Page 124 of Without a Trace
I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began—hands on my waist, in my hair, trailing down my spine. My back hit the bed. breath punched from my lungs. The cool sheets kissing heat-flushed skin as Trace’s mouth returned to mine, all tongue and need and desperation.
“Fuck,” he breathed, grinding his hips against me. “You feel like a fucking dream.”
His hand slid between my thighs, fingers teasing light—too light.
“More,” I whispered, voice cracking, back arching.
And then Alden was there, moving behind me, lips on my neck, one hand gripping my hip as Trace slid two fingers inside me and I cried out, head tilting back into Alden’s chest.
“God,” I moaned, “I can’t—”
“Yes,” Alden growled in my ear, biting gently down the side of my neck. “You can.”
Their hands moved in tandem—Trace working me open, Alden’s, fingers rough as he pinched and rolled my nipple until I gasped.
I’m not supposed to love them both.
But I did.
Not with hearts and flowers.
With fire.
With ruin.
With the way they worshipped every inch of me like they’d die if they couldn’t touch me.
Trace pushed my thighs apart, tongue sliding through wet heat, licking slow and deep. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmured into me. “Sweet little mess.”
My fingers tangled in his hair, eyes squeezed shut.
Alden kissed down my back. “Keep going,” he whispered. “Let him hear you fall apart.”
And I did.
I shattered with their names on my tongue—Trace between my thighs, Alden’s fingers in my mouth, their bodies surrounding me.
And as I broke apart, I thought
If I can’t have peace… then let me have this.
Let me have them.
Scarlett
Trace’s tongue was fucking magic—circling my clit, teasing the edge before diving back into me like he was trying to memorize my taste. One hand gripped my thigh, holding me open for him, while the other slid up my stomach, over my ribs, possessive and firm.
“Fuck,” I gasped, back arching. “Trace—don’t stop—please—”
Alden’s mouth was everywhere. On my neck, on my shoulder, dragging slowly down my spine, his hands running up the front of my body—palming my breasts, tweaking my nipples until I was moaning and shaking between them.
“You gonna come again?” Trace growled into me. “On my fucking mouth?”
I could barely speak. Barely think.
“Yes—god, yes—”
He moaned against me, lips moving faster, tongue flattening dragging in slow, punishing strokes.
