Dinner’s almost done when I hear the front door open, followed by the sound of boots hitting the floor.
“We’re home!” Carter calls out.
Tate follows, tossing his keys onto the entryway table. “Something smells edible.”
I peek around the kitchen doorway and grin. “I followed instructions.” I say, shrugging. “It’s edible. Probably.”
Carter kisses me before checking. “I know it’s perfect baby.”
Tate peeks in over his shoulder. “Did you add the garlic?”
“Double.”
He slaps a hand over his heart. “Shelistens.”
Dinner is eaten quickly. The dishes are in the dishwasher and I’m draped across the couch between them, warm and full and exactly where I want to be.
Carter’s hand traces lazy circles on my thigh, and Tate hasn’t stopped smirking since the moment we sat down, one arm slung across the back of the couch, the other playing with the edge of the throw blanket like he’s waiting for an excuse to toss it over us and cause problems.
“Remember what I said earlier, About us making it up to you?”
My breath catches. “Yeah?”
Tate’s hand snakes up, cupping my throat gently. “Time to collect.”
Carter groans softly, shifting to face me more fully, one of his legs hooking around mine. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. The way you looked in bed this morning.“
Tate leans down, his lips pressing the top of my neck. “Shorts off.”
I move, lifting my hips just enough and Carter helps peel the shorts down my thighs.
Tate’s hands replace his immediately. “Spread those legs angel,” he orders. “Let’s see.”
I do and way they groan in sync makes my pussy ache.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Carter whispers, brushing his fingers along my clit, dragging the wetness up to circle it in soft strokes. “Did dinner turn you on? Or was it us eating off our laps like heathens?”
Tate sinks lower on the couch behind me, gripping my hips. “Maybe it was knowing we’d end up right back here. Right where we first shared you.”
My breath hitches.
Carter slides two fingers inside me, slow and deep. “Tell us what you need, baby.”
I bite my lip, barely able to breathe. “I need more.”
Tate moves behind me, shifting until I’m halfway in his lap, my legs spread wide. Carter kneels in front of me, his fingers curling inside me still.
They move like a team. Carter’s mouth replaces his fingers, warm and soft against my clit, his tongue flicking just right—teasing and soothing. Tate keeps my legs open, spreading me wider, his grip bruising,
I cry out when Carter sucks harder, my hips bucking. “You’re so good,” I gasp. “Both of you—fuck, don’t stop—”
Tate slides a hand under my shirt, pinching my nipple until I whimper. “We’ll give you what you want, pretty girl. Over and over.”
When I start to fall apart, Carter doesn’t slow. He groans into me as the orgasm crashes over. I shake, convulsing in Tate’s lap. He leans over me, pressing me down so my back sinks into the cushions. “Carter, kiss her, I’ll be right back.”
Carter moves immediately, pressing soft, heated kisses along my collarbone and side,. “God… you’re so perfect,” he murmurs, voice rough, nipping gently at the skin where my shoulder meets my neck.
Tate disappears for a second and comes back holding a small black vibrator. He presses it instantly against my clit. “Are you close again pretty girl?”
