“Oh, God, Wyatt,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she felt the incredible fullness, her pussy and ass both claimed by her sons. Another orgasm tore through her like a wildfire, unstoppable and consuming. “You’re ours,” Duke growled, his voice raw with need. Her eyes lingered despite herself, tracing the contours of their forms, her mind warring with her body. The water lapped at her skin, cool against the heat building within her. Wyatt’s hand slid to her waist, his touch firm yet reverent. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hardening at the friction, and she moaned softly into his mouth. The moon rose, its silver light softening the harsh edges of the landscape. The night air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps as she stood in her worn bra and panties. “Ma,” Duke murmured, brushing a damp curl from her face, his touch tender yet possessive.
