Page 144 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

They won’t.

I whimper, my head lolling against Gabe’s shoulder, my breath shattered. I don’t even have the strength to fight them, to demand what I need.

I can only beg.

Gabe doesn’t acknowledge my pleading before handing me over—before I feel Hank’s solid, hot body press against mine. His arms wrap around me, cradling me like I weigh nothing.

His grip is firm, strong, possessive—the kind of hold that says he owns me, knows me, and he’ll take exactly what he wants from me.

I moan, arching instinctively, pressing closer, chasing the heat of him, the hard lines of his body against my soft, needy curves.

“You did well, luv,” he murmurs against my temple, his voice a low, approving rasp.

I shudder, another whimper spilling past my lips, my thighs clenching, my body pleading without words.

His chest rumbles, low and pleased. “So desperate.”

Yes.

I am.

I need—God, I need?—

Behind us, fabric shifts?—

Gabe.

Preparing.

For what?

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

I can only feel.

The unbearable, burning ache between my thighs, the slick heat that proves how thoroughly they’ve unraveled me, the sharp, primal hunger clawing at my insides, begging for relief.

I’m wrecked.

Ruined.

Made for this.

For them.

I whimper against Hank’s chest, my fingers clutching at his shoulders, my body trembling as I rub against him, seeking, pleading.

“Please.”

Hank chuckles, dark and indulgent.

“She’s so needy.” Behind me, Gabe hums, a slow, knowing sound.

My pulse pounds, my lips part—”Please…” My voice is wrecked, raw from begging, moaning, from denial. “Please, I can’t?—”

Hank tightens his grip, cutting me off, his fingers digging into my skin.

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