I don’t know where Nash finds the courage to push his cousin aside and sink into the same pussy he’s filled, but he does. His thrusts are harder and more demanding, and Grace’s eyes open, her fingers digging into the blanket beneath her.
Jaxon, his cock still slick, leans forward and kisses her deeply, his fingers rolling her nipple, and I watch as her moans are swallowed by him, and Nash’s body undulates into her.
“Shit,” Nash hisses, spilling into her, his face contorted, his whole body taut.
Grace lies in the middle of the blanket, her limbs loose and her hair wild. Her breathing is ragged, and her smile is wide. Conway eases out from beneath her, removing her shirt, tank, and bra until she’s as naked as the day she was born. He rolls her over and tugs her hips with demanding strength until she’s on her hands and knees, hair wild around her face and shoulders.
Propped on one muscular forearm, he presses a kiss between her shoulder blades. “You’ve taken three men already. Let me make it five. Dylan,” He tips his head to encourage his brother to approach. In sync, they both unfasten their belts, pulling leather through loops with matching thwacks. Jeans are unfastened and cocks removed, then Conway kneels behind Grace, curving his body over hers. He wraps his hand around her throat possessively.
“It’s time, Gracie. Time for us to claim you. To show you what your life could be like if you stay with us and commit to becoming our woman. There will never be a time when you have to worry about us letting you down, or forgetting your needs. You’ll be at the center of our world, always. Just like you are now. Do you understand me?”
She nods, her eyelids heavy as he pushes inside her messy pussy, tipping her chin for his younger brother. Dylan strokes Grace’s cheek, then coats her lips with his precum. “God help me, I want to claim this pretty mouth all for myself,” he says as she parts her lips and lets him rest the head of his cock against the flat of her tongue. When he slides deeper, her red lips encircle his length, and his eyes roll at perfection.
Conway’s body is draped over Grace’s like a weighted blanket; all heat and muscle and grounding safety. She’s stretched, glistening, swollen—and somehow still ready for more.
Conway eases forward, thrusting inside her, slow and deliberate. Her mouth parts in a silent gasp. Her fingers twitch like she’s searching for something—someone—and Jaxon, still kneeling close, threads his hand through hers, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Easy,” he whispers. “You’ve got this.”
I watch Conway fill her, inch by inch, his face taut with restraint. He’s big, but her body yields with such sweet, willing tension that my own cock twitches, already aching to be inside her again.
“Jesus,” Conway mutters. “You feel like heaven, baby. So warm… still so damn wet from the others.”
He pounds into her, over and over, as Dylan cants his hips, pushing his thick cock between her puffy lips, holding her gaze hostage with his intensity.
“Darlin’,” he murmurs, “you still with us?”
She nods, and Dylan pulls out long enough for her to say, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Damn right,” Conway says, fucking deeper. Grace’s legs twitch. She’s trembling from exertion or anticipation, I can’t tell, but I know her well enough now to recognize that dazed expression, the one she makes after the breaking point, the one that means she’s surrendered but still wants more.
Her body lifts toward him, aching for connection, her thighs parting wider in open invitation, slick with the combined evidence of every man she’s welcomed inside.
He growls softly. Low and reverent. “That’s my goodgirl. So sweet… so perfect… give your body over to us all.”
Grace moans, a soft, keening sound that slices right through my chest. Her hands cling tighter to Jaxon’s and McCartney’s, and I move to her other side, brushing her damp hair back from her face.
Conwaypresses into her, rocking deeper with each stroke, using her gasps and moans as his rhythm. Every man watches. Some stroke themselves through denim while others memorize the way she takes them both, in awe of the flush in her cheeks, the way her breasts bounce with each thrust, and the puresaturationof her body as it accepts all of him and all of Dylan.
McCartney dips his head to suck her nipple again, tongue swirling, and Nash mirrors him on the other side. Jaxon strokes her clit gently, fingers teasing, and Grace whimpers—half-lost, totally overwhelmed.
“Come for me again,” Conway growls, voice sharp with command. “Let me feel you milk me like you did them.”
She shakes in response, thighs clenching around him, hands tightening.
And then, like she needed his voice, shedoes. Her body bows, her back arching, a scream rising from deep in her throat as she comes again around her fourth cowboy of the night. Conway pulls out to watch her stretched pussy hole fluttering and leaking, then he slams deep one last time and holds there, still and thick inside her.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasps. “Gonna leave you dripping with all of us.”
She groans, and Dylan clutches her face as he comes, releasing down her throat.
Conway’s eyes close, and then hebreaks, his face contorting in pain and pleasure as he spills inside her.
When he’s done, he doesn’t move. He breathes her in. Stays curled over her back, murmuring something only she can hear.
And Grace? Grace is glowing.
Sweaty. Spent. Soaked with us. Marked by us. Loved by us.
