Page 319 of Breathe Like Hell

Please.

My body tensed up, legs shaking, pussy clenching, an unintelligible string of whines and curses escaping my lips as the inexorable force of my orgasm rained down on me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I couldn’t catch my breath, pleasure wrecking every one of my senses, swallowing me until I was entirely lost in it, floating untethered, made of nothing but this. I was mindless, thrashing and shivering, liquid heat streaming from my core down my tense thighs, all the way to the soles of my feet, my aching nipples, the vulnerable arch of my neck.

Micah took advantage of the vulnerability, lunging up my body to latch his mouth to the unguarded expanse of skin on my throat, biting down on my quick pulse, his big hands harshly groping my tits.

And then his cock was there, so big and hot and thick and hard…

I cried out as he shoved his full length inside of me on a single thrust.

“Micah,” I whined, reaching for his body, my pussy so swollen, so turned on.

Mason had joined us on the bed, his fingers toying with my nipples, his cock stiff.

“Open,” Micah said, motioning to Mason.

His jaw dropped open as he leaned over, Micah spitting right onto his tongue.

Mason turned his head, letting the saliva drip lewdly past his lips onto his erection, then started stroking himself over me. I stared at the flex and ripple of his forearm as Micah continued grinding deep into me, a second orgasm already burning low in my belly, each insistent thrust coloring the feeling a shade more crucial.

“Are you about to come again?” Micah questioned, his cruel fingers finding my throbbing clit.

All I could manage was a single nod before I was shuddering again, clamping down on his length and his thickness, squeezing him so fucking tight, like I would never let him leave me. I won’t.

Mason was still jerking himself, staring desperately at the place where Micah’s body penetrated mine, his expression so full of carnal, animalistic want that it made my belly flip.

“Fuck, Kill,” he muttered, fingers tightening. “Looks so good.”

“How good?” Micah was sweating, his hips still pumping.

“Good enough that I’m about to come all over both of you.” Mason groaned, his jaw slack, eyes heavy-lidded.

“Do it.”

Do it.

Cum jetted out of Mason’s tip onto the place where Micah fucked me, landing hot and slick and vulgar, shooting obscenely all over my flushed skin, being pushed into me by Micah’s massive cock.

My eyes rolled back.

Micah was fucking me harder now, rougher, deeper, claiming every one of my wounds for himself, breaking me apart into molecules. His erection swelled inside of me right before he came, filling me up until everything between my legs was a fucking mess. He finally slumped forward, his body heavy on mine, then rolled over so Mason could lay in front of me.

“You’re so fucking ours,” Mason sighed, his lips pressed to my throat.

━━━━━

Both Mason and I were fully moved in to Micah’s house. I’d sold the trailer and all my old furniture, which gave me a small chunk of extra money to keep for myself. Micah paid for everything in my life—just like he’d promised he would—but I still wanted to have some of my own money.

The pink flashdrive with all my old PhotoBooth videos on it had been burned, melted into something irretrievable. It gave me what I needed, and I wouldn’t let it hurt me anymore. It was proof that I’d loved my brother for a reason. Proof that he used to be good. Proof that I wasn’t just a fucking idiot loving someone who only ever abused her.

But that proof wouldn’t do anything good for me now. I knew the truth, and I had to trust myself to keep believing it. I didn’t want to ruminate on what could’ve been, what used to be. I wanted to keep going forward.

I had my head in Mason’s lap, my feet laying across Micah’s thighs, all three of us in the truck with the windows down. My eyes were closed, stray strands of my hair fluttering in the vortex of cool wind pouring into the cab. There was a hint of mist in the air, soaking my lungs when I inhaled, tendrils of invisible precipitation spiraling through my chest.

My sleeves were pulled down over my hands, my fingers curling in the thick fabric. It was Mason’s sweatshirt—the one he gave me on our first day together. I had my locket tucked underneath it, the metal warm against my skin, holding both halves of my heart within its silver.