Page 51 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

From behind me, I hear Grayson chuckle.

“That’s not fair,” Sunday grumbles, her voice half-exasperated. Ben shoots me an impressed look before shucking his jeans entirely. I let my eyes linger on him for a moment, admiring the powerful lines of his body, before diving back into my meal.

Sunday squirms beneath me, gasping as I run my tongue in slow, deliberate strokes. Her scent is heady now—sunshine and salt. My jaguar purrs, fully satisfied for the first time tonight, though his focus still occasionally strays to the vampire watching from behind us.

I let my hands trace the lush curve of her thighs as I devour her, savoring every taste, every quiver of her body. Above me, Ben threads his fingers through Sunday’s hair, guiding her as she takes him in. Her lips are stretched around his cock, and every now and then, I catch the muffled moan she can’t quite contain. It’s a sound I feel, layered with her pleasure and Ben’s quiet satisfaction.

Through the bond, I feel Sunday’s warmth—a golden thread of light connecting us, vibrating with her growing ecstasy. It pulls me in deeper, drowning me in the feel of her, the taste of her. I catch glimpses of Ben through half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. My gaze lingers as Sunday pulls back for air, the slick sound of her lips against his cock making my stomach clench with want.

Behind us, I hear the shuffle of fabric, the faint rasp of a zipper.Grayson.My jaguar growls softly, curiosity burning beneath the surface. I can feel him watching, and the idea of it—the weight of his gaze—only makes me needier. Is he stroking himself? The thought flickers through me, sharp and hot, making my movements falter for a second before I force myself to refocus.

Sunday’s close—so close I can feel her thighs quivering beneath my hands. She’s grinding into me, desperate for more, and yet trying to pull away all at once. I growl low in my throat, the sound resonating with my jaguar, and press my forearm across her stomach, holding her in place. Her breath catches, a broken gasp, as I finally descend on her clit.

I coax it out with deliberate care, teasing the sensitive nub before sucking it between my teeth. My tongue feels rougher than usual, raspier, as my body shifts subtly, instinctively, to give our mate what she needs. She cries out, her hips jerking against me, but I don’t relent—my jaguar wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to.

“Too much,” Sunday gasps, her body writhing as her hands tug against the shadows holding her wrists. “Baby, it’s too much.”

I ease back immediately, releasing her wrists from their smoky bonds and kissing my way up her thighs, lingering on the soft skin at the crease of her hips. Her taste lingers on my lips, sweet and sumptuous. I don’t bother to hide my grin as I press a kiss to the curve of her lower belly, feeling her shiver beneath me.

Beside her, Ben shifts, his massive frame curling protectively around her. He reaches for me, his strong hand pulling me up between them with an ease that makes me feel weightless.

His lips crash into mine.Goddess, he tastes good.Ginger and cardamom, warm and earthy, layered with her tangy honey and olive. It’s a flavor I could drown in.

Sunday’s hands find my cock as Ben keeps kissing me, her soft, teasing touch dragging a hiss from my throat. “Amor,” I murmur against Ben’s lips, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she shifts, her movements confident and deliberate, climbing over me. Her knees press into the bed on either side of Ben, and with one smooth motion, she sinks down onto him.

Our bond flares to life, a bright, electric pulse that seems to ripple through Sunday, linking us in ways I can’t fully grasp.It stops mattering whose hands are on whom, whose mouth is where. Every gasp, every moan, every spark of pleasure feeds into the next, flowing through her as the conduit, a shared current that loops endlessly between us. Sunday cries out as Ben thrusts into her, and I feel the echo of her pleasure surge through the bond, potent and dizzying. Ben groans, his head falling back, and the sound sends a wave of pleasure through me, as if his reaction were my own.

I can’t tell where my sensations end and theirs begin—Sunday’s soft, breathy whimpers reverberate in my chest, Ben’s deep growls resonate low in my stomach, and my jaguar rumbles his approval. My fingers slide over Sunday’s skin, tracing the line of her back as she moves, her body arching and trembling. Every touch, every kiss, every shared sensation amplifies, looping back through her, binding us together in this endless cycle.

It’s dizzying and overwhelming in the best possible way, like falling into a sea of heat and want. My breath mingles with Ben’s as I lean forward, catching the curve of Sunday’s neck with my lips, tasting the salt of her skin. Her laughter bubbles up, sweet and breathless, before dissolving into another gasp, and it’s everything. It’s all of us, together, lost in the shared rhythm of this connection that’s bigger than any of us alone.

And then, just as I start to lose myself entirely, I feel it—a weight. An observer. A voyeur. My jaguar growls softly, a thread of awareness cutting through the haze, and I lift my head just enough to glance back.

Grayson.

He’s there, looming at the edge of this tangle of bodies and bonds, and I can feel his hunger curling through the air, dark and all consuming. My jaguar shifts restlessly beneath my skin, and I swallow hard, caught somewhere between desire and the sharp edge of knowing he’s waiting for his moment.

He’s watching us, his eyes burning like embers, his hand stroking his cock slowly as if he has all the time in the world. The sight sends heat rushing through me and my movements falter for a split second before I steady myself.

When his eyes lock with mine, he points to the floor in front of him, a simple, silent command that has me scrambling in a way that makes my cheeks burn.

“Undress me,” he says, his voice low and smooth, threaded with amusement. And the thing is that I could say no.I mean I don’t, but I could.

I drop to my knees, carefully slipping off his Ferragamo loafers, followed by his silk socks. The fabric is impossibly soft, luxurious in a way that feels utterly Grayson. He stands then, towering over me. I take my time, pulling them down, and then his silk boxers, baring him completely.

Such a pretty cock.It’s almost unfair—does he dust it in powdered gold? How is it so sparkly?I’m going to start calling him Edward.

I mean I know he conquered the world with armies and shit, but part of me could almost believe he fucked his way through it. Just whippingthisout at every negotiation.

The thought makes my lips twitch, and I bite down hard on the corner of my cheek to keep from laughing. My jaguar growls softly, both disapproving and intrigued, and I shove the ridiculous thought away before Grayson notices.

I glance up, heat blooming in my chest as I admire him. He’s perfect in that infuriating way that only his kind can be. Grayson’s fingers brush through my hair, the gesture so light it’s almost dismissive. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice a dark, velvet thread. “Now, Little Cat, let’s see how well you can follow directions.”

He pauses, shifting his attention. “Lover…” His tone turns smooth and commanding, directed at Sunday. “When you’re finished there, we could use your help.”

I glance at her, but I’m not sure she even hears him. She’s so obviously teetering on the edge, her body trembling as her movements grow more frantic. Her voice shifts, climbing into those high, sweet cries that I know so well, before plunging into a richer, deeper timbre—closer to a snarl. It’s the sound she only makes when she’s about to fall apart completely.

Ben’s hands grip her hips tighter, guiding her rhythm as she rides him, her head tilting back, a cascade of crimson curls spilling over her shoulders. She gasps his name, a broken, breathless plea that sends a ripple through the bond, tugging me in deeper. My jaguar growls softly, satisfaction and yearning twining together as I watch her climb higher.

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