Page 42 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

“Open your legs,” he says, voice calm but firm. “Show us what’s ours.”

My breath hitches and I do it.

I spread my thighs, my hands reaching down to part my folds, exposing myself—wet, pink, trembling. I’ve never done anything like this. Never felt so exposed. And yet, I’ve never felt more powerful.

Asher’s breath catches.

Killian’s jaw clenches.

Maddox’s eyes darken.

“Fucking perfect,” Asher whispers as Killian approaches me.

He climbs onto the bed, one knee on the mattress, then the other, caging me between his arms. His cock brushes my thigh, hot and insistent. He captures my mouth again—deep, possessive, making me moan into him.

His hands move to my breasts, thumbs swirling over my nipples, tugging until I whimper. Then he lowers his head, sucking one deep, then the other, his tongue circling, teeth scraping. I arch into him, my fingers digging into his biceps.

“You taste like heaven,” he growls. “But I want more.”

He shifts, one hand sliding down my stomach, through my curls, dipping into my soaked folds. “You’re so fucking wet for us.”

I can only nod, my voice gone.

He kisses my neck, my jaw, then whispers in my ear. “You’re going to let us have you. All of you. Every way we want you.”

I shiver. “Yes,” I breathe.

He grins. “Good girl.”

Then he pushes inside me and I cry out.

He’s thick, stretching me, filling me completely. My body adjusts around him, clenching, gripping. He doesn’t rush. Lets me feel every inch as he sinks in, until his hips meet mine.

“Look at me,” he says.

I do.

His eyes are black with lust, but there’s something else—something soft, almost tender.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls. “So tight. So wet. So mine.”

He pulls back and thrusts again, deep and hard, making me gasp. Then again. And again. Each stroke hits deeper, dragging over that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.

“Killian—!”

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, his hand wrapping around one of mine, pinning it above my head.

He fucks me like he’s been dreaming about this for years. Hard. Relentless. Each thrust makes the bed creak, makes my body shake. I can’t form words. Just moans. Gasps. Whimpers.

“Good girl,” he repeats, his voice rough. “Take my cock. Take it deep. You’re such a good girl for me.”

I arch, pressing closer. “More—please—more⁠—”

He gives it to me.

Deeper. Faster. His hips slap against mine, the sound echoing in the night air. Sweat slicks our skin, our breaths coming in ragged bursts. I feel his cock twitch inside me, thick and pulsing, and I know he’s close.

But he doesn’t stop.