“And your wrists? How would you feel about them being tied together so you can’t touch any of us, we can only touch you?” he continues.
I shudder as he voices the things I couldn’t find the words for. “Yes,” I say. “I want to be entirely in your hands.”
“And at the very end, once we’ve wrung as many orgasms out of you as you can stand, Aster will try the transfer again.”
Nodding vigorously, he lets out a low chuckle against my cheek.
“If you need to stop,” Torin continues. “Or need a break, or it feels like it’s too much or hurts in a way you don’t like, just say the word.”
“All right,” I take in his words, but it’s difficult to focus as he spreads my thighs in front of Aster who’s on his hands and knees in front of me, eyes burning with desire. “Are you going to touch me now?”
Torin chuckles again, moving his hands over my arms before carefully pulling them behind my back. He then ties something silky soft around my wrists.
“Not quite yet,” he murmurs, tying another piece of butter soft material over my eyes, carefully plucking any wayward curls out of the way.
I’m left in the dark with the image of Aster’s face locked on mine etched into my brain. Not just his either. Two stormy grey eyes set apart from the rest bore into me, leaving me squirming worse than ever.
Seems like Finch has given up on covering his eyes. He’s watching too.
Torin slides his hands back to my thighs, spreading them even further apart. “You need to pick a word.”
“Hmm?”
“If you want us to stop,” he murmurs. “We should have done this before we started, but tell me you’re lucid enough to agree.”
“I agree,” I reply immediately. “Just... watch my right hip. It’s been aching recently. And if I want to keep going, I’ll ask you to. If I want you to stop, I’ll say stop.”
“Good girl,” he replies, sending another warm shiver through me. “And we can always pause if you just need a minute.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I say impatiently. “Now, if you’re done worrying, can one of you please touch me?”
Chapter 21
Finch
I’m simultaneously in heaven and hell. Damned to fight the urges surging through my nervous system that are currently battling for control.
My role here isn’t to engage. It never is. I’m the captain of my crew. The one who stands apart from the others, who ensures we all get out of skirmishes alive, whether we’re fighting a storm, or battling against one of the bastard king’s ships. I do not get involved in the private lives of the crew unless they start to infringe on the safety of the rest of us. I leave all of that to Torin and sometimes to Jack, although he often seems to simply stir the pot.
Tonight feels different, though. It’s my brother’s mate—which makes it a family matter in my book. And I’m crossing lines like you wouldn’t believe.
I’m supposed to be a silent observer. A safety net in case they all lose their heads to the lust that’s so thick in this room, I can practically feel it coating my tongue. And worst of all is that I volunteered myself to take on this role. Jack told me he wouldn’t be a helping hand, and that the books mention someone needs to keep their heads to ensure the ritual stays on track, and I found my hand shooting up before I knew what I was doing.
Reva arches her back as Aster settles himself between her legs and Kit lavishes her breasts with his boisterous attention.Torin’s still behind her, stroking her arms with invisible hands and playing the puppet master for the four of them.
My fingers itch.
Despite desperately trying to distract myself with my knitting, I’m now holding the needles so tightly there’s a genuine worry I might snap them clean in two. My eyes skim over their writhing forms once more before I return to counting my stitches.
But, oh, I used to be such a slut for touch. For any kind of foreplay, really. That was back when touch was always linked to pleasure, and I loved touching others. Now, things are different and the only parts of me that don’t mind being touched are those that aren’t fully connected to my brain. The wayward tentacles that mark me out as a freak. The product of sick experiments that left me so far from human, even my own mother wouldn’t recognise me.
She’s dead now, of course, succumbing to the draw of the furthest horizon while Kit and I were trapped in that terrible place. We came out both thoroughly changed and orphaned, fully aware that the world we had been part of before the Deadwood Cove laboratories no longer existed.
Reva lets out a moan that has me clenching my fingers into tight fists with the urge to... do what exactly, I don’t know.
It’s the first time in a long while that I’m fighting to calm my raging cock, which clearly didn’t get the memo that we do not like physical intimacy of any kind.
Not anymore.
