Chapter 260: Reid
I sit beside her, but Jake hooks an arm around her waist and lifts, setting her astride him like she weighs nothing, like she belongs right there. A sound grinds up my throat. We share, we do, but I’m still a greedy bastard where she’s concerned, and the ache to be inside her again is a hard, knife-bright thing I have to swallow down.
He kisses her slow—God, slow—mouths her like he’s relearning every angle, every sigh, and she answers with that soft, desperate little sound that ruins my discipline. She’s straddling him, knees braced carefully outside his hips so nothing brushes her ribs, and then she starts to move—just a hush of motion at first, a testing glide of heat and pressure as she rocks along the line of him. Jake groans into her mouth, one hand cupping the back of her head so she doesn’t tip, the other steadying low at her waist, respectful of bandages, protective to the point of prayer.
“Easy,” I murmur, crowding closer, my palms mapping skin I’ve missed like oxygen—temple, jaw, the hollow of her throat—avoiding every bruise I know by heart. “Tell us if anything hurts.”
“It doesn’t,” she whispers, breath catching as she finds the rhythm she wants, the kind that steals language and replaces it with heat. “Feels… so good.”
Jake’s eyes cut to me over her shoulder—dark, wrecked, asking and promising in the same look—and I fold in around them, my mouth at her neck where her pulse runs fast and sweet, my thumb skimming the edge of tape on her wrist so I can guide her arms where they won’t strain. She chases friction again, bolder now, rolling through him like a tide; he answers with a low, helpless sound that vibrates against her lips, and I feel it where my teeth graze her skin.
“Good girl,” Jake breathes, voice gone rough as rope. “Just like that. We’ve got you.”
I have to close my eyes for a beat, because there’s that look on her face—the one that undoes every lock in me—lids heavy, mouth parted, a flush rising beneath a constellation of fading bruises that does nothing to dim her, only sharpens the miracle that she’s here, warm and alive and choosing us. I anchor a hand at the small of her back and keep her rhythm true, careful of tender places, careful of everything except the way she’s melting between us, and when her breath stutters I tip her chin so I can watch.
“Reid,” she says on a little gasp, like my name is the only word left to her.
“I’m here.” My mouth finds hers for one slow, claiming kiss, then trails back to her throat, my voice a vow against her skin. “We’re here.”
She moves again—longer, deeper, a slow grind that pulls a curse from Jake’s chest—and the room narrows to the heat of her, the press and slide and the steady, protective cage of our hands. I murmur directions that are more promise than command—“Easy… good… that’s it, sweetheart”—and the tremor that takes her is soft at first, then building, a whole-body shiver that has her clutching at Jake’s shoulders while I hold her together from behind. She cums on a sigh, then another, quiet and fierce and perfect, and I swear I feel it bloom through my own bones.
I draw her forward just enough to steal another slow kiss, then turn her, guiding her knees to either side of my hips so she’s facing the foot of the bed, spine a long, trembling line in my hands. “Like this,” I murmur against her shoulder, settling back against the headboard so she can use me or leave me as she wants, and when she nods—breath catching, hair falling over one cheek—Jake moves to the front of her, bracing a forearm on the headboard and cupping her jaw with the other like she’s something he’s vowed to protect and worship in equal measure.
“Eyes on me,” he tells her, mouth inches from hers. “Take your time.”
She reaches back for me, finds my cock, and eases down slow—so slow I see the moment it turns from careful to can’t-breathe-without—her shoulders rolling, a soft sound torn from her throat that Jake swallows with a kiss as I fill her inch by inch. My hands frame her waist, then climb; I map the small of her back with my thumbs, stroke up along the dimples, up the ladder of her spine, and have to clamp my jaw shut when she settles fully and shivers, every inch of her tight pussy around me like a promise I don’t deserve and can’t live without.
“Good fucking girl,” I say, voice wrecked, forehead pressed to the slope of her lower back while Jake kisses the yes out of her mouth. “You tell us if you want anything different.”
What she wants is more. I feel it in the way she rocks once, tentative, and then again with a little gasp when I angle my hips and glide up into that spot that makes her go loose-limbed and greedy. Jake keeps her anchored at the front—thumb stroking her clit slowly, mouth finding her again and again—while I set a pace that respects every line of her body and still makes it shake: deep, steady rolls, the kind of rhythm that builds heat everywhere at once. She braces her palms on Jake’s chest and lifts, then sinks, and the sight of her moving for her own pleasure—back arching, shoulders tilting, the soft catch of her breath before she takes me deeper—just about undoes me.
“That’s it,” Jake murmurs, kissing her between words. “Just like that. You’re so perfect.”
