Page 78 of Dukes of Peril

I don’t know what happens from one moment to the next. I just know that one second I’m feeling relieved–so relieved, because Nick would never leave me a writhing mess like this–and the next, he’s above me, tearing at the button on his jeans, shirt already lost somewhere on the floor.

Nick takes his cock out of his pants, eyes already blown to black. “God, what the fuck are you two doing to her? She looks like she’s about to crawl out of her own skin.” The question is rhetorical, because Nick bends to get a very thorough look at exactly what it is they’re doing. Once he does, he reaches up to stroke the hair off my temple. “Have they let you come at all?”

“Yes,” Sy says defensively. “I got her off.”

Nick nods, eyes lazily moving to Remy. “And you?”

Remy’s finger wiggles, still buried knuckle-deep in my ass. “I’m here for support. Just helping stretch her out.”

That’s all. A twinge of delicious tension shoots up my spine as his finger presses deeper in my ass. I moan in pleasure and Nick’s hand drops to my jaw, thumb grazing my chin.

“You getting yourself ready for them, gorgeous?” At my nod, his cock gives an aggressive twitch. “So fucking perfect.”

The compliment sends another surge through me like a jolt of electricity.

Having the three of them like this—well, it used to be my biggest fear. Now my whole body sings at the feel of their hands on me, inside of me, all at once. The hard press of Sy rutting against my leg, Remy lips leaving wet, searing kisses along my inner thigh…

And Nick.

God, the way he handles his cock. It’s both graceful and barbaric. The hard line of his tattooed chest rises and falls as his fist glides over his length, thumb running under the dark red head, brushing past the spot I know drives him wild.

My breath catches, the sensations too intense to fight. Every inch of my skin, inside and out, is hot and tight.

In my periphery, I see all three of them share a look, and then everything happens at once.

Sy curls his fingers again, hitting that delicious spot inside of me.

Remy thrusts deep into my ass.

Nick flattens the tips of his fingers over my clit, pressing.

“Oh, fuck!” I cry, hips shooting off the bed. If I didn’t look possessed before, then I know I do now, body shattering into a million pieces as it twists and bucks, seizing painfully against the slam of pleasure that overtakes me.

It goes on for a long time. So long that when Nick kneels next to my head, depressing the mattress with his weight, I’m barely coherent. He tilts my face toward him and runs his fingers along my throat. “Give me your tongue,” he demands, voice hard and urgent.

I flick it past my lips and Nick’s hand slides behind my neck, holding me up. A desperate noise comes from the back of his throat as he pumps one last time, bringing his cock to my mouth and coating my tongue with his salty release.

The sounds that follow come from Remy and Sy, both groaning through their own orgasms before I feel them falling back on the mattress.

I’m in a daze after that, the throbs coming from my pussy, clit, and ass merging into one satisfied thrum. I only know Nick’s the one who turns me to my side because his scent is suddenly all around me, his bare body tucking me against him. In front of me, there’s another one–Sy, going by the sheer heat radiating off of him. I know Remy can’t be far, because the fingers that rest on my hip, touching the star, can only belong to one man.

I’m filthy inside and out. I’m stretched. I’m defiled.

But most of all, I’m theirs.

I can’t remember ever sleeping sosoundly, and when I wake the next morning, it’s to find my limbs are twined with Nick’s. Behind me, Remy’s face is burrowed in the back of my neck. For a few long moments, I indulge in the warm tickle of Remy’s breath on my nape, the steady rise and fall of Nick’s chest against mine, the way he looks when my eyes blink open, face slack and yet somehow still lined with an inexplicable hardness.

I don’t feel Sy, though. His presence, his heat, his breaths–they’re absent in a strangely obvious way. It’s the only reason I lift my head, craning my neck to seek him out. I don’t catch a glimpse of his bronze skin, but I do smell the tantalizing waft of coffee, and then his distant, aggrieved voice.

“I told you, no more people-food!” he’s hissing. “It upsets your stomach, and no one else cleans the litter box!”

I laugh quietly, trying to keep from jostling the bed. Listening to this six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-twenty pound fighter, spar with my floof of a kitten is the best part of my day.

“Little Bird,” Nick’s rough, slurred voice suddenly rings out. “You keep shaking the bed like that and I’m gonna have to pin you down.” His lips move, but the rest of him still looks peacefully inert with slumber.

“Sorry,” I whisper, brushing the hair off his forehead. “Your brother and Archie are at it again.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up into a small, soft smirk. “I think we both know who will win whatever fight they’re having.”

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