Page 208 of Break the Ice
“Damn, Bombshell,” Jayden says, voice dark velvet. “I think our girl likes that.”
Our girl.
The words break me open. I press the spray harder against my pussy, circling my wrist.
“Swirl it, Fin,” Elijah growls.
I do, knees buckling, body shaking as pleasure blazes low in my stomach.
“Feel good, baby?” Jayden asks.
I can’t even answer. My pussy clenches, hips grinding toward the heat, every nerve ending snapping like live wire.
“Don’t stop,” Elijah commands, the gravel in his voice dragging across my skin like a hand.
I choke on a breath, the noise ugly and desperate. Water and want blur everything until it’s only sensation and need and the two men wringing it from me.
“Elijah… Elijah… So good…” My moans ricochet off the tiles.
“Louder,” Jayden bites out. “I wanna hear you scream his name.”
God.
“I can’t hear you,” he says when I gasp too softly. “You don’t come until I hear you.”
The words slam into me like a wall. My hand falters. My body shakes with the restraint it takes to stop.
“Jayden, please…”
My voice cracks around the plea. I’m coming apart. Every fear, every memory, every part of Havenview still clawing at me disintegrates under the weight of this want, this trust, this safety.
“Please, Elijah,” I pant, louder this time.
“Is that all you got?” Jayden pushes.
“Elijah!” I shout, raw and shameless. “Elijah… please… Jayden…”
“That’s our good girl,” Jayden growls, and his praise goes straight to my clit, to the molten pull winding tighter inside me. “Turn around, Fin.”
I obey, trembling as the water runs over my front now, steam curling off my skin.
“Sit,” Elijah orders.
I sink onto the bench, leaning back against the cool tile. My chest rises and falls like I’ve run miles. My head tips up toward the ceiling.
I’m shaking apart.
“Feet up, beautiful,” Jayden says, softer now, almost coaxing. “Give us that pretty pussy.”
I hook my heels on the bench edge, baring myself completely.
“Goddamn,” Elijah groans, the sound guttural.
“Where do you want Eli’s hands?” Jayden asks, voice rougher now, breaking at the edges.
I drag my free hand from my stomach to my breasts, showing them. Teasing, pinching, tugging my nipples until I’m moaning again.
“Fuck,” Elijah grunts, breath catching. I can hear it—the slick rhythm of their hands, the rough edges of their groans tangling with the water’s steady hiss.
