Page 45 of Seven Lost Summers
She starts to shake.
Not from pain. From the weight of it, from the way we’re both inside her, connected, full, and feral.
I reach up and brush her hair from her face. Her eyes open, dazed and glassy, lips parting.
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” she breathes. “I didn’t know it could be this good.”
“I didn’t either,” I admit.
Nate pulls back a fraction, and she lets out a soft, wrecked sound. Her cunt flutters around me, and I nearly lose it.
Nate moves first.
“Fucking hell,” he groans, eyes squeezing shut as he relishes the tight drag of her around him. He braces, gripping her hips harder, steadying his thrust. His pace stays slow, giving her time to adjust.
Bianca cries out, her face buried in my neck, lips open against my skin. She trembles between us, gasping for breath, body stretched to the edge, and I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful.
Nate opens his eyes, glancing down at her back before locking on me. His jaw is tight, and I can see he’s barely holding it together.
I start to move, slow at first, hips flexing up, testing how much she can take. My cock drags through her soaked heat as Nate pushes deeper behind her.
She tenses above me, then moans, her head thrown back between us. She’s dripping.
Nate grinds into her ass, as his hands slide over her body.
Her hips roll forward, then back, caught in the rhythm we’ve built around her. Each thrust drives her down onto me, her body yielding, taking everything. She doesn’t hold back. She moves with us, chasing the rhythm like she can’t get enough. Her thighs tremble, muscles tightening as she rides the wave, matching every shift of Nate’s hips with her own.
She shifts back, arching into Nate’s thrust, her hands braced on my chest for balance. Every time she rocks forward, she clenches around me, that perfect, pulsing grip. Each movement is so fucking good it rips the air from my lungs.
She’s not just taking us.
She’s using us, wringing out every ounce of her pleasure. She moves with intent, chasing the friction, the stretch, the brutal fullness of it all. Her breath stutters as she finds her angle, spine curving, ass pressing back against Nate while her pussy clamps down on me. She rides us like she can’t get enough, like we’re the only thing holding her to this world.
And fuck, watching her like this—shameless, beautiful—it’s almost too much.
Nate groans behind her, his rhythm faltering, and she flutters around me again, her body on the verge. Her moans break into gasps as we fuck her slow and deep, dragging her closer to the edge with us.
Nate leans in, his voice rough against her ear.
“You want more?”
Her breath catches, and for a moment I think she’s about to fall apart. But she doesn’t.
She lifts her head, eyes wild and dark with need, and says it without a flicker of hesitation.
“Fuck yes.”
That’s all he needs. His hand slides to her front, down between us, until his fingers find her clit, slick, swollen from everything we’ve done to her.
The second he touches her, a broken moan rips out of her. Her whole body jolts, head dropping forward as her back arches between us.
Nate starts slow, building her up.
She whimpers, gasps, then moans so loud it slams into my chest. She grinds against his hand, chasing it, desperate, needy.
“Fuck,” I grit out, barely able to keep thrusting into her. “She’s gonna come.”
Nate doesn’t stop.
