“Are you angry because she never moaned your name?” Zade challenges. He’s right—I never did, despite how hard Xavier tried. “Did she cry out for God?” he pushes. “Yes,” Xavier spits, and fuck, I’m falling apart. I thrust against Zade’s hand, rolling my hips mindlessly, the bliss eroding my entire being. “Good,” he says, a grin in his voice. “That means she was crying out for me.” “Oh my God, Zade,” I sob, the orgasm building, forming into a sharp point right where his fingers are rubbing.
