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Before I can even consider asking him what’s going through his head, he brushes his nose against mine and whispers against my lips, “My brothers are going to bring you to the edge, and I’m going to swallow each and every one of your cries of pleasure.”
Slack-jawed, I stare at him with a mixture of surprise and excitement before his lips capture mine.
In complete sync, Enzo grips my thigh with one hand, fucking my pussy with his other as his mouth consumes my folds and clit, playing me perfectly. All while Vito snaps his teeth from one breast to the other, quickly following with a stroke of his tongue and spinning my world into near darkness as everything my body feels brings me closer to climax.
Matteo’s hands tighten on mine, my knuckles hurting from the grip as he claims my mouth, and when Enzo bites my clit in time with Vito at my nipple, I can’t take anymore.
The world goes dark, my body exploding all the way from my toes right to the ends of my hair as my groans and cries of ecstasy are, indeed, swallowed by Matteo. Enzo’s tongue drops to my center, lapping up every drop of my release as my hips grind against his face.
None of them relent until they’ve wrung me dry, my body limp in Matteo’s hold as he slowly lowers our hands. My shoulders groan in protest, but I don’t utter a word as my eyes fall to Vito, who sits beside me, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip like he had the most delectable meal of his life.
Enzo’s fingers stroke circles on my thigh, drawing my attention toward him as my chest heaves with each breath. I lean forward instinctively, the button of his pants calling me closer, but Matteo reclaims my hand, pressing a soft, delicate kiss at the crook of my neck.
“This was about you,Stellina. Maybe next time, we can make it about us,” he murmurs in my ear, his brothers nodding as I try to catch my breath.
How the fuck are these men completely selfless in a moment like this? I would expect them to want something from me, make demands, but here they are, hinting at another encounter as I scramble to recover from this one.
This is your chance, Wren. Don’t fuck it up.
The internal reminder has me smiling at them appreciatively as I shake my hands out of Matteo’s hold and quickly tie the back of my strappy top once more. The three of them watch me but don’t utter a word, not even when I rise to my feet and open the privacy board Vito closed.
I sag with relief when I see my phone is still on the table where I left it, and I grab it quickly, pulling the case off to reveal what I have inside. Taking a deep breath, I stand taller and turn to face the three of them once more, their looks filled with curiosity, desire, and apprehension. For what, I don’t know, but now isn’t the time to ask.
“Maybe next time, it can be about all of us,” I offer, taking a step toward Enzo and offering the card in my hand with my name and number on it.
Without missing a beat or waiting for a response, I turn on my heels, my legs still like jelly as I head for the exit. It’s only once I’m through the double doors that I unlock my phone and send the message I know they’ve been waiting for.
Wren
Tracker given.
4
WREN
Sweat drips down my spine as I tussle in the sheets, my brain slowly gaining consciousness, but the air conditioning must have turned off in the night because there’s no way it was this damn warm when I initially plunged into darkness.
Blinking my eyes open, I frown, glancing around the room as I get my bearings and remember where I am.
New York.
It’s taken me nearly six months to settle into falling asleep in Philadelphia, where I’ve been biding my time until Luna called upon me, so waking up somewhere new again is wreaking havoc on my pounding heart.
The memory of last night washes over me, and I flop back onto my pillow with a sigh. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I hold back everything and anything that might take me back to the club, forcing myself to sit up and get out of the bed.
I don’t do well with overanalyzing everything in bed. It’s always been a process for the shower, and now is no different. Instead, I focus on taking stock of the room, moving over to the floor-length window to my right, looking down on the city in all its glory.
It’s a little after eight in the morning, which explains the heavier-than-usual rush hour traffic. My suite's altitude is so high that everyone looks like ants, unaware of my prying eyes.
I can’t help watching people these days, wondering what is going on in their lives, what brought them to this exact place, at this exact moment. Analyzing other people rather than delving deeper into myself is more preferable anyway. Acknowledging that fact alone proves that self-therapy works. I’m healthy and stable. Self-aware, even.
Ha.
Turning back to face the room, I take it in properly. I barely spent ten minutes in here when I first arrived last night, dumping my suitcase and changing into my revealing outfit in minutes before leaving again. And when I came back, I was so worn out from the orgasm and the attention of the De Luca brothers that I barely wiped my makeup off and got into my pajamas before crashing into a deep sleep.
There are two queen-sized beds, each with bedside tables on either side of them. A small walk-in closet to my right, opposite the beds, and a bathroom near the door. The sheets are a crisp white, the walls a pale gray, and the carpet a rich navy. With the missing cringy colors of red and gold, it’s obviously not a Featherstone hotel, and I’m thankful for it.
Pushing my hair back with a sigh, I head for the bathroom, desperate to shower and spend five minutes reliving what happened last night. As I pad across the plush carpet, I hold back the desperate need to throw myself on the bed and literally feel last night at my own touch, but I manage to make it to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and quickly turning the knob for the shower.
