Page 49 of Kiss of Frost

He grinned. “I’ll tell you in a minute.” He sobered, bending and planting a tender kiss on my brow. His tongue dampened my skin as he reached down and guided his dick inside me. We both groaned. My nipples pebbled against his chest. He pulled back, then shifted forward suddenly, his dick lodging deeper inside me. His eyes drifted shut, and his groan was different this time—soulful and deep. My eyes went wide as I realized Graeme had entered him.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, my pussy clenching. “Keep going.”

Callum released a shaky laugh. “You in a hurry, witchling?” As Graeme rocked into him again, his laughter became a moan. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, right there.”

“More?” Graeme asked softly, one hand stroking Callum’s hip.

“Aye. Give it to me.”

Graeme obliged him, thrusting hard. The movement pushed Callum’s dick deeper inside me, wrenching a soft cry from my lips. My heart sped up, and sweat sheened my skin. Their combined weight pressed me into the bed, which started to squeak as Graeme began to thrust in earnest. He pumped his hips, setting an unforgiving pace that drove Callum’s dick into me over and over. Callum’s balls slapped my ass. His cock stroked my clit. Pleasure rushed me, and I panted and writhed, trapped under the men as the three of us raced toward release.

Then Graeme grasped my ankles and pushed my knees to my shoulders, splaying me wide open. “Fuck my dick,” he grated. “Show me how much you want it.”

“What?” I gasped, confusion swirling. Then Callum began to move, and I realized Graeme wasn’t talking to me.

No, he addressed Callum, who pushed to his hands and began snapping his hips in a wild rhythm. He pumped his body between me and Graeme, driving into me and thrusting his ass backward onto Graeme’s cock. The powerful muscles in his chest went taut. His eyes glowed so brightly it almost hurt to look at him.

“Good boy,” Graeme said, one hand braced on Callum’s shoulder and his gaze locked on Callum’s ass. After a second, Graeme tipped his head back. “Fuck, lad, you feel so good.” Abruptly, he took over, pounding his hips into Callum’s ass.

Our bodies slapped together. The sounds of raw, unbridled sex echoed around the chamber. “Yes, yes,” I chanted, my breathing labored. Pleasure pulsed through me, every nerve ending crackling with it. An orgasm took shape just out of reach, and I arched my hips, trying to seize it. I clawed at Callum’s chest as we rocked together, his thrusts becoming less and less coordinated the closer he came to release.

“Let go, m’eudail,” Graeme ground out. “Give it to her.”

Callum threw his head back. His body tensed, and he opened his mouth on a wordless cry as he jetted inside me. I tumbled after him, my vision going black as my pussy clenched around his dick. Dimly, I was aware of Graeme’s shout and Callum’s soft groans. Of heat and sweat and the hot press of hard bodies against mine.

Then I lay on my side between Callum and Graeme, my body tingling from the aftermath of the best sex of my life. Gods, my ears were ringing. Callum nuzzled my neck from behind, his warm palm covering my hip. Graeme was a solid presence in front of me. His eyes were closed, and one thick, inked shoulder rose and fell as he caught his breath. Fatigue tugged at my eyelids. I sighed as I prepared to surrender the battle to stay awake.

Then Callum lifted onto his elbow and spoke across my body in a language I recognized as Gaelic.

Graeme stiffened. Opened his eyes. He replied in the same language, his tone as stiff as his posture.

“It’s not a big deal,” Callum said, sitting up. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Graeme said. He darted a look at me, and something like panic flashed across his features. He left the bed and started for his clothes.

Callum and I looked at each other.

I scrambled upright and watched as Graeme scooped up his pants. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” He shoved his legs into his pants and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He kept his gaze averted as he muttered, “I have to…eat.” He nodded, as if the statement pleased him. “I’ll see you anon.” Without so much as a glance at us, he walked to the door and left.

For a moment, Callum and I sat motionless. Then Callum looked at me. “What the fuck is anon?”

“It means soon. What did you say to him in Gaelic?”

“Oh. That.” Callum’s gaze turned thoughtful, and he studied the door for a moment before looking at me. “Right before I came, I could have sworn Graeme called me m’eudail.”

“And that means?”

“Sweetheart. Or darling.” A knowing look entered his eyes. “He’s freaking out.”

“About us?” I shook my head. “What am I saying, of course he’s freaking out about us. I’m freaking out about us.”

Callum grabbed my hand. “Are you?”

“I mean, we just…”

“Fucked like a bunch of circus animals?”

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