Page 110 of 11 Cowboys
Cody steps in behind me, warm and solid, his big hands bracing my waist. “Mind if I help you with that, Brody?”
Brody lets out a breathless chuckle. “Not one bit.”
They move together like men who are used to working together toward the best outcome. Men who know how to work in rhythm. Cody kneels behind me, one hand spreading my ass while his other guides Brody’s cock to my entrance.
I’m so slick that he slides in with one smooth thrust—and he groans like he’s dying.
“Fuck, Gracie,” he breathes. “You’re already so full…”
I gasp, my head falling back onto Cody’s shoulder as Brody moves slowly at first, savoring the feeling he’s been denying himself since I arrived, his hands on my thighs, his eyes locked on my face.
“You feel so good,” he whispers. “I can’t believe I waited this long.”
Cody’s hand circles my clit. “Then don’t waste another second.”
My moan splits the silence. Brody drives deeper. Cody strokes faster. McCartney leans down and captures my mouth in a kiss so tender I nearly sob.
And just like that, I’m spiraling again.
Brody’s thrusts are deeper and sharper now, but he’s still holding my gaze like I’m something fragile beneath the weight of his body, something he doesn’t only want to fuck, but earn. Every stroke is full of restraint, working towards a moment of such intense surrender that I’m almost scared to keep going. But I want this. Even though I’m kneeling overhis thick thighs, he’s the one controlling this, grasping my hips to hold me exactly where he wants me.
“Harder,” I whisper.
His breath catches.
“Now,” I beg.
He groans and obeys.
That’s when I feel Cody behind me shift, his chest against my back, the heat of his cock brushing the curve of my ass. My hands search for him instinctively.
“Cody…”
“Right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs into my neck. “You want to take both of us?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure you can?”
“I want to.”
Brody slows, his cock still buried inside me, while Cody adjusts behind me, spreading me with one strong hand. I feel the blunt head of his length nudge lower, seeking, sliding beneath the place where Brody’s already inside me.
The stretch is sharp. Deep. Impossible.
I cry out, half pain, all pleasure, as Cody begins to press in.
“That’s it,” McCartney soothes from the front, his hand in my hair, his mouth brushing my jaw. “You’ve got this. You’re taking them both like a fucking goddess.”
Brody groans, sweat beading at his brow. “Jesus, Grace…”
Cody grits his teeth, one hand gripping my waist like it’s the only thing holding him in this world. “You’re so fucking tight,” he hisses. “So full…”
They move slowly, in a measured way that gives me time to adjust.
But once I do?
I fly.
