Page 33 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

Carson’s already on his back, cock heavy against his stomach, hat crooked on his head like it’s survived a war. He looks controlled, but barely, seconds from growling and flipping me over again.

I crawl toward him, still trembling from Blake’s tongue. My thighs sticky with proof. My mind gone soft and spinning. “You gonna be good for me?” I ask, straddling Carson.

“Always,” he grits, grabbing my thighs and slamming me down onto his cock in one ruthless stroke.

I gasp. Because he’s thick. Hot. Filling. And I’m already oversensitive from coming once.

He groans like he just got punched in the gut. “Fuck, that’s tight,” he hisses. “You were made for this.”

I start to ride him. Not gently. Not sweet. Like I’m trying to kill us both through pelvic sorcery.

Edgar moves behind me, his hands on my waist, his chest against my back. “I’ll go slow,” he lies. He drags his cock through the mess between my thighs, smearing Blake’s spit and Carson’s precum along my ass. Teasing. Testing. “Lube?”

Blake produces a few bottles.

Edgar picks one, squeezes and spreads. Then he presses in, hot, deliberate pressure breaching that second tight ring.

I scream. I moan. My whole body arches.

Carson grabs my hips, holding me in place while Edgar sinks in, inch by unbearable inch. Until I’m made into a living goddamn dessert. Layered and obscene.

And then Blake. Sweet, pink-faced Blake crawls forward, kissing my lips like he’s shy despite the carnage, until I open my mouth and invite him in.

His cock slides over my tongue. Silky. Salty. Twitching.

“F-fuck,” he stutters, both hands in my hair. “She’s, she’s letting me.”

“She’s taking all of us,” Carson growls. “You’re part of it. Claim her.”

They move. Carson thrusting up. Edgar grinding slow but deep, carving himself into my spine. Blake rocking gently, until I start to suck and he gasps my name like a confession.

Every stroke is perfect chaos.

Carson growling filth under his breath, hands bruising my hips. Edgar murmuring praise against my shoulder as he fucks me open, slower now, more intimate, savoring the stretch. And Blake, bless him, trying so hard not to come too fast as I hollow my cheeks and swallow around him.

I’m shaking. Sweating. Dripping. And still not done.

“Harder,” I rasp around Blake’s cock. “All of you. Don’t stop.”

Carson thrusts up just as Edgar slams in and Blake lets go with a cry. I choke. My orgasm hits like a bomb, no warning, no grace. Just fire. Clenching down around Carson, crying out past Blake’s cock, whole body locked in rapture as they fuck me through it.

Carson comes with a growl, biting my shoulder hard enough to bruise. Edgar follows, hips jerking, his come hot and everywhere. Blake spills over my tongue with a whimper and a whispered apology I don’t need, because I drank it down like salvation.

When they stop, we collapse. All of us. A pile of slick, twitching limbs and wrecked pride.

I’m panting. Feral. Glowing like I just absorbed the sun through every hole.

Edgar kisses my spine. Carson cradles my face. Blake pets my hair like I might combust.

“Mine,” I whisper. “All of you. Mine.”

Carson smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

I don’t remember falling. One second, I’m shaking and stuffed and cockdrunk on everything they gave me, and the next, I’m draped across Carson’s chest, Edgar spooning my back like a possessive mink coat, and Blake is somehow wrapped around my legs like an emotional octopus.

Someone’s kissing my wrist. Carson. He presses his lips to the inside of it. “I bruise you?” he asks, thumb stroking the faint red ring.

I hum. “You bruised everything. My cervix filed a formal complaint.”

He snorts. “Good.”

Edgar shifts behind me, smoothing a damp curl off my neck. “I’d like to apologize to your thighs. I fear I was… overzealous.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Blake lets out a tiny, exhausted whimper. “I think I saw heaven. It smelled like lube and citrus.”

I laugh. Full-bodied. Blissed-out. Absolutely ruined. “You alright, baby?” I ask, stroking Blake’s hair.

He looks up at me, eyes all glassy and wide. “You sucked my soul out through my dick.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s gone,” he whispers. “I saw stars. I tasted my ancestors.”

Carson chuckles. “Welcome to the club.”

I reach for the nightstand and grab the chocolate milk that somehow made it here, still cold. I take a sip, then pass it around like holy communion. We’re all sweaty, filthy, covered in each other, but there’s something beautiful in this moment. Something safe.

Edgar is already reaching for a warm cloth from the bedside basket. Ever the thorough one. He cleans me with slow, patient strokes between my legs, peppering my inner thighs with kisses as he works. “You are exquisite,” he says. “I should commission a statue.”

I grin. “Make sure it vibrates.”

Carson hands me a towel for my chest and offers me milk with his other hand. Blake’s dozing now, cheek resting on my stomach, arms wrapped around my hips like a very tired, very smug teddy bear.

We shift and adjust until everyone fits better. I end up sandwiched between Carson and Edgar, with Blake snoring softly across my legs, clutching my thigh.

Edgar traces circles on my shoulder. “You do realize we’re never letting you go now, yes?”

“Obviously,” I say.

Carson kisses my forehead. “You’re safe. Always.”

I believe it. Even if we’re all wanted for murder. Even if our sex life could trigger a power outage. Even if we’re the unholiest thing this town has ever seen.

I close my eyes. “So… round two at breakfast?”

Blake makes a noise that sounds like both excitement and terror.

Carson chuckles. “Only if there’s pancakes.”

Edgar strokes my hip. “And syrup. On the side. Or on my cock.”

“Oh,” I whisper, grinning. “I vote cock.”

“Cock, for sure,” Blake says.

“Cock it is,” Carson says.

Turns out, true love isn’t soft. It’s sharp. It’s sticky. It’s covered in frosting and blood and three sets of bite marks. With a side of aiding and abetting, cock syrup, and a bakery.