She chases the angle, I meet it, and the room narrows to the sound of our breathing and the slick slide of my dick inside her and the little broken noises she can’t hold back. I run one hand up, gathering her hair and tipping her head back so Jake can kiss her mouth deeper, harder; she trembles and drives down harder, and the control I’ve been white-knuckling frays.
“Guys,” she whispers—half plea, half command.
“Right here.” My hand spreads under her belly to support her, the other tight on her hip to keep her pace true as I push up, again and again until her thighs quiver and I feel her drip all over me and her fingers fist in the sheet near Jake’s hip. He kisses and touches her through it, foreheads pressed, murmuring praise while I keep her right on the edge, then nudge her over with a thrust that hits perfect and his thumb-sweep that steals her breath. She breaks—beautifully—going taut around me, a soft cry against Jake’s mouth, a full-body surrender that rolls and rolls until it takes me with it.
I lose the last of my restraint with a curse I can’t hold, driving up once, twice, burying myself in her as heat slams through me; I hold her down, chest to her back now, mouth at her shoulder, riding the aftershocks with her until we’re both shaking and boneless, Jake still kissing her like he’s promising the moon.
No one moves for a long stretch of quiet. She finally sags back against me, head tipped to my cheek, the smallest laugh slipping out when I drag my hands down her sides like I need proof she’s real. Jake leans in and kisses that smile—possessive, grateful, a little ruined.
“Color?” I ask against her skin, already knowing.
“Gold,” she breathes, lazy and certain.
She’s still warm and loose against me, breath feathering my throat, when she turns her head and finds Jake with that sleepy, wicked little smile that says she’s not done. “Your turn,” she whispers, and the way his eyes darken makes something feral curl low in my gut.
I ease her forward, palms sliding up her sides, and lift her off me with a slow, careful drag that has all three of us groaning. Jake is already sitting back against the pillows, broad shoulders braced, hand out for her like he’s been waiting his whole life. She swings a knee over and settles facing him this time, chest to chest, and I take a second just to watch the lines of it—the way her spine curves, the way his hands span her waist like he was built for exactly this.
“Attagirl.”
Jake palms her neck, kisses her once—soft, reverent—then once more, deeper, a slow coax that opens her right up for him while I guide her with my hands, lining them so there’s no guesswork, only heat and certainty.
“God, Madeline,” he breathes, one hand on the small of her back, the other threading into her hair. “Look at me.”
She does, and then she moves.
It’s a slow rock at first, testing angle and depth, a teasing grind that makes his head thump back against the headboard with a curse. I set my hands on her hips and give the slightest pull, drawing her up, rolling her down, keeping the rhythm true while Jake meets her from beneath with those smooth, controlled lifts that make her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. She melts into it, into us, and the room fills with the soft, wet sound of their bodies and the way he can’t stop telling her how perfect she is, how good she feels, how he’s been starving for her since the minute she opened her eyes.
I lean in and kiss the slope where her neck meets her shoulder; she shivers and rides him harder, and I feel the answer in Jake’s whole frame, the way his grip tightens, the way he has to drag in air. “Easy,” I murmur against her skin, but my hands are greedy traitors, guiding her a little faster, a little deeper, giving Jake everything he’s begging for without a single word.
She changes the angle on instinct—hips rolling forward, then down—and Jake just about comes undone under her, jaw set, breath ragged, eyes locked on her like she’s the only thing he’ll ever need to see again. “That’s it,” he says, voice wrecked, thumb stroking the corner of her mouth before he kisses her through another long, slow sink that has her toes curling against the sheet. “Keep me right there.”
I slide a hand lower, press in gentle counterpoint where I know it turns her bones to honey, and the sound she makes is all heat and surrender; she starts to tremble, muscles fluttering around Jake in tight, greedy pulses as she rides that edge again. He holds her, praises her, gives her every steady lift she needs, and when she starts to fall apart—eyes glassing, fingers digging into his shoulders—he tips her chin and keeps kissing her like a man praying into her mouth.
Jake is hanging by threads; I see it in the cords of his neck, in the way he fights for control even while she milks the last of his patience away.
“Come for me,” she whispers, and that’s all it takes.
He groans into her mouth, thrusts up deep and sure, once, twice, again, and then he’s gone—head tipped back, hands locked on her hips, heat slamming through him in a shudder that drags another soft aftershock from her. I hold her steady, keep her close while he spends himself, and then all three of us collapse into the same loose, grateful tangle, her cheek on his shoulder, my mouth at her nape, Jake’s palm splayed wide over her spine like he’s claiming her and comforting her in the same breath.
We don’t rush the after, not for a second. I slip away only when she nods, and Jake already has the warm cloth ready; we take care of her together—slow, thorough, a few kisses and a few whispered I love yous folded into the quiet—then fold her back between us under the sheets, her thigh hooked over Jake’s hip, her back tucked to my chest, the three of us breathing like we’ve found our way home twice in one night.