Page 68 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
It’s all they need.
Shade lifts me into his lap, cradling me like I’m made of spun sugar and sorrow. His lips are soft on my temple, then my jaw, then lower. He kisses away every dried tear, every touch slow and deliberate, until I’m not sure where the ache ends and the pleasure begins.
Bran kneels behind me, his hands sliding under my shirt, splaying wide against my ribs. He pulls me back against his chest, his chin tucked over my shoulder, his breath steady.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs, a mantra just for me.
Onyx handles me like I’m priceless. Each time his fingers graze my bare skin, I shiver, the sensation new and dizzying.
Sable and Rune move together, a matched set, their hands clever and greedy. Sable’s mouth finds my knee, then the inside of my thigh, nipping gently as he works his way up. Rune takes my other leg, his tongue drawing runes I can’t see but feel all the same, shapes that spark heat and color under my skin.
Grim and Talon hang back, their eyes locked on mine. They watch, waiting for permission. I give it with a nod, and Grim moves first, laying his palm against my chest, just above my heart. He doesn’t speak, but his thumb strokes a slow, steady rhythm, grounding me in my own body.
Talon drops to his knees, sliding in behind Grim. He runs both hands up my calves, then higher, his grip both gentle and impossible to escape. When his mouth finally finds the soft underside of my knee, I gasp, the sound raw and honest.
Shade and Bran take turns kissing me—lips, cheeks, eyelids, throat—until my head is spinning. Bran’s hands, always so careful, slip under my shirt, unbuttoning it with excruciating slowness. He peels it off, baring my chest to the air.
The chill of the air, the press of bodies, and magic hit me at once. I moan, arching into them.
Shade’s tongue is rough, but his mouth is patient in a new way, worshipping every patch of skin he finds. He sucks a bruise onto my collarbone, then soothes it with a kiss.
Bran’s mouth follows, never letting me go cold.
Sable is relentless, dragging his lips up the inside of my thigh until he’s breathing against my core. He doesn’t dive in. Instead, he circles, teasing, letting the anticipation build until I’m writhing.
Rune slides a hand up my stomach, tracing my ribs, my breast, the hollow of my throat. He draws a symbol over my heart, and the magic there lights up, tingling under the surface.
Onyx moves behind me, one arm bracing my back, the other threading through my hair. He tilts my head, exposing my neck, and bites down, just enough to remind me that he could break me if he wanted.
I want him to.
Grim’s lips find my nipple. He licks, then sucks, then bites, every motion deliberate, controlled. He groans as he does it, as if the taste of my skin is better than blood.
Talon’s fingers slide between my legs, stroking slowly, almost shyly. He looks up, his eyes so green they glow. “This okay?”
I nod, and he smiles—a real, beautiful smile. He presses two fingers inside me, slow and gentle, filling me inch by inch. Sable leans in, licking where Talon’s fingers disappear, the sensation so intense that I nearly pass out.
They work me in shifts, each man taking a turn, each hand and mouth a new kind of pleasure. Shade’s kisses, Bran’s hands,Sable’s tongue, Rune’s runes, Onyx’s arms, Grim’s mouth, Talon’s fingers. I lose myself in it, every sensation a mosaic of love and lust and forgiveness.
When Sable finally pushes his cock inside me, I cry out, the stretch delicious. He holds still, eyes locked on mine, letting me adjust. Then he fucks me slow, every thrust a promise.
Grim kneels behind Sable, jerking himself in time with the motion. He strokes my hair, my face, my throat, never letting me forget he’s there.
Bran and Shade take my mouth in turns, kissing me deep, tongues tangling. Onyx and Rune hold my hands, grounding me, their own cocks slick and throbbing.
Talon stays at my feet, sucking my toes, biting my ankle, working his way up as Sable fucks me harder.
When I come, it’s like the world explodes—a supernova behind my eyelids, every nerve ending alight. I scream, and the brothers echo it, their voices overlapping and their bodies shaking.
Sable pulls out, shooting hot across my stomach, then collapses beside me. Grim takes his place, sliding in easily, the feel of him different but no less perfect. He fucks me deep, his hand tight on my jaw, forcing me to look at him as I come again and again.
Shade is next, making me beg before he finally takes me. His control is absolute, but when he loses it, it’s like being consumed by a storm. He comes inside me, filling me until I feel it dripping down my thighs.
I don’t know how I make it through the next hour, or the hour after that. The world is a kaleidoscope of sensation, of ache, of need so sharp it slices me into ribbons and stitches me back together with every new touch. I’m wrecked and rebuilt by the hands of all seven, by their mouths, their cocks, their attention, their worship.
When they finish breaking and rebuilding me, they don’t scatter. They curl around me, arms and legs and wings—yes, wings, feathering us in darkness.
Bran strokes my face, kissing my eyelids. “You’re the most perfect thing in this world,” he says, his voice trembling.
