Page 153 of Forged Bonds

So I stopped.

Pushing him back from the desk I crawled out from under it and stood up, brushing off the knees of my jeans. His gaze snapped to me and he reached down to stroke his cock with a frown. “What are you doing? If you want me to fuck you, get on the desk.”

“Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’. “I believe you said you had work to do.”

Nolan jerked his wet length, keeping himself on the edge. “Yes, and then you decided to bother me anyway.”

“And now I’m being good. You’d better get back to work, because I ended up distracting you.”

Someone laughed from the hallway, and Oswald appeared around the corner with a grin. “You got him there. He wasn’t typing anymore by the time you gave up.”

Levelling Ozzy with an annoyed glare, Nolan didn’t take his hand off his cock. I was admittedly tempted to finish what I’d started, but was enjoying creating shit for myself later. Punishments all around for Freya. It sounded fun.

In an orgasm denial, spanky kind of way.

“See, Nolan? Our mate thinks you should get back to work too,” I said, sauntering over to Oswald and lifting up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy whatever numbers you’re running right now.”

Nolan growled, the sound sending slick to flood my core, but I held my own and walked out. There was a thump a few seconds later. I imagined that was Oswald being shoved to his knees to have cock shoved down his throat.

Humming a haunting tune to myself, I made my way to the master bathroom, where I should have headed as soon as I got home. This house was expensive as fuck and funded by sugar daddy Nolan, with this main bath featuring our giant jacuzzi tub and a shower stall big enough to fit an army. With multiple showerheads. Normally I wouldn’t recommend shower orgies because everything gets slippery, but considering my mates were all supernatural beings with insanely fast reflexes, we hadn’t had any major mishaps.

I stripped down and dropped my bloody clothes in the hamper — a specific one designated for when we had foreign bodily fluids on us — before stepping under the warm spray. I’d finished shampooing my hair when I heard the glass door open, letting in a blast of cold air along with a tempting scent of clean laundry and comfort.

“You didn’t come see me when you got back,” Emmett murmured, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him.

“I thought you preferred me to wash off the blood first,” I said, smiling as I tilted my head and let his lips come down to mine.

We thrived on casual affection, not always sexual in nature. Sometimes he came in the shower with me and all he did was wash my hair. That wasn’t going to be the case this time around, for two reasons.

One, I’d riled myself up by taunting my other mates.

Two, his thick cock was hard against the curve of my ass, and I couldn’t resist rubbing my wet body on it.

Em groaned, sliding his hands down to cup my breasts and informing me he was very much on board with fucking me up against one of these solid glass walls. He always was. “You didn’t even come in for a hello,” he said.

“I had more than a hello planned for when I saw you, honey.”

“In that case, I forgive you, but I’ll take my hello now.”

“You’ve got to wash this shampoo out of my hair first.”

He did, gently stroking his fingers through the strands. Everything about me was healthier than it had been six months ago. My hair, my skin, my mind. The curves I used to have had filled out again, though the amount of desire my mates stared at me with hadn’t changed. They’d been one hundred per cent on board with fucking me even when I’d been unhealthily skinny, though they much preferred me like this.

When the soap was out of my hair and it hung wet around my face, Em bent me over and placed my palms on the wall. I grinned and shook my ass back and forth, slowly, hoping my perfume was choking him. His cock slid against my clit a second later, this man not bothering with teases and power dynamics. Emmett and I were just us. Sometimes he overstimulated me by giving me enough orgasms I cried, but that was about as intense as it got. I preferred it that way, considering how I always fucked around with Nolan and Shan’s dominant sides.

He sank in to me with a low groan, his hands on my hips. “Fuck, Freya, your pussy gets more perfect every time I slide into it.”

“Is there an upper limit?” I asked. “Because you fuck me multiple times a week, so I’m just curious—”

A deep thrust cut me off, his knot rubbing against the edges of my hole, teasing me.

I hadn’t gone into heat since the one where he’d marked me to save my life, but I felt it sneaking up. Once every six months was the norm, but I’d fucked up my biology by abstaining for so long. None of us were sure what was going to happen with mine.

Em and I devolved into a mess of moans and wet, slapping flesh. He never kept me bent over in front of him for long, hoisting me up in his arms to press me against the cold tile. I hissed at the sudden sensation, but wrapped my legs around him and teased his knot. “Are you going to let me lock you inside me today?” I murmured against his lips, our breaths mixing together in the steam of the shower.

“I plan to keep you in bed all day.”

I whimpered as he ground his knot up against me, my pussy stretching and threatening to suck it inside. If he knotted me here, I wouldn’t be mad. However, we’d get the bed wet if we didn’t dry off and move first.

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