Page 61 of Let Us Prey
Delores pulls back as much as she can to watch my face as I come undone. “Yes,” she whispers, her breath coming in little pants as her clit rubs hard and fast along my shaft. “I wanna see... "
There is nowhere on earth I’d rather be than sandwiched between these two—the man I love more than life itself and the girl I’m already so crazy about, I can barely think straight. Flashes of color dance through my vision, my heart nearly beating out of my chest as I hurdle toward my release, helpless in their hands.
“Lo, I... " I start to say when that savage little bunny leans forward and bites down on mycheek,tearing an unearthly howl out of me as I come harder than I have in a long time. Luckily, Bash has the sense to move my dick away from her pussy before I explode, skillfully stroking me to finish while he fills my ass with a strangled groan.
Our bunny whimpers and my gut sinks as I realize we’ve left her unsatisfied. Bash springs into action, quickly withdrawing and pushing me onto my back before guiding her over my face.
“Don’t hover. Sit,” he commands. “If he dies, he dies.” She giggles, but obeys, and I feel myself hardening again as the taste of her hits my tongue. She’s so intoxicating, I want to drink her down until she’s swimming in my blood as a permanent part of my genetic makeup. I want to brand her on my skin, etched so deep I’ll never forget how she makes me feel—like she’s a living, breathing extension of my soul.
I can’t get enough of this girl.
Gripping that luscious ass of hers with both hands, I get to work, exploring every tasty fold before focusing on her clit. I buck as Bash’s hot mouth closes around my cock, and I notice he’s also slid some fingers into our bunny to help her along. With her hands firmly planted on the wall, Delores rides us like a woman on a mission, and pretty soon she’s uncontrollably shaking, her thick thighs closing around my head like a vice, crying out as she bathes my face, and his hand, in creamy liquid heaven.
My beta is there to catch her as she collapses, gently helping her into a fresh tee shirt before tucking her in. She’s already asleep when I brush my lips over her forehead and slip from the bed so I can go clean up in the en suite with Bash close behind me.
He watches me with an unreadable expression as I ready the shower, oddly quiet. I turn to face him, but before I can ask what’s on his mind, Bash lifts my chin for a hard kiss—most likely to steal the taste of Delores off my lips. “Come back to my bed when you’re done,” he harshly demands before releasing me and stalking from the room. I furrow my brow, annoyed that he feels the need to tell me to do something I was going to, anyway.
Where the fuck else would I go?
Fifteen minutes later, I’m jerked off and cleaned up and crawling back into bed with the others. Assuming they’re both asleep, I gasp in surprise when Bash possessively pulls me against his chest again.
“You’re mine,” he growls low in my ear, teeth pressing into one of his many claim marks dotting my neck, making me instantly submit. It’s nowhere near the first time he’s unnecessarily reminded me who I belong to, but something in his tone makes me suspect there’s more going on here than the usual display of dominance. I debate making a mental note to ask him about it, but knowing Bash, he’ll have forgotten all about it tomorrow.
“Yes, beta,” I hum in agreement so he’ll relax, waiting until his breathing turns steady before pulling Delores against me in the same possessive way. “Mine,” I dare to whisper, even though neither shifter is awake to hear me claiming someoneelsefor once. “You’re also mine. Both of you.”
THIRTY-SIX
Family
Aubrey
“It was quite enjoyable when Delores went hunting with us,” Rennie remarks off-handedly. He’s much less broody tonight, and I’d chalk it up to feeding recently, but even the music in the tower is lighter in tone. His classical doesn’t calm my dragon as much as house music, but it doesn’t require as much soothing in our sanctuary, as opposed to when I’m forced to interact with the general population.
I watch him meander around the room, futzing with things, the restless energy making me chuckle. “If you don’t stop buzzing around like a giant hummingbird, I’m going to call you Bash.”
The gargoyle turns to pin me with a glare, flicking his tail in annoyance. It’s not unusual for him to strut about the lower level of the Tower in varying degrees of his shifted form, but when the tail comes out, he means business. “Flames, she didn’t run away.”
No shit, she didn’t, and it was hotter than hell when she licked her lips as we fed.
“She seemed to enjoy it,” I sigh, closing the book on my lap when I realize I won’t be learning anything tonight about synthetic poisons.
“Yes!” The tail snakes over to wrap around his glass of port, and he sips it quietly before speaking again in a low whisper. “I think so too. At least, Ihopeso.”
I don’t know why he’s acting unsure—he could also smell what the hunt was doing to her.
Smoke rings escape my nose as I cross my arms over my chest. “Delores was raised by a notoriously vicious predator family, Rennie. I doubt it’s the first time she’s witnessed death. Besides, the whole campus knows she strolled off to the townhouse with Sebastian after he ripped the cock off that overgrown teddy bear twat.”
He runs his hand through his hair, murmuring under his breath as he reconciles his thoughts. My stony companion has even more baggage than me, and that’s saying something. One would think infamy would trump a broken heart, but the way he’s shut himself off since he was exiled makes me wonder if his scars are worse. Over the centuries, I've forgiven myself for the mistake I made as a child—despite occasionally getting triggered—but Renard is still bleeding inside.
I’ve never been able to get him to share what happened to him, and it drives me crazy. But maybe… maybe Delores can?
I don’t even know the entire tale, but that ridiculous orchid he treats like Fang Dynasty china is part of the story; there’s magic in it, but he won’t tell me where it originated from. Enchanted objects like the flower, or the talisman he never removes from his neck, have become rare in our world since the Middle Ages. I’d give a broken claw to study it, but he’s quite stubborn on the subject.
“She’s so young—and I don’t mean just compared to us,” the irritable shifter mutters as he stalks past me. Now he has his wings out, folded around his arms like he’s hugging himself, and I groan.
This is going to lead to brooding on the balcony for hours; I can feel it in my scales.
“Yo, Smoky! Where is everyone?”
