Page 46 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“Yes.” I nod, my breath shallow.

Every nerve in my body hums, anticipation thick in my blood. My gaze flicks downward, catching on the thick length of him, hard and waiting, his hand curling around himself in a slow stroke. I bite my lip, my stomach clenching, my body still needy.

His jaw tics, his fingers flexing just slightly.

“You want me to fuck you?” His voice is rough, edged with something dangerous, something delicious.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Hank tilts his head, studying me, testing me. “You have options, luv.” His hands trail down my sides, slow, teasing. “I could fuck this pretty mouth of yours… or bend you over this counter and take you from behind. I can fuck you on the counter, like Gabe did.”

A fresh pulse of arousal surges through me, my stomach tightening at the sheer command in his voice.

“Or—” Still catching his breath, Gabe chuckles from where he leans against the counter, “you could see what happens when we both take you.”

I still.

My breath catches.

My thighs press together.

“Would you like that, Ally?” Hank leans in, his breath warm against my ear. His voice is a whisper of wicked intent. “To feel both of us at once? To let us show you what you’ve been missing?”

A tremor rolls through me, heat flooding every inch of my skin.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Gabe huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“We’ll get to all of that, but first, I want you to serve me.” Hank’s voice is low and commanding.

“Yes,” I whisper, looking at him, my lips parting, my body burning with the thought of what’s coming next. “Please.”

“Good girl.” A dark, approving growl rumbles in his chest. Hank points to the floor, his gaze locking onto mine. “Get on your knees.”

I slide off the counter, my legs unsteady, my body still tingling from Gabe, the way Hank watches, and the power in this moment.

I kneel before Hank, my body humming, still trembling, still needing. The pleasure Gabe pulled from me lingers in every nerve ending, but it’s not enough. Not yet.

Hank stands before me, watching. Measuring. He strokes himself with slow, deliberate intent, making me watch. My lips part on instinct, anticipation curling hot and tight in my stomach.

The weight of his presence presses down on me, calm, steady, entirely in control.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a dark thread of authority winding through my veins.

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze, my breath catching at the approval I find there. My pulse pounds at how he studies me, as if I alreadybelong to him.

“You’re going to take care of me now,” he says, the words settling over me like a collar, like ownership, like something inevitable. “You want that, don’t you?”

Heat flashes through me. I should feel self-conscious, but I don’t. Not under the weight of his gaze, not with Gabe’s heat at my back, watching, waiting.

“Yes, Sir.” My voice is soft but steady, certainty outweighing any nervousness.

Hank smirks, pleased.

“You don’t have to call me Sir.” His words are low, teasing, but there’s an edge beneath them, something dangerous and unyielding.

A shiver runs through me, my fingers twitching where they rest on my thighs. I want to reach for him, serve him, and feel his approval like a physical thing.

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