Page 36 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)
TWENTY-SIX
TOBIAS
Now
S team curls in thick waves around us, turning the bathroom into a clouded, overheated sanctuary.
The air is dense with moisture, and the scent of lavender and mint soap fills my nostrils.
Devan’s body presses up behind me, broad and steady, his skin slick against mine.
Lia waits on her knees in front of me, her eyes upturned, water cascading down her face, making her look like some kind of water nymph.
"Fuck," I moan, tilting my head back against Devan's shoulder as his soapy hand strokes me from base to tip. The sensation is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.
"Feel good, Toby," he whispers into my ear, his voice a low rumble that I can feel in his chest. His breath is hot on my neck, and I can feel his heart beating against my back.
"Yes. God, yes," I say, the words escaping my lips like a secret. When his thumb circles the tip of my length, swiping away the precum gathering there, I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
"You're going to let me fuck this ass while Li-Li swallows your dick," Devan commands, his voice a low growl. It's a promise of what's to come.
"Yes he is." Lia replies for me from the shower floor, her voice sultry and confident. She bats Devan's hand away, then licks my dick, flicking the tip in rapid succession with her tongue. The sensation is intense, and I have to brace myself against the wall to keep from falling.
"You two are trying to kill me." I groan. What initially started as an innocent shower turned dirty fast when Lia joined in, followed by Devan. My dynamic dirty duo. My own personal torture squad.
"You like it." Lia winks up at me, wiping away the shower water from her face.
She sucks my dick down her throat while Devan opens me up with the lube we keep for moments like this.
When I feel the head of his dick press inside of me, he doesn't hold back, pushing past the tight ring of muscle until his hips kiss my ass.
"Shit, Dev. You feel so good," I say. The words escape my lips like a secret.
He moves in and out of me in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sends waves of pleasure crashing through my body.
Lia matches his rhythm, bobbing up and down my shaft, taking her time, humming with each pass.
The vibrations send shivers down my spine, making my knees weak.
"Do you know how amazing you are, Toby? Allowing us both to pleasure you, tease you, take care of you.
" Devan picks up his pace. My thoughts are scattered, and I'm unable to reply.
I'm at a loss for words, too lost in the feeling of the two people who mean the world to me pulling me apart piece by piece.
"I'm going to—" The words fracture in my throat as the pressure builds uncontrollably.
My vision blurs at the edges, every muscle in my body drawing tight as waves of sensation crash through me.
I clutch at Lia's shoulders, my fingers trembling against her wet skin as my release overtakes me completely.
Lia doesn't falter for a moment, her gaze intense and unwavering as she holds mine captive. There's triumph in her eyes, a fierce satisfaction that somehow makes the pleasure sharper, more overwhelming. My chest heaves with ragged breaths as I struggle to remain standing.
Behind me, Devan's rhythm grows erratic. His hands grip my hips with bruising intensity, his breath hot and uneven against my neck. He whispers something—my name, perhaps a promise—shudders against me, his forehead presses into my shoulder as he finds his own release.
In the steamy aftermath, I reach for Lia, pulling her upward.
Water streams down her flushed face as I capture her mouth with mine.
The kiss is messy, desperate, all clashing teeth and seeking tongues.
She tastes of salt and heat and something uniquely us, a flavor that makes my spent body stir with renewed want.
Devan moves with graceful purpose, sliding away from me to position himself at Lia's back. His hands appear at her waist, and I feel her smile against my lips as he presses close. We're a perfect circuit, connected and complete.
"I will never forget about my girl," Devan murmurs against Lia's skin. His lips trace a reverent path down the elegant curve of her neck, across the delicate ridges of her spine. His voice resonates with a throaty intensity that sends visible shivers cascading through her.
"Lift her, Toby," Devan's request comes with such quiet authority that I move before I've even processed the words.
I pivot Lia carefully and scoop her up with deliberate precision, drawing her back flush against my chest, cradling her weight as I drape her legs over my forearms. The vulnerability in her expression as I hold her open steals my breath.
