Page 81 of Filled

“Don’t—” he breathes, then, “—do.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I work his belt open. He’s already hard against the denim, straining the zipper, and when I get him out his cock fills my hand—uncut, thick, beautiful in a way I never let myself thinkabout back when I was supposed to not be thinking about it. I lean in and take him, just the head first, tongue swirling. He grunts and his hand finds my hair.

“Christ.”

I sink down further. Take him to the back of my throat. He tastes clean and warm and faintly of soap, and the hand in my hair tightens like he’s not sure if he wants to push me down or pull me off.

Behind me I hear Dante’s belt.

“Coach.” Dante’s voice is silk. “Want a taste of this one too?”

I pull off long enough to look. Dante’s standing now, beside Eli, his cock out and heavy in his fist. Long, dark, gorgeous. I’ve sucked that cock enough times, and the thought of Eli’s mouth wrapped around it does something violent to me.

Eli’s pupils are blown.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, I want a taste.”

I get back to work on him while Dante steps in close, angles his cock toward Eli’s mouth. Coach takes him careful, like he’s testing the temperature of bathwater, just the head at first. Then a little more. Dante’s free hand slides into his hair, gentle.

“That’s it,” Dante murmurs. “Just like that, Coach. Beautiful.”

Above me Eli moans around Dante’s dick and the vibration of it hits his own cock in my mouth and I groan back and the whole circuit lights up.

Dakota.

I’d almost lost track of her. I pull off Eli, panting, and twist around.

She’s still on the couch. Hoodie shoved up to her waist, shorts pushed aside, two fingers working between her thighs while she watches us. Bottom lip caught in her teeth. Eyes glassy.

Oh, hell no.

“Sweetheart.” I sit back on my heels. “Get the fuck down here.”

“I’m watching?—”

“I don’t care what you’re doing. You’re not coming on your own hand in this house. Not while there’s three of us in the room.”

She makes a noise like I’ve slapped her, in the best way, and she’s off the couch and on her knees beside me before I finish the sentence. I cup the back of her neck, bring her in for a kiss—deep, tongue in her mouth, Coach’s pre-cum still on my lips.

She moans into it.

“Suck me,” I tell her. “I want your mouth on me while I work on Daddy.”

“Yes.”

She drops between my thighs—I’d kicked my jeans halfway down without noticing—and her warm wet mouth closes around my cock and my eyes nearly roll back. I bend to Eli again. Dante’s still feeding Coach his dick, slow and patient, and the whole tableau is the filthiest thing I have ever been a part of in a long time.

Then I have an idea.

I pull off Eli with a wet sound. He whines—actuallywhines—and I grin up at him.

“Daddy. We’re doing this wrong.”

He looks down at me, dazed. “What.”

“Look at us.” I gesture around. “Dakota’s on me. I’m on you. You’re on Dante. And Dante’s just—Dante’s just standing there like a king getting served.”