Page 41 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
It’s beautiful, and I can’t look away.
Shade grabs my hips, pulling me upright, and positions himself behind me. I feel the hot, wet press of his cock at my asshole, stretching me wide while Grim and Rune both crowd the space between my legs, their cocks hard and already slicked with spit and pre-cum.
Shade doesn’t wait. He pushes in, slow at first but not gentle, filling me so completely I see stars behind my eyelids.
The heat and burn of it make me sob, but the sound is smothered as Grim and Rune both press in at the same time, splitting my pussy with the relentless, impossible stretch of two cocks at once.
I scream, or try to, but Bran’s hand covers my mouth, muffling the sound while his other hand circles my throat, just tight enough to make my head swim.
Sable’s fingers work my clit ruthlessly, never letting up, not even as he pins me down with a knee on my thigh, holding me open for the others.
The rhythm of them—of all of them—obliterates thought.
Shade thrusts hard, his hands splayed over my back, holding me in place while Grim and Rune piston in and out of me in perfect, brutal tandem. Every time Shade drives deep, the pressure inside me erupts in a fresh wave of pleasure, and every time Grim and Rune bottom out, I feel myself breaking apart and reforming around them.
Onyx and Talon are a tangle on the moss, Onyx working Talon’s cock with his mouth and hand while Talon fists Onyx’s hair, guiding him with an urgency that looks almost desperate. I want to taste them both, to be sandwiched between their bodies, but the men inside me won’t let up, won’t let me move, won’t let me breathe unless it’s on their terms.
Sable grins down at me, his face wild with delight. “You like watching them together, don’t you, little bird?”
I can’t even nod. All I can do is pant and gasp and shudder as the men use my body like it was always theirs. Sable leans in, yanking my head back so my lips are inches from his. He doesn’t kiss me, just lets me feel the heat of his breath and the sharp, aching need in his eyes.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers.
The pressure builds and builds until I feel like I’ll explode. The knot of pleasure inside me is white-hot, pulsing in time with the relentless, punishing strokes of Shade, Grim, and Rune.
I bite down on my tongue, trying to silence the scream building in my throat.
Talon’s hands ball into fists, his arms trembling as Onyx works him with that relentless, steady rhythm. The sight—huge, brutal Talon shuddering and helpless—does something horrible and wonderful to me. I can’t look away. I can’t even blink, as Onyx takes him all the way in, nose pressed to skin, and Talon’s knees buckle.
He comes with a ragged, strangled moan, his eyes rolling back, one hand digging into Onyx’s hair so tight I’m sure he’ll tear it out by the root. Onyx doesn’t flinch. He just swallows, drinks it down, then looks up at Talon with a slow, deliberate lick of his lips that makes both men groan.
The sound detonates inside me.
All the pulsing, brutal stretch—the cocks inside my body, the hands on my skin, the grip around my throat—all of it merges into something too bright, too sharp to withstand.
I come again and again, my body a riot of sensation. Every orgasm is a new color, a new sound, a new dimension of pleasure.
I beg for more, and they give it to me, over and over, until I can’t see, can’t speak, can only feel.
When they finally finish, filling me with heat and seed and the taste of their desire, I collapse into the moss, boneless and blissed, covered in bruises and bites and cum.
They gather around me, curling their bodies around mine, each man staking a claim with a hand or a kiss or a gentle word. I lie in the center, marked and changed, and watch the moon drift overhead.
A single black feather floats down from the branches above, settling on my belly. I trace it with shaking fingers, and I know, with a certainty that eclipses everything before, that these men are tied to my ravens in ways terrible and beautiful enough to shake the entire world.
I close my eyes and dream of wings.
8
The Hunter's Game
Talon
Dawn barely lights thehorizon when I sit up, careful not to disturb the girl curled in my arms.Raisa.I could roll her name on my tongue forever and never tire of the taste.
She sleeps like she means it, boneless, mouth parted, her hair snarled across her eyes, one palm pressed to my chest like a promise. She smells of sex and woodsmoke, as if the last few days with us have marked her in ways that can’t ever be undone.
I want to lick the sleep off her skin, but I don’t.
