Page 47

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.

“Brody.”

He jerks, surprised that I said his name. Like he didn’t expect to be picked.

“Come here,” I whisper.

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. The war he’s fighting in himself is clear as day. He wants this, but he doesn’t want to want it. Or maybe he’s as scared as I am that giving himself over tonight will start us all on a journey we can’t come back from.

Then, his arms fall to his sides, like he’s lost his internal battle. Or maybe he’s won.

He crosses the blanket in three long strides, unbuckling his belt as he drops to his knees.

I push myself upright with a slow grunt, letting my arms wrap around his strong neck as I pull him in for a kiss.

He stiffens at first, uncertain, but when my mouth opens beneath his, he groans, low and guttural, and kisses me like he’s starving.

His hands find my hips. His mouth devours mine, and when he pulls back, his eyes are dark and wild.

“You sure?” he rasps.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Of course. I want all of you.”

Cody steps in behind me, warm and solid, his big hands bracing my waist. “Mind if I help you with that, Brody?”

Brody lets out a breathless chuckle. “Not one bit.”

They move together like men who are used to working together toward the best outcome. Men who know how to work in rhythm. Cody kneels behind me, one hand spreading my ass while his other guides Brody’s cock to my entrance.

I’m so slick that he slides in with one smooth thrust—and he groans like he’s dying.

“Fuck, Gracie,” he breathes. “You’re already so full…”

I gasp, my head falling back onto Cody’s shoulder as Brody moves slowly at first, savoring the feeling he’s been denying himself since I arrived, his hands on my thighs, his eyes locked on my face.

“You feel so good,” he whispers. “I can’t believe I waited this long.”

Cody’s hand circles my clit. “Then don’t waste another second.”

My moan splits the silence. Brody drives deeper. Cody strokes faster. McCartney leans down and captures my mouth in a kiss so tender I nearly sob.

And just like that, I’m spiraling again.

Brody’s thrusts are deeper and sharper now, but he’s still holding my gaze like I’m something fragile beneath the weight of his body, something he doesn’t only want to fuck, but earn.

Every stroke is full of restraint, working towards a moment of such intense surrender that I’m almost scared to keep going.

But I want this. Even though I’m kneeling over his thick thighs, he’s the one controlling this, grasping my hips to hold me exactly where he wants me.

“Harder,” I whisper.

His breath catches.

“Now,” I beg.

He groans and obeys.

That’s when I feel Cody behind me shift, his chest against my back, the heat of his cock brushing the curve of my ass. My hands search for him instinctively.

“Cody…”

“Right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs into my neck. “You want to take both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you can?”

“I want to.”

Brody slows, his cock still buried inside me, while Cody adjusts behind me, spreading me with one strong hand. I feel the blunt head of his length nudge lower, seeking, sliding beneath the place where Brody’s already inside me.

The stretch is sharp. Deep. Impossible.

I cry out, half pain, all pleasure, as Cody begins to press in.

“That’s it,” McCartney soothes from the front, his hand in my hair, his mouth brushing my jaw. “You’ve got this. You’re taking them both like a fucking goddess.”

Brody groans, sweat beading at his brow. “Jesus, Grace…”

Cody grits his teeth, one hand gripping my waist like it’s the only thing holding him in this world. “You’re so fucking tight,” he hisses. “So full…”

They move slowly, in a measured way that gives me time to adjust.

But once I do?

I fly.

Their cocks grind inside me, filling me in tandem, every thrust rocking me forward and back. My mouth opens in a moan that seems to have no end. My arms reach blindly for McCartney, who kneels in front of me, guiding my mouth to the thick line of his cock.

“Can I?” he asks, already breathless.

I answer by taking him between my lips.

He gasps, his hands trembling as they cradle my face, and the moment clicks into place: me on my knees, stuffed full, lips wrapped around McCartney’s cock, with two other men fucking me in perfect rhythm.

This isn’t only about being claimed. I’m being worshipped.

Every groan they make is because of me. Every touch is about me.

Cody thrusts harder. Brody matches him. McCartney’s head tips back as he rocks into my mouth, panting my name like he’s losing his mind.

