Page 32 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

He doesn’t hide his desire. His hips press forward deliberately, the hard ridge of his arousal evident against my lower belly. The contact draws a gasp from my lips that he swallows with his kiss. There’s nothing tentative in how he shows me exactly what I do to him—a wordless promise of what’s to come. Then, as if remembering where we are, he reins himself back in, though his lips remain on mine, unwilling to break contact completely.

Hank shifts behind me, his hands finding my hips, pulling me back until the solid wall of his chest presses flush against my back. He leans in, his breath hot against my skin as Gabe continues kissing me, deep and unrelenting. Then I feel it—Hank’s unmistakable arousal pressing deliberately against the small of my back.

His breath hitches against my ear, and his lips brush the sensitive skin beneath it. A slow, deliberate graze of teeth against my pulse. A nibble, a tease—just enough to make my breath falter.

“Watching Gabe kiss you like that?” His voice is low, rough, dangerous. “Hot as fuck.”

The words send a shiver through me, but he isn’t done. His lips move lower, tracing the slender column of my throat, sucking lightly before dragging his teeth over the delicate skin. Not enough to mark—just enough to make my body burn. His hands tighten on my hips, possessive, like he’s staking a claim, and when he rocks against me again, it’s no accident.

Gabe pulls back slightly, his lips hovering over mine, his breath uneven as he smirks. “You should see how he’s looking at you, sweetheart.”

I don’t need to—I can feel it. Everywhere.

Being pressed between them, caught between two distinctly male bodies, both unashamedly showing their desire, overwhelms me in the best possible way. The knowledge that I affect them both so strongly sends a rush of power through me, heady and intoxicating.

“Enough,” Hank’s soft command leaves no room for argument. His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging firmly enough to break my kiss with Gabe. Gabe immediately yields, stepping back, though his eyes remain heated.

Hank grasps my chin. He turns me toward him until I look up into his eyes.

“My turn,” he murmurs, the words more declaration than request. His eyes hold mine for a moment, asserting his authority, waiting for my submission before lowering his mouth to mine.

Where Gabe asked with his kiss, Hank commands with his.

His palm cradles my jaw, thumb pressing lightly against my chin to part my lips—not forcing, but directing. He doesn’t rush or push; he simply expects compliance and receives it willingly. His other arm wraps around my waist, securing me against him as he takes what belongs to him. Even as Gabe watches, it’sclear who orchestrates this dance between us. Hank may have allowed Gabe the first taste, but only because it suited his interests.

When we finally part, I’m breathless, caught between them in a moment that feels like the beginning of something profound.

But instead of feeling uncertain, hesitation never even crosses my mind. A thrill courses through me—bold, reckless, wanting. Maybe it’s the way they’re looking at me or the heat still pulsing through my veins, but before I can overthink it, I act.

My hand drifts behind me, fingers grazing the hard length pressing insistently against my lower back. Hank tenses at the contact, his sharp inhale barely audible, but I don’t stop there.

If I’m diving in, I’m diving all the way in.

I shift forward, palm finding Gabe through his jeans, mirroring my touch. Two men. Two undeniable reactions.

I give them both a slow, teasing squeeze, testing, exploring. Gabe’s breath hitches, a rough sound of approval, while Hank goes utterly still—his grip on my waist tightening, his control dangerously close to slipping.

Gabe is the first to break the silence, a wicked smirk curving his lips. “Well, hell. And here we thought we’d have to ease you into this.”

Hank’s voice is lower, darker, edged with something I can’t quite name. “Looks like she’s fully on board.”

I don’t answer. I just smile, shifting my hands back to a more innocent position—though there’s nothing innocent about the look in either of their eyes.

Both men watch me with an intensity that steals my breath. Possession blazes in their gazes, but also something more profound—a promise of protection and belonging.

I laugh, surprising myself with the genuine sound. “The three of us are going to be something, aren’t we?”

“That’s our hope,” Hank agrees, and I naturally adjust my position between them, finding my place.

The sun sets, painting the waves in deep purples and golds. We stand in peaceful silence, watching darkness settle over the water.

Hank’s lips are still on my neck, his teeth grazing, then biting,marking me again, as if one claim isn’t enough. His tongue follows, soothing the sting, his breath hot against my skin.

Then Gabe moves.

His fingers catch my chin, tilting my face, and he steals my breath before I realize what he’s doing. His mouth claims mine—not hesitant or testing, but sure, deep, consuming. A quiet, satisfied growl hums against my lips as I melt between them, trapped in heat and need, in the undeniable reality of belonging to them both.

I don’t think. I don’t question. I simply feel.

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