Page 114 of 11 Cowboys
And then wefind thatrhythm, that friction, that perfectsync. Every time Corbin rocks in, I press forward. She moans, body trembling, her pussy clenching around me with each stroke.
“Look at you,” I whisper. “Taking both of us. Letting us fill you.”
“You’re so good, Grace,” Corbin pants. “So fucking perfect. So made for all of us.”
Her breath stutters. Her thighs quake. She’s close again.
And in record time, so are we. I can’t even feel bad about not lasting longer because no man could restrain himself while experiencing such perfection.
I lean forward, my forehead pressed to hers. “Come with us, baby. Come first, and then we’ll fill you together.”
Maybe it’s the fullness. Maybe the amount of stimulation pressed between the two of us. Maybe it’s the overwhelming sense of being claimed completely, all the eyes on her, the other men stroking their dicks at the sight of her nakedness. Maybe it’s the ultimate release of letting go of all her inhibitions, or maybe it’s my words and the nudge of my hips against her clit, but she does, and her whole body jerks and shakes as she climaxes, a hoarse scream tearing from her throat, her pussy clamping down so hard I lose control and Corbin stops moving.
“Fuck,” I choke, hips snapping forward as I spill deep inside her.
Corbin follows a heartbeat later, his mouth on her shoulder, groaning her name as he pumps her ass full.
We hold her gripped between us, panting, trembling, and completely undone.
Her body’s soft in our hands, pliant and warm, her skin slick with the sweat and heat of everything she’s taken tonight. Corbin’s arms are still wrapped around her chest,holding her up like she might float away if he let go. I’m still buried inside her, trying to remember how to breathe.
She looks up at me, then cups my cheek so tenderly I can’t meet her eyes anymore.
Something inside meshifts.
It’s more than the sex and the fact that we finally had her like we’ve all been aching to and claimed her as ours. It’s like she sees me.Really sees me.
I’ve been wanted before. Plenty of times. Mostly for the way I fill out a pair of jeans, or how I carry a calf across the yard like it weighs nothing. For what I cangivepeople. What I cando. What they can take from me.
But this?
Grace is looking at me and touching me like I’m more than that, and I don’t know how to respond.
“You don’t have to run,” she whispers. “I see you.”
My eyes flick to hers, and my heart stutters at the warmth there.
I nod once, jaw tight, thickness sitting in my throat. I brush a hand over her cheek, my thumb catching on the damp corner of her mouth.
I don’t say anything.
I stay.
We all do.
And even with everything that’s happened and the scent of sex still thick in the air, it doesn’t feel like an ending.
It feels like the start of something I’ve never believed I was good enough to be part of.
41
GRACE
The kitchen smells like cinnamon and bacon. Someone’s humming near the stove.
I pad in barefoot, wearing the oversized T-shirt I accidentally stole from McCartney’s laundry pile. No one looks twice. The chaos that first overwhelmed me now feels... comforting. Familiar. Like slipping into a warm pool in the summer sunshine.
Corbin hands me coffee before I ask. Nash lifts a wiggling toddler off the table like it’s normal for there to be toddlers on tables.
