Page 86 of Hellbent
His jaw shifts. Barely. Then he says something low to Wyatt, pushes off the wall, and walks out the front door.
No goodbyes.
Just gone.
Jake’s hands drift lower, fingers skimming the waistband of my shorts. Damian’s breath brushes my neck, his palm steady at my hip. I’m caught between them—surrounded, wanted, and safe.
I turn my head toward Jake, searching for something to anchor me. His green eyes are heavy with heat, his smile knowing.
“How much did you miss me?” I ask, my voice soft but edged.
He grins. “The most.”
I lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Then let’s go upstairs.”
His eyes flare just slightly. “Yeah?” he says, already leaning in like he’s ready to devour me right here in the middle of the party.
I don’t answer—I don’t have to. He laces his fingers through mine, and Damian’s hand finds my other one without a word. They pull me through the crowd, past bodies and bass and laughter, up the stairs to Jake’s bedroom.
It’s unfinished and sparse—no trim, no curtains—but clean and functional. A queen mattress on the floor, a single lamp in the corner, a dresser already cluttered with ephemera: receipts, his watch, a couple of bottles of cologne.
Damian’s lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. He brushes my hair back tenderly, then tilts his head and leans in. The brush of his lips is soft, electric, the tip of his tongue teasing mine before our mouths seal together. I reach for his shoulders, trail my hands down to his biceps, feeling the bulk, the strength in both, want rushing through me in a wave.
Jake steps in behind me, his hands sliding over my waist. “We missed you, baby.”
And then my clothes start to come off.
Their mouths are everywhere—Jake’s gentle and reverent, Damian’s rougher and hungry. They undress me like supplicants performing a sacred duty.
Jake lifts me onto the bed, his hands tracing slow paths down my spine as he lowers me down, and I melt under the tenderness.
Damian’s already stripped off his shirt, tattoos tracing lines across his skin like shadows. He steps between my legs and palms my thighs wide, his hands hot on my skin.
“Fuck the party,” he says, grinning. “This is the only place I want to be.”
Jake brushes a kiss across my cheek, then finds my mouth—deep, soft, adoring—while Damian drops to his knees at the foot of the bed. He drags his tongue up my inner thigh and groans when he tastes me through my panties.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “She’s wet through her panties, Jake.”
He pulls them down slowly, like he wants to savor the sight. Then his mouth is on me, his tongue circling my clit in slow spirals while Jake strokes my hair and whispers how good I’m doing, how pretty I sound when I moan.
My hips lift, instinctive and needy, but Damian presses a firm hand low on my stomach, pinning me down and growling, “Don’t move.”
His tongue flicks out again, maddeningly slow, and I gasp—already trembling.
Jake trails kisses over my shoulder and up my neck, his hand finding my breast, fingers tracing slow, light circles over my nipple. His mouth finds mine just as Damian sucks hard on my clit—the shock of it ripping through me. Jake’s tongue sweeps into my mouth, distracting and amplifying all at the same time—and then release hits, sharp and sudden, like a shot fired straight through me.
My body jerks, the orgasm shaking me to my core.
“Oh fuck, baby, yes,” Jake murmurs. “Let go for us.”
I cry out, breath catching, my spine arching under Damian’s hold as my legs tremble.
Then Jake’s pushing his jeans down while kissing me softly, everywhere. Damian wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands, towering above me with a smug, dangerous glint in his eye.
“Fuck her first,” Jake says, already hard and stroking himself. “I wanna watch.”
Obediently, Damian lines himself up, teasing me with the thick head of his cock, dragging it through the slickness between my legs until I’m squirming.
