Page 67 of The Last Call Home (The Timberbridge Brothers #5)
Chapter Sixty-Three
Delilah
I’m still trembling as Mal carries me to the bedroom.
There’s no space between breaths, no break in sensation. My body feels like it’s still coming—throbbing between my legs, heart racing in my throat, skin flushed and raw. My thighs won’t stop twitching, and my chest rises and falls in uneven bursts as Mal lowers me to the bed.
It smells like them. The sheets, the room. Like heat and sweat and men who look at me as if I’m something worth ruining.
Cassian is already crawling across the mattress, his mouth at my knee, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. “You’re not done,” he whispers, and I don’t know if it’s a promise or a threat.
Maybe both.
But then I look between them—Cass still clothed, Mal shirtless, jeans barely hanging on—and something wicked blooms in my chest.
“Cass has too many clothes,” I murmur, my voice husky from everything they’ve already wrung out of me. I point at Mal with a lazy flick of my fingers. “And those jeans.” I arch a brow. “They need to go. Why don’t you help each other?”
They pause. Cass’s mouth quirks, a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face. Mal lets out a soft snort, shaking his head like he’s amused, but he’s already moving.
I sit up just enough to watch. I’m spread across the bed like a ruined painting, flushed and marked, and completely unashamed about it. I want them to see me watching. I need to see this.
Cassian rises to his knees, towering over me now, dragging his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. It clings to his skin for a moment—he’s sweating, chest heaving—and when he tosses it aside, Mal’s already reaching for the button on his jeans.
“Turn around,” Mal murmurs, voice velvet-soft but deep. “Let me take care of it.”
Cass obeys, facing me, his eyes still locked on mine while Mal slips behind him.
There’s something sinful about it—something that makes my breath hitch.
Cass’s head falls back as Mal drags the zipper down slowly, palms flat against his hips.
He’s doing it on purpose—drawing it out, teasing both of us.
Cass’s abs twitch. His cock’s already straining behind the denim.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Mal slides his hand into the waistband, pushing jeans and briefs down in one motion. Cass kicks them off, completely bare now—broad shoulders, powerful thighs, thick cock already flushed and leaking.
And then Mal kisses him, open-mouthed, desperate.
Mal fists his hand in Cassian’s hair and pulls him close.
Their mouths collide again and again, rough and hungry, like they’ve both been starving for it and never had the nerve to admit it.
Cass groans low in his throat, grabbing Mal’s waist, dragging him in until their bare skin meets—hip to hip, cock to cock, grinding slow like they forgot I was watching.
But I haven’t.
I can’t look away.
I moan—openly, shamelessly—and they hear it. Cass breaks the kiss first, breathless, lips swollen, eyes still locked on mine like he wants to see me fall apart again just from this.
Mal slides his hand down Cass’s stomach, fingers brushing over his cock before turning toward me. “We could take our time with each other,” he says, voice low, almost dangerous, “but I think she’s losing patience.”
“I’m not,” I rasp. “I just—fuck. That was . . .”
Cass smirks. “Hot?”
I nod.
Mal kisses him one more time, slower this time—deeper. And then they both start toward me, crawling across the mattress like predators, their eyes full of heat and promise.
And I realize I'm not the one in control anymore.
They are.
And I’m going to let them wreck me for the second time tonight.
I shift, reaching for Cassian’s jaw and dragging him up. I kiss him, and it’s messy, all tongue and heat, teeth scraping lips. I taste myself on him. I don’t care. I need the weight of him. The push of his body against mine. The press of his chest, the grip of his hands, the certainty in his mouth.
He groans into me, hips pressing down, and then pulls back just far enough to pant against my lips.
“You want both of us again?” he rasps, voice thick with filth and reverence. “Want to feel so full you can’t think?”
“Yes,” I breathe, throat raw with the word.
He kisses me hard.
“Top drawer, Mal. Get the lube.”
Mal’s already moving, calm and focused. Like they’ve done this before. Like my body is something sacred they’ve learned how to pray over. He opens the nightstand, pulls out the bottle, and climbs back onto the bed with a dark glint in his eyes that makes my stomach flip.
Cassian slides down between my legs, eyes locked on mine. “Hold your knees back for me.”
I obey, legs trembling as I hook my hands behind my knees and spread myself wide. Open. Ready.
Cass doesn’t hesitate.
His mouth finds my pussy, and I cry out.
His tongue is unforgiving—broad strokes, sucking my clit, teasing the sensitive places that still haven’t stopped pulsing from the last orgasm. It’s too much and not enough. My hands slip, shaking, but I hold the position, chest heaving as I watch Mal coat his fingers with lube.
He leans close to me, the warmth of his body pressing against my side, and kisses my shoulder while his slick fingers glide between my cheeks.
