Page 171 of Well That Happened

“Caleb,” I pant. “Please.”

He stops again, a teasing grin on his mouth.

“Not yet, pretty girl,” Hunter says near my ear. “Fuck this big dick, baby.”

I plant my hands on his knees and begin riding him—faster now. Moving in his lap with purpose. My ass jiggles in his lap. The sound of slapping skin fills the room. It’s obscene. Erotic. I love it.

Hunter makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat.

All of them watch me, and it’s hot as hell. And under a minute later, Hunter is exploding inside me. A helpless groan pushes past his lips, and his hips jerk, once, twice…

“Baby,” he says, sounding out of breath.

Hunter lays there spent, looking slightly dazed as Caleb takes my hand and helps me up. “Fuck, Ri. Come sit on my dick.”

He leads me over to the blanket pile in front of the fireplace. We sink down together.

He shifts over me, pressing me gently down, his body covering mine in a way that feels protective and possessive at the same time.

When I push my fingers into his hair and sigh against his mouth, his smile curves into the kiss.

His mouth moves to my jaw, my throat, his hand sliding lower to touch my pussy. I arch into him, gasping as his touch skates over my skin.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

And I believe him.

Because with Caleb, every touch is wrapped in worship.

When his hips settle between mine, his mouth finds mine again, deeper this time. His hands grip my thighs, angling me up to meet him as he rolls against me with a groan that sends heat spiraling straight through my core.

“Caleb,” I whisper, breath catching.

He pulls back just enough to look at me—eyes dark, jaw tight with restraint. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t.”

He pushes inside me, slow at first.

Every stroke is deliberate. Like he’s savoring the feel of me, like he wants to learn me—inch by inch, sigh by sigh. Caleb moves like he’s memorizing me.

I wantthis. I wanthim.

He exhales, his forehead falling to mine, and then he’s moving. Slow at first, careful, easing into a rhythm that has both of us gasping, clinging. His hands never stop roaming—my waist, my ribs, the underside of my thigh as he tilts my hips just right.

He’s everywhere. And I’m unraveling.

But not all the way.

Because as his rhythm stutters, his mouth finds my shoulder and he groans my name like a prayer. His body goes tense, taut, and then—he shudders, hips pressing into mine in one final, deep movement.

And I feel it.

The way his whole body releases.

The way he holds me tighter after.

His breath stutters against my skin. “Jesus, Rilee…”

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