Page 158 of Saddle and Scent
I let them touch me, all at once:Wes’s hands roaming my thighs and hips, Callum’s lips mapping a route down my spine, Beckett’s tongue and teeth gentle but relentless on my breasts.
I was dizzy with sensation, overwhelmed in the best way, my skin humming where they brushed it.
I let my head fall back against Callum’s shoulder, and he caught me, strong arms bracing me upright as Beckett unhooked my bra the rest of the way.
I was naked from the waist up, the cool night air prickling my skin, but their hands were everywhere—never letting me get cold, never letting me feel anything but pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Callum muttered, his breath hot in my ear.
He spun me around, setting me in his lap, and I could feel the hard line of his cock through his jeans. It made me bold—I ground against him, slow, just to watch his eyes go dark and hungry.I reached for his shirt and yanked it up, exposing his chest, then ran my hands over every scar, every patch of rough skin. He shivered.
“Don’t tease,” he warned, but I ignored him, kissing down his jaw, tasting the salt and stubble.
Meanwhile, Beckett and Wes had joined forces: Wes slipped behind me, hands splayed on my ribs, while Beckett knelt between my legs and kissed along the inside of my thigh. He was patient, almost maddeningly so, working his way up in slow, deliberate increments. Every breath sent a new wave of arousal through me, every touch building the tension higher.
When Beckett’s mouth finally found the edge of my panties, I nearly screamed. He pressed a kiss through the fabric, then pulled it aside and licked a stripe from bottom to top, slow and heavy and so fucking good I almost cried.
Wes held me steady, his hands trembling with the effort.
“Let go, Junebug,” he said, voice wrecked with want. “We’ve got you.”
I did. I let myself fall apart.
Beckett’s tongue was gentle, then insistent, licking and sucking until I was slick and shaking. Wes kept up a steady litany of praise, whispering filthy encouragements in my ear:
“That’s it, baby. Let us hear you. You look so fucking hot right now.”
Callum’s arms were a vice, holding me together while my body threatened to come apart at every seam.
It hit me like lightning, the first orgasm—hot and bright and explosive, my hips bucking up against Beckett’s mouth. He didn’t stop, not even when I begged, just kept going, gentling his touch until the aftershocks faded into shivers.
I collapsed back against Wes, who kissed my temple and stroked my hair.
“Good girl,” he said, and for some reason it made me ache in a whole new way.
But they weren’t done with me.
Callum eased me down onto the blanket, careful as if I were glass, then laid beside me. His jeans were gone—how had I missed that?—and he was as hard as I’d ever seen anyone, his cock thick and heavy in his palm.
“Want you to touch me,” he said, voice barely more than a growl.
I obliged, wrapping my hand around him and stroking, slow at first.
He hissed, the sound raw and hungry, and thrust into my hand.
Beckett kissed up my body, pausing at every sensitive spot, until his mouth found mine. I tasted myself on his lips and shivered, loving how filthy and intimate it felt.
Meanwhile, Wes moved down, kissing a trail across my belly, then lower.
His tongue was fast and clever, flicking my clit until I was writhing again. He knew exactly how to build me up—how tohold back until I was desperate, how to let me down easy when it got to be too much.
I reached for Beckett, wanting to give him something back. He let me take his cock in hand, and I loved the feel of it—hot and velvet-soft, with a bead of precum at the tip. I leaned up and licked it off, just to watch him shudder.
“Jesus, Bell,” he groaned. “Keep that up and I’m done for.”
I smiled, then wrapped my lips around him, taking him deep. He gasped, bracing himself on the blanket, but he didn’t push or force.
He just let me work at my own pace, gentle and grateful.
