Page 89 of Claimed By My Biker Daddies
I’m dizzy, drunk on him, still catching my breath when the sound cuts the air—sharp, mocking.
A whistle.
I jerk my head up, eyes wide, and there he is.
Deacon.
Leaning in the doorway like he owns the place, arms folded, that wicked grin carved across his face.
His eyes roam over us, taking in Roman’s cock still buried inside me, the sweat, the bruises, the mess of my hair, and his tongue flicks over his teeth like he’s hungry.
“Hell of a show,” he drawls, tilting his head. “But I’m wondering how long you’re gonna keep her like that, Roman. Looks to me like she could still take more.”
Roman snarls low in his throat, but I cut in first, still panting, my voice shaking and sharp. “Why are you still standing there?”
The grin on Deacon’s face darkens, his boots thudding against the floor as he steps in and kicks the door shut behind him.
Roman’s cock twitches inside me, still stiff, still thick, as Deacon closes the distance.
He grabs my chin, forces me to look up at him while Roman still holds me down, still buried in my pussy.
“She said it herself,” Deacon murmurs, his breath hot against my lips. “You want me to stop standing? Then I’ll fuck her standing.”
I don’t even have time to answer before his hands are on me, shoving me forward against Roman’s chest. Roman curses, still hard inside me, his hips jerking instinctively as I shift.
Then Deacon’s fingers are at my ass, spreading me, slicking cold lubricant between my cheeks.
My whole body jerks. “Wait—Deac?—”
He chuckles, low and dangerous. “You’re already full, Marisa, but you’re about to learn what it feels like to be split open right.”
Roman snarls, his voice ragged with lust, not warning. “Do it.”
The first press of Deacon’s finger in my ass makes me moan, and a soft sigh escapes me when he adds another then pulls out entirely.
Then his cock at my ass makes me scream into Roman’s throat, my nails clawing at his shoulders.
Roman holds me tighter, his hand sliding back to my neck, pinning me, forcing me to take it.
“Shh, angel,” he growls, his cock grinding deep into my pussy as Deacon pushes into my ass from behind. “Breathe for us. Take it.”
The stretch is vicious, brutal, and I sob, my tongue lolling out as my body trembles between them.
Deacon keeps pressing until the fat head pops inside, and I wail, drool spilling from my lips.
“Christ, she’s tight,” Deacon grits out, shoving deeper, inch by inch. “You feel this, Roman? She’s choking me back here.”
“Fuck, yes,” Roman groans, thrusting up into my pussy, meeting Deacon’s push. “She’s made for this. For us.”
I scream again, my body shaking, my mind white with sensation as they both fill me—Roman thick in my cunt, Deacon stretching my ass wide.
The pressure is unbearable, perfect, filthy, my belly heavy with their cocks grinding against each other inside me.
Deacon slams forward the last inch, his hips flush against my ass. I sob, drool dripping down my chin.
“Look at her,” Deacon growls, rutting hard, his cock pounding my ass while Roman pounds my pussy. “Fucking drooling. You love this, don’t you, Marisa? Being stuffed full like a dirty little toy.”
I moan, helpless, choking on my own breath, my body convulsing as both men slam into me.
