Page 73 of Pucking Good Girl

“Baby, use your muscles as if you wanted to push him out.” I instruct.

“Am I hurting you?”

Talia shakes her head, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“No. Keep going, Becks, please.”

When my brother breaches the tight ring of muscles, I can feel it. Things get even tighter for me in Talia’s perfect pussy.

Resisting the urge to come is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. This is heaven and hell at the same time.

“I’m inside you.” Becks sounds just as winded, and I feel a little vindicated that he’s as turned on as I am. “Are you ok?”

Talia answers with a soft moan and another mind-blowing squeeze of that perfect pussy. “More than ok. This is…”

She never finishes the sentence; she just moves between us. “Guys, I’m so close.”

Thank fuck. I stop fighting the urge to move with her and follow her slow rhythm while my fingers find her clit.

I can feel and see the moment she lets go. Her inner walls spasm in perfect sync with my heartbeat and her pink nipples tighten into two sharp points.

There’s no way I can last one more second and I follow her over the edge.

“Fuck, you’re both coming. I can’t hold back.”

Becks’s arms bind under her chest, his forehead hidden in the crook of her neck.

I can feel my brother’s release; each of his spasms prolonging mine and Talia’s pleasure.

I’ve never come so hard in my life.

We should probably clean up, but none of us moves for a long time. I’m vaguely aware that the storm outside has died down. I pull Talia closer to me, glad that she’s safe now. Sleep takes us all under in an exhausted tangle of limbs and my last coherent thought is that having Talia between us doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. Becks and I might have our differences on most things, but I know that when it comes to keeping our girl safe, we’re on the same page.

CHAPTER 18

WAFFLES AND DEATH THREATS

Talia

Bacon is one of the best scents to wake up to.

I hide my head under my pillow. I was sleeping so well, better than I have in months, and I’m not ready to leave the cocoon of the California king-sized bed in Becks’s room.

My stomach, however, offers me a loud reminder that I skipped dinner last night, so I reluctantly abandon the plan to sleep a little longer.

The first thing I do is check my phone, but then I remember that it died last night. To my surprise, I find it plugged into a charger on one of the nightstands.

What doesn’t surprise me is to find several messages from Sam asking me where I am and if I’m ok.

Sam: Talia, please call me to let me know you’re ok. I’m worried sick.

It’s barely nine a.m. and I debate if I should just text her back, since it’s the weekend. But then I see the timestamps on the messages. The last message is from twenty minutes ago. It looks like my bestie has been up all night worrying about me. The least I can do is call her.

Like I thought, Sam was waiting to hear from me. She answers on the first ring.

“Talia, are you ok?”