Page 79 of Theirs to Hunt
The plea nearly shreds the control I’ve been clinging to.
Brooks moves forward slowly, his eyes locked on hers. I don’t need to tell him a thing. He knows. We’ve danced this line before, but never with her. And she changes everything.
I keep driving into her, slow but firm, keeping her stretched, keeping her full. Her fingers dig into the counter like she can’t decide whether to stay grounded or let herself float away.
“She wants you,” I tell Brooks, my voice low, dark.
“Let her have you.”
He strokes himself once, deliberate, before pressing against her lips. She opens without hesitation, heat and trust burning in her eyes, and takes him deep like she was born to do it.
I grip her hip harder as her throat relaxes around him.
Fuck.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn away. Her eyes only fall shut when the flood of sensation hits her all at once — me inside her, him filling her mouth. She moans around him, the vibration dragging a raw sound from Brooks’s chest.
“Jesus, Bambi,” he groans, one hand buried in her hair, the other braced against the cabinet.
She’s not just taking us. She’s giving herself.
And it’s the most devastatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I lean over her back, my chest pressed to hers, my mouth grazing her ear.
“You’re perfect like this,” I growl.
“One of us inside you. One of us in your mouth. Taking it like you need it.”
She moans again, throat working around Brooks, and her body clamps down on me.
“Good girl,” I murmur, each word rough with restraint.
“So fucking good.”
Brooks shudders. She spasms at the sound of my praise. His grip in her hair tightens, anchoring her without forcing.
“She’s going to ruin us,” he chokes out.
“No.” I thrust deeper, holding her there, my jaw clenched.
“She’s going to build us.”
Because this isn’t just fucking. Not tonight. Not with her.
This is trust. Power. A covenant we didn’t know we’d been starving for.
In forty-four years, she’s my first honest relationship. I know it’s the same for Brooks. Twenty-six years old and nothing before this but one-night stands. Yeah, we’ve tag-teamed women before, but it was never this.
This is holy.
She gags slightly, pulls back for a breath, then sinks onto him again, greedy, glowing, mouth and body moving in perfect rhythm.
And I feel it.
Not just release. But the edge. The line. The moment this stops being an experiment and becomes the foundation.
We don’t survive this halfway.
