Page 61 of Knot Their Arrangement

Not here, not now.

Not when I’m lost in them, in this moment, in the delicious, dangerous warmth of their touch.

Damon finally pulls back, breathless, his forehead pressed to mine, his eyes dark and smoldering. My chest rises and falls, and then I feel it—Kieran’s hand, bold and firm against my thigh.

It’s a silent question.

An offering of tempting sin.

His fingers remain still, waiting, granting me the power to decide what happens next. The control is mine, the pace mine to set.

I could pull away. I could shift, tell him to stop. But I don’t.

Instead, I inhale deeply, my mind fogged with the sensation of their presence, and I remain.

Damon hums lowly, his voice a velvet whisper against my lips.

“Can Kieran have a taste of sweetness, mia principessa?”

My mind immediately jumps to the ice cream, to the possibility of a lingering kiss between us. But before I can fully process, before I can consider what he truly means, I slowly nod.

Act now, think later.

Damon’s smirk deepens, something wicked flashing in his gaze before Kieran shifts. He moves smoothly, and effortlessly, and before I realize what he’s doing, he disappears beneath the table.

My brows lift slightly, and I arch an eyebrow at Damon, whose expression remains utterly composed, though his eyes glint with amusement. My lips part, a question forming, but before I can speak, Damon leans in, pressing his forehead against mine.

His breath ghosts over my lips as he murmurs.

“Your sweetness, mia principessa. The ice cream can certainly wait.”

Oh…

OH.

Oh…my…goddess…

Damon’s voice is a low purr, laced with dark amusement as he watches me with those golden, predatory eyes.

“Tell me, mia principessa,” he drawls, “is all this stimulation making you nice and wet for us?”

The words strike me like lightning, heat rushing to my face, my entire body trembling with awareness.

My thighs press together on instinct, and I realize just how much slick I’ve soaked through my undergarments. The truth of it makes me burn with both embarrassment and something far more dangerous.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my pulse pounds in my ears.

My body’s response is undeniable, but Damon’s bluntness, his absolute lack of shame in voicing what he wants, has me squirming in my seat. He is so different from what I’m used to — he and Kieran are so unique and mysterious, leaving me wondering what the rest of their pack is like to complete their unit.

There’s a careful slowness in their movements; clear communication, and dare I acknowledge it —consent.

The very notion is foreign to me.

I’m used to being taken, used, expected to obey, and be silent about it. That’s what I’ve grown up around. Witnessed it with my innocent eyes, until I was expecting and prepared for my turn in the brutal agony such actions imply, stripping away any hope of grace and kindness.

I accepted all I’d be is a puppet. A piece of property meant to be controlled, never spoken to as if my desires even mattered. But with them, with Damon and Kieran, I am being given a choice. They look at me as if I matter, as if my responses are something they crave rather than demand.

Even if all of this is temporary…

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