Page 71 of Prey It By Ear

Fitz leans over me, his hair a wild, staticky mess, and peers down with fake concern. “Is that better? You still look flushed.”

I try to answer, but it’s more of a rusty death-rattle than anything else. I want to tell him that being double-teamed into oblivion and then having that many orgasms while waiting for knots to fade is a valid reason to be bright pink all over. My body is fighting heat I couldn’t control. Instead, I wrinkle my nose and give him a playful glare.

Chess pats my cheek gently and says, “That means yes, but it’ll take a few for her to rehydrate, my love. She screamed a lot and I think her chords are a bit strained.”

I want to say something sassy in response to that as well, but I have to settle for a thumbs-up and a middle finger, which makes my crazy tiger howl with laughter. I roll my eyes, ignoring those two to check on the others.

As I smile at him, Rennie holds up a finger and goes to find a hair tie on my nightstand. With surprising tenderness, he sweeps the damp strands off my neck, his fingers gentle on my temples for a moment. Then he grins as he gathers my rainbow fizzed-out mess into a high, loose ponytail that makes everything feel even better. It cools my neck and back while helping keep it out of my face.

These men get smarter and more observant every day, I swear.

“If you need to say your word, you must do it before we continue, ma chérie,” he murmurs, and the sound is so serious it cuts through the fog of lust like a laser. “Does anything hurt? Other than the good kind of hurt? Is it too much to play another round together?”

I summon up enough energy to twist my mouth into a smirk and croak, “My only pain is the dragon bite,” I croak. “And that’s because it burned a brand, sort of, I think. Did that happen to you? Is it weird?”

Aubrey, who has sprawled out on his back at the foot of the bed, grumbles, “It’s healing, that’s why it hurts a bit. The brand is normal for us, so you can breathe easy, lunchable. Rennie, she needs to walk tomorrow. Don’t push her.”

At that statement, Felix makes a muffled noise that could be agreement or just him choking on the pillows—hard to say.

I giggle, and the other three look at me with hungry eyes. I suppose humor means I’m doing okay, but they don’t move yet.

“The only thing she’s not going to do tomorrow is audition for the Vienna Boys’ Choir. You absolutely obliterated her voice, Emo Boy. High five for that, bro, but we need to be super gentle if she agrees. After all, she has voice lessons again on Wednesday.”

Renard doesn’t high-five him, but he gives me another concerned look. “Are you certain, petite lapin?” he asks again. “It is always okay to tap out.”

“I want round two,” I whisper hoarsely. “I want Chess and Fitz and you before anyone passes out.”

Chess’s eyes go wide, and Fitz—well, Fitz’s entire body language changes to predator on the hunt in seconds. My gargoyle’s concern melts into something hungry as well at my words. His tongue flashes across his lower lip. “As you wish, ma petite,” he says.

Aubrey’s low, rumbly laugh is the last sound before Fitz flips the playlist to something with more bass, and the whole room resets for round two.

I am in so much trouble, and I simply do not care.

You’ve never truly lived until three of your boyfriends negotiate the logistics of how best to fuck you at once, when all they care about is your comfort.

The playlist pounds through the speakers, the bass shaking the lampshade and vibrating up the frame of the bed. The air is thick with the stink of sex and candle wax, and now there’s also Fitz’s anxious energy as he bounces in place waiting for the green light. He can’t just jump in because Rennie is the general in this operation. He paces along the bed’s edge before he picks up a pillow and tucks it under my hips, so my alignment is optimal. Chess helps him with the placement; their hands occasionally bumping, then brushing, and for a hot second, I get the sense they’re speaking some secret language that doesn’t require words or even eye contact.

“She needs to be at the right height,” Renard says, mostly to himself. “If not, Fitz will get too excited and someone will break a tooth.”

“Only if you’re lucky,” Fitz stage-whispers. “No worries, though, Baby Girl. I know how to bite responsibly. He’s just being a mother hen.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Chess says, giving the tiger a warning glare. “I’m not resetting your teeth again when they grow back. You’re no fun when your teeth hurt.”

Fitz looks momentarily wounded, but then he meets my eyes and winks. “For you, Baby Girl, I’ll risk it.”

I arch a brow and motion for the water. Once I get a big drink, I feel the ache subside and I feel okay to speak. “Well, I won’t, so let the smooth-talking Frenchman decide the plan. I don’t want Chessie making us soft food for however long it takes. I need meat to get through this nightmare schedule, buddy, and I do not mean the sausages in this room.”

Fitz laughs delightedly, kisses my cheek, and then sidles down the bed when Rennie gestures to him. The tiger positions himself between my thighs, and his hands are suddenly everywhere—my knee, my thigh, my calf, all at once. He looks up my body as he spreads my thighs, saying, “Perfect. I love this view.”

The way he says it, you know he actually means it. I bite my lip and try not to get emotional, which is the dumbest possible reaction for someone about to have fantastic, mind-blowing sex, but here we are.

Chessie is next, sliding in behind me as he pushes Felix’s legs aside. He kneels there, his hands cradling my hips until I’m positioned just so for him. Looking over my shoulder, I see him hold out a hand for the lube and chuckle when the grumbling Raj actually hands it to him before flopping back down. My cheetah winks at me as he pours it, asking softly, “Ready, Angel? We’re almost there.”

I nod as best I can, but Ren is now crawling onto the mattress. The tall shifter kneels beside me, making sure my face is level with his very hard cock. He winks, tilting his head as he says, “Tap my thigh if you need to stop. I know you cannot say the word with your mouth full.”

Damn, that is a view, and I am glad I didn’t say we should forgo this round.

The gargoyle guides himself into my mouth with slow, careful precision, one hand in my ponytail and the other on my jaw, thumb stroking as I open for him. He doesn’t push—he never does—but I want it, so I take him in as quickly as I can. Rennie lets out a shuddering breath, the muscles of his thighs tensing as he holds himself back.