Each tug on my finger sends a pulse of need straight to my clit, and when he stops, I nearly beg him not to. I don’t know if it’s the bond, constantly surrounded by three sweet men that I adore, or the act of feeding itself, but I’m almost always one stroke away from jumping their bones.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he withdraws a band aid, and I give him a strange look. “You just so happened to have one handy?”
Unwrapping it, he carefully bands it around my finger, concentrating like he’s never done it before, and it dawns on me that he likely never has, never had the need before me. “Since you don’t heal as quickly as us, I’ve been trying to stay better prepared since the incident in the woods.”
Rising on my toes, I kiss him, because there simply aren’t words that convey how much I fucking love this man. Rather than make a bumbling idiot of myself attempting it, I try to pour everything into the kiss. He claimed that the bond was strengthening to the point that he could get a read on my emotions, so I pray that he’s right and he can feel how much I appreciate him without having to utter a single word.
One hand on the back of my neck, the other settles on my hip as he backs me up against the counter. Stroking him once over his jeans, I flick open the button, his muscles jumping as my knuckles bush against bare skin. With a low growl, he releases my hip to grip the hem of my shirt, but I cover his hand with mine, stopping him. Confused, he backs up to look at my face, eyes darkening as I switch positions with him and drop to my knees.
With a smirk, I lift my bandaged finger. “Don’t mind me, just returning the favor.”
“You don’t have t-“ He sucks in a sharp breath as I wrap my hand around the base of his now freed cock. Without another word of protest, he shoves his jeans down his hips, carefully stepping out of them as I start pumping his length. He whips off his shirt a moment later, fisting it in his hand as he braces himself against the counter behind him.
Slowly, I flick my tongue over the tip, rolling it over the head and enjoying how stock still Stryker becomes. Licking my palm, I grip just past my lips as I start taking him into my mouth, stroking him while swallowing him down. When I take him as far as I’m able, I retreat only to do it again and again, faster each time.
Sucking hard, I pump the rest of his length quickly, reveling in each of the curses that leave his mouth. Bobbing my head, I alternate using my mouth and hand, waiting until he’s lubed up well to switch to my ringed hand. There’s nothing sharp that might slice into him, but knowing Stryker, hearing the chains clink against each other, drawing his focus to his symbolic claim on me, it’ll only serve to work him up more.
His free hand palms the back of my head, gently thrusting into my mouth. A soft groan has my ears perking up, realizing that Bane and Mason are jacking off, listening in on us. With a wicked grin and renewed vigor, I work Stryker harder, taking him deep in my throat and humming, letting the vibrations bring him right to the edge.
Threading his fingers through my hair, the control he was fighting to hold on to breaks. Fucking my mouth, his hips buck erratically until he comes down my throat with a strangled shout. My nails bite into his thigh as I ride through it all, and when he stills, I swirl my tongue over him, swallowing down every last drop of cum.
Removing my mouth with a wet pop, he shudders, breathing ragged as he looks down at me. Helping me to my feet, he smashes his mouth against mine, ignoring the taste of himself on my lips. “And you callmea silver-tongued devil. Fuck, gorgeous, suck the soul right out of my body, why don’t you?”
Chuckling, I kiss him once more before letting him get dressed, heading down the hall to stretch out on the bed while we wait for dinner to be ready. Bane is fastening his pants when I walk in, and I waggle my eyebrows before flopping down beside him on my stomach.
“I like house hunting as much as the next person, but I don’t think any natural hardwood has gotten that reaction out of me before. Find something good?”
A low chuckle rumbles his chest as he sits up, smacking my ass as he reaches for his phone on the floor beside the mattress. “Very.”
Mason comes into the room, drying off his hair with a towel and leaving it sticking up every which way, basketball shorts slung low on his hips. “We can’t get out of this city fast enough.”
I sit up, crossing my legs to make room on the bed as he sits, Stryker stretching out on his back behind me a moment later and tucking his arms behind his head. It’s cramped with all four of us on the twin sized mattress, but it seemed a waste of money to go bigger when we had to buy three and weren’t staying long.
“Water that bad?”
Mason scoffs. “No, I just can’t wait to break in the new place.” Snorting in amusement, I recline against Stryker as Mason runs a comb through his hair. “So, can I ask what you wanted enough to go back to that hellish apartment? No way were you attached to your clothes enough to deal with that bullshit.”
Even though I’m sure they’re going to tell me I’m silly, I roll off of the bed, rummaging around in my bag until I pull out the photograph, taking my seat before passing it his way. “I hate them for what they did to me, and even more so with our new theory, but-“ I fiddle with the hem of my shirt awkwardly “-they were still my parents, you know? There were some good times in there too, and while I can cut them off and move on, aware of how toxic the situation was, there’s still that stupid, childlike part of me that isn’t willing to completely let go.”
I sigh. “It’s hard sometimes to remember that the same people that were intentionally making me sick were the ones that brushed my hair and read me stories when I was up all night puking.” When none of them say anything, I look up, only to find Mason and Bane’s stoic faces. “What?”
Mason’s lips are pressed into a thin line, so Bane answers, “I recognize them from the agency; the one that helps shifters get new IDs to start over. My grandfather and I moved a few times over the years; and one time, they were there with-“ he swallows “-their daughter. Few years younger than me and thin as a rail, and I asked my grandpa why, because I’d never actually seen a sick shifter before.” His golden eyes shine with remorse as he croaks, “And he told me to hush and mind my own business so we didn’t embarrass her.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I didn’t even pick up on the fact you were human at the time, too many shifters around masking any potential unease. Or fuck, I don’t know, maybe I was drawn to you even then so you didn’t feel like a threat.”
My heart skips a beat before plummeting into my stomach. Turning to Mason, his voice is as hard as his expression. He wars with himself before speaking, like it pains him to think about, much less discuss.
“When I was turned... it was a bloodbath. I’d always been the odd man out, but I ran into a guy a few years older than me at the park and we ended up talking every time I found time to slip out of the house. I was eighteen, but didn’t have a cent to my name, unable to hold down a job at the time because of my temper, so I was still living at home. We became fast friends, and I invited him over for dinner one day, thinking he was homeless and it was getting colder.”
He develops a faraway look, thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the towel. “And he turned into a monster. Slaughtered my parents, my brother and sister, before attacking me. I woke up when the police stormed into the house, covered in my family’s blood, and unable to give them a logical answer for what happened.”
Tentatively, I reach out, putting a hand on his knee and stroking my thumb in comfort as he continues. “Obviously, I thought I was crazy; terrified in the chaos. I ended up not only shifting, but lashing out in defense, trying to escape. Killed them all and fled the city, following an invisible pull that I later discovered was the sire bond.”
He clears his throat, still not meeting my eye. “Found James with what I now realize was your parents, and they fled while I was busy killing him.”
Mentally, I do the math, guilt eating away at me as I croak, “When I ran off. They were looking for me, was checking in with James right after he turned you.”
I startle as Stryker sits up behind me, banding his arms around my stomach and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Or they were looking for another incorruptible to replace you with,” he gently suggests. “James could have been working with them, going on a blood tasting spree trying to find one, ended up killing Mason’s family in a fit of frustration.”
The scent of Mason’s blood drifts towards me as his nails bite into his palm. “But why turn me at all then? If they didn’t know you could turn an incorruptible and use the sire bond to control them, they would have only been able to find out by biting random humans or-“
