Oscar releases my breast with a wet sound that makes my face burn, then guides me backward until my knees hit the leather sofa. I sit, looking up at both of them standing over me, and the power dynamic shifts in a way that makes my thighs press together.
"Spread your legs," Konnor says.
I do it before my brain can protest, my knees falling apart to reveal the damp cotton between my thighs. Both men's eyes drop to that spot, and I watch them watching me, their expressions hungry.
"She's soaked through already." Oscar sounds almost reverent. "We've barely touched her and she's—"
"I can hear you," I interrupt, my voice too high. "I'm right here."
"We know exactly where you are." Konnor lowers himself to his knees between my spread thighs, his dark eyes holding mine as his fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear. "Lift your hips."
I lift. He slides the cotton down my legs and tosses it somewhere behind him. The fire crackles, the rain drums against the windows, and I'm completely bare in a room with two fully clothed men.
"Beautiful." Konnor's voice has lost its clinical edge, gone rough with want. His hands rest on my inner thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin inches from where I need them most. "Tell me what you want."
"Touch me."
"Where?"
I could die of embarrassment. I could also die if he doesn't touch me in the next three seconds. "You know where."
"I want to hear you say it." His thumb slides higher, tracing the crease where my thigh meets my pelvis, deliberately avoiding my center. "Use your words, Kelly Goodwin. You're usually so good with them."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." He leans in, his breath hot against my inner thigh. "Say it."
Oscar settles beside me on the couch, his hand coming up to cup my breast, pinching my nipple lightly.
"Tell him what you need," he murmurs against my ear. "Let him hear how much you want this."
I'm going to combust.
I'm actually going to burst into flames right here on this leather sofa, and they'll have to explain to Jake why there's nothing left of me but a scorch mark and regret.
"Please," I manage.
"Please what?"
"Please touch my—" I swallow hard, forcing the word past my pride. "My pussy. Please."
The crude word hangs in the air. Konnor's eyes darken further, his jaw tightening, and then his mouth is on me and I stop thinking entirely.
His tongue drags through my folds, slow and deliberate, tasting me with the same surgical precision he brings to everything. I cry out, my hips bucking up against his face, and Oscar swallows the sound with a kiss.
"That's it," Oscar murmurs against my lips. "Let him make you feel good."
Konnor's tongue finds my clit, circling it with devastating accuracy, and my hands fly to his hair, gripping hard enough that he must feel it.
He doesn't stop—just groans against me, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that makes my toes curl into the carpet.
"You taste incredible." He pulls back just long enough to say it, his lips shining, and then he's back, sucking my clit into his mouth while two fingers slide inside me without warning.
I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me without buildup, ripping a scream from my throat that I barely recognize as my own.
My body convulses, clenching around his fingers, my back arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me.
"Fuck," Oscar breathes, watching my face as I come apart. "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Konnor doesn't stop.
His tongue keeps working, his fingers curling inside me to hit a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes, and before the first orgasm has fully subsided, another one builds in its wake.
"I can't—" I gasp. "It's too much, I can't—"
"You can." Oscar's hand slides down my stomach, joining Konnor between my thighs. "You will."
His fingers find my clit while Konnor's tongue dips lower, and I break again, harder this time, my entire body shuddering as I crest and fall and crest again.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm sprawled across the couch like a broken marionette, my chest heaving, my skin slick with sweat.
Both men watch me with identical expressions of hungry satisfaction. They're still fully clothed. I'm completely naked and wrecked. The power imbalance should bother me.
It doesn't.
"You overdid it," I manage, my voice wrecked. "I think you killed me."
"You seem very alive." Konnor wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking smug in a way that makes me want to kiss him and slap him in equal measure. "That was just the warmup."
"The warmup." I stare at him. "I came twice in under five minutes. How is that a warmup?"
"Because you're going to come many more times before we're done." Oscar pulls his henley over his head, revealing the broad chest I've been trying not to stare at for days. "If you're still willing."
I watch the firelight play across his brown skin, highlighting the definition in his shoulders, the trail of hair leading down into his jeans. "I'm willing. I'm very, very willing."
"Good." He stands, unfastening his jeans, and I can't look away as he pushes them down. He's not wearing anything underneath. "Konnor, lose the clothes. She's staring at me like I'm the last meal she'll ever have, and I need backup."
"Insufferable," Konnor mutters, but he stands and strips. His body is leaner than Oscar's, more angular, but equally devastating—pale skin stretched over defined muscle, a surgeon's hands that I now know can take me apart and put me back together.
Both of them are naked. Both of them are hard.
"Come here," I breathe.
They move in tandem, settling on either side of me on the couch.
Oscar claims my mouth while Konnor's hand slides between my thighs, testing my readiness with two fingers that slip in easily.
"Still so wet," he observes. "Good."
"Less commentary," I gasp against Oscar's lips. "More action."
Oscar pulls back, grinning. "Bossy."
"You like it."
"I do." He shifts, positioning himself against me, and I feel the thick head of him pressing against my entrance. "Ready?"
"If you ask me one more time, I'm going to—"
He thrusts into me before I can finish the threat, burying himself in one smooth stroke that steals every word from my vocabulary.
I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body stretching to accommodate him.
"Jesus fuck." Oscar's voice is strained, his jaw tight. "You're so tight."
Konnor watches us, his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking slowly as Oscar begins to move.
His dark eyes catalog everything—the way my breasts bounce with each thrust, the sounds I can't contain, the flush spreading across my chest.
"Tell me what you're feeling," he commands.
"Full." The word comes out broken. "I feel full and wanted and like I'm about to fly apart into a million pieces."
"That's the goal." Oscar's hips snap harder, driving deeper, and I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him closer. "Let us break you, Kelly. We'll put you back together after."
He shifts angles, hitting something inside me that makes my vision white out, and I'm coming again—clenching around him, screaming into the cabin while rain beats against the windows and fire crackles in the hearth.
Before I've fully returned to earth, Oscar pulls out, leaving me gasping and empty.
"Konnor's turn," he says, his voice rough.
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