Page 66 of Baby for the Bikers

She makes some kind of choked noise, but I don’t stop. I circle her entrance, rubbing small, slick circles.

She’s so tight.

I press my finger inside, slowly, up to the first knuckle, letting her feel it and adjust.

Her sharp inhale sends a bolt of pleasure straight to my cock.

“That’s it,” I murmur, praising her, sliding my finger in and out, working her open, stretching her carefully. “You’re gonna take it all, princess. Show me you can handle all three Kane brothers.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, and I freeze for a split second. The admission that I’m considering it—sharing her, like we’ve shared everything else since we were kids. The idea that maybe this doesn’t have to tear us apart. Maybe, just maybe, she can be all of ours.

She whimpers, shaking, her hips rocking back against me, searching for more.

“Yeah?” I chuckle, pressing a second finger inside, feeling the way her body clenches. “You want that? All of us? Taking turns with you, filling you up, making you ours?”

“Y—” She gasps, her back arching.

“Shh.” I spread my fingers, scissoring them inside her, feeling her tight, fluttering walls adjust. “First, you’re going to show me you can handle me. Then we’ll see about sharing.”

Her breathing is erratic, her legs trembling, her hands clawing at the sheets.

“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice dripping with filthy satisfaction. “You love it, don’t you? Getting stretched open, getting wrecked by the brother who’s been holding back. You want more.”

She whimpers, nodding frantically, pushing back against my fingers, trying to take me deeper.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I smirk, pulling my fingers out just to push them back in. “Gonna make you beg for my cock.”

I add more lube, working her open, making sure she’s slick enough to take me. By the time I pull my fingers away, she’s breathless, desperate, completely fucking wrecked.

And I’m gonna make it so much worse.

I slick my cock up, stroking slowly, coating myself in lube and then positioning myself at her tight, stretched entrance.

Her breath catches.

I grip her hips.

And then—I start to push in.

Slow.

Inch by inch.

Letting her feel every stretch, every single nerve.

She shudders violently, and her moan breaks into something close to a sob.

“Shhh, baby,” I murmur, pressing a hand against her lower back, keeping her down. “You can take it. You were made for this.”

I keep going, sinking deeper, deeper, feeling her adjust to fit all of me.

“Fuck,” I groan. “So. Fucking. Tight. Better than I imagined when I watched the footage of you with Ryder.”

She whimpers, her nails digging into the mattress, her body completely at my mercy.

I bottom out with a low, guttural groan, buried to the hilt inside her, her body stretched wide around me.

And then I don’t move.

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