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Luke’s so large, so hard, that I find myself screaming into his neck. Soft whimpers fall past my lips as he breaks me down into a desperate little slut, my nails like blades against his deep brown skin. Behind him, and blearily, I make out Finlay — his face is still half red with blood, but his eyes are screwed shut in bliss, as he grinds into Luke from behind. It’s enough to make my heart stop.
“Touch yourself,” Luke suggests quietly, and this I know is where he differs from Rory, because Rory would demand it of me.
“Aye, sassenach,” Finlay pants, yanking Luke’s hips into his cock, “touch yerself.”
I’m starving for release. I’mcravingit. But, despite myself, I glance at the intruder on the floor, and the blood spread around him like unfurling wings.
What are we doing? What thefuckare we doing?
“I… can’t,” I admit softly, overcome with a dawning sense of horror, and Luke steers my cheek back to face him.
“He picked the losing side,” Luke murmurs, the fire in his eyes like the spark of raw kindling. “Tonight,we’rethe righteous ones. It’s God’s will, and tonight, we celebrate our victory.” And as he guides my hand from his shoulder blades to my cunt, he seals his angry, furious words with another fervent kiss.
I don’t know about God’s will, but I’d believe just about anything at that moment to keep Luke’s mouth on me. All of us are consumed by this strange religious fervor, basking in the narrow triumph of tonight. God’s will? Maybe it is. Maybe it fucking is, that we genuinelyarethe chosen ones, survivors for a reason. It’s the closest we’ve come to all-out destruction, and we lived. Welived. Whatever you believe, living is to be celebrated, and I think to myself what a turnaround, what a thing to believe, after drawing a ribbon around my throat and praying for death.
It’s with this superior sense of spirit that I lower my fingers to my clit, dragging ecstasy through the friction of my fingers and teasing the strands of my budding orgasm apart. The caress of my fingertips is like salvation; a healing, soothing spell. My eyes slip shut, washing in the bliss of it all, channeling the purity of love, and I think about the dead man no more.
“Look at you,” Luke murmurs, sounding deeply awed. “Face flushed, lips parted. You love this, don’t you?”
He arches into me harder, and obligingly I wet my lips and echo his words, “I love this.”
Two months with no touching and the forest has consumed Luke. The branches have pierced his heart, sullied his soul, and ruined his gentle nature. His roughness is unlike him, his sweet mockery a throwback to his time as a bully, but I love it. I love all of him on the verge of destruction… I squeeze my core around him, showing that I can give as well as take, and Luke hisses at this act of womanly rebellion, unwillingly wilting at my touch.
“Control yourself,” he mutters in warning, his hand not once leaving my cheek, as though worried I may give in and let my conscience guide me again. But now, with Luke’s hot length sinking deeply into me, with the erotic slide of Finlay’s tongue on his friend’s smooth skin, and the flutter of orgasm trilling its release underneath my hand, there is no room for a lily-white mind. My heart is swollen with love and my blood is spiked with lust, like blots of ink falling through water. “Match my pace,” Luke says, the closest he’s been to an order all night, adding, “That goes for you too, Fin.”
Luke’s pace shows he possesses a devilish streak inside him. He starts slowly, easing inside me, bringing me down from my rocketing pulse. With a frustrated growl, Finlay does his best to match him, hips stuttering against hips, pulling hard on Luke like he’s entitled to him as he tries to make up for the loss of friction. But then Luke gradually ramps up the speed, his pelvis rocking upward and into me, and I find myself being thrust hard against the wall. My head rolls, my back sings with beautiful pain, and I give up my entire body to Luke’s supreme strength, as he sheaths his iron-hard cock inside my tight wet heat.
We merge into a single, twelve-limbed beast, chasing bliss in a hall of none. Luke’s skin is a riot of raw bite marks, Finlay furiously feline in his depiction of love. His violence is filtered through Luke and returned to me as deep, seductive kisses, his tongue tangling beneath mine like a slow, deliberate suicide. We’re heroes. We’re winners. We’reangels. And as my calves grip onto the grooves of Luke’s bare hipbones, I think about how tonightwe won.
