Page 78 of Last Hand

Milo’s hand slides from my hip, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist, then moving upward, his palm splaying across my ribs, just beneath my breast while his fingers roll the other nipple. Leone drops to his knees, his hand finding the back of my calf forces more of my weight against Milo behind me as he hoists my leg over his shoulder.

My legs instinctively part, seeking purchase, and Leone shifts, settling himself more firmly between them while his hands grip my ass, tilting me further as his mouth finds my pussy. His tongue, hot and insistent, flicks against my clit in a way that sends shockwaves through me. My back arches, pressing me harder against Milo. A guttural moan tears from my throat. This isn’t gentle. This isn’t tender. It’s raw and desperate—a frantic attempt to burn away the pain with a different kind of fire.

Leone’s fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, holding me steady as his tongue works its magic—a relentless and greedy assault that sends splinters of sensation shooting through every nerve ending. He devours me not just with his mouth, with the intensity of his gaze when he briefly looks up, dark eyes burning into mine.

Milo’s lips are at my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Lasciati andare, dolcezza mia,” he murmurs in a low rumble that vibrates through me. “Senti e basta.” (Just feel.) His hand slides lower over my stomach, fingers brushing against the top of my pubic hair—just above where Leone is feasting.

Leone’s tongue laving, sucking, teasing is overwhelming. My hips start to move, taking over, grinding against Leone’s mouth, seeking more.

“Yes,” Leone groans against me, his voice muffled. “Come for me, mia cara. Let it all out.”

He knows. They both know. They know I need this, this brutal, beautiful release. They know I need to shatter, to be obliterated, to be remade in the heat of their touch. My orgasm hits like a tidal wave, a violent, shuddering release that rips through me, stealing my breath, my thoughts, everything except the blinding pleasure.

Leone doesn’t stop, his tongue still working, drawing out the aftershocks, stealing every last tremor from me. Milo holds me steady, his body a solid wall behind me.

Leone lifts his head, his eyes dark and burning as they meet mine. His face is slick with water and my release. He licks his lips. Milo’s arms are still around me, holding me up.

The grief is still there, a dull ache beneath the surface, yet for these few stolen moments, the pleasure is a reprieve, one I’m not ready to let go of yet. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body humming with the aftershocks.

Leone rises slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. He steps closer, crowding me against Milo, his erection digging into my lower back while Leone’s presses against my stomach. He reaches out, his thumb brushing across my lips, then tracing the line of my jaw.

“Please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for. More? Less? Oblivion? It doesn’t matter.

Leone’s eyes flash. “Certo, Tesoro,” he rasps, his voice thick with intent. “Tutto quello che vuoi.” (Anything you want.) He bends his head, his lips brushing mine, a promise of more. I have no clue what he is saying but I would agree to anything he says in that tone.

Milo’s arms tighten around me. He grinds against me subtly, and a fresh wave of heat washes through me. “Ti daremo tutto, angelo mio,” (We’ll give you everything, my angel.) Milo murmurs, his voice a low growl against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Ogni fottuta cosa.” (Every fucking thing.)

“I have no clue what you are saying?” I admit not that it bothers me with the way they’re touching me.

“He said we’ll give you everything,” Leone murmurs.

“It sounded better when he said it,” I breathe and Leone chuckles.

Leone’s fingers move to my entrance, slick and ready. “Vogliamo sentire la tua figa e il tuo cula stringersi per noi.” (We want to feel you tighten around us.)

He pushes two fingers inside me, stretching me, and I gasp, my head falling back against Milo’s shoulder. Milo kisses the side of my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “Sì, proprio così, amore. Vuoi portarci entrambi?” (Yes, like that, love. Do you want to take us both?)

I nod, agreeing to whatever he speaks not caring as long they don’t stop.

Then Leone replaces his fingers with his cock as he hoists my leg over his hip before grabbing the other one. Thick and hard he pushes into me slowly. My breath hitches as he stretches me, and it’s a pain that’s pure pleasure, a burning friction that chases away the cold emptiness. I cry out, my leg locking around his waist and dragging him closer.

Leone grunts, as he thrusts deep, his pelvis flush against mine. He grips my hips, setting a hard, driving pace.

Behind me, Milo’s erection presses insistently. His hand slides between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, already sensitive. He circles it, with a pressure that has my hips bucking against Leone.

Then, I feel the blunt head of his cock press against my other entrance.

My body tenses, a split second. The tension is immediately drowned out by a fresh wave of need. I want it. I want them. I want to be filled, stretched, taken apart and put back together by them.

“Please,” I manage, the word a strangled plea against Leone’s shoulder.

Milo doesn’t wait for more. He pushes in, slowly, a thick, stretching pressure that steals the air from my lungs. It’s tight. So fucking tight. A burn that’s almost pain, but not quite. It’s the edge of it, the place where pleasure and pain blur into something addictive.

Leone groans, his own thrusts becoming deeper, more possessive, as if Milo’s entry is a challenge. He pounds into me, and with every thrust, Milo pushes further, stretching me, filling me until there’s no space left, no thought left, just them.

I’m impaled. Their cocks move in a brutal, uncoordinated pace at first, then they find a pattern. Leone thrusts deep as Milo pulls back slightly, then Milo drives in as Leone retreats. It’s overwhelming. My senses are overloaded. The slick slide of their skin against mine, the hot water still beating down, the sounds tearing from all three of us.

Milo’s fingers are still working me, relentless on my clit, and the friction, the stretching, the sheer fucking fullness of them inside me is building something explosive. My nails dig into Leone’s back, into Milo’s arm.

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