Page 74 of Double Pucked

And I tremble everywhere.

“Yes, our girl loves that. She fucking loves being surrounded,” Chase encourages his friend as Ryker thrusts his tongue in my mouth while Chase holds tight to my hips, fucking me deeper, filling me.

When Ryker lets go of my lips with a groan, he stares at me like he never wants to let go. “Kiss him now,” he tells me in a feral command.

Oh, god. He hardly ever gives orders like that. It’s so hot, and I have no choice but to obey.

I bend closer to Chase, my tits pressing to his chest, my hands sliding into his thick hair. I kiss my other lover as he pumps deeper, my hips meeting him thrust for thrust.

Then I feel cool liquid on my ass, and that buzzing again.

Before I know it, Ryker’s sliding the toy back into me. Just an inch or so, testing me, stretching me.

“Oh god,” I groan against Chase’s mouth.

I can’t think. I feel everything. Everywhere. And soon, as Ryker fucks my ass slow and steady, I can sense his hand behind me, working his shaft too as I sloppily kiss Chase.

Ryker’s jerking his cock as he fucks my ass with a toy, and I can’t focus anymore on this kiss. I can’t focus on anything. I clutch Chase’s shoulders as he drives deep into my pussy, then I feel a pull in my belly, a coil of pleasure.

In seconds, it bursts like fireworks, and I cry out, coming again as Chase shouts, “Fuck, baby yes, give it to us.”

I do. I give it to them. All of my pleasure. All of my body. Everything, all at once, as Ryker grips my hip roughly, grunting as he spills hot come over my back.

Chase shudders, cursing, coming, and moaning my name. Not sweetness. Not baby.

But Trina this time.

And it feels different.

Because Ryker says it too, like my name is precious to both of them.

Yes, morning sex does just hit differently.

27

THE SHIRTLESS CHEFS

Trina

I need a nap, but there’s no time for that so I’ll settle for fuel. After I shower, I practically float into the kitchen on a waft of freshly brewed coffee, though the eggs and toast are luring me too.

I’m dressed for work in cute flare jeans, and a flower-print shirt. I lift my nose to draw a satisfying inhale, savoring the smell of the food and the sight of two shirtless men.

“Never cook with shirts on,” I say.

“We’ll start a band. The Shirtless Chefs,” Chase says.

“Name’s probably taken though. All the good ones are,” Ryker says, plating some scrambled eggs.

I move between them, grabbing a mug, then Chase slaps my wrist. “We’re serving you. Sit. Now.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “All right, all right. But why?” I ask as I settle in at the counter. “I hardly did anything today.”

He huffs, deliberately over the top. “You did the most work in bed,” he says, and I scoff.

“I was tied up.”

“It’s a lot of work for the woman.”

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