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Bodhi moves first, shifting up to straddle my chest with a knee either side of my ribs. His cock—thick, flushed, pierced—is already in his hand. He strokes it once, then taps the head against my lips.

“Open,” he says.

I don’t.

“You want this to stop, just say so. If not, then open that pretty mouth.”

I bare my teeth but open my mouth. He slides in, slow and claiming, until I’m choking again, my jaw aching, my throat stretched.

Matteo kneels between my legs now, pushing my thighs up and out. He takes a moment to brush his own pierced cock against my entrance, before lining himself up.

“Breathe,” Bodhi murmurs, just before Matteo thrusts into me.

I choke on Bodhi’s cock.

Matteo doesn’t ease in. Doesn’t give me time.

He fucks me with the same intensity he stalked me with—every thrust deep and measured, timed to each ragged breath I try to draw around Bodhi’s cock.

“God, you feel like fire,” Matteo groans, pounding into me. “So fucking tight.”

I moan around the thickness in my mouth. My body is undone—split open, used. I should hate it.

But I’ve never wanted anything more.

Bodhi holds my head still, both hands in my hair now, rocking his hips with a snarl. “You look so fucking pretty gagged on my cock, princess.”

He pulls out for just a second—just long enough for me to gasp air—and then pushes back in, deeper. Harder.

Matteo’s thrusts are savage now. His hands grip my hips so hard I know I’ll bruise, and I want him to. I want every mark. Every ache.

“Fuck,” Bodhi groans. “She’s shaking already.”

“You should feel how tight she is,” Matteo mutters, voice ragged. “She’sgrippingme.”

I try to glare, but Bodhi is already pushing deeper.

I feel my orgasm building—dark and deep anddevastating.

Matteo’s fingers find my clit, pinching hard, cruel and perfect.

“Come for us, Seanna,” he demands. “Come on my cock while you choke on his.”

I scream around Bodhi’s cock, the sound high and wrecked. My body convulses, wave after wave rolling through me until I’m shaking, muscles locking, the orgasm dragging me under like a riptide.

Matteo groans, still pounding into me. Then his rhythm falters. He jerks forward once, twice, and I feel the hot flood of his release inside me.

I’m still dazed—trembling and gasping—when Bodhi takes his place. His cock is slick with spit and need.

And he doesn’t wait.

He slams into me, fast and unforgiving, eyes locked on mine.

“You’re ours,” he growls. “You were alwaysfuckingours.”

I moan, back arching. His cock hits deeper, sharper, the metal of his piercings dragging against somethingperfect.

“Say it,” he hisses.