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“Fuck, you’re tight. You feel that, Eli? Your ass wrapped around my cock like you were always meant to be mine.” Another thrust, harder. “You like getting fucked? You like taking my dick while you’re inside our girl?”

Heat crawls up my face and my cock throbs inside Dakota. My body answers before shame can catch up.

“Yeah, you do.” Brady’s rhythm turns rough, demanding, every thrust driving me forward into Dakota. “Look at you. Daddy’s a good little slut, taking his first cock like this.”

The degradation sends sparks through me like a live wire. A moan escapes that I couldn’t stop if my life depended on it.

He’s fucking me into her now. Using my body as the instrument, my hips no longer mine to command, and the realization cracks my chest wide open. I’ve spent my whole life gripping control like a lifeline.

Brady has it now.

And as terrifying as that may be, it’s also more right than I could have ever dreamed it would be.

“Such a perfect little bitch,” he pants against the back of my neck. “Taking it like you were made for this. You like being dominated, Daddy? Like giving up all that control you grip so tightly?” His teeth graze my shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you till you forget your own name.”

“You’re doing beautifully,” Dakota counters from beneath me, sweet as honey, her hands stroking my face, my hair. “My good, brave Daddy.” Then takes my mouth in a searing kiss.

The contrast splits my mind in half. Her sweetness. His filth. Both true at once, and I can’t reconcile it in my mind, so I stop trying and just feel.

From beside the bed, wet sounds. I turn my head enough to see Cruz and Dante kissing, deep and hungry, their hands wrapped around each other, stroking together while they watch.

Dante breaks the kiss. “Fuck Daddy harder, Brady. Make him take it.”

“You like that, Daddy?” Cruz’s grin carries in his voice. “Like getting split open by the baby of the family? Being his little fuck toy?”

Brady’s arm hooks around my body, his hand pressing low on my stomach, close to where Dakota and I are joined. “Fuck her properly. Make our girl come while you’re getting fucked like a whore.”

I try. God, I try to find a rhythm, but Brady is pounding into me, savage and relentless, and every thrust of his drives me deeper into her whether I intend it or not. I’m a conduit. His dominance flows through me into her pleasure.

Dakota tightens around me, her breathing fracturing. “I’m close. Daddy, you’re making me feel so good.”

“Hear that?” Brady snarls against my ear. “You’re going to make our girl come while I fill this ass. Breed you. Mark your insides so you never forget who did it first. You want that? Want to be claimed by the kid you’re supposed to be coaching?”

Words are gone. Fucked right out of me. I nod, frantic. It’s all I can do.

Dakota comes first. She clenches around me and cries out, my name and Brady’s tangled in the same breath, and the pulse of her orgasm around my cock while Brady hammers that spot inside me is a perfect storm with nowhere to break but through me.

I come with a shout, buried deep in her, my whole body convulsing between them.

“Fuck, yes, fuck.” Brady drives in one final time and empties into me, grinding deep, his voice raw. “Take it, take every inch. Daddy’s mine now, filled up and fucking mine.”

Beside the bed, Cruz groans, his hand tightening around them both, and he and Dante come together, painting each other’s stomachs, foreheads pressed close.

Then nothing but breathing. Five people, one room, harsh, ragged breathing and the occasional aftershock sound nobody bothers to hide.

Brady pulls out of me with care and the emptiness lands hard, an ache where fullness lived a second ago. I stay inside Dakota because my arms are shaking too badly to move and she is the fixed point of my entire world right now.

Her palm finds my cheek. Turns me toward her.

“You did it.” Her eyes are wet and shining. “You were so brave. You were perfect.”

My throat closes around every word I reach for. I nod against her palm and that has to be enough.

When I finally pull out and turn around, Brady is sitting back on his heels, and the satisfaction on his face is curdling into worry as he scans my back, my hips, the finger marks he left. Looking for damage. Looking for the line he might have crossed.

For a moment we look at each other. The coach and the kid. Daddy and the man who just took him apart.

I reach out and pull him into a kiss.