Page 117 of Split You Open

“I want you both inside of me,” I rasp out as I slow my pace riding Rhett.

Behind me, Rhett growls again. The sound reverberates through me and I love how it touches something deep inside of me.

“You sure?” Santi asks, at the same time Rhett warns, “It’ll be a tight fit.”

“There’s nothing I’m more sure about than experiencing this with you two.”

A hard shudder rushes through Santi as he places the knife down beside us on the couch.

“The two of us locked inside of you, cariño?” he asks. “It’s even better than my idea of sewing us all together.”

Rhett laughs, the sound strained. “You were thinking of sewing us together?”

“It crossed my mind,” Santi replies innocently. “That way, no one could go anywhere without the others.”

I tug on Santi’s wrists to pull him closer, aching to see this through and to feel them both deep inside of me. Together, there’s no danger, no fear, no unknowns. It’s just love and ecstasy, sin and irrevocable damnation—the best combination a woman like me could ask for.

Santi kneels, planting one knee beside me to my right on the couch cushion. Bending his head down, he kisses me hard. I hum against his lips, tasting myself there and loving it. I can feel the cushion to my left dip as he braces his other knee there.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t go far. Against my mouth he asks, “You ready, cariño?”

I nod. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

Letting of his wrist, I reach forward and I wrap my fingers around his erection and guide him toward my pussy. If he notices my hand trembling, he doesn’t comment. Excitement and trepidation roll through me. I want this.

But holy crap, is this going to be intense.

Placing him at my entrance, I suck in a deep breath. When I’m ready, I whisper against Santi’s mouth, “Now, Santi. Do it now.”

“Be careful, Santi,” Rhett warns as I lean back against his chest. “And go slow.”

Santi nods before kissing me again. As he does, he pushes into me. I suck in a sharp breath, tensing at the severity of the stretching.

Holy.

Shit.

As Santi works his way into my body, he begins to whimper and beg, asking me to relax just a little bit more for him. He tells me how tight and perfect this feels. I hear him but it’s like he’s telling me from a distance as pleasure and pain collide.

Rhett’s fingers tease my clit while his other hand fondles my breast.

One of Santi’s hands finds its way to my other breast. His mouth peels away from mine so that he can plant kisses down my neck. Rhett’s mouth skims across my shoulder, his lips and hoop piercings cause goosebumps to rise in their way.

By the time Santi is situated deep inside of me, we’re all trembling, breathless and sweaty. The smell of sex, musky and thick, saturates the room. I’m drowning in pleasure while sitting on the precipice of pain. Before I can simply bask in the sensation coursing through me, though, there’s something I have to do.

Reaching over, I grab the knife from off the couch cushion.

“Where, Santi?” I ask breathlessly.

Santi looks down at the knife, breathing just as hard as I am. He lifts his right arm. “My forearm. I want to be able to see it all the time.”

I nod as I grab his arm to keep him steady. “If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls out.

The tip of the blade sinks into Santiago’s skin like butter. As I carve my name into his flesh, I make sure not to hurt him or to make it all that large. This isn’t like the last time. With Ledger, I wanted him to hurt. I wanted blood and sweat and his pain. It was just as Santi said it was; a claim.

With Santi, it’s a declaration of love.