Page 71 of Their Mate
“I’m more than all right,” I said, my voice a bit shaky still. “That was incredible.”
“It was,” he agreed with a gentle smile, and then they both helped me to my feet, their hands steadying me as I wobbled a bit, my legs weak from the intensity of it all.
I was exhausted, but it was a good kind of exhaustion, the kind that comes from a really good fucking. I couldn’t help but smile as I felt their hands on my body, their touches gentle and soothing.I could feel their seed leaking from my well-used holes too, and that just made me blush all the harder.
“You are the sexiest woman alive, Sera,” Edward said, looking at me with hunger in his eyes.
“Edward,” I said with a blush, looking away.
“Seriously, Sera, the way you took both those cocks at the same time… so fucking hot,” Logan said, his eyes dark with need.
“Stop!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks heat up even more.
“What? It was hot,” he said with a shrug. “You’re hot.”
I shook my head, trying to hide my smile, but it was hard to keep it hidden. I was happy, so damn happy. Honestly, I didn’t know what to make of it.
CHAPTER 22
Sera
I woke to warm air and the soft tick of water somewhere in the walls, and for a second, I had no idea where I was.
The barrel fire had burned down to a coppery glow, soot haloing the ceiling above it. Cinderblock. Peeling paint. The ghost of a NATO crest on the far wall. Right. We were underground. My brain caught up half a beat after my body did.
Also, I was tucked under a wool blanket.
Annoyance prickled immediately. I didn’t remember lying down, and I definitely didn’t remember letting anyone tuck me in. Relief slipped in right on its heels, traitorous and warm. Of course they’d let me sleep.
I pushed up on one elbow, hair falling into my eyes, brain groggy and mouth sandpaper dry. The room smelled like smoke and old oil and… soap?
“Welcome back to the world of the waking, sleeping beauty.” Jamie’s voice drifted from the locker alcove. He appeared a second later, wet hair shoved back, shirt clinging in places where his skin was still damp. “Found some showers. The water’s lukewarm if you sweet-talk the valve. Cold if you look at it funny.”
“Lukewarm is a luxury,” Edward said from the bulkhead door without turning. His hair was wet too.
Aidan crossed my line of sight with a bundle in his hands and stopped when he realized I was awake. His hair was darker wet with a curl trying to come out at the tips. He smelled like soap. He held up a towel. “Brought this just in case.”
“Just in case what,” I muttered, and then remembered why my blanket felt extra scratchy.
I was still naked underneath it with their seed dried between my thighs.
“Just in case you wanted a shower,” he amended, perfectly deadpan, but then he added a wink, and I blushed.
Declan leaned his shoulder against the locker bank, equally damp, a clean shirt hanging open while he worked the buttons with his fingers. “We checked the stalls for surprises,” he said. “No turrets, no tripwires, just a temperamental boiler and a colony of truly offended mildew.”
Logan glanced up from a spread of gear he was repacking, cleaner now. “Take ten. We’re not moving out until everyone’s reset.”
I sat up fully and the blanket slipped down, exposing my bare breasts. Aidan stepped in without making a thing of it, passingthe towel into my hands. Then he grinned and let his gaze rove up and down my naked body.
“Thanks,” I said, too rough to qualify as gracious. I stood, let the blanket fall back to the bedroll, and wrapped the towel tight around me. The cotton was thin, but it covered what it needed to cover.
The showers were tucked behind the line of lockers in a side room, a row of chipped tile stalls with rust-veined piping and a stubborn valve that complained when I twisted it. The first blast was needle cold and I swore under my breath. The temperature stuttered, steadied, crawled toward a little bit warm, which felt like heaven with the dust finally leaving my skin in gray rivulets.
I set my forehead against cool tile and just… breathed. The water beat a steady rhythm into the ache across my shoulders, down my spine. Blood, sweat, dust, grime, all of it slid into the drain until there was only me left: tired and clean and relieved.
Somebody had left a bar of ancient soap on the built-in shelf. It lathered like stubborn chalk, but it did the job. I scrubbed until the itch and ick of the tunnels let go. Every now and then footsteps padded past on concrete, the soft murmur of voices—Jamie’s teasing tone, Edward’s low reply, Logan’s deep rumble, Declan’s laugh, Aidan’s quieter voice—all threading in and out of my awareness, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
When the water dipped toward cold again, I shut it off and wrung water from my hair with both hands. The towel felt better now around clean skin. I listened one more second, to the drip, to my pulse, to the calm that came when I let myself be human for a minute, then stepped back into the locker room.