"What—Oh, God," Lia gasps, her head falling back against my shoulder as Devan dedicates himself to her pleasure with focused intensity and sucks her clit into his mouth.
The symphony of sounds fills our steamy enclosure, Devan's appreciative hums, the slick evidence of Lia's arousal, her increasingly fractured attempts at coherent speech.
My body responds immediately, desire rebuilding with surprising urgency.
"Devan! Devan! Oh, shit!" Lia's voice crescendos, her muscles tensing against me. I tighten my hold instinctively, supporting her as tremors begin to overtake her slender frame.
I nudge her temple gently with my nose, silently requesting.
Her response is immediate, she turns, offering her mouth with such unguarded trust that something in my chest constricts painfully.
Our lips meet in a messy convergence, and I swallow each desperate sound she makes.
Her pleasure tastes like surrender, like something precious I'm being trusted to guard.
"Cum for us, beautiful," I whisper against her parted lips, my voice scarcely recognizable to my own ears.
"I'm. . .I'm. . ." Her words dissolve into unintelligible cries as she shatters completely, her release washing through her in visible waves.
She collapses against me afterward, boneless and trusting.
I cradle her closer, the sharp, uneven hitch of her breaths gradually settling into a steady rhythm against me.
When equilibrium finally returns to us all, we take our time washing away the evidence of our shared passion.
We stand motionless under the spray, letting water cascade over our intertwined bodies like some sacred ritual.
Fingertips trace water droplets along sensitive skin, lips meet with unhurried tenderness, hands cup and caress with reverent familiarity.
The dense steam envelops us in our private sanctuary, creating a boundary between us and everything beyond.
For these stolen moments, nothing exists outside our shared breaths, our tangled limbs, our three hearts finding their synchronized rhythm.
It's two days before Christmas, and the house looks like Santa's workshop had a violent collision with a craft store.
Tinsel drapes haphazardly across furniture, scraps of wrapping paper create a festive confetti across the hardwood, and half-assembled decorations wait patiently for their finishing touches.
The air is thick with the mingled scents of fresh pine, spicy gingerbread, and that distinctive smell of cardboard boxes pulled from attic storage.
Tor and Ridley have taken their testosterone-fueled friendship outside, where they're currently engaged in what can only be described as a battle against Christmas lights.
Through the stained-glass windows, I can see them gesturing wildly, tangled in strands.
What should've been a simple thirty-minute job has somehow evolved into an epic saga.
Every few seconds one of their voices carries through the walls, usually something like, "Hold the goddamn ladder, Rid!
" or "That's not even remotely straight!
" followed by Tor nearly toppling off the second rung.
Their laughter punctuates each near-disaster, boisterous and unrestrained, and despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
Inside, Alexis and Brea have established their own chaotic command center.
Alexis stands at the stove, her hair piled messily atop her head as she stirs a pot of cocoa that smells rich enough to make my mouth water instantly.
Steam rises in fragrant clouds around her face as she adds another dash of peppermint extract, humming softly under her breath.
Brea moves with practiced efficiency between the kitchen island where cookie dough waits to be shaped and the living room where several boxes of ornaments need unpacking.
She's got Christmas music pumping through the speakers, some soulful rendition of This Christmas that has her swaying her hips as she works.
Between them, they're somehow managing to wrangle babies, frost cookies, and untangle ornament hooks without breaking stride.
It's a choreographed dance of domesticity that I find myself watching with something close to awe.
Chloe and Kodah both bounce enthusiastically in their individual jumpers, their tiny legs pumping with surprising strength, sending them both into fits of giggles that sound like silver bells.
Chloe's hair has formed wild curls from her morning bath, making her look like a joyful little dandelion.
From her perch at the top of the stairs, Glitzy observes it all with regal disdain.
Her enormous white tail swishes almost to the beat of the music, those intelligent eyes narrowing slightly whenever someone makes a particularly loud noise.
The Maine Coon is easily the size of a small dog, her fluffy coat pristine despite the chaos below.
When our eyes meet briefly, I swear she gives me a look that says, ‘Humans are exhausting, aren't they?’ I can't help but chuckle at her aloof dignity.