Page 17 of The Queen's Knights

“I can’t let him have all the fun,” he murmurs, cupping the side of my jaw and urging me to turn my head. He captures my mouth with his, and while we kiss, begins to unfasten the buttons of my blouse.

“Percy, if this is too much…” I begin when he releases my mouth for a breath. I’m not sure where I intend to go with my thought because it’s hard to maintain the thread of my concern.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know tonight,” he says. “For now, let me make you feel good. Lie back.”

I feel a soft laugh against my pussy and Lance pulls back. “This is getting fun.” His dark eyes flash with amusement and lust as he slides off the chair onto his knees. He drifts both hands down my calves, gently pushing my shoes off, then places a foot on each of his shoulders. “Get comfy, my queen.”

He places a kiss against the inside of my knee as I lower myself to the desk, then leans in again, closing his eyes and moaning when he immerses his tongue between my legs once more. The sensation is electrifying and I arch my back, returning the moan when Percy opens my blouse and pushes the top of my bra down, forcing both breasts up and together. He cups them in his hands, rolling my nipples with his thumbs.

I reach up and curl my hand around his neck. “Percy. I’m sorry.”

“Hush. Nothing to be sorry for. Just enjoy this.”

Then he lowers his mouth to my breast and sucks, and I surrender fully to the two of them.

In the middle of the cloud of pleasure, I become hyperaware of the situation, how little it resembles the horror I felt before. I feel safe with them. Not that I didn’t feel safe with Percy, but something about Lance amplifies the sense of being loved and protected, as if the pleasure they give me becomes armor against my trauma.

Tears spring to my eyes and course down the sides of my temples, and my climax arrives quickly. I’m usually chasing that peak, but this time it captures and holds me hostage. For several sublime moments, time stands still. Percy is kissing me to silence my cries, while Lance digs his fingers harder into my thighs. He groans as my pussy spasms violently, my release no doubt drenching him. Sex has never been this good with other men. I enjoyed orgasms in the past, but never like this—never to the point of feeling like every ounce of pleasure was being wrung from my body.

My legs are shaking when Lance finally bestows one final, gentle lick to my clit and pulls back with a sigh. Percy stands over me still, arms braced on either side of me, his gaze intent on mine.

“Better?” he asks.

“Perfect,” I breathe, wanting to bask in the moment for as long as possible, but slowly becoming aware of the hard jab of an object under my back. I start to sit, but Percy holds my shoulders.

“One second. Clean her up, will you?” He shoots a look at Lance. I follow his gaze to the dazed and glossy-chinned face, looking even more handsome with the flush in his cheeks.

Lance looks around, frowns, then begins unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugs out of it, wipes his face on one sleeve, then proceeds to gently dry me off. My skirt is still shoved up around my waist, so when I stand, I find it perfectly dry as it falls back down to cover me.

Then I look at Lance and Percy, who’s come back around the desk and settled into the chair next to Lance. They’re both tense, still sporting hard-ons.

“I didn’t intend for this to be all about me. Should we …” I look back at my desk, my papers still right where I left them, as well as the small plastic pencil sharpener that felt so much bigger digging into my spine. My panties are resting on the seat of my chair.

I don’t know what I meant to say. Maybe “should we fuck?” but that seems like a terrible idea… more so than what just happened.

“We should get on with our day,” Percy says.

“But you’re both going to be frustrated. I hate the idea of leaving you hanging.” I look between them, twisting my lips when I glance at each of their crotches.

I’m surprised by Lance’s casual shrug. “Hey, I’ll survive. I don’t want to be like the last asshole who pulled his dick out in this office.”

“You could never be like him,” I say.

“He’s right. We’ll survive,” Percy says.

“Not sure mywardrobewill survive, though.” Lance holds up his wrinkled, sodden shirt and looks at Percy. “Any chance you have another spare?”

ChapterEleven

Percy

Iwind up leaving Lance and Gwen in her office to get him a fresh shirt from the campus bookstore, but I needed the breather anyway. I’ve had few to no moments apart from Gwen for months, aside from the few minutes I get at the club when she’s around other people we both trust.

It feels strange to be apart, like a tether pulling taut. I don’t think she realizes how much I’ve come to depend on her these last months, how much her need for protection fulfilled my overwhelming need to protect. To reclaim some of the control I’ve lost in my life after my own trauma. My own failure.

When Chloe approached me about the job, I said no at first. I’d been just a grunt on the security staff for a couple years, refusing promotions despite my resume being more impressive than their current chief of security’s, a hawk-eyed former Army Ranger named Amadis. Not that he isn’t qualified, but if he knew how far I outranked him when I served, it might make it difficult for him to give me orders.

Chloe’s the only one who knows the truth. One of the requirements of working with her was submitting to a full background check and sharing all the details of my sordid past, but she hasn’t given me any reason not to trust her. It took her reminding me of that to get me to agree to the gig as Gwen’s full-time bodyguard. She didn’t coerce me into it; on the contrary, she pointed out several eerily accurate pain points in my psyche. Things that weren’t in my file. Things only a trained psychologist would have understood go deeper than my PTSD.

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