Page 91 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

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 kissesas he works. “You are exquisite,” he says. “I should commission a statue.”

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