Page 41 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

I gasp as his tongue replaces his fingers.

“God, yes—yes⁠—”

He eats me like he’s starving, like he’s been dreaming about this for months. His tongue flicks over my clit, then laps deep, slow and filthy. I’m already oversensitive, still pulsing from my first orgasm, but it doesn’t matter. I grind against his mouth, desperate, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, urging him deeper.

He doesn’t resist.

He feasts. Long, wet strokes. Pulling my folds apart with his thumbs, circling my entrance before plunging inside me, sucking my swollen clit between his lips and teasing it with steady pressure. My legs shake. My vision blurs. I’m babbling, begging, telling him how good he feels, how I’ve thought about this every night since I saw him standing at the edge of the vineyard, all broad shoulders and quiet intensity.

And then the elevator dings.

I freeze.

But Killian doesn’t stop. If anything, he groans against me, his tongue pressing deeper, making me whimper as the elevator doors open.

“Well, fuck,” Maddox drawls. “Looks like we missed the party.”

My eyes snap open. Maddox stands just inside the foyer, shirt unbuttoned, tie loose. Asher is behind him, already shrugging off his jacket, dark eyes fixed on me with that quiet hunger that makes my stomach flip.

I should feel embarrassed. Exposed. I’m bare from the waist up, dress torn, legs spread wide, Killian’s face buried between them. But I don’t. I feel claimed. Desired. Wanted.

Maddox smirks as he steps forward, toeing off his shoes. “Looks like someone wasn’t wasting time.”

Killian finally lifts his head, his lips slick, his gaze molten. He kisses the inside of my thigh, then lowers my legs gently to the floor. I sway, my knees weak, and he catches me with one arm around my waist.

“Had to taste her first,” he says, voice rough. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Maddox steps closer, cupping my chin, tilting my face up. “Mind? I told her not to wear panties, didn’t I?” His thumb drags over my bottom lip.

I lick my lips, tasting salt and arousal. “You planned this?”

He laughs, low and warm. “No. But I hoped.”

Killian steps back, already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his torso, the dark trail of hair leading down beneath his belt. My breath catches.

Asher moves then.

One second he’s across the room, the next he’s in front of me, his hands on my hips, lifting me like I’m nothing. I yelp as he swings me over his shoulder, my front pressing against the cool muscle of him.

“Hey—!”

“Hush, baby,” he murmurs, one hand smoothing over my ass. “We’ve got you.”

I don’t fight. My body is still humming, still thrumming with need. I watch over Asher’s back as he carries me deeper into the condo—past the open kitchen with its marble countertops, past floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the black ocean. The place is sleek, modern, all low lighting and dark furniture. But I don’t see much of it.

Because behind us, Killian and Maddox are stripping.

Killian unzips his slacks, letting them drop. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, already hard. Maddox tosses his shirt aside, his own arousal straining against his boxers. He kicks them off, stepping out with that easy confidence that makes my stomach clench.

I can’t look away.

Asher carries me through a set of sliding glass doors. Cool night air washes over me, raising goosebumps on my skin. The balcony is large, covered, with a high ceiling and soft lighting strung overhead. And in the center—a rounded bed, low to the ground, draped in white linen.

He sets me down gently, but doesn’t move away. Instead, he traces a finger from my hip to my collarbone, watching me like he’s memorizing every inch.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Then Maddox is there, stepping onto the balcony behind us. Naked. Hard. Commanding.