Page 78 of Comin' in Hot
I’m rocked, feral. I’ve never been more turned on.
He fucks me faster and faster as Brooks eats me like it’s his fucking job. Brody picks up speed as well, forcing Wells inside of me deeper.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m coming. I’m fucking coming.”
My eyes roll into the back of my head, and my mouth opens as my body climbs so high I’m not sure I’ll ever come down.
“Give it to me, Cherry,” Wells growls, and I explode.
I scream, my back arching off the bed, trying to twist, but strong hands keep me in place.
It’s animalistic the way they hold on to me, growling and grunting as they keep fucking me while I crest.
They chase their release until I feel warm spurts of liquid cover my hand and leg.
“Fuck,” Brooks groans, contracting his body, his mouth on my stomach.
But no sooner does he come than Wells moans. Brooks makes way before Wells falls on top of me, planting his hand on the bed to keep his full weight off me as his cock pulses inside my cunt.
But my eyes are on Brody’s.
Because his body is glistening with sweat, his hips undulating as he holds Wells’ hips. His face looks almost violent before his eyes close, and a smile creeps out.
He’s still, filling Wells’ ass with his cum, as his chest heaves before he licks his lips and runs his hand up and down Wells’ spine.
Brooks reaches out and runs his hand through Wells’ hair as he smiles down at me and kisses me.
“Was it worth the wait?” Brooks teases.
I smile because the short answer is yes. The long answer is that it was worth the twenty years I waited. Because I feel fucking euphoric. Like the human equivalent of bubbles in a champagne glass.
I’m goddamn effervescent.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, still fairly breathless. “But…”
Their eyes are on me immediately when I say the last part, and it makes me giggle before I add, “How long does it take you to recover because I’d really like to do all of that again?”
chapter fifteen
. . .
ELOCIN 9 AVE
“Ithought it never rained here,” I say with a frown, staring out the windows of the bungalow as raindrops pelt the sand.
Brody looks up from where he’s lounging on the couch in only boxer shorts and socks. “Rarely and never aren’t the same thing.”
My fingers run through Brooks’ hair as he reads a book from my lap. I shouldn’t complain; this is actually nice. We’re cozy, holed up with music softly playing in the background.
But still, they were taking me surfing today.
“We should play a game,” Wells tosses out, sitting up as he stretches from an oversized chair. “That’s a rainy-day activity.”
The idea hangs in the room for a second before I shrug. “I’m in.”
Brody closes his laptop. “What kind of game?”
Of course, I’m assuming it’s something sexual. Because since Friday, we’ve been fucking like rabbits, and it’s Sunday. There’s not a surface in this house we haven’t desecrated.
