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One of his hands runs through my wetness, coating his fingers and pumping into me just for a second, before slipping beneath me. He presses against my ass, rimming over the bundle of nerves while holding my pussy tight to his mouth.
His tongue pushes into me, and I nearly levitate off the bed. I think there are words coming out of my mouth, but I honestly don’t know what I’m saying.
Then he moves back up to flick over my clit, before swirling and sucking down.
And when he dips a finger inside my ass, I fall apart.
“God. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
My body is clenching and jolting as I soar off into the sky.
Thorne massages my thighs with his calloused palms and continues to stroke me with his tongue as I somehow, after what feels like an age, make my way back into my body. I tug at his hair, demanding his affection, wanting him even closer. Thankfully he obliges, shifting his weight up and over my body, resting on his elbows beside my head.
There’s triumph gleaming in his eyes.
“So damn pretty when you scream my name.”
My toes curl as his deep, sexy voice washes over me. Everything in this man’s expression radiates how pleased he is that I’m splayed out beneath him, boneless, and flushed with satiated bliss.
I’m so fucking hungry for him. He’s freshly showered and it’s all I can do not to clash our teeth together when I thread my fingers into his dark curls and pull him against my mouth. He’s coated in the taste of me and it stirs up a new round of need, even though he’s just got me off twice—that I know of.
“You’ve been learning some very dirty tricks off Ky.” I suck on his bottom lip.
“Oh, believe me, I can be dirtier if you want.” His gaze turns molten, hinting to me that I should be fucking worried about all the plans he has in store. Like he’s been plotting all the things he wants to do to me.
Jesus. This side of Thorne only comes out every now and then, and I’m such a slut for him when he’s playful like this.
I definitely want.
“Are you sore?” His brows pinch together.
“Achy? Not sore…as such.” The pounding in my head resembles more of a dull thud now. But my pussy is definitely feeling a little tender, and that doesn’t seem as though it has anything to do with Thorne teasing my body while I was still asleep.
Holy shit. Even thinking about that has my cheeks flushing with renewed lust.
“I didn’t want to wake you up to take some painkillers. Figured a couple of orgasms would be just as helpful.” His sapphire eyes hold mine, and I don’t know what the expression is that he’s giving me right now. Somehow, I sense there’s a depth of unspoken emotion there, but it’s being blown out by the desire running hot through his veins. Feeling how turned on he is—how much he clearly enjoyed playing with my body—holy hell that makes me want to push him to the mattress and ride that extremely hard cock of his currently jutting into my thigh through his sweats.
“Here.” He rolls over to one side of me and encourages me to sit up. I’m handed a couple of small white pills and some water. But it’s as I’m tossing them back that my post-orgasm brain recollects how to function.
“Why can’t I remember last night?” I hand him back the glass, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, but I’m busy searching through a haze of memories. What happened between the moment I sat down next to him in the booth at the club, and this moment right here when he woke me up by licking me to climax?
For a beat, I nearly say the words that pop into my mind. Wondering if it was my men who did this to me…again.
“You were drugged.” Raven’s voice appears from the other side of the room. “By someone who won’t be breathing for much longer.” As I blink at him, it dawns on me that we’re in Thorne’s bedroom. My wolf comes in looking every inch the Grim Reaper. There’s blood up his neck, and even though he’s shirtless, wearing only black pants and his heavy boots, I can smell the gasoline and ash and a very specific kind of metallic tang clinging to him.
My mouth drops open. Fuck.
Although, I hardly have a moment to process all the pieces of information I’m taking in, before he crosses the room.
“Here.” He’s holding something in his tattooed hand, and the silver of his rings flash against smears of red over inked knuckles when he pauses beside the bed, handing me a box.
On the top of the black lacquer is a gold stencil of the ouroboros. Judging by the size and weight of the item he’s handing me, I already know what’s inside.
I swallow hastily.
Oh, god, this is not what I expected to be presented with while I’m still recovering from Thorne’s wicked ways this morning, nor while I’m currently still feeling needy as all hell.
With shaky fingers, I lift the lid. The pungent, coppery stench of blood is overpowering, and as I do so, the potent weight of both my men staring at me is unmissable.
