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Between my legs, Pax sucks my clit into his mouth, and the wave crests and the ocean roars in my ears as I come apart again for him. I surface from the waves just as he asks Edward what he should do next.
“You may untie her ankles, Roman. No, not with your sword…”
I take pride in the way his voice trembles a little and his fingers tighten in my hair as my lips work his shaft.
The cords around my feet snap away. Rough fingers grab my ankles, yanking my legs wider apart.
“Yes, like that. Now, put that blade down before you put someone’s eye out,” Edward instructs. “I think you know what to do now.”
Rough hands grab my ass cheeks, driving my hips into the sofa. I scream around Edward’s cock as Pax enters me with a powerful thrust.
This is it, this is how I die, tied to a chaise lounge sucking ghost cock while a Roman centurion splits me open.
What a way to go.
Pax plows me into the sofa, so hard that the frame creaks and groans. With every thrust he goes deeper, stretching me and touching places that I don’t think have ever had cock before. All I can do is float in a haze of pleasure and take it, like a fuckinggood girl.
All through this pounding, Edward and Ambrose don’t let up. Ambrose rolls my nipple around on his tongue while his fingers tease my clit. Ghost fingers are made for giving orgasms, the way they hum and tingle against human flesh.
And Edward…he fills my mouth as much as he’s able. He tastes like caramel burnt sugar, and I just want to eat him all up. He’s not like a Living guy, who might be sweaty or smelly. He’s perfect.
As Pax pounds into me, the prince leans in close and manages to lift the scarf to whisper in my ear.
“How much have you wanted this, Brianna? How much have you wished that your prince could be whole and Living again so he could fulfill all your wildest, darkest desires?”
“I…I…” I can’t get the words out because my body clenches and I’m dragged into yet another orgasm.
I lose count of the number of orgasms I have before Pax and Edward explode inside me. I don’t remember being untied, but the next time I recall, I’m being tucked into bed, my back pressed against a snuggly Roman warrior, while two ghosts curl protectively around us, making my skin tingle wherever they touch.
Something has changed tonight. I can’t explain it, but the nervous energy that’s always plagued me – that sense that I need to move, run, get away – is gone, and it’s replaced by a warmth that stretches right from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes.
And I wonder, I wonder if maybe I’m falling for them. If maybe I’ve already fallen, and the ocean of their love for me is about to pull me under, where everything is dark and I cannot escape…
8
Bree
I’m pulled from sleep by a presence, a sense that I’m not alone, that the air around me has shifted. I open one eye. A lone figure hovers over the end of the bed. The sheets beneath him do not dent and I cannot feel warmth from his body. The sunlight streaming through the open curtains shines through his body, creating dappled rainbows on the duvet where the light bends around the prism of his ghostly limbs. He does not look at me, and from the slump of his shoulders, I suspect he’s been there a while.
Edward runs his fingers through his unruly dark curls as he stares pensively out the window at the cemetery. The spires of his monstrous gothic mausoleum pierce the grey sky. Another beautiful English summer’s day, by the looks of it.
“Where are the others?” I ask, sitting up.
He whirls around, his eyes dark and serious as he watches me rearrange the pillows behind my head.
“I sent them away,” he says gravely. “I have something to show you, but I cannot bear them to be here when I do it.”
“Edward, what is it?” I take in the gravity of his features, the somber notes in his voice. My throat closes over.
This is it. This is the thing that’s been weighing on him for weeks.
He stands abruptly. Once more, I’m taken in by the aristocratic loveliness of him, the noble set of his shoulders and the way his tall, toned body oozes power and elegance. And the way he wears his sadness as a mask.
“You must come with me. I will need you to…to remove something from its hiding place.”
I cast one forlorn look at the inviting comfort of my bed, then throw off the covers. I step into a pair of boy-cut jeans and a shirt with tiny bones all over it, and shove my feet into my fluffy black cat slippers. I am not ready for morose Edward first thing in the morning, especially not after last night. I need an IV of coffee, stat.
I take Edward’s hand. His fingers slip through mine a little, and I see his face shift as one of my memories passes to him – another new power of mine that seems to have developed since I returned to Grimdale. I get a flicker of something, too – another opium-fuelled party, and a golden-haired countess tied to the couch the way I was last night, screaming in ecstasy. Heat creeps along my cheeks.
