Page 237 of Quinlan

His fingers glide to the sides of my neck, his cock hard against my stomach. When I reach down to grab him, Damien breaks our kiss.

“Why?” I’m asking in the room in general. They really mean it. They’ll deny me orgasms. They can’t. I have to have this blinding, mind-numbing escape from reality. I have to have them. “You said next time.”

“Might’ve changed my mind.” Damien swipes his tongue over his lips, licking my blood off him.

“He didn’t.” Liam’s hand is at the small of my back. “You’ll have your orgasms today.”

I look up at him, and there are no embers in those eyes. The black pushes the color out.

“But?”

Rome’s at the door, his expression promising bad things. The worst things.

“We haven’t had dinner yet.” He beckons me to him, though it’s unnecessary. Liam’s pushing me in his direction. Toward the open door. “We’re starving.”

We. Notyou haven’t eaten. This isn’t Rome.

“Oh, and Quinlan?” Damien curls his fingers around my wrist.

“Yes?”

“This won’t be like our other dinners. Nothing like it.” As I’m walking, he brings my middle finger to his mouth. Sucks. Bites. At my surprised yelp, he chuckles. “We’re going to play with our food this evening.”

Their bodies are an open book to me, and each gesture, each mimic, is a sign. An omen. This is going to hurt. A lot.

Instead of pushing them off me, instead of fighting to save myself, I allow them to lead me down the stairs. Toward the dining area.

We stop at the concrete slab dining table. Damien was right. This isn’t like any other dinner. There’s no food on the table. Not a single plate or a glass. Nothing other than a black candlestick in the center that houses a red candle.

Flick. Snap. Flick. Snap.

Liam’s stealthy. I haven’t realized he’s holding his Zippo. He’s here, all-powerful and gorgeous, commanding the lighter in his hand.

I admire Liam. How he conquered his trauma. Flipped it on itself and turned it into his ally.

Into something sexual.

“Curious, little flame?” His voice is thick with lust. With authority.

The shiver coursing through me is all I have. All he needs. It’s theyesmy mouth can’t articulate.

I can’t stop staring at him. He’s painstakingly hot. His intensity is a live thing, searing my skin. Sending heat down between my legs.

Rome heads over to the fridge, and while I miss him, I’m also drawn to Liam’s thumb. The subtle, familiar slide of it along Zippo’s wheel and the flame that flickers there. It dances for him in the low light in the apartment, then it’s gone.

He grabs the candlestick and stalks off without another word.

I’m a ball of nervous energy and dark, depraved desires. I’m the embodiment of need. Of love. Of cravings.

“We could’ve fucked you here.” Damien’s lips are in my ear from behind me as he tugs the shirt off my body. “But formalities are overrated. We’re having dinner in the living room.”

Rome returns to us, rounding me. Facing me.

“That’s so you won’t starve until the actual dinner.” There’s a strawberry between his fingers, the fruit as red as his raw knuckles. He tips my face up to him. “And no. I don’t consider my cum as food.”

That’s the only warning I get.

His thumb forces my bottom lip down and the strawberry into my mouth. His jaw tics when it remains stuck there. Now that they’re here, I’m in a playful mood. Nothing hurts anymore, and I keep my teeth clenched.

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