“I’ll be slow,” he murmurs. “You just relax for me, baby.”
I nod, but I’m already moaning.
Because Cassian’s mouth doesn’t stop. His tongue is ruthless, licking and circling and sucking, while Mal’s fingers tease lower, pressing slickly around the tight ring of muscle. I feel it—cold lube, the lightest pressure—and then he pushes, just a little. My body tenses.
Cass groans against me, like he loves how I react. He flattens his tongue, tongue-fucking me as Mal works a finger in.
“Oh, fuck?—”
“You’re okay, baby,” Mal soothes, kissing my neck, his free hand stroking my ribs as he adds more lube and starts to move—small, shallow thrusts, letting me adjust.
“All good, don’t stop,” I beg.
Cass moans against my clit like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, like the sound of me falling apart is his fucking reward.
Mal slides in deeper.
“Still good?” he murmurs, his voice so close to gentle it makes me ache.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
He adds a second finger, slowly, carefully, stretching me open while Cass licks me like he’s trying to make me lose my mind. The contrast—Cassian’s tongue against my clit, Malerick’s fingers inside my ass—it’s too much. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I needed without even knowing it.
“Fuck, you’re taking it so well,” Mal says, fingers pumping, scissoring me open. “So fucking tight. Cass, you feel how she’s twitching for it?”
Cass doesn’t answer with words.
He groans low and deep, the sound vibrating through me as his mouth devours my pussy, licking up every drip of slick I can’t stop giving him.
I scream—sharp and broken—and they don’t stop.
They won’t stop.
Because they want me ruined again, and I want to give it to them.
Cassian’s mouth is relentless—his tongue curling around my clit, lips sucking hard, then soft, then just enough to keep me gasping. And behind it all, Mal’s fingers stretch me open in with slow, patient thrusts that burn in the best way.
I try to breathe.
I can’t.
I shake, thighs trembling, hips jerking—my legs no longer obeying me. I feel the orgasm building, rising from somewhere deep, not just between my thighs but everywhere. My heart. My spine. My throat.
“Cass—” I gasp. “I’m?—”
He doesn’t stop.
He groans against me, pushing his tongue flat as Mal curls his fingers just right—and I snap.
I come hard, crying out with a ragged, aching sound that doesn’t even sound like me. My hips buck. My pussy clenches around nothing. My ass grips Mal’s fingers tight. I can’t stop shaking. I’m not even sure I want to.
They don’t move right away. They hold me through it—Cassian’s tongue gentle now, teasing through the aftershocks. Mal strokes my side, his mouth brushing my ear.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re ready now.”
“Yeah,” Cass adds, voice hoarse and needy—almost desperate. “You took those fingers so well. You're going to take him even better.”
They guide me up like I’m weightless. Mal settles against the headboard, legs spread wide, cock thick, flushed, and glistening with lube.
I straddle his lap, my back to his chest, thighs trembling as I lower onto him—still panting, still wet, still raw and aching for more.
His hands find my hips, grounding me as I sink down, every inch a slow, burning stretch that makes my breath catch.
“You sure?” he asks, voice rougher now—strained like he’s holding himself back.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you. Both.”
I lower myself slowly.
Mal’s cock stretches me wide—so much more than his fingers, so thick it burns in that sweet, decadent way that makes my eyes roll back.
I groan, legs trembling, palms braced on his thighs as I sink onto him inch by inch, the pressure building with every breath.
His chest is warm at my back, his breath hot against my shoulder, and all I can do is hold on as the stretch turns sharp and addictive and perfect.
“Oh, fuck?—”
Mal moans, head tipping back against the headboard. “Fuck, baby, look at you.”
I can barely breathe. My ass is stretched around him, full to the brim. My body pulses, walls clenching from the stretch and the leftover tremors of my orgasm. When I finally bottom out, my whole-body shudders—tight, overwhelmed, but so good.
Cassian watches me from the foot of the bed, eyes full of fire.
“Stay just like that,” he murmurs. “Keep him deep while I slide in.”
I whimper, gripping Mal’s shoulders, and Cass moves closer. His hands slide up my thighs—possessive, reverent. He kisses me once, hot and slow, then lines himself up to my pussy.
I’m so wet. So ready.
He pushes his cock thick and hot and smooth as he stretches me open all over again. My breath leaves me in a sharp, broken gasp.
Cass groans as he sinks deeper. “Fuck.”
Mal lets out a strangled sound beneath me. “She’s fucking squeezing me.”
Cassian finally bottoms out, his hips flush to mine. And I’m completely full—sandwiched between them, Mal deep in my ass, Cass buried inside me. My entire body hums. Shakes. Burns with it.
I can't move. I don't want to move.
Because this—this right here—is everything I never knew I needed.
And they’re not even moving yet.