Page 83 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

It didn’t take long.

His hips jerked once, and then again. His breathing turned ragged, wild. The hand in my hair tightened as he groaned, low and guttural, and then…

“Riley, fuck…fuck, I’m gonna…”

I pulled back at the last second, just enough.

He came hard, hot, and fast, spilling across my chest, my throat, some of it catching in my hair, his hand still buried in the strands as he rode it out, eyes locked to mine. He couldn’t look away.

He was panting, dazed, totally wrecked.

And I feltpowerful.

Garrett’s hands were on my hips before I even fully registered him behind me.

He pulled me up from my knees with a low growl, pressing me forward until my hands landed on Beckett’s thighs where he sat watching, hard and still, like every part of him was locked in restraint.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Garrett’s voice was a low rasp against the shell of my ear as he bent over me, his chest brushing my back.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The sound he made, half groan, half curse, was pure hunger. Then he was inside me with one smooth, devastating thrust.

I cried out, my hand now fisting Beckett’s jeans as Garrett buried himself to the hilt. He filled me completely, his hands splayed across my hips, anchoring us both.

“Damn, Riley.” His voice was strained with the effort it took not to lose control.

I trembled, gasping, caught between the hard press of Garrett’s body and the burning focus in Beckett’s eyes.

He reached out, slow and sure, his fingers skimming up my arms, then lower, slipping beneath the thin strap of my bra to free me completely.

I arched into his touch as Garrett started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that stole the breath from my lungs.

Beckett’s hands cupped my breasts, fingers teasing, rolling, pulling soft moans from my lips with every stroke Garrett delivered behind me.

“Touch me,” he said, commanding but gentle.

I didn’t need to be asked twice.

I reached for him, fingers finding the line of his zipper, tugging it down with shaking hands.

He was already hard, already straining against his jeans. When I freed him, his breath stuttered.

Garrett thrust again, harder now, his grip on my hips bruising in the best way. Every time he filled me, it sent me closer to the edge, my forehead dropping to Beckett’s thigh as I worked him with my hand, slowly, rhythmically.

Beckett’s head fell back, a hiss slipping from his lips. “Fuck, Riley.”

I was sandwiched between them, surrounded, taken. One hand stroking Beckett while Garrett took me from behind like he couldn’t get deep enough.

The air was thick with heat and want, and the sound of skin on skin, the scent of sex curling around us.

And somewhere in the haze, Asher knelt beside me again, his fingers threading through my hair.

He pulled my head up so he could kiss me, slow and deep, even as Garrett pounded into me and Beckett groaned under my touch.

I had never felt more desired. More powerful. Morealive.

“You’re everything,” Asher whispered against my lips. “You have no idea what you do to us.”

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