Page 165 of Nest of Thieves
Licking his lips, he says, “This is some cruel torture, babe.”
I crawl up the length of his body, placing my hands on either side of his head and teasing my slit over his length. “I’m the only one who gets to be pretty.”
He smiles. “Youarethe only one.”
With an appreciative purr, I reach between our bodies and place his head at my entrance, swirling my center around it and drenching him in my slick.
“Don’t fucking forget it,” I whisper, slamming onto him.
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” His hands find my hips, but I keep control, riding him at my pace to let him know who’s in charge.
“This is mine, Lark.” I place my hand at his throat, gently squeezing. “Mine.”
He nods and thrusts into me, making my tits bounce. Growling a little, his grip tightens on my ass, but he lets me have the moment. Allows me the control I want and need.
That’s why I love him. It’s why I love them.
They give me what I need. They give me what I want. And I do the same for them.
Rolling my hips, I chase my first orgasm before letting him take over and toss me on my back. My ankles rest on his shoulders, and he drives into me, holding my hips so he can pound into me until I whimper and scream.
My slick coats his dick, begging for a knot.
Lark’s chest rumbles, and he drops my legs, sinking onto his arms and holding my head in his hands. He’s balls deep when his knot swells and steals my breath. His lips swallow my gasps, and his tongue takes my words. Lark breathes for the both of us.
He fucks for the both of us.
“Just like that, baby,” he murmurs as I rock my hips in time with his. “Right. Fucking. There.”
And, together, we cry out. The world quakes around us, and we lose all sense of reality until we crash onto his bed, collapsing with pants and moans.
“You’re a little pretty,” I whisper, kissing him softly.
“I won’t tell anyone you said it,” he says against my mouth.
I smile and cling to him, not yet ready to let him go.
He’s mine.
And that’s exactly how it should be.
* * *
The blindfold covering my eyes is itchy, but I don’t take it off. Mac gave me those damn puppy dog eyes, and I couldn’t resist. He tied the fabric tight and guided me into his truck. We’ve been driving for twenty minutes, and his fingers continue to tease my thigh.
“Mac.”
“Shh. You’ll ruin the surprise.”
Grumbling, I turn toward the window, only to realize I can’t see a damn thing. Curling my fingers, I dig my nails into my palm and wait it out.
“Are you already wet?”
“Mac,” I say, shaking my head.
“Don’t be shy now, Kitten. The truck smells like a bakery.”
Shifting, I rub my thighs together and pat his hand. “You’re torturing me over here.”
