Page 88 of Worse Fates
My hand cradles his crown, the arm around his middle tightening. “You’ve only brought me joy, love.”
Summer gags. “God, I forgot what being around soulmates is like.”
Golden squirms, muttering obscenities, trying to wiggle free to flip Summer off. I chuckle, keeping him firmly in place.
“Are they always this gross?”
“Pretty much,” Kai answers Summer, sauntering over. “I shoved Luuk into a taxi that’ll deliver him to his boyfriends. He doesn’t remember anything, just Rurik being a dick.”
At my back, Rurik’s impatience rolls off him like a heatwave.
“Kai, did you know that Summer’s an ancient mage?” Golden asks, his small fists twisted in my shirt.
“Ancient?!” Summer cries. “I’m a very respectable age, you git.”
“You’re older than me.” Ramy chimes in on the teasing.
Good, he should have friends that aren’t ancient, mentally ill vampires.
“First Apollo now Summer,” Golden mutters. “Dude, if you’re a magical being you better tell me.”
Kai huffs a laugh. “Like if I’m a cop I gotta tell ya?”
We move fast after that—Kai grabbing what's needed while Golden writes a list of addresses Jace could be hiding in. Soon, we leave the inviting warmth ofKings, Rurik and Summer left behind in tense silence.
Rushed though I am, I obey Golden’s previous order and drive slowly for Kai’s sake. He clings to my mate and Ramy as if waiting for another crash. But the ride is uneventful, and we arrive back at the mansion without fuss.
I escort them inside, all of us ignoring the broken kitchen window. Instead, they head for the small living room. But before Golden can follow, I shut the door, and pull him to me, hungry for a taste.
When our mouths meet, there is none of Golden’s shy sweetness from our first kiss. Need pushes him, his lips glidingover mine, then opening for me. I delve in, my tongue coaxing and savouring.
My eager hands roam his tender body, slipping beneath his t-shirt to find miles of warm brown skin. I travel up, leaving a treasure trail of goosebumps in my wake, until I find his hardening nipples aching to be teased. When my fingers graze over his sensitive points, a gasping moan is pulled from his heaving chest, warming my heated blood to boiling point.
My other hand seeks its own treasure—dipping low to claim a handful of his plump ass. Then, with my hunger for his softness sated, I urge him forward to encourage his hips to rub against mine, needing a taste of just how hard he can get.
“When will you be back?” he groans into my mouth, cheeks flushed. The tip of his tongue running across my lips, exploring at his own pace.
“Tomorrow morning.” I pin Golden against the wall. “Sooner, if possible.”
Driven by an aching need to be closer, Golden rises onto his tiptoes, and both my large hands palm his supple ass. He's always been turned on by my strength, so when I lift him with ease—our bodies now flush—a raspy whine of pure pleasure escapes him. As if in that one move, I’ve already filled him with my rock hard length.
I capture that noise and drink deeply, his fingers tangle in my hair.
“Sooner.” Golden grinds his pulsing body into my equally painful erection. “Sooner, Lucero,” he half begs, half demands.
If possible I draw his hips closer, taking the control he’s oh-so-willing to hand over to only me, and slow our rhythm. My growl is deep, guttural, when we find the perfect pace. In my arms he’s light, yet his all-encompassing weight roots me to this moment.
Golden’s legs squeeze around me, head tossed back to expose the perfect column of his neck.
“One day…” My fangs dip out—just the tip—to run along the hammering vein in his neck, his body shivering. “I’m going to fuck you like this.”
“Lucero,” he pleads, his honey-sweet desire thick in my lungs.
“That’s right, beautiful. I’m going to pin you against every wall in this fucking mansion.” Golden’s hips falter, but I tighten my hold, dragging him back into our slow, aching pace as my fangs scrape along his neck—drawing a single drop of blood to the surface, to be licked away with a drag of my tongue.“And then I’ll feel just how tight you are.”
Golden whimpers, and I glory in the near-painful way his hands grip my hair.
“And you’ll beg me for it, won’t you, beautiful?”
