The pace is agonizing, a slow, torturous pull against every nerve in my body, the deliberate teasing, the way their hands roam, mapping me out. Carter’s mouth is relentless, trailing lower, his tongue flicking over the swell of my breasts, teasing through the lace of my bra. Tate is worse, his lips barely ghosting over my hip bones, his breath fanning hot between my legs, teeth bared into a grin pressed against my skin.

I whimper, arching beneath them, desperate for more, desperate for them to stop holding back, to stop drawing this out like they have all the time in the world to take me apart. My head tilts back against the pillows, a moan slipping past my lips as Carter finally tugs the straps of my bra down my shoulders, his lips following their descent. “Fucking perfect,” he moans as his teeth scrape over my bare shoulder, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, pushing it lower, exposing me inch by inch. His hands are warm, palms skimming the curve of my tits before his mouth follows, lips parting, tongue licking, sucking, teasing until I’m gasping beneath him.

Tate groans, fingers tightening on my thighs, dragging me closer, spreading me wider, his voice nothing but heat and sin. “Look at you, pretty angel,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the inside of my thigh, his tongue darting out just enough to make me shudder. “Already so fucking wet for us.”

I suck in a breath, my fingers tangling in his hair, my body burning from the inside out, I can feel him smile against my skin, can feel the way he presses his lips lower, closer, feel the way Carter’s hands tighten on my waist, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Tate,” I breathe, a mix of frustration and pure fucking desperation, my legs trembling, my chest rising and falling too fast, my head swimming with the thick, intoxicating heat of them both, so close yet so fucking far.

Tate chuckles, his fingers trailing dangerously slow up my thighs, his touch feather light, teasing, coaxing. “You gonna beg for it, pretty ?”

Carter lets out a shaky breath, his lips still tracing my chest, his voice tight with restraint. “Tate, don’t sta—”

“Relax, little brother,” Tate groans, his tongue licking against the skin of my inner thigh, making me shudder. “I just wanna hear her say it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body on edge, fucking desperate, needy, aching. I need them to ruin me, need them to stop teasing and start fucking claiming. “Please,” I whisper, my nails digging into Carter’s arms, my legs shaking beneath Tate’s grip. “I need—”