Page 35 of Healing Her Lions

“Fuck, baby girl. Daddy’s so proud of you,” Las says.

Logan eases away slightly but gives her a few slow licks as she comes down. Her hand is still cupping his head, her fingers spread wide.

“You did so well, Sugar,” Logan growls over her. “You taste so good. Are you going to let your mates eat you whenever we want?”

“Fuck yeah,” she sighs.

I grin at her right before her eyes fall shut. Now that we have all had a taste of our gorgeous mate, we want more.

She just gained three very loyal, deadly, and dedicated mates.

I dare anyone to try to take her from us.

Chapter Eleven

Breeane

“Holy fuck, that actually happened,” I whisper. I sit up slowly in my bed, my eyes darting around, my fingers tapping my lips. I thought it was a dream moments ago as I woke. “Is this really my life?”

I closed my eyes and relived last night. Their fingers. Their mouths. Their words.

I drop back, roll over, and groan into the pillow. Just thinking about it makes me blush and want more. All I have to do is look at them, and I’ll get turned on. It will be worse now because I know what their mouths feel like.

I tense when there is a knock on my bedroom door. “Breeane,” Logan says.

I jerk up. Oh my god, oh my god. I flip the blanket, looking down quickly to see what I am wearing. The last thing I remember is closing my eyes on the counter. With two fingers, I pinch the front of the shirt and bring it to my nose. It smells like Logan’s cologne. He put me in his white T-shirt.

“Just a minute,” I yell in a panic. I rush off the bed towards the door but skid to a stop. I frantically run my fingers through my ratty hair. Shit. I twist back and forth—do I go to the bathroom or get the freaking door?

Fuck it. They had their faces buried in my pussy last night. A few strands of hair out of place aren’t going to turn them off.

I leap to the door, swinging it open. And there, in all his glory, another white shirt strained across his chest, worn-out jeans, and work boots, is Logan.

“Hi,” I breathe.

He grins slowly as he looks me over. “Hey, Sugar. Did you sleep well?” He reaches out, his big hand cupping my hip, pulling me gently but firmly. My back ends up against the door frame.

“Go—” I clear my throat. “Good. You?” He flexes his fingers.

“As good as expected on your couch.”

“What? You didn’t go home?” I glance through the kitchen to the living room and back to his face. I don’t think he can fit on the couch.

“Do you always pass out so easily?” He tilts his head.

“Oh, definitely. You weren’t worried, were you?”

“We don’t know you well enough yet, so we thought one of us should stay.”

“Shit, sorry. How did you decide who would stay?”

“We played rock, paper, scissors.” His lips tip up.

I laugh at the picture he paints. “And you lost?”

“No, I won.” He dips his head. “Being in the same building as my mate, watching over her while she sleeps—an honor.”

“Oh,” I breathe again.

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