Page 126 of Filled

Eli groans. “You can take it. You’ve taken me before.”

Cruz’s head drops. “Not like this.”

When Eli sinks into him, the chain reaction runs through all three of them at once. Eli’s thrust drives Cruz deeper intoDakota, and she cries out around Brady, and Brady grabs the headboard to stay upright. They find a rhythm the way water finds level—Eli setting the pace, Cruz caught in the middle, Dakota taking everything that rolls downhill from both directions.

I stand there jerking myself off slowly, watching the best and filthiest thing that’s ever happened on my own bed.

And it’s not enough. Watching has never been enough for me. I want in—want to be wired into this circuit instead of standing outside it.

Brady keeps glancing at me. Third time, fourth time, his eyes caught between hungry and scared. He pulls out of Dakota’s mouth and his chest is heaving.

“Dante.” He swallows. “Can you… ” He stops, and then starts over, steadier. “Fuck me while I watch them.”

The room doesn’t stop. Eli and Cruz and Dakota keep moving, but Dakota turns her head and finds Brady’s face.

“Yeah?” she says, breathless.

“I want to feel what he’s feeling.” Brady nods at Cruz, who’s beyond forming words. “Getting taken. I want that.”

“Come here, then,” I tell him. “Beside her. Hands and knees. I want you two face to face.”

He positions himself next to Dakota, close enough that their breath mixes, and I kneel behind him with the lube Eli abandoned. Brady’s never done this before. He’s fucked Eli and Cruz, but he’s never been on the receiving end. Never let anyone inside him. He wants this but he’s fighting years of shame to get there. This has to be done right, patience, watching for cues from not just his words, but his body that he is ready for each step.

I take my time with him. More time than I took with anyone else, because this is a door he’s never let anyone open. One finger first, working him open with patience while the bed rocks besideus. His whole body tenses at the intrusion, shoulders bunching, and I go still.

“Breathe,” I murmur. “Just breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

Brady forces air into his lungs. Slowly, his muscles start to relax. I keep that first finger slow and shallow, letting him get used to the sensation. When I curl my finger to find his prostate, his sharp inhale stutters before it breaks into a moan that comes from somewhere deep, laying him bare in a way that eclipses his nakedness.

“There he is,” I say.

Dakota reaches over and cups his jaw. “Look at you. Taking his fingers so well.” Her voice hitches as Cruz slams into her. “You look so sexy, Brady.”

“Angel,” he groans.

“We’ve all got you,” I encourage.

I add a second finger and Brady tenses again, breath becoming shallow pants. Dakota keeps her hand on his face, grounding him, whispering praise. I keep it slow, scissoring, making sure he’s ready. By the time I add a third finger, Brady is rocking back to meet me, fear giving way to need.

“Ready?” I ask.

Brady nods against Dakota’s hand. “Yeah. Yeah.”

When I finally line up and start to push into him, Brady’s head drops toward Dakota’s and the sound he makes is pure surrender. I go slow, so slow, feeling him stretch around me, letting him adjust to every inch. Dakota kisses him through it, messy and sweet, Cruz still driving into her, Eli still driving into Cruz.

“Doing so good,” Dakota whispers against his lips. “So brave.”

I’m fully seated inside him and I hold still while he learns how to breathe through it. Brady’s hands are fisted in the sheets,his whole body trembling, and I lean forward to press my forehead between his shoulder blades.

“Tell me when,” I say.

Brady takes three shaky breaths. “Move. Please, Dante. Move.”

Two sets of us now, moving side by side. Eli inside Cruz inside Dakota. Me inside Brady, who can’t tear his eyes off her face. Every thrust ripples through more than one body. Eli goes deep and Cruz goes deeper and Dakota gasps into Brady’s mouth. I roll my hips and Brady rocks forward and his hand finds Dakota’s on the mattress, fingers threading together.

“Cruz.” Eli’s voice cuts through everything—that tone, the one that snaps all of us to attention. “Make her come. She’s earned it.”

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck yeah.” Cruz shifts his angle, grinds down.