Page 129 of Gemini Kings
He’s a man of few words, this dragon of mine, when he’s on the hunt.
“Uh.” Ronin’s gaze rakes the heaving sea of nudity around us, including the extremely sketchy floor. “Give us a tick.”
He scoops me up in his arms, which plasters my whole front against his whole front and makes my dress ride up, so my lower half is getting breezy.
Well, ass, say hello, world.
I’m probably mooning the whole room. At this point, literally no one cares.
I wrap my arms and legs around Ronin as he shoves brutally through a scrum of tangled bodies. Maxim stalks after us, shucking his leather jacket and peeling his shirt over his head with a careless hand. This maneuver gives me a front-row seat for those barbell-pierced nipples and washboard abs he’s rocking.
Cheese on toast.
Ronin gets us off the floor fast, which gives the three of us a little more personal space, but he doesn’t go far. He plants my back against the wall, snugs my legs around his hips, fills his hands with my bare ass, nails me with those topaz eyes, and growls, “You ready for me?”
“Uh-huh.” Shit, he makes me breathless. “Born ready.”
My latex is all rucked up around my waist, and my pussy is slick and bare and needy, and his cock is nudging up against my swollen folds. He’s so rigid he’s gonna spill in about two pumps.
Maxim lurks behind him, predatory eyes riveted on all this action, and he’s not waiting around for an invite. He leans in to suck on Ronin’s sexy neck, which he literally can’t seem to leave alone, and I really hope he remembers not to bite. Jesus, we’re really trusting him and his dragon not to lose it.
Then Max gets his fists wrapped around the lapels of Ronin’s silky button-down. He rips the whole shirt open with a single hard clench.
Oh fuck.
Flying buttons ping against my skin like stinging hail.
Ronin braces my back against the wall and sheathes his cock deep inside me with a single thrust. My mouth opens in a breathless yell that mingles with his guttural snarl. Our voices sink into the grinding techno beat that’s pulsing from the boom box.
God.
Damn.
He’s buried so deep inside me, I can taste the musky salt of warlock in the back of my throat.
My heat sparks and ignites an inferno of need. His heat’s like gasoline poured on the flames. My inner dragon screams and thrashes in a frenzy. And Max’s dragon—suddenly so vivid in the mating bond that flashes to life between us—trumpets and flares his wings in full rut.
Maxim bares his fangy teeth (which I adore, though suddenly now I’m also craving Lucius) and reaches between us to peel the latex off my boobs. Now the bodice props up my girls like a push-up bra. The dragon’s hands are rough and hungry as he kneads my curves and works my nipples. That action sends double zings of sensation shooting through my synapses to add to this sensory overload I’m drowning in.
My first climax roars through me before I’m even halfway ready and drenches Ronin’s cock in pussy juice.
Teeth bared, face tortured, he grunts and pistons through it into the pulsing vise of my cunt. Before I’ve even floated down from the Cloud Nine climax I’m parked on, his cock kicks and floods my basement with liquid heat.
Ronin bucks and bellows like a branded steer. Maxim grabs a fistful of Ronin’s long hair and devours his mouth in a hard claiming kiss that muffles his yell.
Normally we’d both last a lot longer, Ronin and me, but we’re both in heat.
Plus neither one of us is anywhere close to done.
When he lowers me to the ground, Ronin’s whole body still trembles with need, and my legs barely hold me up. Max is already stripped down to his ripped jeans, and I can tell he’s barely holding off his shift. He’s reacting like he’s already our alpha, so Ronin and I are definitely setting him off.
Well, he better fucking hold it together.
I’m not doing that whole mating flight.
Not tonight.
I refuse to lose control.
