His grip tightens, his breath shudders, his cock pulses inside me, and then he’s fully gone, fully fucking mine. I’m barely holding on.

I push back, letting my spine curve, letting Carter have a little more control, letting him move the way he needs to. And oh, fuck—Too much.

A sharp yelp leaves my lips, my hands flying up to grip his wrists, nails pressing into his skin. “N-Not so much—” I gasp, my breath hitching as he instantly slows, his body shuddering, his fingers flexing on my hips like he’s fighting himself, like he’s trying to hold back.

He nods without speaking, his jaw clenched tight, his groans soft, filling my ears like the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard. I let myself sink into it.

I close my eyes, let my head tip onto the back of the couch, let my body take in every single sensation, every deep thrust, every delicious pull, every second of Carter finally learning how to let go.

Just as I’m completely lost in the way he’s making me feel, in the way I’m starting to feel the build creeping through me, in the way I’m so close to falling apart for him. Something warm presses against my lips.

I freeze. The air in my lungs locks up, my entire body goes rigid. Before I can even open my eyes, I feel him. Tate. His fingers stay firm against my mouth, silencing me, while his other hand moves slow, deliberate, filthy.

He’s stroking himself. Right in front of me.

His fingers curl around the thick length of his cock, the motion lazy, teasing like he’s doing it just to fuck with me, just to make sure I know exactly what’s happening. Just to make sure I feel it.

I shouldn’t be watching him. I shouldn’t be focused on anything except Carter, still buried inside me, still moaning in my ear, still gripping my hips like I’m the only thing holding him together.

But I can’t look away. His breath is slow, but his hand’s moving faster now,his cock thick and hard in his grip, his hips shifting like he’s fucking into his own palm, like he’s the one moaning inside me instead of his twin.

I am losing my fucking mind. My brain is static. Carter is trembling beneath me, his voice falling apart in my ear, and all I can see is Tate, stroking, teasing, watching me with that dark, filthy gleam in his eyes like he already owns me.

So I do the only thing I can think of. I turn my face toward him, slide my fingers through his hair, and drag my nails across his scalp as I pant against his lips. “Talk dirty to me.”