Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Jesus,” Conway mutters. “You feel like heaven, baby. So warm… still so damn wet from the others.”
He pounds into her, over and over, as Dylan cants his hips, pushing his thick cock between her puffy lips, holding her gaze hostage with his intensity.
“Darlin’,” he murmurs, “you still with us?”
She nods, and Dylan pulls out long enough for her to say, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Damn right,” Conway says, fucking deeper. Grace’s legs twitch. She’s trembling from exertion or anticipation, I can’t tell, but I know her well enough now to recognize that dazed expression, the one she makes after the breaking point, the one that means she’s surrendered but still wants more.
Her body lifts toward him, aching for connection, her thighs parting wider in open invitation, slick with the combined evidence of every man she’s welcomed inside.
He growls softly. Low and reverent. “That’s my good girl. So sweet… so perfect… give your body over to us all.”
Grace moans, a soft, keening sound that slices right through my chest. Her hands cling tighter to Jaxon’s and McCartney’s, and I move to her other side, brushing her damp hair back from her face.
Conway presses into her, rocking deeper with each stroke, using her gasps and moans as his rhythm. Every man watches. Some stroke themselves through denim while others memorize the way she takes them both, in awe of the flush in her cheeks, the way her breasts bounce with each thrust, and the pure saturation of her body as it accepts all of him and all of Dylan.
McCartney dips his head to suck her nipple again, tongue swirling, and Nash mirrors him on the other side. Jaxon strokes her clit gently, fingers teasing, and Grace whimpers—half-lost, totally overwhelmed.
“Come for me again,” Conway growls, voice sharp with command. “Let me feel you milk me like you did them.”
She shakes in response, thighs clenching around him, hands tightening.
And then, like she needed his voice, she does. Her body bows, her back arching, a scream rising from deep in her throat as she comes again around her fourth cowboy of the night. Conway pulls out to watch her stretched pussy hole fluttering and leaking, then he slams deep one last time and holds there, still and thick inside her.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasps. “Gonna leave you dripping with all of us.”
She groans, and Dylan clutches her face as he comes, releasing down her throat.
Conway’s eyes close, and then he breaks, his face contorting in pain and pleasure as he spills inside her.
When he’s done, he doesn’t move. He breathes her in. Stays curled over her back, murmuring something only she can hear.
And Grace? Grace is glowing.
Sweaty. Spent. Soaked with us. Marked by us. Loved by us.
She knows what she wants and what we have to give.
But will it be enough?
39
GRACE
I feel them all inside me.
Their cum leaks from me in lazy rivulets, slicking my thighs, pooling beneath my tailbone, soaking the blanket under me—and somehow, the sensation only fans the flame. I should feel spent, satisfied, wrecked.
Instead, I feel sacred.
My body’s humming, my skin flushed and hot beneath the cool night air. The fire pit’s crackling behind me, and someone’s hand, maybe Jaxon’s, is stroking my hair. Nash runs a gentle finger down my shin like he’s intending to calm me.
I look around at my cowboys gathered around me, their attention totally focused.
Five of them have already been inside me tonight, their bodies etched into my skin like verses I’ll never forget. Jaxon. Harrison. Nash. Conway. Dylan. Each one left something behind, both physically and emotionally. I still feel the imprint of every kiss, every whisper, every groan when they spilled into me.
And now the rest are still here.
Watching.
Waiting.
Still hard. Still reverent.
I glance toward Lennon first. He’s crouched nearby, fingers laced, forearms resting on his knees, watching me like I’m a riddle he already knows the answer to but enjoys hearing me say it out loud.
“You okay?” he asks, voice even, but his voice and eyes are intense, like he’s asking if I want more.
“Yeah.”
Cody lets out a soft groan, his jaw tight, his cock already out and heavy in his hand. He’s palming himself slow and steady, like he’s barely holding back.
McCartney shifts closer, too, still shirtless, lips red from kissing, curls damp from sweat. His hand trails lightly up my thigh, as if asking permission without saying a word. I part my legs a little wider. He smiles, soft and so full of emotion that looks like love that it makes my throat tighten.
Brody hasn’t moved. He’s still standing at the edge of the blanket, arms folded over his broad chest like he’s trying to stay out of this, but his eyes lock on the mess between my thighs, his jaw clenched so tight it must hurt.
I reach for him first.