“Seriously?” I say, trying to fight through an ache that feels like it’s now stabbing me.
“Silly, Lo,” Cillian answers. “Just because we aren’t going to make you come until the engagement is demolished, doesn’t mean you can’t come for us.”
“Now, be a good girl,our good girl,and use that wild imagination of yours as we hover around this sweet pussy,” Paxton orders as he takes my hand that has been resting by my side, bringing it to my center. “Touch yourself. Show us how badly you wish it were our cocks stretching you.”
“Or our tongues devouring that wet, tight cunt,” Cillian adds. “Fuck yourself now, Lo,” he commands while helping Pax guide my hand beneath my thong.
I resist the urge to slap them both, but the fucking disgustingly needy want I have is too strong. I begin applying pressure in a swirling motion to my clit. They don’t break eye contact with me as their tongues begin to crash into each other’s, swirling into a passionate kiss just over my sex. The sight of Cillian’s tongue ring dancing with the flesh of Paxton’s tongue sends my body into overdrive.
I love when they kiss each other, especially when it’s right by my pussy.
“That’s a good girl, come for us,” Paxton praises, mouth still open as Cillian sucks on his tongue.
My body begins to tingle as I feel my orgasm rising to the surface. They bring their mouths even closer to where my hand is. The heat of their kiss hovering over me is all I need to give in to the release breaking through. My sight darkens as the force of my climax takes over my senses. I let out a moan so loud that it could probably be heard over the blaring music of whatever song is playing near us, only I don’t care.
“That’s it,wicked one, just let go,” Paxton encourages in a husky whisper.
My body jerks forward, riding the waves from my orgasm. Still kneeling in front of me, they plant kisses up my shaky thighs, slowly inching my shorts up.
They continue this until they both rise from their kneeling positions, now towering over me. I inch my chin forward in Pax’s direction.
Pax pulls back, clicking his tongue as Cillian starts waving his index finger in my face.
“Assholes,” I mutter just as my phone vibrates, startling me. I reach for it in my back pocket and see that it’s Zeke.
I swipe the screen to answer. “Hey, can I call you back later?” I ask, but I can tell by the way he breathes into the phone that whatever he needs to say to me can’t wait. “Zeke, what’s wrong?”
He doesn’t respond.
“What’s wrong?” I press him again, but still, he doesn’t answer.
My fingers curl against the edge of the phone, when I begin to feel a strange prickling at my fingertips. With a trembling hand, I move the phone from where it rests at the side of my face and notice a blueish hue spreading from my palm to each of my digits.
Zeke still doesn’t answer.
I’m about to press him once more when my gaze lands on the bead of sweat Paxton wipes off his forehead. Darting my eyes to Cillian, who is also covered in visible sweat. Cillian takes off his leather vest and fans himself from the sweltering heat that I know is around us. And yet, my body doesn’t respond to the air the way theirs is. Instead, I suddenly feel like I am being submerged in an ice bath.
Slowly, I fight through the bitter sting wreaking havoc on the hand I am holding my phone with, bringing it back to my ear.
“Zeke?” I whisper, becoming overly aware that this feeling didn’t start until I answered his call.
“It’s happening,” he finally responds in an expressionless monotone that makes me fear the next words that are about to come out of his mouth. “It’sAbuela.”
My heart sinks. I knew this day was near, only I just thought we had more time with her.
“You should come now. I don’t think she has much time left,” he says in a tone that should be ripe with sadness, but instead, he sounds robotic. It’s in moments like these, with how Zeke is acting removed, that he reminds me of our father, who rarely shows emotion, let alone compassion.
“What hospital?” I ask, voice trembling.
“Allan Memorial.”
“Hurry. I don’t think she has much time left.”
Before I can respond, Zeke hangs up the phone.
My heart sinks.
As a Reaper’s daughter, I am no stranger to the inevitability of death. My father makes a living off killing others. Shit, my entire childhood has been funded by it.
