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“We’re going to take care of him,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“I want—” she’s breathing fast, “I want him in me while you?—”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

Cruz hears it. He always does. He pulls back from Eli with his lips swollen from the passionate kissing. When our eyes meet, Cruz’s grin turns wicked, spreading just a fraction wider at whatever his depravity has cooked up in that filthy mind of his. “I got an idea.”

“Of course you do.”

“Coach. You fuck Dakota. I’ll take Dante.” His eyes flick to Eli, gauging. “That way you don’t have to—we’re not pushing youtoo fast. You and her. Me and him. But you get to see us. You get to be in it with us.”

Eli’s chest is rising and falling fast. “Yes,” he says. Just the one word.

“Fuck, yes.” Cruz grins.

Dakota’s already pulling her shirt off, shoving her leggings down. She settles herself with her head dangling off the edge, hair spilling toward the floor, throat exposed in a long beautiful line.

“Dante.” Her voice is rough. “Come here.”

I look at Cruz. Cruz looks at me, his grin shifting into something filthier.

“Get in there, baby,” Cruz urges.

I shed my jeans. My cock’s already hard, already aching from Cruz’s hand in the car and the kissing and the watching. Dakota is watching me, and when I step close she takes me into her mouth without hesitation, her throat working.

“Christ.” My head drops back.

Eli’s between her thighs, his hands on her hips, and I hear his strangled sound when he pushes into her—the soft wet sound of it, the way she moans around my cock as he sinks deep. He bottoms out and goes still, his forehead bowed.

She pulls off me just long enough to whisper, “Daddy. Move.”

He moves.

And Cruz comes up behind me, his chest against my back, his hand sliding around my hip. “Are you ready for me?”

“Always,” I breathe.

I hear the bottle cap click, and then feel the cold press of his lubed fingers, spreading me open. I groan, push back into him, push forward into Dakota’s throat, and her hands come up to grip my thighs as she takes me deeper.

Eli’s pace builds. I can see him over Dakota’s body, his jaw set, his hands gripping her hips like he’s anchoring himself.His chest is flushed, his eyes locked on the place where he’s disappearing into her, and then his eyes lift and find mine—mine and Cruz’s, both of us, fucking Dakota and being fucked—and a shudder rolls through him that I feel in my own gut.

He’s watching us. He’s watching, and he’s not looking away; his thrusts are getting harder.

“That’s it, Coach,” Cruz murmurs against my shoulder. His fingers are gone and then he’s there, the broad heat of him pressing into me, and I have to lock my legs to keep from stumbling. “Look at him, Dante. Look at our coach giving our girl a good fucking.”

I look.

Eli’s face is stripped bare, the pristine facade of control banished and his desire brought to life. Every wall he’s spent years building has cracked open and there’s nothing left but his bone-deep craving for her, for us. He’s making sounds now, low broken sounds, and Dakota’s moaning around my cock and Cruz is sliding home behind me, filling me, and the four of us move together like we’ve been doing this for a lifetime.

“Fuck, Coach,” Cruz grits out. “Fuck her. Make her take it.”

“Cruz.” Eli’s voice is shredded. “Don’t stop talking.”

“Yeah?” Cruz’s hips snap into mine. “You like that, Daddy? You like it dirty? Watch her swallow him down while your dick is buried in her cunt. Look at her. She fucking loves it.”

Dakota whimpers, the vibration running through me. I cup her throat, careful, guiding.