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Dakota takes Cruz into her mouth.

The sound I make seems foreign. It tears out of me, low and broken. Behind me, Eli makes a sound I’ve never heard a man make—shock and pleasure and something that’s almost like grief, like he’s mourning the years he didn’t know this was an option for him.

For a long second nobody moves.

I can feel Eli filling me. I can feel Dakota tight around me. I can hear Cruz’s groan as she sucks him into her mouth. And at the foot of the bed, Brady’s breath is audible.

We’re all connected. One line.

“Oh fuck,” Eli moans.

“Move,” I tell him. “Move, Daddy.”

The first thrust drives me forward into Dakota. Dakota rocks forward onto Cruz. Cruz groans, his free hand finding her hair, not pulling, just resting. The chain ripples through all of us and lands somewhere I don’t have words for.

Eli starts slow. Methodical. Coach’s brain still on, finding the angle, the depth, the rhythm. His hands grip my hips hard enough to leave marks.

“Tell me,” he says, rough.

“Harder.” He pushes deeper, and I have to brace my arms or fold.

“Like that?” he asks.

“Yes. Fuck Daddy, yes.”

His next thrust hits deeper, knocks the breath clean out of me. I hear his groan behind me, surprised, like he didn’t know he could make me sound like this.

“That’s it, Daddy.”

“Don’t… ” His voice cracks. “Don’t stop talking to me.”

“Daddy. Fuck. Yes.”

Cruz’s laugh is wrecked, dirty. He’s watching Eli over Dakota’s bobbing head, his hand stroking through her hair.

“Look at you, Coach. Look at you fucking him. Knew you had it in you.”

Eli’s hips snap forward, harder, and I bite back a curse.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Cruz again, his voice dropping into that gravelly Tennessee drawl he gets when he’s close. “You feel how tight he is, Daddy? You feel what you do to him?”

Eli groans, the heel of his hand sides up my spine and it feels amazing. When he reaches my shoulder, he grips it firmly and uses both shoulder and hip to set a deep, dangerous pace, then tugs my hip firmly, making my knees shift and the angle changes completely stealing my breath.

“Fuck. Eli. Right there,” I encourage.

“He likes that, Coach.” Cruz’s hand tightens in Dakota’s hair, watching. “Look at him. Take him. He’s yours right now.”

Dakota moans around Cruz’s cock, the vibration making him hiss. She rocks back onto me, then forward onto Cruz, fucking herself between us, taking and giving what she wants in equal measure. I can feel how wet she is, how she clenches around me every time Eli drives into me from behind. Her hand grips the sheets white-knuckled.

“Good girl, baby.” Cruz looks down at her, tender even now. “Take it. Such a good fucking girl for us.”

Her moan goes higher. I feel it everywhere.

Eli’s rhythm starts to fracture. His hand slides off my back and grips both my hips, lifting me into him, fucking me with intent now, no longer careful.

“Dante.” His voice is shot. “You feel. Christ… I never…”

“Yeah, Daddy. I know.” I push back to meet him, hear him groan like I broke him. “Feels good, doesn’t it? First time taking a man. Tell me how it feels.”