Page 138 of The Last Call Home
I lean in, brushing her temple with my lips.“You think we’re letting you fall asleep out here like that?”
Mal’s already rising, one arm behind her shoulders, the other under her knees.She whimpers softly as he lifts her, still shaking, still wet between her thighs.Her flannel hangs open, slipping off one shoulder, her nipples peaked and flushed from everything we did to her.From everything we’re going to do.
“Bedroom,” I say, heading for the door before Mal has to ask.
She clings to him weakly, cheek resting against his chest as we carry her through the hallway.The light from the bathroom still flickers behind us, casting long shadows on the walls.My fingers trail her thigh as we walk, brushing over the marks I left, and I feel her twitch under my touch.
“You okay?”I murmur, voice low.
Her head turns, and even through the haze, her eyes lock on mine.“You’re both insane.”
“But you liked it,” Mal says with a grin, setting her gently on the bed like she’s the most precious thing in the fucking world.
She stretches, arms overhead, letting that shirt fall completely open now, baring everything.
I crawl over the mattress, coming up beside her, while Mal unbuttons his jeans behind me.I press a kiss to her knee, then her inner thigh, tasting her all over again just to hear her gasp.
“You’re not sleeping yet,” I whisper against her skin.“You’re not done.”
Mal climbs onto the bed on the other side, eyes dark, voice wrecked.
“Not even close.”
ChapterSixty-Three
Delilah
I’m still tremblingas Mal carries me to the bedroom.
There’s no space between breaths, no break in sensation.My body feels like it’s still coming—throbbing between my legs, heart racing in my throat, skin flushed and raw.My thighs won’t stop twitching, and my chest rises and falls in uneven bursts as Mal lowers me to the bed.
It smells like them.The sheets, the room.Like heat and sweat and men who look at me as if I’m something worth ruining.
Cassian is already crawling across the mattress, his mouth at my knee, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them.“You’re not done,” he whispers, and I don’t know if it’s a promise or a threat.
Maybe both.
But then I look between them—Cass still clothed, Mal shirtless, jeans barely hanging on—and something wicked blooms in my chest.
“Cass has too many clothes,” I murmur, my voice husky from everything they’ve already wrung out of me.I point at Mal with a lazy flick of my fingers.“And those jeans.”I arch a brow.“They need to go.Why don’t you help each other?”
They pause.Cass’s mouth quirks, a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face.Mal lets out a soft snort, shaking his head like he’s amused, but he’s already moving.
I sit up just enough to watch.I’m spread across the bed like a ruined painting, flushed and marked, and completely unashamed about it.I want them to see me watching.I need to see this.
Cassian rises to his knees, towering over me now, dragging his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.It clings to his skin for a moment—he’s sweating, chest heaving—and when he tosses it aside, Mal’s already reaching for the button on his jeans.
“Turn around,” Mal murmurs, voice velvet-soft but deep.“Let me take care of it.”
Cass obeys, facing me, his eyes still locked on mine while Mal slips behind him.There’s something sinful about it—something that makes my breath hitch.Cass’s head falls back as Mal drags the zipper down slowly, palms flat against his hips.He’s doing it on purpose—drawing it out, teasing both of us.Cass’s abs twitch.His cock’s already straining behind the denim.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Mal slides his hand into the waistband, pushing jeans and briefs down in one motion.Cass kicks them off, completely bare now—broad shoulders, powerful thighs, thick cock already flushed and leaking.
And then Mal kisses him, open-mouthed, desperate.
Mal fists his hand in Cassian’s hair and pulls him close.Their mouths collide again and again, rough and hungry, like they’ve both been starving for it and never had the nerve to admit it.Cass groans low in his throat, grabbing Mal’s waist, dragging him in until their bare skin meets—hip to hip, cock to cock, grinding slow like they forgot I was watching.
