Page 62 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Heat blooms with Gabe’s casual possessiveness, his hand resting on my thigh beneath the table as a silent reminder that I belong to him. He squeezes gently, his eyes intense.

“Fair warning, sweetheart, you’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he rumbles.

“Why?” I ask, fork pausing halfway to my mouth. “What do you mean?”

His lips curl into that dangerous smile. “Because once dinner’s done and these dishes are cleaned, you’re all ours.” His thumb traces small circles on my inner thigh. “We were supposed to have you all day, and we lost several hours due to your little errand.”

“And you’re going to pay for it,” Hank adds, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. “With interest.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but I meet Gabe’s gaze, a silent promise passing between us. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both,” they answer in unison, and the synchronicity makes my stomach flutter.

Later, after the last plate is stacked and the clatter of silverware fades, Gabe claps his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Time for dessert.” His voice rings with playful anticipation. “Tonight, we’re having ice cream sundaes.”

Ice cream sundaes sound innocent enough. Too innocent, perhaps, for these two.

They exchange a look, and then Hank moves toward me, his hands reaching for the hem of my shirt. “I’ll prep our platter,” he murmurs, his voice laced with suggestive warmth.

“What?” My breath hitches.

Gabe steps closer, a grin spreading across his face. “You, sweetheart, are the most delectable plate we could imagine.”

Before I can fully process their words, Hank’s hands are under my arms, lifting me effortlessly. Gabe is already tugging at my jeans, the denim sliding down my legs as easily as melted butter. A gasp escapes my lips, a mix of delight and a delicious, thrilling horror. They strip me, their touches light but firm, until I stand naked in thewarm kitchen, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin despite the lingering heat from dinner.

Then, Hank lifts me again, placing me carefully onto the cool, smooth kitchen counter. My palms press against the granite, the coolness seeping into my skin. I’m perched here, exposed, vulnerable, and utterly, exquisitely theirs.

“Lay back, luv.” Hank’s command isn’t one I refuse.

Gabe is already at the freezer, pulling out a tub of vanilla ice cream. Hank retrieves bowls and spoons, but they’re just for show. Gabe scoops generous mounds of ice cream directly onto my body—cool, creamy dollops landing on my stomach, sliding between my breasts, nestling in the soft curls below. The cold shock makes me gasp, but it’s a pleasant surprise, a tingle that sharpens my senses.

“Cold?” Hank murmurs, his voice close to my ear as he leans in, his breath warm against my neck.

“A little,” I breathe, my voice shaky.

“Don’t worry,” Gabe chuckles, returning with a jar of cherries and a basket of strawberries, “You’ll be burning before we’re done with you.”

He carefully places bright red cherries on my nipples, the cold, smooth orbs a startling contrast to the sensitive skin. Strawberries follow, nestled amongst the ice cream, their sweet scent mingling with the creamy vanilla.

Hank opens a bag of chopped nuts, scattering them over my belly and breasts, the rough texture a playful contrast to the smooth ice cream. Then come the sauces—thick, dark chocolate and golden caramel, drizzled over my skin like molten pleasure.

They trace patterns, swirls, and lines across my neck, down my chest, over my stomach, the sticky sweetness a tantalizing invitation.

The kitchen is filled with the sweet aroma of ice cream, fruit, and chocolate, a decadent feast on my body. Hank and Gabe stand back momentarily, admiring their creation, their eyes gleaming with hunger.

Then, Hank reaches for me, his tongue darting out to lick a trail of caramel from my collarbone. The warmth of his mouth against my skin sends shivers down my spine. Gabe is rightbehind him, his lips closing over a strawberry nestled between my breasts, sucking gently, then biting into the sweet flesh.

They feast on me, their tongues and mouths exploring every inch of my body covered in dessert. The cold ice cream melts quickly against my skin, mixing with the warm stickiness of the sauces, a delightful, messy sensation. Hank’s beard tickles my stomach as he laps up ice cream from my belly button, and then Gabe’s mouth moves lower, his breath hot against my inner thigh.

He parts my legs, and I gasp as his tongue finds my core, the unexpected intimacy sending a jolt of pure sensation through me. His wicked tongue is relentless, a hot, wet rhythm against my most sensitive point.

I arch against the cool granite, my breath catching in ragged gasps. Above me, Hank’s gaze is fixed on my face, but his hands are busy, kneading my breasts, his thumbs circling my cherry-tipped nipples, drawing sharp intakes of breath from me that are half-pleasure, half-overload.

He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking strongly, and a moan escapes me, vibrating in the small kitchen space. The dual sensations are exquisite torture, Gabe’s focused attention below, Hank’s greedy mouth above, pulling me apart and piecing me back together with every touch, every lick, every suck.

My hips lift involuntarily, pressing into Gabe’s mouth, seeking more, needing more. The world narrows to the feeling of his tongue, the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter within me. I cry out, my back arching, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable, a sweet, sharp ache that demands release.

---