Page 247 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Here?" he asks quietly.

"Here."

Whiskey moves behind me again, his broad chest pressing warm against my spine. He gathers my hair and sweeps it over my opposite shoulder, baring the mark completely.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. "I've got you, wildcat."

I exhale and tilt my head, exposing the column of my throat and the slope of my shoulder.

Plague's hand slides down from my shoulder to my waist, and he leans in.

The kiss is different this time. Deeper. His teeth catch my lower lip and I gasp into his mouth, arching forward. Behind me, Whiskey's hands tighten on my hips, steadying me between them.

"Lie back," Plague murmurs against my mouth.

Whiskey shifts, pulling me against his chest as he leans back into the pillow fortress. His strong thighs bracket my hips from behind, propping me up at the perfect angle.

Plague strips my jeans off, his touch lingering on my thighs. His trousers follow, and then he's settling between my legs, lean and golden in the lamplight.

His mouth finds the mark on my shoulder first, learning the terrain Thane left behind. Then lower, dragging across my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, the space between my breasts where my heartbeat hammers hard enough I'm sure he can feel it against his lips.

Plague doesn't speak. He just keeps moving down, his loose dark waves spilling across my stomach. His hands hook under my thighs and spread them wider, settling my legs over his shoulders.

The first press of his mouth between my legs makes me gasp and squirm, instantly soaking wet. His slow, deliberate tongue strokes find every nerve ending like they're lit up for him.

"Fuck," I choke, my hips jerking as his tongue flattens and drags up through my lips.

Whiskey catches me and holds me still, pinning me back against his body with almost no effort.

"Easy," he rumbles. "Let him work."

Plague hums against me and the vibration shoots straight up my spine. My head falls back against Whiskey's collarbone and I grab two fistfuls of the ruined duvet, trying to anchor myself while Plague takes me apart with his mouth.

Behind me, Whiskey shifts. I hear the soft click of a cap.

"Hey, wildcat," he says against my ear. "I brought something."

I crack one eye open, panting. "What…"

"Extra lube." He holds up a small bottle. "You're wet as fuck and omegas make their own, I know. But I'm..." He clears his throat. "My dick is thick as fuck, Ivy. I don't wanna hurt you."

I let out a breathless laugh that breaks into a moan as Plague sucks my clit between his lips. "How—ah—how considerate."

"I'm a gentleman."

His slicked fingers trail down between my cheeks, and the first touch makes me tense. He stops instantly.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." Not a hint of joking in it.

"Don't stop."

Whiskey works me open with one finger, then another, easing deeper only when my body stops fighting him, pausing every time I clench, adding lube every few seconds without being asked. His breathing stays controlled against my ear.

This is the Marine beneath the golden retriever.

Plague's mouth returns to find the spot that almost makes me levitate off the bed. A full-throated scream tears out of me.

Whiskey muffles it before I can get us all thrown out of this fancy fucking hotel, pressing his huge palm over my mouth. I chomp on him. He hisses but doesn't move his hand, and I come so hard my entire body locks up, clamping down on both of them.