pull out before I’m shoving him away and sinking right the fuck back inside her.

Tate grunts, letting me take over, stepping back as I claim her again, as I fuck her just as hard, as I lose every last ounce of restraint.

“Fuck, Haven,” I groan, my voice breaking, “you’re so fucking full, you’re dripping with it.”

Haven whimpers, her body already shaking, but I don’t stop. I need her to know I can do it better, anything for her. I pound into her, desperate, wild.

I slam into her one last time, my breath sharp as I let go, as I spill inside her, filling her up again, my cum mixing with Tate’s as I moan against her back. I know I just completely fucking ruined us.

23

Haven

I’m barely breathing. Lying on the living room floor, sprawled out between them, my body completely spent, my limbs useless, my brain still floating somewhere between reality and the filthiest fever dream imaginable.

Everything hurts. Aches. My muscles are sore, trembling, overused.

My skin is flushed, oversensitive, heat radiating from every place they touched, every place they gripped, every place they marked. And the bruises? I can feel them already. My thighs, my waist, my wrists, all of it is pulsing with the slow, dull ache of overuse, of too much, of two men who didn’t fucking hold back.

I fucking love it. I let them do this to me. I let them ruin me.

I don’t know what the fuck happens next. Beside me, Carter is still breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow gasps, his fingers twitching like he still wants to touch me, like he doesn’t want this moment to end.

Tate is silent. Until he isn’t. He shifts, rolls onto his side, props his head on his hand. “Well, Pretty girl,” he says, “how’s that body count looking now?”

I should smack him, but instead I laugh. Carter huffs beside me, still trying to catch his breath, his voice hoarse, ragged, completely spent. “Really Tate.”

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