Then someone moans behind us, deep and sharp and dark.

Lennon.

Still untouched. Still waiting.

He steps forward, his cock already out, already hard, stroking slowly as he watches my mouth slide over McCartney’s length. His voice is steady and low.

“You look like something out of a dream, Grace.”

I look up at him through wet lashes, gagging a little on McCartney’s thickness, but not pulling away. I want them to know what I can take.

McCartney’s hands tighten, and he pulls out with a groan, stroking himself fast. “I’m close,” he warns.

“On her,” Lennon says, eyes locked on mine. “Let her feel it.”

I stay perfectly still, hands braced on Cody and Brody’s thighs, as McCartney spills across my lips, my cheek, and down onto my chest. He groans like he’s dying as he paints me, then leans in, kissing my forehead, voice wrecked.

“You’re a masterpiece.”

And still, they move inside me.

Brody’s thrusts turn erratic. His breath comes in sharp gasps. Cody is relentless, his grip bruising on my hips.

“I’m coming,” Brody chokes out, hips jerking as he buries himself deep. I feel his release, warm and thick, filling me again, and it sends me spiraling.

Cody isn’t far behind. He pulls out only long enough to paint his cum across the curve of my ass, then collapses beside me, dragging his palm down my side.

And then, finally, only Lennon is left.

He kneels in front of me, fingertips trailing through McCartney’s mess on my chest, and his voice is a whisper meant only for me.

“You ready for me, Grace?”

I look up at him, feeling wrecked, soaked, and aching, and I smile.

“Always.”

Lennon doesn’t rush.

He’s the last of the nine tonight, and it feels like a culmination. Like he’s been building toward this moment in quiet increments, saving his need behind every sharp glance, every careful stroke.

He watches me now, eyes burning with something deeper than hunger.

“Lie back,” he says, voice low and calm. “Let me take care of you.”

I do what he says, still trembling, body slick and spent and open. My legs fall apart automatically, and I’m wet and loose. I’m used, but not in a way that feels dirty. It feels satisfying, like completing a marathon.

Lennon kneels between my thighs and runs his fingers through the mess the others left behind. He doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His thumb circles my clit, featherlight.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “You’ve taken all of us. And you’re still here. Still needing.”

I moan, hips arching helplessly. My skin is too hot. My throat is raw from crying out, but my body is starving for him.

He strokes himself once, twice, his face contorting, his dick thick and slick with precum, before pressing forward. He doesn’t ask, sliding in, slow and smooth, stretching me open all over again.

I gasp from his size and weight and the way he holds himself still, buried deep, chest against mine, lips grazing my cheek.

“I don’t want to fuck you fast,” he murmurs. “I want to fuck you deep. And slow. Exactly how you need it.”

Then he moves, rocking in long, controlled strokes, his hands braced on either side of my head. His rhythm is maddening. Too slow to chase climax. Too good to fight.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “Every single inch of you.”

I whimper beneath him, body clenching, but he doesn’t speed up. He keeps pressing deeper until I’m not sure where I end, and he begins.

His hand slides under my neck, lifting me gently so our mouths meet. When I come, it’s on a sigh. Quiet. Shaky. A slow unraveling that steals my breath and leaves me weightless.

Lennon groans softly into my mouth as he follows me over the edge, spilling inside me with a shudder, his body going taut before sinking down against mine. He kisses the space below my ear.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “For trusting us. For bringing everything we were missing into our home.”

I close my eyes, boneless beneath him, and let the moment settle around us.

Then, footsteps thud on the deck.

Voices.

I blink up at the sky where the moon has shifted and turn my head toward the edge of the blanket.

Levi and Corbin are standing there.

Still half in shadow, fresh from wrangling bedtime stories and toothbrushes, their eyes lock on me. On all of us.

Corbin’s mouth parts. Levi’s jaw ticks. Neither one speaks.

Their eyes move over my body. Lennon between my parted legs. The glisten of sweat and cum on my skin. The men gathered around me, panting and sated.

And yet...

I see it.

The need.