My nightdress is pushed up to my ribs from the force of Luke. He holds my backside steady as he fucks me against the wall, my spine a straight arrow, my hands falling to his close-cropped hair for security. When his palm spreads across the underside of my cheeks, his fingertips gently stroking the warm seam in between, I cry into Luke’s bliss-seeking mouth. The combination of him touching me there and my clit a cool burn beneath my fingers is overpowering. My soul erupts. He swallows my orgasm whole, licking it from my throat, craving each cracked syllable like an addiction. As my body clamps around him, he’s unable to endure his aggressive thrusting, and he shatters beneath me, my cunt milking his cock with each deliberate clench. His forehead sags into my shoulder, and the two of us collide together as Finlay rams himself into Luke. His green eyes meet my hooded gaze, saying nothing as I observe the red on his face, the forbidden thought thatyes, he does look good drenched in a dead man’s blood — like a soldier, a warrior, a psycho god. As arrogant and imperfect as Achilles ever was, but with all his golden might. And as Finlay pins me against the wall without even touching me, with his green, green gaze alone, he thrusts one last time into the muscled flesh of Luke’s rear, and breaks.
His palms are flat around Luke’s chest, grasping him desperately from behind. I watch the two of them in naked fascination, Luke’s head cocked to the side, making a soft crook for Finlay’s slackened jaw. The air between us all is hot and thick with pleasure, and it should be obscene, it should be wrong, but all I can think in sheer relief is,Thank God. That we are together, that we are as one, and that we will leave Luke with no doubts as to our loyalty.
We capture a moment of stillness, breath shared equally between us. And then Luke slowly eases out of me, taking his firm cock in his palm and tucking it beneath the waistband of his silken pajamas. He lifts me carefully from the wall, holding me with both large hands, his thumbs caressing my lower rib cage underneath my nightdress, obsessed with the softness of my skin.
“Tonight, we feasted on the majesty of the gods,” I say, enjoying this game we play, that our carnality is nothing but divine oversight. We are evil, we are wicked, we are sinners, we are saved. I refuse to allow fatigue and reality to set in. I don’t want my conscience to wake, either. So I kiss Luke soundly on the mouth, his full lips parting beneath me like hope, like he could repeat our union again and again, as he cherishes me inside his arms.
Finlay’s arms tighten around Luke’s middle. “I dinnae want tae leave ye,” he murmurs, breath ticklish against Luke’s bitten neck. “Ye cannae honestly be thinkin’ o’ sendin’ us back tae Lochkelvin?”
“We can’t be together. You’d be in danger.”
“Fuck that.”
“No, really. I’m not having it, Fin. I don’t know what you were playing at tonight, but you had no business dealing personally with one of my detractors. As sexy as it may have been, they are not for you to disarm.”
“Say that again,” Finlay murmurs in a coy tone, voice crooning low in Luke’s ear. “The bit where ye called me sexy.”
Luke rolls his eyes. He strokes my cheek gently, flakes of drying blood coming away on his thumb. “You should get ready. I’ll need to be moved to another safe house tonight.”
“Will we know where?” The thought of losing contact entirely with Luke is almost unbearable after reuniting with him like this.
Luke purses his lips. “Wherever Mack decides, I will inform Rory in time. But I need to go deep underground, off-grid. You must understand after tonight.”
I nod, understanding far too well, having witnessed how far Luke’s enemies are willing to go. Finally,finally, I turn my attention to the body slumped at the end of the hall. He doesn’t look real. Like a doll, like a puppet, not a human man who was slain tonight. My soul stirs with something cold, sympathy mixed with a bitter flash of irritation, as I think to myself:What a waste, what a horrible fucking waste of a life.
17
We stay with Luke until the end.
