Page 73 of The Beast's Broken Angel

Adrian’s hands gripped my jaw, turning my face towardhim. “Look at you,” he murmured, pride and heat in his voice. “Falling apart already? Viktor hasn’t even started.”

I tried to answer, but Viktor’s mouth was everywhere—tongue lapping, lips sucking, fingers digging bruises into my hips as he forced me still. “Hold still,” Viktor ordered, voice like gravel. “I want to hear you beg.”

His tongue drove in again, fucking me with slow, maddening circles, spit and lube dripping down my thighs. He paused only to drag the flat of his tongue over my rim, then flicked it mercilessly, making me sob. “You like this? Say it,” he demanded.

“Yes—God, yes—please, Viktor, don’t stop—” My words broke apart as Adrian leaned in to claim my mouth, swallowing every sound. I tasted myself, tasted Viktor, heat and humiliation and surrender swirling on my tongue.

Viktor rumbled a laugh against my skin. “He’s ready. So needy for us. He’d take anything now, wouldn’t you?”

I could only moan, my whole body trembling with want. Viktor’s hands spread me wider, thumbs pressing into the crease of my ass, exposing me completely. He spat once, crude and hot, letting the slick drip down over my hole, then licked it up, sending shocks through my spine.

Adrian stroked my face, lips ghosting over my cheek, his hand tangled in my hair. “You want this, sweetheart? Want both of us?” His voice buzzed through my bones as Viktor’s tongue pressed in again, rough and greedy, lube and spit mixing until I was shaking.

“Please,” I gasped, my voice wrecked, “please—I need?—”

Adrian’s hand twisted in my hair, yanking my head back so he could kiss me hard, tongue forcing my mouth open, stealing the taste of Viktor’s heat straight from my lips. The kiss was messy, desperate, utterly claiming.

Viktor finally pulled back, breath ragged. “He’s yours, boss,” he said, voice thick with want. “But save some for me.”

Adrian moved behind me, nudging Viktor aside, and the heat of both their bodies crowding me made my knees weak.

“My turn,” Adrian murmured, his voice silk and threat, promise and possession all at once.

Adrian lowered himself and dragged his tongue over my hole, slow and possessive. He licked into me with practiced, filthy skill, tongue thrusting deep, spreading me wider as Viktor’s hands held me open. Adrian took his time, alternating between slow circles and firm, claiming thrusts, making sure I felt every second. I was dizzy, caught between their hands and mouths, every sense overloaded.

Suddenly Viktor’s grip changed, one big hand sliding up my side, then cupping my jaw. I felt him move, felt the mattress dip and the warmth of his body as he shifted around me, rising up and over, until I could sense him in front of me, his scent and presence unmistakable.

His thumb traced my cheek, guiding my chin up. I felt his other hand tangle in my hair, steadying me. His voice was close, rough and sure. “Open,” Viktor commanded, voice right at my ear now, cockhead nudging my lips. “You know what I want.”

Even blind, I could picture him—towering above me, cock flushed and ready, staring down as I obeyed. Adrian’s tongue didn’t stop, swirling and thrusting, making my body jolt and arch as Viktor pressed his cock to my mouth.

“Good,” Viktor praised, and I felt the thick head of his cock push between my lips, parting them wide. He fed it in slowly, letting me savor the taste of him, the salt and heat, while Adrian drove me wild from behind.

Viktor’s grip in my hair tightened, holding me steady as he slid deeper, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts. “Take it all, littleone. Let me feel that pretty mouth. You look so good like this—even when you can’t see me.”

Adrian’s tongue worked me open, each flick and press amplified by the helplessness of my position. The two of them spoke over me, heat and command in every word.

“He’s beautiful like this, Viktor,” Adrian murmured, pausing only to drag his tongue in one slow, claiming circle. “Completely at our mercy.”

Viktor’s cock slid deeper, almost making me choke. He pulled back, letting my lips drag along his shaft, then thrust in again, not gentle but not cruel—just relentless, just sure. “Don’t stop, Noah. You want to come? You want to be filled? Earn it. Show us you can be good.”

My world narrowed to the taste of Viktor, the pressure of Adrian’s tongue, the roughness of their voices and hands. I whimpered, every nerve ending lit up, desperate for more.

Finally Viktor withdrew, a string of spit and precum falling across my lips, his hand lingering on my jaw as if he couldn’t quite let go. “Good boy,” he growled, pride thick in his accent. “Now you take me somewhere else.”

Adrian stroked my back, soothing and possessive all at once. “Then take him. But make him feel it.”

Viktor didn’t hesitate. He moved behind me again, big hands spreading me open, cock pressing to my entrance. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect. Gonna open you up for both of us.”

Adrian’s presence was a shadow at my side, fingers brushing my hair as he leaned in.

Viktor’s hand squeezed my hip, his grip bruising, grounding me. “You ready for me, lapochka?” he rasped, the Russian endearment harsh and intimate. “Adrian wants you open, begging, so fucking pretty.”

I shivered. “Please—just?—”

He didn’t let me finish. The blunt head of his cock pressed in, slow at first, stretching me until my breath hitched and my knees shook. Viktor groaned, deep and approving. “Take it. Take every inch. Good boy—make him proud.”

Adrian’s hand slid down my back, nails biting. “He loves hearing you say it, Viktor. Tell him what he does to you.”