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I want to see him. It takes every effort not to pull away from the kiss just to look, just to tilt my head in Rory’s direction, to watch him come undone and smirk at him. But Luke’s mouth is as addictive as the sugar that had engulfed us, and I can’t… I just can’t bear to break the kiss, especially when I feel the whispers of orgasm stir my body. His searing kiss is such a sweet and powerful expression of his love.
As our kiss builds in tempo and temperature, Luke releases a sugar-hot breath against my lips. His tongue teases mine gently, and the kiss slows the same way we slowed down eating. His mouth no longer tastes like sugar: when Luke kisses me like that, so slow and deliberate as if to cherish the act itself and coil the curl of warmest orgasm inside my body, his kisses taste like fire.
He pulls away softly, though I want more, more, more, and brings our foreheads together as he captures his breath. His lush, dark eyelashes fan against his upper cheekbones, an enviable display of length, and he whispers, “It was tough but I had to make sure. And I reckon you’re better than cake.”
I grin at him. Finally, I chance a glance at Rory and am struck by the sight that greets my eyes. All pretense of decency has been evicted. His hand, though it hasn’t moved from the front of his pants, is instead rubbing himself through the material. Rory’s eyes have darkened from silver to iron-gray, the expression in them dangerous and addicted to the scene of my kiss with Luke. They’re heavy-lidded and sultry, weighty with interest and want.
“Do it,” I whisper, the whisper caressing Luke’s cheek. “Give in.”
For a moment, I believe Rory is about to concede. His decision to give in teeters against the act of remaining upright and bossing the rest of us around tonight. Instead, clarity seems to descend on Rory. He shudders once, pursing his lips together, then releases a long, cool breath and moves his hand away.
“No,” he says resolutely again, and I wonder why he denies himself like this all the time. I wonder why he doesn’t just give in like the rest of us. If only I had one-tenth of his mental fortitude, I think to myself, as I spread my legs around Luke and position myself so that his thick erection digs sharply against my needy clit. “I want you naked first.”
“No one else is,” I fire back, shifting my hips slightly to grind against Luke and making sure Rory notices. Luke’s breath hitches, grows uneven, and I feel the lightest tremble in his firm thighs that he tries and fails to keep steady.
“So what? And stop doing that. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re insatiable.”
I onlystop doing thatbecause Rory says so, though every fiber of my being wants to continue arching into Luke and tempting Rory — and I think Luke, who releases an aggrieved sigh at the instruction, wants likewise.
“Danny-boy, give Luke a hand undressing the saint.”
It’s as though the sharp swing of Danny’s head is audible. “What?”
“I didn’t stutter, D-boy.”
I swallow. This is the night of the hotel all over again with Rory embracing the role of commander like he’d been born for it. If I thought the temperature in the dorm had been hot before, it’s now blazing. Inferno-like.
“Oh, I see,” Finlay snarks as Danny hesitantly approaches our bed. “I’m just the caterin’.”
“Get your nozzle ready,” Rory advises lightly, and Finlay glances at him like he’s unsure whether this is a double entendre.
Danny seems to have tuned them all out. His gaze is caught on me and Luke, and despite the nakedness and confessions that we’d shared in the hotel on the weekend, he’s still racked with nerves as he slowly steps forward. It’s adorable, really. I shoot Danny a small smile, which he returns, and I watch as he seems to mentally get a grip of himself. He glances coolly past me to speak to Luke, as though I’m nothing more than a prop for tonight, and I can’t deny the conflicting sensations that squirm inside me — the desire to fight back versus the forbidden flush of heat that melts into my core at Danny’s surprising callousness.
“How do you want to do this?” Danny asks Luke in an almost clinical tone, as though undressing me were a group project assigned to him for class. I know he’s putting it on, I know his heart is in his throat with every cold word he speaks — because I know who Dannyis, I know he’s sweet and kind and unsure in himself — but there’s something about him being less of a sweetheart and pretending to be a bit of a bastard that really, for whatever reason, appeals to me.
I must be quite fucked-up.
“You do top, I do bottom?”
“No way,” Danny says, still not looking at me, and just the act of him putting his foot down toLukerocks shockwaves through my core. “You spent all night between her legs last time. I think we should switch it up.”
“Fair’s fair,” Luke says casually, as though agreeing to a business arrangement over lunch. His lips graze the side of my neck. He plants a soft kiss to my nape, his mouth still sticky with sugar, all the while watching Danny like a hawk. As he wraps his arms around my front, he adds, “It’s not as though taking control of this side is any great hardship.” He places his hands at the base of my breasts and, his fingers lightly stroking a horizontal line that traces my ribs, murmurs, “May I?”
It’s so polite. It’s the first chink in their attempt to treat me like I’m nobody worth dealing with directly, and Luke’s warm tone can’t hide the love and respect he has for me. My voice is gone, so I nod jaggedly instead. His large palms slide up the contours of my breasts until both of Luke’s hands are full of me. He holds each palmful tight, squeezing slightly, and my breath stutters in my chest. The fingertips of either hand meet in the middle, straight above my breastbone. Luke squeezes again, and my core clenches, warm wetness sliding down to the neediest point of my body.
My eyes lock with Rory. He watches the proceedings intently, as though fascinated by the display. My lips part. Luke slowly peels away my cardigan. Danny lowers himself in front of me, kneeling at my feet with his head bowed like the most devoted knight. He unbuckles my black school shoes delicately before sliding them off my feet.
“Well done,” Rory drawls. “Two items. I said get her naked, not give a striptease.”
“I dinnae mind,” Finlay says quietly, his voice slightly breathless.
Danny ignores Rory. He finally meets my eyes as he shifts forward in his kneeling position. His hands run up the front of my calves, gliding over the fabric of my thick black tights, curving over the balls of my knees before slowing down and inching up my thighs. Everywhere he touches leaves a trail of fire across my skin.
As Danny’s hand gradually slides beneath my skirt, behind me Luke slowly pops the buttons of my blouse. He wastes no time, his hand diving beneath the fabric as though craving that blessed skin-on-skin contact. When he presses his palms flush against my breasts, my head tips onto his shoulder at the sensation. My open blouse slips down my arms, exposing my breasts to the whole dorm, before pooling around my middle. Luke fastidiously unbuttons the cuffs before removing the whole thing entirely.
Danny, meanwhile, is stroking my thighs. The air between us is frazzled with heat. Danny’s fingers travel to the very tops of my thighs, above the crease that joins to my hips. He grabs hold of the waistband of my tights, and as his fingers curl over the fabric, his knuckles brush my delicate skin. He tugs the tights lightly down my body. Like Luke, he demands touch, and so his fingers graze my skin, sliding across my legs in every direction as though reveling in the smoothness.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Danny murmurs, and before I can ask him what, he takes the edge of my tights between his teeth andpulls. I have to hold back my surprise gasp of laughter. The pretend coldness has left Danny’s eyes, and instead he wears an expression like he can’t believe his luck. As he yanks the tights past my calves and over my feet, he massages my legs with his hands, smoothing all tension away from my muscles.
Soon, all I’m dressed in is my Lochkelvin tartan skirt and plain white underwear.
When I move to help Luke unzip my skirt, Rory says, “Don’t. I’ve decided I like it.” And in a sly tone, he adds, “I want to see you wear it like this, while the rest of you is desecrated.”
