Tate grins over her shoulder. “You really are her favorite,” he says as he slides two fingers deep inside her, curling them with precision, like he’s done this a hundred times before, like he knows exactly how to pull pleasure out of a sleeping woman’s body. “Still so fucking tight,” he groans. “And she’s clenching, even in her sleep.” He leans down and kisses her shoulder, her neck, tongue dragging over her skin before he whispers in her ear: “Your pussy missed me, didn’t it, pretty?”

She whimpers in her sleep.

“God,” I mutter, staring. “Tate…”

He glances over at me, eyes wild. “You ever seen anything this perfect, little brother?”

I shake my head. I can’t speak.

He shifts her gently onto her side, body limp and open between us. Then he moves behind her , one hand braced on her hip, the other stroking his cock, already leaking. “You’re gonna let me fuck her,” he says. “You’re gonna watch me fill that pussy while she moans your name.”

She stirs, a soft, broken sound and arches her hips toward him in sleep.

“She’s begging,” Tate groans. “Even now.”

He pushes in. I hear the sound she makes. A long, breathy moan as Tate buries himself inside her, inch by thick inch. Her pussy stretches to take him, and his groan rips through the quiet like thunder. “Fuck, she’s gripping me so tight, like she knows it’s not you.”

I’m kneeling beside them, trembling, rock hard, breath caught in my throat as I watch him fuck her slow and deep, hips rolling into her in powerful, measured thrusts. “Look at her,” he pants. “She loves being used.”

His hand wraps in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose her neck. “You’re made for this, aren’t you, Haven? Soft little hole for us to worship. Our good fucking girl.” Her breath hitches. Her legs jerk. She’s waking up, just barely, dazed, dreamy, soaked and spread.

“Carter…” she whispers again, voice barely there, caught between sleep and pleasure.

“I’m here,” I whisper back, crawling up beside her, cupping her face. “I’ve got you.”

Tate groans behind her and starts to fuck her harder, rough now, snapping his hips into her, balls slapping against her ass, the sound obscene and wet and perfect. “You hear that?” he pants. “That’s your cunt clenching around me. You know you want it.”

Her mouth falls open in a silent cry.

“Take it,” he grits out. “Fucking take it.” She trembles violently, and I realize she’s coming. Even in this dazed, limp state she’s unraveling for him.

Tate groans deep, slams into her one last time, and I see his whole body lock up as he spills inside her, breath ragged against her skin. “Fuck,” he moans as he pulls out slow. He turns to me. “She’s all yours.”