Page 74 of Controlled Burn
Dean never looked at me like this. Dean never let himself want this much.
They’re not pretending. They want everything.
She took Jake in her mouth first, sucking him deep until her throat ached, until he cursed and fisted her hair in warning.
She moaned around him, let the spit and filth drip from her lips, wanting the humiliation, wanting to be seen.
Ryan pressed behind her, his hands sliding under her bra, palming her breasts, pinching her nipples until she whined.
She let Jake’s cock slip from her mouth, turned to Ryan, licked the head, dragged her tongue slowly, then took him in deep.
Salty, hot, brutal—she wanted to choke, to be used, to erase everything that hurt.
Jake hauled her up, laid her back, and she straddled him, sinking down with a sharp gasp, grinding herself deeper as Ryan slid behind her, mouth on her shoulder, fingers between her thighs.
“Fuck—” Jake groaned. “You’re soaked.”
Ryan’s hand was at her breast, his voice rough. “You want more?”
She nodded, desperate. “Fill me.”
Jake thrust up into her—fast, punishing.
Ryan worked her open with two fingers, making her arch and writhe, teasing until she was wild for more.
When he finally slid inside, the stretch was maddening. Too much. Not enough. Her body split and came together around them, mind blurring, everything white-hot and blinding.
“Holy fuck,” Jake breathed. “She’s—Christ, she’s tight.”
She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—didn’t want to. All she wanted was more.
Ryan’s hand slid to her throat, squeezing just enough to make her vision go sparkly. Jake’s thumb found her clit, rubbing fast circles, merciless, his other hand gripping her thigh so hard she’d have bruises tomorrow.
She moaned, choked, and bucked her hips between them.
“Harder,” she demanded.
And they gave it to her.
Jake’s mouth on her throat, Ryan’s hand slick between her legs, their bodies driving her into the mattress, friction and hunger and desperate, animal need.
She came with a scream, clawing at Jake’s chest, biting Ryan’s shoulder, her body breaking open like a fault line under pressure.
But even as she shattered, there was no peace.
She wanted to be wrecked, destroyed, emptied, and left with nothing but the ache.
They didn’t stop. Not after.
They took and took until she was spent, wrung out, trembling with exhaustion, body limp and boneless, her skin sticky with sweat and come, bruises already blooming across her ribs and thighs.
She didn’t want gentle. She wanted to be ruined.
And she got it.
When they finally let her up, her thighs shook so badly she nearly fell. She stumbled to the bathroom, naked, bruised, mascara smudged, lips swollen, cum leaking down her thighs, her skin stamped with fingerprints and teeth.
She stared at her reflection.
