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52
The blessed, burning heat Luke had been masterfully injected into me, ratcheting my temperature higher and higher until the bed felt like a nest of flames? It freezes rapidly. It’s doused in liquid, the coldest liquid known to man. My insides turn peculiar, sluggish, and my head feels slow, unbalanced. Tension wracks my body.
“Danny’s— I can’t—Danny…”
It’s too much. We’re friends, and Rory forcing us to become more in a setting like this is something I never signed up for.
Kissing Danny is one thing, a fun thing, but having his lips on the rest of my body? He already has feelings for me, and I don’t want to tempt him, don’t want to lead him astray like the innocent lamb he is in this whole charade, not when my heart belongs to Rory, not when the rest of me belongs to the chiefs.
But with a bright, zealous gleam in his eyes, Danny stares at Rory and me. He’s high. He’s as high as a goddamn kite, and I watch in absurd fascination as a broad, boyish smile breaks across his face.
“No,” Danny says, his voice equally as pompous as Rory’s, an impersonation that manages to make Finlay snort with laughter. “I refuse on account of this… situation.” He fixes me with his soft brown gaze, his hair adorably mussed. “If I were to be with Jessa, I would like to do so alone.”
Rory lays his head on his hand, still sprawled across the base of the bed like a security barrier. “We all know you’re a fucking virgin,” Rory drawls. He’s flippant, bored. “It’s part of the appeal. So either be with her here and now or never again, Danny-boy.”
“Doesshehave a say in this?” Danny retorts. He looks at me then, his eyes never dipping below my face, never once observing the debauched state of undress I’m in.
Rory cocks an eyebrow at me.
After a moment, I tell Danny, “I love you.” Hope lights up his face, until my next words dash it entirely. “But it’s a different love from the others. It’s a love only you and I share, and I…”
“I get it,” Danny says in a dull voice, looking as though he’s sobered up significantly in the last five seconds.
I glare at him. I don’t have time for self-pity when my clit is burning with need. “What I wasgoingto say,” I begin, haughty, “is that, if I’d had the option, I would have been with you alone, too.” I glance at Rory, noting his curiosity. “But that’s not going to happen. And I don’t think doing it like this is bad. I think it may even be better.”
Danny looks dazed. It’s only when Luke murmurs to him, in tacit confirmation as he slides off the bed, “She wants you, brother,” that Danny blinks and begins to take a shaky step forward.
“Words of advice?” he asks Luke, rubbing his hands nervously over his jeans.
Luke smirks at me before answering. “Follow her moans. They’ll tell you all you need to know.”
Danny swallows as he sinks onto the bed, his distance so respectfully far away from me that he’s closer to Rory. Rory shoots him an irritated glance and shoves him toward me with a sharp jab of his toes.
“I… I don’t know,” Danny says, crawling toward me on all fours, looking insanely nervous. He seems to be having second thoughts, like sitting on this plush heavenly bed has made reality rush toward him. “I’ve never… I don’t know what to…” He glances around, helpless, and meets Rory’s exasperated gaze.
“Danny-boy, get your fucking head down between her legs and lick her cunt the way she likes it. It’s not difficult.”
My eyes slide shut at the bored violence, the repressed fury, in Rory’s tone.
“Honestly,” Rory scoffs, his scowl increasingly darkening, shadows clinging to his face. “Anyone would be jumping at the chance to taste the saint’s fine pussy. Here I am presenting it to an unworthy little shit like you, and you think you’re somehow better than this?”
“No,” Danny says through shaking lips, gazing down at my exposed cunt. I believe him. He thinks the exact opposite: a lifetime of beatings has told him he deserves nothing good, has reinforced his lack of experience with girls.
I meet Rory’s scowl. “Leave him be. He’s learning.”
“Well, he needs to learn a bit fucking faster,” Rory snipes, and I watch him casually adjust the bulge tenting his dress pants. I realize then that he speaks not out of anger but impatience. He wants me. And to have someone like Danny — sweet, insecure Danny — stalling his big sex-fest dream seems to have put a damper on his mood.
“Tell him what to do,” I suggest, watching the molten silver of Rory’s eyes. “He’s never done anything like this before. He needs someone to guide him.”
I figure the guidance of a sexual deviant like Rory is better than anyone else. He corrupted me; he may as well corrupt Danny.
“Hey, I’ve kissed a girl,” Danny interjects, wounded, before adding indignantly, “andI liked it.”
Behind us, Finlay stifles another laugh. I narrow my eyes at him, feeling absurdly protective of Danny. Just because the chiefs are verifiable sex gods, it doesn’t mean everyone is or has to act the same as them. People develop in their own time, and honestly, it’s the chiefs who are the weird ones, given the number of conquests they’ve probably had.
Rory considers my words and then huffs an agitated sigh, as though enough time has already been wasted on Danny. “Fine. Danny-boy, spread her legs.”
Danny doesn’t thaw at this request. He’s still motionless beside me, blinking down, his attention finally caught on my breasts.
