He only fucks me harder, a primitive growl shaking his chest.
Something warm ghosts across my skin and then drifts into me.Deepwithin me.
I gasp from the feel of it twirling through my chest. It’s like ribbon dancing in the breeze. It sways and drifts. It slinks through me. It’s the lightest touch along my nerves. A faint breath of magic.
Incubusmagic.
It plays there within my chest, skimming my abdomen, brushing along my nipples before diving hard toward my center, colliding through me and slamming hard into the sensitive flesh of my g-spot.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gasp, nails digging deep into Phoenix’s taut shoulders as my release wreaks havoc on my mind, body, and soul.
He just hums his approval with a groan of his own before slamming in hard and stilling against me. His temple rests against mine, and I love the way he’s looking at me. Like he’sseeing every single thing I’ll ever be.
We’llever be.
But Syko pulls me away before I can say any of that.
He pulls my hand and leads me closer to him. His beautiful, haunting dark eyes shine, and he stares at me like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how.
Until he says it without pause.
“Get on all fours,” he whispers.
A shiver trembles through me at the sound of his command. And I obey. I turn from him slowly, and it surprises me when I come face to face with Saint.
A smirk carves his sharp features as he watches me with a gleam of light in his eyes. He keeps all of his attention intently focused on me, like I’m the most intriguing thing he’s ever seen.
I kneel before him. The cold cement bites into my knees. And then my palms.
I don’t feel like this is a game right now. I don’t feel exposed to any of them.
I feel… strumming anticipation, like it’s more than my body will ever be able to handle.
Part of me waits for Saint to guide the tip of his cock to my lips, and another part of me waits for what I can’t see from behind. Neither happens though.
Saint never lowers to me. And my body just feels cold waiting between the two men.
When I look up, Saint’s long tattooed fingers are lowering the zipper on his khakis. His shirt has long been discarded, and the etched lines of his chest lead my gaze down the hard expanse of his body. The jutting shaft that springs from his pants slides along his palm as he watches me with that gleaming look in his eyes.
Then warm fingers dig into my hips. I shift impatiently against that touch.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
The slide of his tip against my sex is slow and teasing. I feel his breath along my spine as he leans into me, hovering his body against mine, almost touching but not quite.
And then he slams in.
My back arches, and he only pulls out to dive in deeper. He rocks back and forth, hitting the same spot over and over again as his hands drift higher and he palms my ass. His big hand covers my flesh there before he blazes a trail higher. His fingers are gentle against my skin. It’s the lightest, most innocent touch along my spine before his hand fists my long dark hair. And then he twists hard.
Just like that, he lifts me against his chest. We kneel together, gasping and groaning and fucking like I’ll never have enough of him.
From behind, his big hand brushes over my ribs as his nails dig into my skin, and I feel his thrusts turn jerking.
“Fuck, Izara,” he whispers unevenly against my neck, and I feel him clinging on to draw out the feel of our bodies joining just like this.
