Page 112 of Seven Lost Summers
Theo’s hands are on her first.
Possessive. Greedy. Sliding under her shirt. He peels the fabric up inch by inch, as if he’s unwrapping something sacred, a favorite present he’s waited years to open. Her skin glows under his touch, his fingers dragging over her ribs with the kind of slowness that makes my teeth grind.
He plays dirty. Always has.
He’s patient, loves drawing everything out until they’re fucking begging, their thighs shaking and their voices nothing but broken little sounds they can’t bite back. He loves the tease, the power in making them squirm, making them ache, holding them at the edge until they’re dripping, grinding, desperate to be filled.
What never stops turning me on is watching him work, seeing that focus, that slow control. The whole thing feels like a goddamn art form, and every time he pulls it off, I get harder. He’s slow, cruel in the best fucking way. Every drag of his fingers is a promise.
And tonight the one caught between us is Quinn.
Our Quinn.
A sweet little mess, ready to be broken in all the right ways.
I can already see her, body bent and begging, that tight little pussy stretched, soaking our cocks while she moans for more. We’ll take her apart piece by fucking piece, drag her open until she’s trembling and crying our names. Not just a fuck. Not just a quick get off. We’re going to own her, every sound, every twitch, every filthy little plea.
Theo meets my eyes over her shoulder, a wicked fucking glint sparking in his gaze. The look tells me this isn’t just sex. This is destruction, worship, taking every fucking inch of her and making her ours.
Her shirt hits the floor, and Theo’s hands are on her tits instantly, squeezing hard enough to draw a gasp. His thumbs roll over her nipples, pulling the sound straight from her throat.
I catch her jaw in my grip, fingers digging in as I tilt her head until those eyes are locked on mine.
“Watch me,” I growl, voice low enough to make her chest stutter. “Keep your eyes right here while he plays with you. While he makes you fucking ache for us.”
She whimpers, the sound shooting straight to my cock. Her lips part, trembling.
Theo squeezes her tits again, leaning close to her ear, whispering something that has her knees threatening to give out.
I keep my grip on her jaw, firm enough that she has no choice but to look at me. My thumb brushes over her bottom lip before I push into her mouth, watching every second as her lips close around my skin.
She sucks, and fuck, I have to shut my eyes for a beat, just to take the rush of heat tearing through me.
That mouth. The same one that’s had teenage me jerking off in the shower, imagining this exact moment. Her lips. Her tongue. The filthy sound she’d make if she ever had me between them for real.
“Good girl,” I rasp, voice rough as her tongue curls over my skin. The heat of her mouth has my cock throbbing so hard it hurts. I force my eyes open again because I can’t miss a second of this. Not when this moment is everything I’ve fucking dreamt of.
Theo grins, the devil dressed in soft touches and slow torture. His fingers drift down her stomach, tracing a lazy path that makes her whole body shiver. He knows exactly how to build the tension, how to stretch the ache until she’s ready to sob for release.
And fuck me, I can’t wait to hear her sob.
That weak, helpless little sound that tears free when pleasure owns every inch of her. When her voice collapses and her body trembles too hard to tell us to stop even if she wanted to. We’ll push her past every limit, stretch her until her pussy quivers around nothing, then fill her until sweat slides down her spine and she’s wearing our cum, so far gone she won’t know whose cock she’s begging for.
“Q,” I rasp, my grip tightening on her jaw. My thumb drags over the soft swell of her bottom lip, pressing in again just enough to make her mouth part. “Eyes on me. I want to see every fucking second of what this does to you.”
Her pupils are blown, lips wet and parted, chest rising fast like she can’t catch her breath.
That look fucks me from the inside out.
What I see in her eyes is more than want—it’s need, pure surrender, every filthy, impossible fantasy I’ve ever had of her crashing into one moment.
“Good girl,” I murmur, leaning in, my voice rough against her skin.
I press my lips to her cheek, soft for a second before letting my mouth ghost over the corner of hers. Close enough to taste the heat of her breath but not giving her the kiss she’s desperate for.
She tilts her head, leaning in, chasing the space, already desperate, and we haven’t even started.
“You have no idea what’s coming, baby,” I breathe onto her mouth.
