Page 95 of Claim of Blood
Leo swallowed hard.
The alcove.
His pace faltered as memories surged—Adam’s hands on his thighs, Lander’s mouth between them, being made a display, a claim. His face burned. He forced himself down the stairs.
The basement was cold. Still. Silent except for the soft echo of his own footsteps. And then he saw him—Lander sprawled on the velvet sofa, tablet resting on his chest, eyes locked on the ceiling like he wanted to disappear into it.
Leo stepped forward. “We need to—”
Lander was on him before the sentence finished.
The sofa was a blur behind him. Leo’s back hit the stone wall with a brutal slam that knocked the breath from his lungs. Fangs bared. Power roared off Lander in waves. No hesitation. No grace. Just rage.
“Fuck,” Leo gasped, bracing his palms against Lander’s chest. It was like trying to stop a freight train.
“I can smell him in you,” Lander snarled, voice rough and too close. “Still wet. Still dripping.”
His hand shoved into Leo’s pants. No warning. No care. Just the sharp drag of fingers finding slick heat.
“Still no underwear. Figures,” he hissed. “Adam’s perfect little pet. Always ready. Always open.”
“Lander—what the hell—”
“You don’t get to walk in here like you didn’t break it.” His voice cracked with fury. “You fucked everything.”
Leo shoved at him again. Useless.
“You’re the one avoiding us—”
“What’s there to say?” Lander snapped. “That I’m a third now? A backup? Here to keep you warm when Adam’s busy closing a fucking merger?”
Leo’s heart pounded. “That’s not—”
Lander spun him. The wall cracked with the force of it. Leo’s shoulder hit stone and then Lander’s weight was behind him, unforgiving.
“Tell me to stop,” Lander growled.
Leo froze.
That hesitation was all it took.
A hand slammed around his throat. Tight. Crushing. The pressure sent black flickers to the edge of his vision. Not enough to knock him out—but close.
Leo didn’t fight.
The other hand yanked down his pants. Cold air hit his thighs, then heat as Lander’s cock pressed to his hole.
“You’re still open,” Lander spat. “Of course you are.”
He shoved in.
Leo’s hands scrabbled against the wall, nails scraping uselessly at the stone as pain and shock tore through him. His body stretched around Lander’s cock, already sore from Adam earlier that morning, and now invaded again without warning, without care.
“I said say it,” Lander hissed into his ear. “Tell me to stop.”
Leo couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. His throat was on fire. His mind was a snarl of humiliation, arousal, and disbelief.
Lander’s hips snapped forward. Again. Again. Each thrust a weapon. His cock driving in deep, relentless, punishing.
